#sir . . . I am unbelievably weak for you

[kenobion]

Andrew Garfield at the SBIFF Cinema Society Q&A on tick, tick...BOOM!

[crooked-wasteland]

Hazbin Hotel LiveBlog: Scrambled Eggs

So I’m watching Hazbin with my partner who has already seen the entire series. It took us 5 minutes just to get this episode to play from the beginning because it would just skip to episode 4 while the credits where playing before i could pause or rewind. That has nothing to do with the show, it just made me unbelievably enraged, so we ain’t going into this episode happy.

What is with the cat?

It’s been a week since the last episode and every ounce of progress Sir Pentious made last episode is just thrown out as an excuse to introduce yet another character in Carmella. Was there not another way to do this? Like I get Sir Pentious wouldn’t be reformed, but just having him be suddenly paranoid with no reason isn’t founded. Even just a background detail of Angel Dust watching him from a doorway would have been enough to found that suspicion. Especially when Pentious wasn’t shown to be paranoid as a trait. I get this is narrative utilitarianism, but it’s just weak and changing one character’s personality to establish a new one is poor writing.

Sir Pentious to his eggs just feels like fandom

“That’s a lot less hot” That feels out of character

So Trust exercises to tone down the sudden change in Sir Pentious’ character and also to give Vaggie a leading role. Got it. Very utilitarian, very disjointed from the previous episode.

Sidebar, I googled who wrote this episode and it wasn’t Vivienne, however I never would have known because the last episode was equally full of contradictions that it also felt like someone else wrote it. Now maybe that was because Adam had a hand in thing, but The fact I have to google this stuff to know for sure is a joke kin its own right.

I am so conflicted about Niffty. She feels less childlike here and I like find her demented fun, but last episode she was literally written as being child-like so the pain fetish going on is repulsive, despite it not being this writer’s fault. If I want to enjoy anything about this show, I really have to just see every episode as one singular complete entity without calling back on previous ones, however this is a series and thus needs to expand itself through subsequent episodes. To not do so is a failure of concept because this series is very serialized. So in a bubble I really enjoy Niffty. In the series she is a very uncomfortable character to give violent fetishes to and make them so overt. Vivienne ruined that for you all, don’t blame me. Someone should have said how this should have been scrapped before we got this far.

Zestial is suggesting that Alastor may have died at Heaven’s hand. Alastor looks away while laughing. So there is a connection between Heaven and Alastor.

Egg Bois are cute.

Carmella has a bad case of Character Design does not match vocal performance.

Velvette, please never speak again.

Velvette is now 5 inches tall

The yellow blood looks like piss

Can someone tell Lilli Cooper that a lot of British singers don’t have such strong accents when singing. Just please, it’s a great time top drop that bad accent.

James, hi, your singing voice lost the character

The kink shaming be real.

Even Charlie infantalizes Niffty. Geez

This scene in the Turf war was peak Angel Dust. I laughed.

I have to ask, was the music written before or after the singing, because for one, Carmella sounds like she is trying to be heard over it, and second the beat of the music is either lacking or there was an issue with the audio mixing because it just sounds wrong. Like there are melodies and harmonies to a score and one of those is missing. OR, the music is just out of sync entirely with the performer.

Again, just don’t have Vaggie sing. You directed the actor to perform out of her vocal range for her modal voice. Don’t do this to her.

They are not at all harmonized, this is the worst duet I ever heard. Don’t you usually have singers record duets together so they can harmonize their voices? Why didn’t that happen here.

So this big conflict for Vaggie was never a conflict. Best resolution ever.

I like Carmella’s concept. Her character design is kinda trash and the songs were terrible. There was a good idea somewhere in this episode, but from beginning to end every aspect was contrived to just make the story work for the greater plot, the dynamics between the characters be damned. There is a sense of someone wanting to have fun with it while Medrano’s stood behind them with a chokehold on the narrative. It’s disappointing and I feel the writing suffers from Medrano’s obsessive and frantic need for control. This writing feels so insecure and I can only imagine that comes from having a very narrow box to fill.

2/10

I’m taking a break.

[jakelandryshorts]

Mr. Bryson Comes to Visit

(AI generated art by Jammer Link)

‘Just so you know, my dad came in this weekend,’ my boyfriend texted me.

I let out a groan. I’d just finished a workout and didn’t need to have his dad here. Part of it was just because of the unexpected company. The rest was because there was this new gummy supplement that I’d been taking that had some unusual side effects.

Don’t get me wrong, it was unbelievable for muscle growth. I’d been a pretty average gym goer until I started taking them, but with them I wouldn’t stop growing. It could be up to almost a pound of muscle a day. I’d been a standard jock at 5’10” and 176 pounds but after taking them for a couple of months I’d shot up to 6’1” and was nearing 215 pounds. My gains were unprecedented. People in the gym begged me for my secrets. I wouldn’t tell them.

It was due to the side effects. Immediately after taking them, I’d become incredibly dominant. That wouldn’t be a problem; but then every man in the area would get a whiff of my scent and then become incredibly submissive. I only tried them once in the gym and I had damn near every guy asking to help me lift and running their hands across my body. It was so hard to fight off. It was nice with my boyfriend, a little less fun with complete strangers. Though, my boyfriend suggested that I try it again, but he has to be around that time.

“Mr. Bryson?” I called as I returned home. “Hello?”

“Over here boy,” a deep and powerful voice summoned me. It didn’t sound familiar, but I felt an uncontrollable urge to do as he said. A strange smell lingered in the house. I smelled it deeper.

‘Oh shit…’ I suddenly realized what was going on. Especially when I walked into the living room. There stood an unbelievably jacked man. No shirt. No shoes. But someone I definitely wanted to service. My mouth hung open as I took in the absolute mountain of a man. He had to be 7’ tall and had to weigh over 500 pounds. I thought my growth was big, this was beyond next level.

“M-Mr. Bryson?” I stammered as I looked him up.

He grunted in the affirmative. I felt my dick go hard. “Just so you know I found some candy and ate the whole thing. Real good shit.”

“Of course, sir! Our home is your home!” my fingers flexed. Partially out of rage, but a deeper urge of lust. I was in a battle to not just curl up under that man’s massive and run my hands down his body.

“Good man,” he pat my shoulder as he splayed his body down on the leather couch. His feet went far past the arm rest. Those massive hands went between his legs and started to play with his cock, almost absentmindedly. The smell intensified. I felt a deep longing moan escape me.

“H-how’s work!” I forced out. It was the most neutral thing I could think of. My head was swarming with all sorts of ideas. My boyfriend had given me so many. From sniffing my armpits to licking my feet, all of them were buzzing around in my head but I was doing them to this giant.

“Fucking sucks,” Mr. Bryson grunted. “Got a piece of shit boss that really needs to hear a piece of my mind. Don’t know why I haven’t told that little fucker off yet. Doesn’t know his face from his ass.”

I squirmed in my seat. Hearing the man talk was nearly as good as sex itself. Though, the thought that his passive side was completely gone seemed to be the reason. I’d always thought he was a bit too weak willed and never stuck up for himself. But now? There was no one who would even think twice about it.

“You treatin my boy well?” Mr. Bryson asked.

“Huh? Oh yes sir! I try to make him happy everyday.”

“Oh? How?”

“Sex!” I blurted out. I instantly covered my mouth. I hadn’t meant to say it. It just came out.

Mr. Bryson’s eyebrow raised. “Oh? And who’s on top?”

“I-I-I am sir. He likes to be on bottom,” I answered.

“Hmmm…” Mr. Bryson seemed to be mulling something over. His hand went to his chin and scratched the stubble on it. “Show me.”

“S-s-show you?” My dick throbbed. A longing moan escaped me. I may have been across the room, but I almost jumped at the chance.

“Show me,” he repeated. His voice sterner. “Show me what he does to show you he likes it.”

My sex addled brain complied. “Hey there big guy,” I strutted over to him. I dropped down to my knees. My hand went to his chest and gently rubbed the huge pec. The musk was overwhelming. There was no more fighting it. My nose went deep into his pit and gave it a powerful whiff. The smell of his sweaty BO filled my head only making me all the more excitable.

“It wasn’t too rough of a day at work now, was it?” I continued playing the sub. I was surprisingly good at imitating my boyfriend. My hand gently parsed through the hair running along Mr. Bryson’s abs. I leaned in for a kiss. His scruff scratched against my bare face. He accepted my kiss and our tongues wrestled. He led the tempo, but I could keep up. “Well. I can make it all better.” I giggled as I pulled away.

My finger traced the outline of his massive pecs. They danced their way down to his abs. Then found it’s way into his shorts. The man was already hard. His cock throbbed as I grabbed it. Even though my hand’s were massive, it still felt like I was holding onto a beer can. I gently stroked it. “How’s that make you feel?”

“Good…” Mr. Bryson grunted. His body flexed. Hands gripped whatever they could. Under his strength he accidently snapped the back of the couch. That would have to be a problem for another day.

Right now, I was a bit distracted. Especially as I pulled the rod out of his shorts. My eyes went wide. My mouth hung open. I’d never been a cock sucker, but God damn did I want to shove it into my mouth. But then there were other ideas. My hole quivered. I let out a moan.

“Well, boy?” Mr. Bryson demanded.

I knew exactly what I wanted to do. I straddled Mr. Bryson’s massive body and lined his cock up with my ass. I could feel the pre already dripping and coating my ass and his cock. I pressed down on it. My hands clawed at his abs at the pressure. I couldn’t help myself. A deep sensual moan escaped me as my body writhed. Little by little I worked my way down onto his cock. I’d only taken my boyfriend’s a couple of times and it was no where near as big or wide as this. Somehow the gummy supplements must have been help open me up.

Mr. Bryson bucked as more of his cock was engorged by my ass. His eyes went wild as his body gave into the sexual drive. All that confidence and strength meant nothing under his sexual arousal. I could feel his cock throb with delight. Each thrust I gave him sent another wave of pleasure rocketing through him. He couldn’t help himself. His back arched and he finished inside me.

“Oh fuck!” I called out as I couldn’t help myself, splattering his furry chest with my own seed. I rode Mr. Bryson’s wild ride and then fell limp on his body. His big arms wrapped around me.

“Well… Guess if my boy treats you this well, you ain’t half bad…”

(More stories over on my Wordpress)

[thingsseenandheard]

As promised I am here to write the third installment in my Cazador meta essay collection about identity self perception and the fact that I don't believe Cazador has a concept of who he is as a person and continually despises himself but he copes with it by behaving as though the "versions" of himself that he despises are literally different people

At a basic level, Cazador hates weakness. I think it probably follows that Cazador hates his younger self - pre vamp and spawn - for being weak because it was through finally besting Vellioth that he became strong. That was the only real moment of successful strength amidst all of that, at least in his eyes, and I think that was the turning point where Cazador became Lord Szarr. (I have a LOT to say about Vellioth's death but I'll save that for Cazalore essay #4)

However Cazador is obviously unbelievably self centered and egotistical, & I'm going to be making the case that he's a narcissist in the actual clinical sense rather than just the "oh that person is very selfish" sense because it ties in with this very well because Cazador's confidence & ego rely completely on the fact that he is extremely deluded & detatched from reality. And more on that in my next post too regarding Vellioth's death. If Cazador's delusion is cracked even a little bit I think he crumbles, because he has successfully avoided being forced to face the reality of his past and his actions and who he is as a person for centuries, and I don't think that mentally he could handle being forced to come to terms with the fact that he is not special. And he is not innately "better" than Vellioth just because he's the one who came out on top. And the fact that he is able to successfully compartmentalize all his bad weak feelings does not make him superior. His entire persona, Lord Szarr, is so flimsy it's a miracle he's managed to keep it together this long. Because his persona is built on thinking he is special and inherently superior and better than everyone else because he isn't fucking weak. At least, not anymore.

But he used to be. And he must hate that. How does a person as unstable and detatched as Cazador is cope with the fact that he was once everything he now hates? He just doesn't think about it. It's one more thing he pushes away and refuses to acknowledge and I think perhaps the easiest way for him to do that is separating "Cazador" from Lord Szarr. Because Cazador is weak, Cazador was so stupid he got taken in by Vellioth in the first place, Cazador wasn't strong enough to kill Vellioth the first time, Cazador wasn't clever enough to escape. All of these things are traits that he clearly reviles in others, Astarion being a prime example. It's unthinkable to him that he used to be that, so actually, no he wasn't. That was some other guy. Lord Szarr actually has always been very strong and smart and steadfast and he has never been pathetic or weak and he has never begged for mercy once in his life, no sir, not ever.

I always find it so interesting when there's a character like this who you can clearly see the distinction between who they are now and who they used to be and who they have the potential to become, especially when they're as deluded as Caz because there's no way he is at peace with all of that! There is no way he's looking back at himself as a spawn or pre-vampire and is okay with the person he used to be. (And if he could see the future pre-vampire or as a spawn, there is no way he would have been at peace with the person he was going to become.)

So he pretends that wasn't him. It's the path of least resistance, because who's going to correct him? Vellioth's dead, and there's nobody else alive and in his vicinity and with the courage it would take to say no, actually, that was still you. The easiest way he can find to cope with this and preserve his extremely fragile and shallow persona that's really just a rebrand of Vellioth with less impalement is by acting like his past self is a literal actual completely different person, because then it's not hating himself, it's not hating the mighty Lord Szarr, it's hating Cazador, and that's okay because they're different, and Lord Szarr is strong where Cazador was weak.

And the separating of himself into these different people doesn't help with the fact that the mighty Lord Cazador Szarr is not a person, he's a shell. He's a mask, meticulously crafted to cover up all the weakness and instability and fear that never really left him. And at some level, just like I think he knows he would return to Vellioth, I think he knows this, too. But this, coming to terms with the fact that he doesn't know who he is and the versions of himself that he hates are the same as who he is now, it's too much. I don't think he can handle it.

And there's even more to it than that, because as I've said before, Cazador has become Vellioth. Not better than Vellioth, he is Vellioth. After everything Vellioth put him through, can we honeslty say he would be happy to realise that? Absolutely not. So despite the fact that he absolutely hates who he used to be, he is still clinging to parts of that version of him because so long as he can preserve some of that, he is not Vellioth. And he doesn't have to come to terms with the fact that actually, yeah he is. And that this is exactly what Vellioth wanted him to be. Cruel, selfish, egotistical, everything a Vampire Lord is supposed to be. Everything Vellioth was. Everything Cazador is now. So I think that even though he goes to such incredible lengths and does so many mental gymnastics to avoid hating Lord Szarr because Lord Szarr is supposed to be the perfect Vampire Lord and he is supposed to be better than Vellioth, he still has to hate his current self too because his current self is Vellioth whether he is capable of recognizing that or not, and god knows he hated Vellioth. But also he didn't, because he loved Vellioth, but Cazador doesn't know what love is. The only love he knows is the love Vellioth taught him. So he has this horrible toxic relationship with himself that only he can break out of but he just can't do it, because he is still that hurt, terrified, weak young man and he is still that docile, compliant spawn because he knows what'll happen if he's not, and he is still the cruel, self-centered Vampire Lord that Vellioth knew he could become. And all of these things coexist within him and he simply cannot take it. And he doesn't know how to deal with any of it, so he doesn't.

And I am putting so much emphasis on Lord Szarr being distinct from Cazador both because I think that's how he sees himself and because only one of those two people is actually real. Lord Szarr doesn't really exist. He is a fabrication mean to cover up all of Cazador's shortcomings. And Cazador is so dead terrified of being anything that Vellioth would have punished him for that it's literally easier to act like his past self is dead and gone than it is to accept that every version of Cazador is him and he is every version of Cazador, and he's so trapped within himself because he simply cannot come to terms with any of that. But of course, the flip side of that is I think he is also dead terrified of being Vellioth, which is why he has to hold on desperately to this separate, past, dead and gone version of himself at least a little bit, because that is the absolute last thing, in his eyes, standing between him and truly becoming his own Master. He can't be Cazador, and he can't be Vellioth, so who the hell is he?

It's a question that only he can answer, but he is completely incapable of doing so.

[zaacoy]

Hmhmhmmm in a silly mood and thinky thinkin about Tang Legomonkiekid again, some disjointed tang thoughts!! Because I can :3

Author's note after writing: another long post!!! I am incapable of talking about him without going on and on and on apparently, enjoy the novel!! hehehheehoo

so! The scorpion queen demoness outfit still has not left my brain!! I am plagued by the ourple apparently, just

why he so littol

microscopic organism

its like he's a cat getting picked up by the scruff!! those clothes are too big for he goddamn he!!

Also also! The buffet scene!! We get two wide shots of it

the first:

and the second:

assuming it isn't some sort of custom to have your servants(?) or whatever the ladies are in this scene leave once they set the table (if it is then feel to ignore this tidbit!! :D) Them being there in the first scene but not the second makes it seem like? Tang requested them to go and let him eat in peace without 7 different women watching him while doing so??? This man is invulnerable to women and I find that so funny all he wants are his noms

Adding onto that the fact that his first move when he wakes up to a pretty lady standing over him is to SCREAM and push her away is SO unbelievably funny could you be any gayer sir

also can we just appreciate how easily this man crumbled the second good food was put in front of him. after being kidnapped and abducted by some clearly suspicious demon lady he just. willingly stays, unbound physically in literally anyway, just because she has good food to offer. very very silly he is so funny

no additional comments just look at him

he is so scrunckly so silly, I forgor all of the other Tumblr silly words but he is all of those too

its nice that we got to see him come back in purple later tho in S4

It's a dustier purple for sure but it still looks pretty nice on him :3c

also also!!

I love this little training scene sm because it paints tang in such an interesting light

whereas pigsy and mei are borderline ready to jump sandy for that star all we get from Tang is a shaky "I want that", this difference is further exemplified in the coloration differences (mei and pigsy's eyes being red whereas Tang's are just whited out)

this trend continues as the training session goes on! here for example we can see mei and pigsy clearly furious whereas tang is just crying- they're all frustrated! It seems as though when Tang is confronted with the issue of "not being as good as his peers" he trends more towards upset rather angry unlike the rest of his friend group

This can also be seen in their individual trainings

Mei is outright violent in her training arc, both in regards to the props and opponents she fights and (verbally) to master Subodhi, pigsy is also fairly mouthy and standoffish at first and disregards whatever he perceives as an insult, but Tang on the other hand we get to see crumble a little bit. Rather then brushing off master Subodhi's gripes with him like the others Tang seems to take it to heart, getting visibly more and more miserable until he's able to turn himself around

It's a nice bit of characterization that I'm glad to see appear again, they've given him such a consistent, well written weakness I can't wait how it affects his performance in future episodes, be it for better or for worse heeheehoo

I ADORE how much this man loves food, he's so super enthusiastic about it in literally every season it is completely adorable

I also appreciate how they didn't turn it into his entire character!! Most of the food-loving characters I've known have their entire personality based around food which, while it can be joyful at times, is kind of boring and 2 dimensional imo. I enjoy how they made him a complete fully fleshed out person like everyone else who just so happens to really like nomnoms heeheehoo

looks at you with my autistic eyes

that expression is so goofy and the silly little noise he makes with it too uehhshdhhdj he is so sillay

love how he gets sparkles/shines in his eyes once he gets really excited about something or the "✨" shaped eyes

there are so many little things I love about him that NOBODY else talks about and it makes me so so sad where are my fellow insane-about-tang-lego-monkie-kid people where are uu 🥺 "let's take ibuprofen together" but it's "let's talk about a fictional Lego for hours" instead please plsss

cough- anyways uh- he has a bunch of little vocal quirks that I love so so much like!!

(I don't know how to get audio clips so you're just going to have to take my word for it ueue)

Often whenever he exclaims or screams he does so in a way that I don't know how to describe actually mmmmm instead of an "AAAAAH!" it's more akin to a "WHAhaHAA!" if that makes any sense, whatever that is it's such an interesting verbal quirk I love it very much.

He does something similar in quiet exclamations of awe, instead of going "ooooh.." it sounds more like "ooohohooh.."

I guess it's like his voice falls in between dragged out sounds? Like if it weren't for his tone and the context they'd almost sound like laughs, it's definitely an "h" sound, I'm not sure if there's a term for that verbal quirk but it seems fairly unique to him in the show and I thinks it adds to his sillyness heehee

squints at you squints at you squints at you squints at you squints at you squints at you squi

The bbg pose is consistent and here to stay!! yahoo!!! I wonder how many times while raising mk did they manage to tire themselves out and have pigsy later walk in to both of them asleep on the floor euhdhsnns fluffy family

while I'm thinking about noodle family here is your daily reminder that this scene exists in canon and mk has two dads thank you for coming to my ted talk

His tone of voice was so funny here the pure PANIC in his voice manifesting in a very strained yell was so well done here weehee

Circling back to the scorpion outfit, remember in the pilot episode how mk attempts to crawl away from the demon bull family after he gets caught? Tang does the exact same thing here!! same motion same thoughts process, like father like son

soft squishy tang isn't even my fault anymore LOOK AT HIM, he very squish

delving into slightly more serious tang thingies for a second!!-

this scene always felt incomplete to me, I feel like I'm missing something. This was when they first as a group run into lbd on their airship. Out of the entire group Tang is the only one to notice something's off and emphasis is put on this multiple times. First with "I've got a bad feeling about this pigsy", then with scene above where he's shown staring skeptically at lbd's rings, and then with him noticing the broken device on the ground(and notably not cheering on mk like everyone else) and confronting mk about it. Was ALL of that really just so Tang could make mk tell them about lbd(which he didn't even really do)? Why tang, why was he the only one to intuitively notice? even mk didn't know something was wrong with lbd when he first encountered her in her hostess form, heck even monkie king didn't, how did tang? Triptaka/golden cicada powers? Are we going to be seeing him do this again? Does it mean anything for where his story is going?? I don't know it just, it feels like too much focus was put on this just for it to be for nothing, it's odd to me.

One more thing!!

what was this.

from the second episode we see macaque where he puts on a shadow play and possesses tang, pigsy, and mei n' forces them to fight mk. Never in the entire rest of the series have we ever seen someone who's possessed struggle/ appear to still be there whilst being under possession. Not with the people-turned-spider-demons not with bai he not with mei or pigsy in this scene, not even really with wukong in the special. It is arguable through his expressions that he may be somewhat still there and might be putting up a fight(especially when he's about to hit mk) but we never really seem him underneath. We never hear him and we never see his true reaction underneath the poker-faced-possessed version, never like we do with tang here. Once again, just, wjajnajj, why?? This is such an odd little detail and it's so weird how it never comes back again. If it's not foreshadowing or leading up to a bigger reveal then why animate it? Because it looked interesting? Because they could? Was it a way to express to the audience that his friends were still there under the surface and they weren't just clones? But the lights in the lantern along with them getting sucked in already made that pretty clear. If that was the case anyway, why didn't they do that with wukong? or with bai he? or with the spider demons? we had no way of knowing for sure that they were there or they'd come back after being un-possessed either. It's such a small little thing that could mean nothing but it's been stuck in the back of my mind since I first saw it back when I first picked up the show in like august. I don't know, it's cool though!! I hope they do smth more with it

It is!! 4am!!! I have to be up at 7 tmrw oopsies

ending it here gnnn if you read through all of these rambles then hiii!!! Glad you find me losing my mind over a Lego entertaining I sure have fun doing it, have a good day byebyeye :3

[cleolinda]

Varney the Vampire - chapter 3

Chapter 2: Varney cannot get over a wall.

Chapter 3: Originally posted on Livejournal, December 7, 2010, in the same post as chapters 1-2. The recap was short, so I've expanded it. Content note: blood.

CHAPTER III.

THE DISAPPEARANCE OF THE BODY. -- FLORA'S RECOVERY AND MADNESS. -- THE OFFER OF ASSISTANCE FROM SIR FRANCIS VARNEY.

Given that this serial is titled, you know, Varney the Vampire, I got to this header back in 2010 and blurted out, "O rly?," because that's how we talked back then. No, I did.

(There is no actual offer of assistance from Sir Francis Varney in this chapter. Ya rly.)

Previously on:

Henry had the weapon, and he pointed it full at the tall form with steady aim. He pulled the trigger -- the explosion followed, and that the bullet did its office there could be no manner of doubt, for the figure gave a howling shriek, and fell headlong from the wall on the outside.

Currently: GET HIS ASS

This was at once agreed to, and the whole three of them made what expedition they could towards a gate which let into a paddock, across which they hurried, and soon found themselves clear of the garden wall, so that they could make way towards where they fully expected to find the body of him who had worn so unearthly an aspect, but who it would be an excessive relief to find was human.

sloooow cab, meter runnin' 

Three hundred words later, the men go around the wall, examine the heathy (yes, heathy) vegetation and find... no vampyre. Three hundred and fifty words after that, it finally occurs to them to go back and see if Flora is, you know, dead or whatever.

"My senses," said Henry, "were all so much absorbed in gazing at that horrible form, that I never once looked towards her further than to see that she was, to appearance, dead. God help her! poor -- poor, beautiful Flora. This is, indeed, a sad, sad fate for you to come to. Flora -- Flora -- "

I am pretty sure that if the printer had let James Malcolm Rymer just have a ten-page lightswitch rave—doop doop doop. Flora. Flora. The Flora. Is down—he would have done it.

I summarized the family for you earlier, but I think this is actually the first time we hear that Marchdale is "Robert Marchdale, you whom I [Flora's mother] have known even from my childhood," and who will surely not deceive her. I don't think they've told us... why, exactly... he's living here, in 1840s terms of respectability. (I think I was more suspicious of this back in 2010 than I actually am now. Sometimes a family is a mother, her children, a man, and his crowbar.) Anyway, everyone is just letting Flora bleed out at their leisure (content note: here comes the blood):

The mother approached the bed-side of the insensible, perhaps murdered girl; she saw her, to all appearance, weltering in blood, and, overcome by her emotions, she fainted on the floor of the room. [...] She was quite insensible, and her face was fearfully pale; while that she breathed at all could be but very faintly seen. On some of her clothing, about the neck, were spots of blood, and she looked more like one who had suffered some long and grievous illness, than a young girl in the prime of life and in the most robust health, as she had been on the day previous to the strange scene we have recorded. [...] “A wound!" said the mother, and she brought a light close to the bed, where all saw on the side of Flora's neck a small punctured wound; or, rather two, for there was one a little distance from the other. "How came these wounds?" said Henry. "I do not know," [Flora] replied. "I feel very faint and weak, as if I had almost bled to death."

Please notice all the blood, and also the puncture wounds, from which the blood endeavors to pour, and which are consistent with those made by vampire fangs (a concept that this serial, after all, introduced). This is going to be important later, if you want to understand why I got halfway through Volume Two and suddenly melted down in unbelieving rage that this godforsaken book would try to fucking gaslight me as to whether any of this happened or not.

The Bannerworth family revives Flora with wine, because, when in doubt: booze. And then, while Flora is wailing and trembling and fainting, the family all looks over at the spooky portrait in her room (whose idea was that, anyway?) and realizes that... it looks just like the vampyre. Of course it does. But it's the ancestral portrait of Sir Runnagate (oh, why not) Bannerworth, "who first, by his vices, gave the great blow to the family prosperity."

(You know, I said "why not" when I wrote that years ago, but no, I want to know why! Why the fuck is a 1700s dude named RUNNAGATE? So I go google it, and I get this:

Corruption of renegade, influenced by run + agate (“on the way, agoing”).

1. A deserter, renegade or apostate. 2. A fugitive; a runaway.

I'm gonna hope this was a sobriquet their ancestor picked up from some salty descendants after he blew the family fortune, because otherwise, this is a real "dead dove: I don't know what I expected" situation.)

Henry then tells us that the spooky portrait is ninety years old, which I thought was Rymer trying to tell us that Sir Runnagate is actually Varney, and that's (at least) how long he's been around. Hell, maybe that's what he is trying to tell us right now; the storylines of serials tend to drift all over the place, and writers either forget what they started out saying, or they decide to contradict themselves and hope no one notices. But I get ahead of myself.

To finish the chapter: Henry, having promised Flora that he won't leave, camps out at her bedside with Marchdale's crowbar reloaded pistols—which I mention because it reminds me a lot of the men watching over Lucy in Dracula. Or reverse-reminds me, since Varney predates Dracula by fifty years. My point is, here's another Literary Vampire Tradition Moment: the maiden abed, and her protectors' vigil. Which is worth noting, because there are a number of moments that feel like something you've seen a hundred times, and then there are vast, oceanic swathes of wackery. As I said back in 2010, I had read half the entire serial by that point, and the opening chapter was the first and only episode of vampiring I had seen in some 300,000 words. BE STRONG, WE CAN DO THIS.

(Chapter 4, sparkle willing, will go up on Tuesday, March 21.)

[marroniere]

fic: Family Lexicon, Thranto

Summary:

After Moff Gideon's cloning project does not go as planned, Thrawn is forced to adopt a month-old baby who happens to be just like him in too many ways.

Excerpt:

Months of patrol missions go by, and Thrawn catches himself enjoying the time he spends with Thrass far more than he used to. He moves Thrass’s cot to his bedroom—for practical purposes, he tells himself at first, as it is much easier to monitor Thrass’s state. But pragmatic as this decision is, there is something else, something that does not follow any logic. Thrawn has grown to enjoy falling asleep to the sound of Thrass’s breathing.

When he starts showing Thrass different objects to study, he chooses his Paccian ring and only then does he notice it.

The ring is the first true piece of art he could call his, something that he owned. The ring was where his collection started. Uingali foar Marocsaa, who gave it to him decades ago, said that it was a family heirloom—and if Thrass is considered Thrawn’s son now, it would make sense for him to inherit it one day.

At this point, however, Thrass does not understand it. Does not have to.

The ring is big and shiny, and Thrass watches it with an excited look in his eyes.

This is the moment when Thrawn allows the thought that maybe they are similar, after all.

“Unbelievable,” Doctor Pershing mutters when Thrawn pays a visit to his ship lab.

Thrawn would have left Thrass in the quarters, but Thrass started fussing, and Eli and Enoch were busy, and Thrawn was in a rush. He had only fifteen minutes to meet with Pershing and Ronan before the start of the bridge shirt. Pacifying Thrass would have required five or ten.

Thrawn’s life is now divided between two schedules: that of a Nightdragon-class ship captain and that of a, well, young father.

“What is so unbeliavable, Doctor?” he asks.

Pershing tenses like he usually does when he hears Thrawn’s voice.

“Um, nothing, sir. I am simply happy to see little Thrass…enjoy life. It is…not a luxury available to most clones.”

Thrass coos from his new hover-pram. The Springhawk-II’s engineers have constructed it, as Eli said, “in an attempt to save your already injured back, Thrawn.” The boy has acquired a very healthy amount of thermogenic fat, and even though it is a positive development, and Thrawn is no weak man, the crew was becoming worried.

“You remind me of someone,” says Doctor Pershing.

Thrass smiles at him but then hides in the hover-pram.

[feuqueerfire]

Feu's December 2022 BL/GL Wrap-Up

A little monthly wrap-up of all the shows I’ve watched or am watching in December 2022, general thoughts, and ranking of them all.

Recommendation of the month: 

To Sir, With Love is just so good if you’re into this sort of thing and I hope we get more lakorns with queer main characters and queer romances since it seems to be pretty popular in Thailand. This month I hope more people come across Love of Secret so that they also see there’s an audience for GL and make more.

Ranking

To Sir, With Love

Ghost Host, Ghost House

My Secret Love = Love of Secret

Catch Me Baby - side BL

My Esports Genius Brother

Average Rating: 5.9/10 (but it was still overall a great month bc of my rewatches)

MDL Updates - Added to Watchlist:

A section because I’m curious about how many shows I decide to add to my Watch List a month and also the ratio of watching them:adding them

Happy Ending Romance

Legend of Yunze

Yes or No

Tsukuritai Onna to Tabetai Onna

Catch Me Baby

Weak Hero Class 1

Choco Milk Shake

Alice In Borderland

To Watch List At Start Of Month: 46

To Watch List At End Of Month: 47

Removed from To Watch List:

Happy Ending Romance (lol removing it the same month i added it)

What Zabb Man! 

Watching On-Air

Nothing because I don’t want carry over to 2023 :’)

Completely Watched

Ghost Host, Ghost House

Country: Thailand

Release Dates: Oct 5, 2022 - Nov 23, 2022

Watch Via: Youtube (free)

Watch Dates: Nov 28 - Dec 3, 2022

Rating: 6.5/10

Overall Impression: Pluem and Kevin, bro they were soooooo fucking cute just unbelievable I was cheesing throughout so many of their interactions. they really felt like people who liked each other and also just bounced off each other so well. Idek how I feel about the last 1.5 eps because in terms of writing, I have some qualms but like Kevin and Pluem are so cute that I can’t even think critically. Also, I love the deliberate choice of using you/I so much and what it means when it’s used vs not used (meung). The ghost stuff was intriguing and I’m glad they didn’t somehow make them come back or anything. I wish we got some more background in terms of how things actually worked and some more lore building but I’m still generally okay with the way it went, combining the comedy and sadness.  I wish we had more of the GL rip

tags: ghost host ghost house

Also Appears In: Ghost Host, Ghost House Live Blogging

The next two weeks where I finish up assignments and study for exams will be for rewatching some of the stand-out shows for the year! Might watch fully for some and might watch some parts for others.

Rewatch

I don’t think I’ll do Live Blogging for these and I’ll instead have a different type of watching summary here.

Bad Buddy - full rewatch

Country: Thailand

Rewatch Dates: Dec 4 - 8, 2022

Rating: 9/10 || Changed? No

New Thoughts: One of the best things about the rewatch is truly just coming at it with the knowledge of Thai particle endings, titles and honorifics, and more of a cultural knowledge. Also can’t believe I rewatched so much of the show, usually I rewatch only parts I love. Continues to be my favourite BL of the year, hope something comes along next year that takes over my brain just as much to be honest.

Fave Ep: 7 (fave series of eps is 4 - 8)

Fave Scenes: Mentioned in Bad Buddy Rewatch Blogging

tags: bad buddy

My Year in 2022 - Tumblr

KinnPorsche: Vegas scenes

Country: Thailand

Rewatch Dates: Dec 9, 2022

Rating: [no change bc only watching parts]

New Thoughts: Pete’s “Khun Vegas” and “Pom” and “Krub” turning into “Gu/Meung/Vegas” is fun. A lot of post-canon fics turn VegasPete into very healthy and well-adjusted people which is just not true, I love how Vegas is dishonorable and shitty even throughout ep 14. The acting continues to be great and also I was less irritated during this rewatch bc I didn’t watch KP or KC or “plot” 

Fave Ep/Scenes: the ep 10 - 14 VP stuff is great 

tags: kinnporsche, vegaspete

Love Mechanics - Skim Rewatch

Country: Thailand

Rewatch Dates: Dec 10, 2022

Rating: [no change bc only watching parts]

New Thoughts:

Fave Ep:

Fave Scenes: Ep 2 - 2 (Vee taking Mark to a restaurant, Mark tying Vee’s shoelaces), Ep 3 - 1 (Vee talking to Ploy on the phone in front of Mark and Mark distracting himself by picking out garlic from Vee’s plate bc he doesn’t like it), Ep 4 (Mark buying instant noodles to cook for Vee + being protective of them. interesting bc VegasPete also have the noodles motif lol), Ep 6 (can I call the VeeMark fight scene a fave, Mark-Kan and Vee-Bar’s parallel convos), a bunch of other scenes I didn’t keep track of, ep 10 after credits (roleplay reverse phi/nong and cnc woahhhh) 

tags: love mechanics

Not Me  - Skim Rewatch

Country: Thailand

Rewatch Dates: Dec 11 - 13, 2022

Rating: [no change bc only watching parts]

New Thoughts:

Fave Ep:

Fave Scenes: a lot of the earlier interactions are cute, 6-4 choking out scene is insane fr the emotions and acting in that ah, 7-3 protest and pride, 7-4 Yok and Dan in Dan’s home, 8-1 Sean coming to White’s home and apologizing and baring his soul, 8-2 Yok being cheeky while painting Dan, 9-4 when Black and White meet again and Black takes back his piercings, 11-4 Sean finally finding out about Black vs White 

Fave Scene: 9-1 the best section without a doubt - I loved how SeanWhite checked in on each other in the beginning and also afterwards with the “are you okay?” and it felt like they each actually cared about each other and the interactions held emotion more than the other “consent scenes” that make me feel like it’s just smth to check off rather than something you actually want to communicate to a partner and is also not cringey to watch. Also cheeky Yok coming over to Dan’s station at the end

tags: not me, ship names

Secret Crush on You - Skim Rewatch

Country: Thailand

Rewatch Dates: Dec 14, 2022

Rating: [no change bc only watching parts]

New Thoughts: I love how Nuea isn’t overly cocky and doesn’t pressure Toh into admitting his feelings and isn’t 100000% certain that Toh likes him and would be perfect with him. When Nuea sulks or gets hurt by Toh’s carefully put on callousness or uncaringness (ep 3 him being annoyed that Toh keeps saying shit! everytime they met, 3-4, 5-3, 8-3 Nuea sulking at Toh insinuating Nuea might wanna break up in the future, 9-3 when Nuea’s upset that Toh didn’t say they were faen to the girls and told them to join what was gonna be their date, 13-3), it feels so real like the feelings really matter to Nuea and that he can be hurt by the lack of reciprocation.

Fave Ep:

Fave Scenes: 3-1 when Nuea visiting Toh’s dorm to see the photos he took, 3-4 when Nuea comes to Toh’s room to ask about why he left the event early and sulks and there’s hurt from both ends because each think the other doesn’t care T.T so good, 5-3 Nuea/Toh lip kiss because of the Kung King game and Nuea being so sad that Toh had no reaction and was brushing it off and saying it was just a game, 8-2 their little heart to heart after confessing in the last part about why Toh takes photos, 10-4 just friendly friends playing games, 13-3 when Toh’s collection is revealed and Nuea’s reaction to Toh insinuating their relationship will end and them baring their souls to each other 

tags: secret crush on you

HIStory2: Right or Wrong - Skim Rewatch

Country: Thailand

Rewatch Dates: Dec 15 - 17, 2022

Rating: 6/10 [Updated: 0.5 increase]

New Thoughts: yeah it's enjoyable and fun but i skipped almost entirely of ep 4

Fave Scenes: it’s so short, just reach the whole thing at that point

tags: 

Catch Me Baby (side BL) - not a rewatch

Country: Thailand

Release Dates: Oct 6, 2022 - Dec 15, 2022

Watch Via: WeTV (free)

Watch Dates: Dec 17, 2022

Rating: 5.5/10 [unrated on MDL]

Overall Impression: saw a few clips of the show on tiktok and was thinking of watching it through these tiktok vids but now that I’m anticipating Bed Friend even more after the trailers, I think I’ll watch their parts on actual weTV lol. They made them both friendless, annoying losers who don’t have friends bc their classmates don’t like them but they still have money and get girls; it’s like two opposing tropes in one. Thought it was interesting that Foie was basically open about really liking Tan from after the kiss but he didn’t think they’d be good or that Tan was serious, so didn’t pursue anything. The car crash was a useless decision but the asking to be bfs scene was cute, though they disappeared from the story after that lol. They have really good chemistry and ability to play off each other, think that with some more acting skills, Bed Friend would have great chemistry/acting.

tags: catch me baby

Blueming - Skim Rewatch

Country: South Korea

Rewatch Dates: Dec 18, 2022

Rating: [no change bc only watching parts (tbh I watched 80% of it lol but yeah no change)]

New Thoughts: idek man there’s something about the way this show is made and shot and acted and THE DYNAMIC that makes me delirious and like my brain is knocking around loose in my skull

Fave Ep: no specific ep sticks out to me but the middle few eps where they’ve become friends and before the drama reveal, they are sooooo alksdfj

Fave Scenes: Ep 4 “ “Well, if you do me wrong, will you buy me bread too?” + the over-the-hand kiss, Ep 6 the confession scene and before and after it too, Ep 8 kiss where Siwon’s too eager

tags: blueming

His (2020) - Full Rewatch

Country: Japan

Rewatch Dates: Dec 19, 2022

Rating: unchanged

New Thoughts: so good still T.T my fave japenese show/BL

Fave Scenes: just rewatch the movie lol

tags: his (jpn)

Semantic Error: The Movie - Full Rewatch

Country: South Korea

Rewatch Dates: Dec 19, 2022

Rating: unchanged

New Thoughts: I was gonna skim rewatch the show but the movie turned out to come out on Viki, so rewatched the full movie instead. I like it a lot, still so cute >.< Want second season after Seoham finally gets out pls I continue to like Yuna a lot. Also, during this rewatch I think I noticed more just how often they (Jaeyoung, Sangwoo, Yuna) swear or call each saekki

Fave Scenes: rip i was too busy watching to keep track

tags: semantic error

End of Rewatches

End of my 16 day rewatch journey of rewatching most of the 2022 stuff that I enjoyed. Not rewatched but 2022 shows I rated high were The Eclipse, Badhaai Do, Boku mo Aitsu mo Shinrodesu - We’re Both Grooms and I might rewatch them. I had a handful of non-2022 releases that I rated high and out of those, I might rewatch Life: Love on the Line (Director's Cut), No Touching At All, P.S. I Hate You, Utsukushii Kare.

Now onto To Sir, With Love because it’s like 17 70 to 75-minute episodes lmfao and now is a good time to let it consume my life since I have no school

Thai BL/GL Filming Schedules

To Sir, With Love

Country: Thailand

Release Dates: Oct 3, 2022 - Nov 28, 2022

Watch Via: Youtube (free)

Watch Dates: Dec 20 - 24, 2022

Rating: 7/10

Overall Impression: Definitely enjoyable and also different from other BLs I’ve watched because this was a lakorn that had a huge component of Tian being gay but the actual romance took up very little screen time. Very dramatic, gives me Indian serial vibes. The acting, characterization, occasional action were all good. The focus on women, even though they were mostly fucked in the head, was also a welcome change in the midst of all my BL consumption.Yang and Tian’s brotherhood was everything!!! I love siblings and sibling bonds so much T.T Yang/Pin were also freaking adorable!! Tian and Jiu were not the biggest part of the story, didn’t really even have much interactions before ep 7 but they were sooo romantic. 

tags: to sir with love

Also Appears In: To Sir With Love Live Blogging

My Secret Love

Country: Thailand

Release Dates: May 28, 2022 - Aug 20, 2022

Watch Via: Youtube (free)

Watch Dates: Dec 26 - 30, 2022

Rating: 6/10

Overall Impression: When Mek-Kim were cute, they were cute but there were some poor choices with their writing that made it boring sometimes or just lacked sense, like with the separation. Park-Lee my lovelies who call each other ‘ter’ and propose at the same time and are physically affectionate and have feelings like insecurity or jealousy. Bomb and Bear were so cute in the beginning but then became :< sad in the end but it felt like something that could happen with wonky work-life balance. Tim and Mai were sooo rancid and passive aggressive in the middle, I was liking it but then the confession was anti-climactic and then they fizzled out. This show had a lot of heart. Don’t think I’ll remember much except Park and Lee but it was a fun enough watch while it lasted.

tags: my secret love

Also Appears In: My Secret Love Live Blogging

My Esports Genius Brother

Country: China

Release Dates: Aug 13, 2021 - Aug 26, 2021

Watch Via: GaGaOolala

Watch Dates: Dec 31, 2022

Rating: 4.5/10

Overall Impression: I read that this didn’t have actual brothers or incest, so I gave it a chance cuz I wanted some esports competitive enemies to lovers + celebrity trope. instead it’s like some Deluded vs feelingless person enemies to lovers with lots of other plotlines that were too complicated for this 12 ep show with 4 mins an ep agh. also was this dubbed or was the audio just weird? also the acting lmfao man this show kinda just irritated me

Love of Secret

Country: Thailand

Release Dates: Nov 5, 2022 - Nov 12, 2022

Watch Via: Youtube (free)

Watch Dates: Dec 31, 2022

Rating: 6/10

Overall Impression: my last piece of media watched for 2022! It was cute and tackled a few things (Punpun working to realize her idol dream, her relationship with Tim, Punpun’s dad’s approval, Punpun’s aunt and the guy who keeps breaking watches, along with plenty of other characters and scenes), it would’ve been so good as a 10 ep show, oof. now it was a cute watch but too short and speedy to really empathize with what the characters are going through beyond the initial ‘oh that sucks’. I liked the stuff it focuses on: girlfriends, chasing dreams, (complicated) familial bonds and looking out for each other, but it would’ve been better if fleshed out

tags: love of secret

Whew, last show of the year and last monthly wrap-up of 2022! Now to finish up this post and then things like my 2022 show overview and 2023 Shows post and such. 

2022 Overview + Stats

[shelbeetaylor]

Chapter Twenty-Six | Fire and Raîne

-> story masterpost

-> previous chapter

It was only a little bit later in the day— just enough time for the cook to have cooled off some steam from the heist earlier— and Evie had left Wes and the knights behind for this mission of hers.

The kitchen was just as bustling as it was previously, even more so now that it was closer to meal time. She knew a lot of people were employed to keep nobility fed, but the royal palace was on a whole other level. There was barely enough room for her to squeeze between all the people running about making trays of food to feed every person in the castle, and Evie nearly got knocked to the ground by several disgruntled cooks.

Above all the noise was a familiar harsh voice shouting orders at kids no older than the princess herself. Evie followed the sound through the maze of busy servants until she was just within eyesight of the head cook—

“OI! Get the bloody hell out of my kitchen if you’re not here to work!”

Evie cringed at the volume a bit, involuntarily recoiling to put distance between her ears and the vocal chords that produced the horrible shout. “Sorry…”

“Why in the good graces of the gods is a princess bothering me and my cooks at rush hour?”

“Oh, sorry…” she apologized again, “I had a question, and I guess I’m still used to the way everything ran back at home…”

“Oh, so they just let you waltz around the castle all day , not a care in the world while you disrupt the workers trying to do their job and make ends meet, huh?!”

“No, actually. I used too help the Wystwillow cook sometimes. She taught me how to make food.”

The head chef took a deep inhale and sighed through her nose quite loudly. “What is it you need so you can get the hell out of here?” The question was more of a statement, but Evie continued on as usual anyways.

“Well, it’s going to be Sir Godfrey’s birthday in a few days, and I was wondering if it was at all possible to make food for a party?”

“A party?” the cook scoffed. “The queen’s throwing a party and sends her ward to tell me about it days before it happens? Unbelievable.”

“Um, actually I’m throwing the party. It’s just a small function with the knights and a couple other court members.”

“Oh.” The cook made a face. “I’m assuming you want me to make some sort of authentic Archipelago meal or something.”

“Yes, that would be wonderful!” Evie was reminded that Theo vaguely mentioning in passing that Godfrey was from the Mariposa Archipelago, and she sighed internally at the fact that she didn’t remember nor think about that fact when trying to come up with a plan. “If you happen to know any, of course. Mariposan culture is one of the weak spots in my academic endeavors right now.”

The chef’s face dropped even farther as she probably realized if a word wasn’t mentioned then she wouldn’t have to go out of her way to make a foreign meal. “Fine. But you’re going out and getting the more difficult ingredients to come by and paying for it yourself.”

“I am absolutely okay with that,” Evie smiled.

“So when she said ‘more difficult ingredients to come by’ I didn’t expect it to be this hard.”

Evie had managed to rope Gena, Civarn, and Wes into accompanying her out to the city mainly because she hadn’t traveled any farther than the castle walls and needed some guides. Wes was more of a security measure, but also it wouldn’t hurt for him to be involved with the preparations as well.

Gena had led the group down to the southernmost part of Wildwood where the traveling merchants had claimed a corner of the city as their outdoor marketplace. It was a vey lively place full of lots of different types of people, and Evie certainly had found a couple stands that caught her eye… so, needless to say she’d be returning a few more times to peruse the market for her own gain.

“Well, that’s one of the unfortunate parts of the Archipelago,” Gena said as she picked through a stand of spices.

“What do you mean by that?” Wes inquired, still doing his best to pretend like shopping was uninteresting to him— though Evie caught him staring at a couple of the other vendors’ items.

“Erm… how do I put this…? There’s… a severe lack of Mariposan merchants, and the trading culture has gone south in the past couple of decades. It’s difficult to get anything in or out, so most people have simply given up on it.”

“She means pirates have taken over those waters,” Civarn simplified rather bluntly as he grabbed a couple fruits from the stand next to the spices.

“Yes,” Gena gritted her teeth and made a face at the other servant, “the Oceanic Kingdoms have been dominated by piracy in recent history. Mariposa became the epicenter for that type of illegal activity. I can’t quite recall why, maybe it was the shelter of the shores around that make it relatively difficult to navigate for royal navies?”

“I thought it was the location. You know, easy access to both the Oceanic Kingdoms and the mainland,” Civarn offered.

The two servants looked at each other and shrugged, Gena saying, “Who knows? It hasn’t been a topic of conversation for years.”

“Wow,” Evie said, “you guys know a lot about this kinda stuff.”

“We have to attend all meetings that Cassandra and Theo do,” Civarn explained. “There’s not much else to do but listen. Besides, it’s better if we know what’s going on too since it’s basically our job to attend to every whim of those two.”

“Yeah… I guess I didn’t think about all you guys have to do…”

Civarn threw his arms into another shrug. “Fine print of the job description. No one tells you it makes life easier.”

“Stop yapping and tell me what’s next on the list,” Gena ordered. Civarn pulled out the list, squinted at Evie's tiny handwriting, and did as best he could to read it, and in response Gena ran a hand down her face. “This is going to take all day to track these ingredients down.”

Civarn made a face as he read further down the list. “Some of these are going to be… more difficult than others.”

“Well, obviously, it’s not like—” Gena began, then looked at Civarn’s face. “Oh.”

Evie and Wes exchanged confused looks, then glanced back at the servants. A “Huh?” escaped Wes’s mouth.

“It looks like we’re going to have to split up for a minute,” Gena explained. “Stay in this general area, we’ll be right back. Okay?”

“Okay,” they both replied.

As Gena and Civarn hurried off, Evie sighed through her nose as she tried to come up with something to do in the meantime. “You wanna go look at some of the vendors?”

“Sure,” Wes answered. “Lead the way.”

A couple stands down was a vendor peddling old-looking books that Evie was eager to check out. The vendor gave his welcome spiel which was very similar to the ones they’d heard earlier during the trip, and in response Wes gave an awkward wave while Evie nodded and smiled before turning to the books before her.

The books themselves seemed to be anywhere from nearly falling apart to just a little worn. The vendor did say they were used books sold at a cheaper price, he certainly wasn’t wrong about the used portion. Used books had their upsides though, Evie reminded herself as she opened a volume and found notes scribbled in the margins. It was always fascinating to read books through another’s eyes.

Wes fumbled with a book before carefully placing it back in its original resting place. “You said you went on adventures back in Wystwillow, right?”

“Uh, yeah,” she replied. Weird time to bring this up, but whatever…

The books were very poorly sorted, not at all like the libraries she was used to perusing. There were mythologies next to new fiction next to history. Very unorganized, and Evie held back a sigh and a head shake.

“Is this like one of those adventures?”

Evie pursed her lips a little, then responded, “Yeah, sorta.”

Her hands grazed one of the more beat up books in the collection. The title on the spine was relatively worn away, but she could at least make out the words “histories” and “priestesses.” Evie flipped it open to a random page. In large letters scrolled at the top of the page was the name Raîne Caradas. She was one of the Seven involved in the War of the Priestesses, the one that reigned over the territory of Atladalir, now the present-day kingdoms Valoran and Markthude. Just as Evie thought. It was a book chronicling each of their lives in detail, and according to the inside cover, it included accounts from each of their home lands.

She ran her fingers over the Raîne Caradas page again, her mind wandering back a few days to the painting in the library. Raîne Caradas was known for her abilities in elemental magic, specifically her utilization of water in battle as was noted in the princess’s history lessons. But the stories she had read mentioned the tale that Caradas was powerful enough to cast a fire spell so potent that it burned an entire city to the ground, and she did so by herself, no aids from other magic-wielding allies. The painting had shown this exact story, the image of it burned into her mind. Among buildings ablaze with white-hot fire was the depiction of Caradas slitting the throat of an enemy with a dagger of water in one hand and the other holding a small ball of flame while innocents burned to death, their skin igniting as the inferno touched them.

Evie blinked away the thought of melting skin and all too familiar screams as she shut the book quickly. She still wanted to buy it and at least read up on the individual Seven as another personal assignment for herself.

“Did you and Aggie ever go book-shopping? Or, maybe there’s some more interesting advent—”

Evie bluntly cut him off, “I don’t really feel like talking about that right now.”

Wes’s face fell a bit. “Oh…” He quietly shuffled away to the other side of the stall, pretending to be interested in the mystery book he began flipping through.

Evie felt a bit bad about being so curt with him, but she also didn’t want to explain herself more than she didn’t want to talk about Aggie. Maybe she’d make it up to him sometime later and tell him what happened, but that would happen when her stomach wasn’t turning from the echoes of the past.

Amidst her clouded thoughts, another tome caught her eye. This one was in a bit better shape than the book on the Seven, she could at least read the spine. Well, she could observe the title was the term she supposed? The lettering and word structure looked very similar to that mysterious book that Cassie kept locked away in her room, so naturally a curious princess picked it up and flipped it open. The entire book seemed to be written in the same foreign language, but there were very fine scribbles in the margins. A bit of squinting and decoding of cursive handwriting later, Evie realized she could read the annotations— they were in Markthudan. An older form of it, sure, but she could at least understand and translate it.

Wes stayed quiet all through the rest of her perusing and even while she handed over the few bronze sovereigns for the two books she decided to buy. Another twinge of regret for her words earlier hit her, but she simply moved onto another stand with him in silence while they waited for Civarn and Gena to return.

In an attempt to distract herself further from her thoughts as they continued searching for ingredients, Evie asked Gena, “So what’s Godfrey’s story? I don’t really know all too much about the knights and where they came from.”

The mysterious side quest that Civarn and Gena went on had taken longer than expected, so the two servants decided it was better for the group to split up and get the rest of the shopping done before the daylight waned. Evie, of course, immediately opted to join Gena, leaving Civarn stuck with Wes.

“Theo hasn’t told you much, has he?” she said as she picked over the vendor’s goods.

Evie shook her head. “All I really know is who they are and what I’ve heard— which also isn’t much.” She looked at the floor for a moment. “I just think it’s interesting that we’re the only kingdom that allows common people to obtain knighthoods.”

Gena gave her a small smile. “You know, Godfrey is the reason that commoners are able to serve.”

“Really?”

The maid nodded. “He was the first.”

“Wow,” she said. “How?”

Gena softly chuckled a little before she began, “As is such with most of Theo’s circle, I was here long before them and remember the time prior to their arrival.”

“Storytime!” the princess whispered under her breath with a newfound enthusiasm.

“Actually, he’s the only one of the knights that I met before he was knighted. Yeah, Terran showed up at my house one day dragging along this battered stranger who defended him from a couple of bandits he encountered picking herbs for Galen. He said this guy needed his clothes mended before he set out on some sort of mission— or whatever the hell they were calling it. It sounded so ridiculous the way Terran explained it, but I had no issue mending clothes for Godfrey.”

Gena picked up another ingredient, and, satisfied with its state, she handed over the sovereigns for it and tucked it into her bag.

“He thanked me a hundred times over for my generosity, and in return I commented on his strange accent for I’d never heard it before. He told Terran and I tales of his life in the Archipelago as I took a needle and thread to his shirt, about how the islands were ravaged by piracy, about how a pirate lord’s fleet destroyed his village and killed his family, about how some ragtag group of pirates taught his newly orphaned self to fight… He as a young teenager manage to work his way over to and through the mainland using his skills with the blade alone, searching for someone who would help fight the pirate lord decimating his homeland.”

“He thought Teddy could do that?”

“He, like so many others, heard the reputation of the Knights of Nevernia and hoped to win over their support. Unfortunately, as so many of these stories end, Theo had to break the news to him that there were no reinforcements to spare with the war against the rebels raging on.”

“Then why’d he stay?”

“Well, actually, he and Theo struck a bargain. The knight was so impressed with his skills that he offered his help in battling the pirate lord when the southern rebels were defeated and the war won, so Godfrey offered his services in battle in return. The queen took some convincing, of course, but Godfrey was eventually allowed to be knighted and the nobles-only rule was overturned.”

Gena sighed. “Sorry, I skipped over a bit and gave the shortened version. It was a couple months worth of narrative, and I wasn’t there for all of it.”

“That’s okay, it’s still really interesting,” Evie replied. “So, Teddy will have another war to fight when this is all over?”

“If it’s ever over,” Gena corrected quite cynically, “but the whole circle promised to lend their blades to help Godfrey on his avenging quest.”

“Wow…” she simply said again. The princess had a feeling she was going to be forever in awe of the knights and their skills and their bond.

“Well, it seems we’ve got all the items we came for,” Gena declared. “Ready to go find the boys?”

“Yup!”

-> next chapter

[solomons-finest-rum]

“Great Libraries of the Ancient World” (Alfie Solomons x fem!Reader) — Part 1/2

SUMMARY — Dark Academia AU. When you accepted the position of a librarian in an elite boarding school, you weren't exactly prepared for the mess that your predecessor had left in said library, and most importantly—for a certain Literature professor that would soon turn your world upside down.

AUTHOR’S NOTE — This is written for the 600 Celebration Event for the lovely Lee from @zablife! 💗💗💗 Congratulations on your milestone babes and thank you for agreeing to make it a two-parter because I think the muse got a little bit carried away with this one 🙈 and thank you so much to @alfie-darling for being the most gracious beta reader! 💗💗💗

WORD COUNT — 3,862

Masterlist

It all started with a job advertisement that was a little too good to be true. At least that’s what your gut told you when you read about the salary and the words “permanent position” bolded out like that. 

To be fair, though, the entire advertisement was rather unusually written. It truly felt as if two different people worked on it simultaneously and then backtracked throughout it to fix one another’s mistakes.

What you should have found equally odd, too, was how that little square of the newspaper ad section almost called out to you; like a little whisper beckoning you closer.  But then, as you did indeed get closer, you spotted the catch.

“An all-male boarding school?!” your mother exclaimed as soon as you told her about your curious little find in the paper.

And, as expected, she was more than ready to start one of her ungodly rants. You saw your father immediately hiding behind Times, his moustache already hinting a twitch. It always twitched when he tried to suppress a giggle.

“Mother, I really think—” you tried to explain, but you knew it would be of no use. Your mother was already easing herself into a lengthy tangent.

“My world, what is that foolish girl up to now, God help us all! Are you hearing this, sir?” She turned towards your father with her usual silent request for participation in berating you. He wouldn’t budge.

“Yes, dearest, I am hearing it directly and first-hand,” your father hummed, “and likewise, I think the neighbours heard you loud and clear.”

“That is just unheard of!” Your mother raised her voice even more, obviously unwilling to take the feedback. “That a girl her age would travel unchaperoned to God knows where and stay alone in a school for boys!”

“Darling, I’m convinced the other staff will be present as well, unless they expect our daughter to teach all subjects and manage the library single-handedly, in which case I dare say the proposed salary is quite ridiculous for a task of that size.” Your father winked at you behind your mother’s back and your heart swelled. You already knew you had his blessing.

“Unbelievable!” Your mother walked around the room now, much like a general preparing for his one final strike. “You, sir, would sentence your own daughter to a public scandal! How do you expect us to find her a proper match when she would be branded so?! Oh, I feel a weakness come over me already…” As your mother succumbed to her prophesied “weakness” and swooned onto a chaise lounge, which both you and your father already knew came just as she was out of arguments, your father swiftly put down his newspaper and rang for the maid.

“You called, my lady?” She came in quicker than ever, probably already having heard her mistress all the way downstairs.

“Yes! Fetch me my drops from the bathroom cabinet, quickly!” Your mother waved her hand dismissively. The maid curtsied and ran upstairs to get the medicine.

“Oh, oh, my head!” your mother whined anew, but you knew that the spectacle was already over.

“Now then,” your father cleared his throat and folded the newspaper neatly in four squares as he always did. “Show us the advertisement,” he demanded curtly, though you knew his tone was not meant to be dismissive.

A typical English gentleman, your father was a no-nonsense type of man, rarely prone to showing emotion. Nonetheless, you knew his judgement would be fair and sound.

You quickly handed him your own paper and smiled when he huffed at the wrinkled state of it. He read the circled ad with a usual frown that occurred when he was truly focused.

“Oh, finally!” your mother exclaimed then when the maid came back with a silver tray.

“Apologies, my lady,” the maid muttered softly and placed the tray on the side table to then prepare the concoction of bitter drops, just like the doctor ordered.

“Little more,” your mother grumbled, watching her like a hawk, though just with one eye open.

“But my lady—”

“That will do, Mary!” Your mother dismissed her and the girl, still not used to her mistress’ violent temper, nearly dropped the bottle. She curtsied again and left the room even more abruptly than before, obviously relieved for not having to witness the hysteria any longer.

You, on the other hand, had to endure it all your life. It was partly why you wanted to find employment as far away from London as possible. Times were changing after the Great War, a fact that your mother wouldn’t accept and your father seemed oddly fine with.

Perhaps it had to do with the fact you were an only child. That is, the only one surviving out of the three, as your brother and sister died in infancy, leaving your father with no natural heirs and no one to inherit the title. That was partly why he supported you pursuing your own money, as he tended to be infinitely more realistic than his wife.

Your mother never quite got over the fact that all her ancestral possessions would one day go to some distant cousin, solely for the reason that he was born a man. You yourself gradually got used to the idea–especially since it left your prospects rather flexible. It would make no difference if you married or not, and so you allowed yourself the luxury of fastidiousness that infinitely amused your father and brought on your mother’s hysteria fits.

Personally, you found books more interesting than other people and as time went by you came to the conclusion that no pathetic suitor would ever live up to the dark, mysterious heroes from your favourite novels.

“It’s certainly strange,” your father then said, taking you out of your head.

He sat down on the sofa and you settled next to him, eager to hear his point. Fortunately, the drops acted quickly and since your mother had just swallowed double the recommended dose, she was now completely quiet.

“But the salary is rather handsome,” you offered and he nodded in agreement.

“What worries me is the distance,” he said. “How will you cope all by yourself?”

There was genuine care in the way he asked it and you took his hand in yours, touched by the sentiment.

“They have telephones, I’m sure. I’ll write to you often, I–”

“Doesn’t your mother’s sister live close to Lincoln?” Your father got up then and clearly the tender moment was over. He was back to planning.

“Aunt Clarissa?” you whined. “Father, please…”

You were already disappointed. While you have only met your aunt once or twice in your life, the Dowager Countess Clarissa Stoneshire of Inselwards Hall was hardly a less dramatic companion than her sister.

“Yes, we should give her a call.”

“To…?”

“Ask her about that school.”

“Father…”

“That is my one condition,” he concluded and you hang your head, already certain your hopes would turn into dust.

“Oh, the scandal!” Your mother exclaimed once more, though infinitely weaker, still clutching her handkerchief like her last lifeline.

“It’s Yorkshire, dearest,” your father grunted as he reached for the telephone. “I’d hardly call it running away to the jungle to teach the lions how to start a fire.”

If only your father knew just how wrong he was.

During your first week, you already knew that dealing with hormonal adolescent boys was no different from taming wild boars. And seeing as you had no real experience with either, you quickly came to appreciate the fact that you were a librarian and not their teacher. As it happened, said wild boars rarely found themselves in need to read.

Quite surprisingly, your Aunt Clarissa had nothing but reluctant praise for the entire institution, which subsequently solidified your father’s support for you seeking the job. As it was close to her estate, she knew all about it. You still couldn’t believe it when your father reported her words:

“Is that truly what she said?” you asked him time and again, and you could see he was as surprised as you.

“Apparently it produced the finest young men in the country. Some of them MP’s, even.” Your father shook his head and looked at the advertisement once more.

Your mother was still napping and you knew you could discuss the matter easily.

“So you will let me call them?” you asked and nearly yelped with joy when your father nodded.

“No, wait,” he then said just as you reached for the phone handle. “I will call them. The headmaster should know who he is employing, that’s only proper.”

“Father, please…” you pleaded, but he was already speaking to the operator.

As you sat on the sofa and listened to one side of that conversation, your disappointment only grew. Yes, you really wanted the position, but you didn’t want to be employed just based on your name. You had references to show that you were much more than that.

You received the offer letter from the school in the following weeks and as you skimmed the contents of it, your stomach sank. They were “delighted to accept your candidacy for Head Librarian”, with your current references “more than sufficient”, hoping that “the enclosed first class train ticket would show their appreciation”. You shook your head and threw yourself on the bed dramatically, already disappointed that they would treat you with unnecessary courtesy that wouldn’t otherwise apply if your birthright remained unknown.

But none of that turned out to be true once you started working… 

You quickly saw that there was a reason why they so eagerly accepted your candidacy and none of it had anything to do with your name.

As it turned out, your predecessor left the library in a state of complete disarray, one you knew would take you months to get in order. Not only that, she disappeared abruptly one night without any notice, leaving everyone baffled and speculating about it to this day. 

As for the library, the task of cleaning up the mess would potentially take you even longer once the headmaster gave you the full tour—the school library was not only ancient but also enormous, and it took up two entire floors. The way the headmaster explained it, the library held countless priceless manuscripts and once bestowed with the key to the restricted section, you quickly assessed that the books collected there probably belonged in a museum.

“The fact of the matter is,” the headmaster said as you ended your tour by your tiny office located on the second floor, “we do need your help, Miss. And I’m hoping it will be more permanent than the last person in this position,” he added bitterly, his formidable black moustache twitching like an antenna that sensed disappointment. “She left us quite abruptly and as you can see, the state of things leaves much to be desired.”

That would be putting it mildly. Before you even finished sorting out the library cards and getting to arrange the general literature section from A to E, you realised that the endeavour would probably take your sanity along with it. Whatever the previous librarian used to get things done, it was most likely magic—though whatever happened here to get it to that state was most likely a hurricane.

Much like the library, the school itself was also much grander than expected. Formerly an abbey, and truly holding onto its gothic look tooth and nail, it reminded you of a haunted castle from one of your novels.

On average, you got lost at least five times a day and got so fed up with it that you even drafted yourself a hand-drawn map. Only… Even when you used it on the spot, pencil clutched tight in between your ink-stained fingers, you could swear that the doors and the corridors that were just there the day before weren’t there on the next.

However, nothing could have prepared you for the real reason why the previous librarian chose to vacate the position—and even though at first you weren’t sure that was the case, the evidence would quickly pile up against the man to give more than a clear picture of the menace he was…

Said real reason burst in through the door one gloomy afternoon, causing you to nearly drop every single book you were holding, and subsequently get thrown off the ladder you were balancing on as well. 

“What in the name of…!” You shouted, as you desperately clutched the heavy volumes with one hand and held onto the tall shelf with the other. 

Fortunately for you, these large wooden stacks were sturdy enough to sustain a much larger impact than yourself.

“You there!” you exclaimed and the stranger finally looked up to meet your unforgiving glare. The heavy doors to the library then slammed shut behind him, accentuating his unexpected entrance.

Broad-shouldered and with a beard like that, he couldn’t have been a student—though as short-sighted as you were, it could have all very well been in your head. 

What wasn’t, though, was what the man said next, in a booming, commanding tone:

“Right you are, luv, you go on, right?”

“Excuse me?”

“Yeah, I’m just gonna see if the old witch was hoardin’ the books I ordered all those bloody weeks ago, don’t trouble yourself.”

“What?!”

“No danger, luv, I know the way!”

“Excuse me! Excuse me, where do you think you’re going?!” You nearly fell off the ladder again, but he paid you no more mind. That for some reason made you angrier than anything else.

“You come back here at once!” you shrieked. 

That, to your astonishment, seemed to have finally worked. All you heard was the stranger mutter something under his breath, but he did come back to you as ordered—scowling. You thought it an unseemly manner, especially when faced with such justified outrage as yours. It was as if he was almost pleasantly surprised at it…

“Right then, you alright up there, sweetie?” he asked you all too bluntly once he made it towards you.

“No, of course not!” you scoffed. “Who are you and what do you think you’re doing?!”

You waited patiently for the explanation that never came—because in all of his audacity, the man just smirked. 

“Who am I?” he scoffed. “Luv—”

“I am not your love, don’t you call me that!”

“Right…”

“And start explaining yourself or I’ll…”

“Or what?” he grimaced.

“Or I’ll tell the headmaster!”

“Ah,” the stranger’s smirk only grew. “Yeah, you do that, sweetheart,” he concluded and then waltzed towards your private office as if it were his own.

“You…! Impertinent man, you get out of my library!” you shrieked, but then yelped, now a little less sure since any second now you could be falling down to your death out of pure outrage alone. 

“Yeah, that’s a bit uncalled for. Can ya throw me the keys?”

“What?! That is none of your concern, that is my office! You, sir! Do you hear me?!”

“Yeah, luv, the entire floor heard ya loud and clear!” he chuckled from a distance. “I’ll be outta your hair no time, now that is a promise, yeah?” 

“You—! Who… No, come back here! It isn’t open yet and that is not a part of it, I’ll have you know—!”

But as he sauntered through the aisles of books, not minding your warnings one bit, you realised quickly that he not only had no desire to leave, he was also feeling lucky enough to ignore you. 

“Excuse me!” 

And just when you put down part of the heavy stack you were holding all this time and finally started to make your way down from the ladder, you slipped on the step and screeched as you fell, your very short and very uneventful life flashing before your eyes.

But then… Then you heard a grunt and the hardwood floor of the library felt like a much softer landing than originally anticipated.

“Oh my God,” you gasped as you opened your eyes and found yourself safe in the arms of the impertinent stranger that must have come just in time to catch you from the fall. 

“You…” You blinked a couple of times, but as that did exactly nothing to improve your vision, you realised you must have lost your glasses with your fall. “Where are my glasses?”

“That a ‘thank you’ where you come from, luv?” the man huffed and you rolled your eyes at him.

You could see nearly nothing about his features except the beard and maybe, just maybe, the colour of his eyes—though with his brows knit so tightly above them that proved a challenge.

“Yeah, fuck me, right, but that’s doin’ exactly nothin’ for my back,” the man said and you gasped again at the language.

“My God!”

“Yeah, you keep sayin’ that, right, but he wasn’t too eager to stop ya from payin’ him a visit either…”

The man put you down then and made the point of stretching upwards with a bear-like grunt.

“Well,” you looked around pointlessly, doing your best in trying to locate your glasses. “I suppose a thank you is in order…”

“Ah,” he gave another wolfish grin. “See, you’re welcome.” 

“Even though I still don’t know your name…”

“Alfie.”

“...and what you’re doing in my library…”

“I told ya, didn’t I? Lookin’ for my books.”

“...and even though your manners, sir, leave much to be desired…”

“Right, this you thankin’ me or scoldin’, ‘cause where I come from, luv, they look somewhat different.”

“Well, you could certainly use a scolding, Alfie, as much as a thank you.” you huffed and that only amused him further. “Don’t laugh! You can’t just barge into other people’s offices, you know. That’s…”

“Hm?”

“Well, that’s just plain rude!” 

He laughed at you again and it was a raspy sort of laugh that suggested the man didn’t do that very often. You held your head a tad higher now, thinking that a man like that was perhaps the grounds keeper or other employee of the school, since judging by his manner alone and the state of his shirt… Well, the wrinkles on that, those you could see clearly enough even without your glasses.

And even if your father taught you not to judge your fellow man, your mother highly encouraged it—it was safe to say their echoes were both fighting for your attention, but finally you decided to have mercy on the poor man and not discourage the desire of reading in him at least:

“Well, Alfie, if you help me find my glasses then I could perhaps check in the office if my predecessor has left something… Oh. Thank you.”

He put them in your hands then and you couldn’t actually see how or when exactly he retrieved them, but you were relieved nonetheless. As you put them on and finally took a proper look at his face, a thought hit you that he wasn’t at all what you expected. 

It was a handsome face, this much was clear, but it was the playful way in which he looked at you that you found truly captivating. This and that low gravelling voice of his that did nothing to soften his abominable accent:

“My books then, luv?” 

“Yes,” you said, your throat drier than Sahara. “Follow me.”

Most bizarrely, you suddenly didn’t mind the pet name. You led him to your office completely unnecessarily, because it was clear that Alfie knew his way around the place much better than you did. 

“Excuse the mess,” you said as quickly as you entered the tiny room.

The truth was, it looked much better than when you originally inherited its contents, but still not good enough according to your impossible standards. 

Alfie’s, however, were evidently much different. He let out a slow whistle as he looked around, clearly impressed.

“You did that all yourself then?” he asked and you couldn’t help but blush a little at the praise.

“It was actually the easiest part,” you explained. “It’s the catalogues I am currently trying to tackle.” 

“Nah, you’ll do fine,” he replied and against your better judgement you blushed even more. “Just fine, I’d say, yeah…”

“Well,” you cleared your throat and turned around to cover up for the effect the man apparently had on you, but not before you noticed that smirk back on his face. “So which books did you say those were?”

“I didn’t, though, did I?”

“What?” You frowned and turned to face him again, only to be met with said smirk growing wider. It was clear that everything concerning the spoken word was somehow a game to him.

“Nothin’.” Alfie cleared his throat and looked through his pockets, then finally handed you a piece of paper, torn on one side and folded four times.

You wrinkled your nose as you spread out the note under the lamp and readied yourself for the hellish scribbling that no doubt awaited you…

But the handwriting turned out to be entirely neat—perfectly round, with a little old-fashioned flourish here or there, and unevenly tilted to the side just to keep things interesting.

“Yeah, ‘s… I can read that out for ya,” Alfie offered then and you realised you must have been looking at it for an unreasonably long while.

“No need,” you replied sharply and put the note in your own pocket before crouching under your desk to look through the boxes your predecessor had left there. Some of them were labelled with big letters “DO NOT TOUCH” written in chalk, some were still untouched as you hadn’t had the time or the energy to go through their contents yet.

“Let’s see,” you muttered to yourself as you looked, and even though you had your back turned to him, you could feel Alfie’s watchful gaze on you.

You stayed in silence as you searched and he, as you could tell by the creaking floorboards, took a more daring look around while you weren’t paying attention.

“Yeah, I can come back later, don’t trouble yourself,” Alfie said finally, just as you emerged from under there, holding a book triumphantly.

“I think I found it!” you cut him off again, then paused to let out the biggest sneeze of your life.

“Bless ya,” Alfie chuckled at that and you nodded instead of an answer, only to sneeze again as you approached him.

“Here you are.” You sniffled with embarrassment and handed him the book, an inconspicuous little volume with a faded red cover. “At least I think that’s one of them. I promise to look for the other two once I get my head around this… Well, this. And… I wanted to thank you again. You really did save my life.”

Alfie hummed instead of a reply and apparently that was that. He said nothing more about the matter and left the library rather unexpectedly without a word of goodbye—and this time no smirking involved. Stunned at the man’s behaviour, language and altogether strange general manner, you returned to your duties; though not without harbouring resentment for the treatment for the rest of the day.

[noyaism]

No Manners

Pairing: Tsukishima Kei x Fem!Reader

Word Count: 5k

Warnings: enemies/rivals to lovers, public sex, hate sex, heavy degrading, edging, choking, overstim, teasing, size kink, power dynamics, sir!Tsukki, dacryphilia, humiliation, spanking, slapping, exhibitionism, sadism, masochism, dumbification, creampie, this shit is pure filth (let me know if I missed any warnings!)

Song Inspo: No Manners - Superm

If there was anything you prided yourself on, it was being the smartest person in any given room you walked into. School had always come so easily to you, no subject too hard, no concept you wouldn't understand. That was, until you got to college. University was a beast unto its own, and it showed you that maybe the genius you had always believed you possessed could indeed be threatened. 

While you found yourself at the top at almost every single class you took, your economics class was your Achilles heel. It irked you how the information just didn’t seem to mesh with you. It made you feel so inferior, and that wasn’t something you were used to. It also wasn’t something Tsukishima Kei was used to, however, thanks to you he was feeling a new sense of inferiority that was completely foreign to him. He, like you, was used to being at the top of his class, nobody coming close to him academically. Then, he got to university, and unfortunately for him you two shared a major, and took the exact same classes. It was odd enough in the first semester, and when it ended he was so glad to finally get away from you, and to regain his status.

Then the second semester came and once again, you both signed up for the exact same classes. This time was different, though, because finally, Tsukishima held something over you; you couldn’t understand economics to save your life, and it came to Tsukishima as easily as everything else did. 

Understandably, the two of you had developed a bit of a rivalry. It would come around every so often that Tsukki did better than you on a test, scored higher in a lab, and it drove you insane how he would rub it in, so when you did better than him, you did the same. The two of you were starting to hate each other’s guts. However, you were on the verge of failing your economics class, and there wasn’t going to be anyone better to help you study than Tsukishima. When you asked him to help you study he straight up laughed in your face, entertained by the fact you were actually coming to him for help. It was such a stroke to his ego, he couldn’t possibly say no. 

You two scheduled a study session for the following Friday evening. You met in one of the study rooms up on the third floor around five, intending to stay for a couple hours. Tsukishima had arrived a little early, as you walked in you saw him with his notebook and laptop out on the table, writing down some notes. You took a seat next to him, getting yourself ready to begin. As he attempted to explain all these concepts to you; rambling on about monopolies and price ceilings and deficits, none of it was clicking. You asked him to explain things time and time again, and he was getting visibly irritated the more you seemed to not be getting things.

“You agreed to help me study, Tsukishima. You can't go on and complain now that I don’t get it, you knew I didn't.”

“Yeah, I got that part, but I wasn’t expecting you to be this utterly dense.” 

You folded your arms across your chest, letting out a small huff under your breath.

“You're such a dick.” You muttered, not thinking much of the remark. It was an unequivocal fact that anyone who ever came in contact with him had to know, which you yourself already knew quite well, but you hadn't expected him to be this bad personally. You thought since you were undoubtedly better at him in any other subject you would at least be spared of his ill mannered remarks, but it seemed to be the opposite; he'd get on you because you were so much better at him in everything else. It was the one thing he held over you, and he was going to make the absolute most of it. 

“What did you call me?” He asked, snapping his head in your direction. 

“I called you a dick, because you are. I get it, okay? I don’t understand the material, it’s above my intelligence level, I’m the dumbest bitch in the world. Cool, fine, awesome. If tutoring me is that much of a pain I’ll just go, alright? Enjoy the rest of your evening.”

Utterly fed up, you tossed all of your things into your backpack and got up from your seat, starting to storm away. Tsukishima watched you as you went for the door, only momentarily, before getting up and following behind you. You barely got the door unlocked and open before a forceful push of a hand from above shut it, and you turned and looked up at the man, confused as to what it was he was doing.

“We aren’t done studying.”

“Yes we are. I can’t take your shit anymore, I’m done.”

“No, we’re gonna stay here and work on this until you get it,” He lowered himself down to make more direct eye contact with you.

“Got me?” He finished, once the two of you were level. You let out a chuckle, shaking your head a bit. This situation was unbelievable, and he was totally impossible. You weren’t sure how much clearer you could possibly get, but you had no problem reiterating yourself.

“No, I don’t. Makes sense that I don’t, right? ‘Cuz I’m ‘utterly dense’, as you said.”

“And incredibly mouthy, apparently.”

“Only when dealing with assholes like you.” Tsukishima let out a chuckle of his own after that line, straightening himself up and looking down on you once again. You hated when he did that, but it wasn’t like he had much choice, he towered over your much smaller frame. It personified your current situation almost too well. 

“You know, someone should put little girls like you in their place.” He fairly quickly retorted.

“And someone should knock tall elitists like you down a peg.” You scoffed. 

“I’d love to see you try.” Tsukishima took a couple steps back from you after speaking, as if to quite literally challenge you to do something. You weren’t a violent person to say the least, but at that moment you would’ve paid good money to punch the man before you in the face, and it seemed you were going to get the opportunity for free. How could you possibly pass that up?

You dropped your backpack onto the floor, lurching forward at Tsukishima before it even hit the floor. To your utter surprise he caught you before you got too close, his hand wrapped around your neck. It was nowhere near a tight grip, but it left you breathless, and forced you to look up at the blonde. There was this smirk on his face, like you had done exactly what he wanted you to, like he now had you in the palm of his hand. The look in his eye was so devilish, nobody had ever looked at you like that. You almost didn’t know what to make of it, almost.

“Now now, dumb little whores like you don’t get to touch me.” The pure filth that fell from his lips confirmed exactly what you rationalized from his gaze. It was all you needed.

“Fuck me, now.”

Tsukishima needed no further instruction, moving his hand off your throat and down to your thigh, pulling your leg up and prompting you to wrap yourself around him. He caught you midway through your small jump, and in an instant your lips crashed together. You couldn’t shake just how angry he made you, and he couldn’t shake how sexy you looked when you were mad. That little body of yours held so much aggression in it, and since he was more than willing to let out the beast in you, Tsukki was just as willing to tame it.

In fact, he would take great pleasure in doing so.

Tsukki walked back over to the table you two were sat at, placing you down onto the cold, manicured wood. The exchange of your lips was filled to the brim in the most carnal, lustful intent. The two of you fought for dominance with it, neither of you having even the slightest intention of backing down. Tsukishima was already more than frustrated with you, and your attempts to gain control of the situation weren't helping. 

With a swift move he pulled away from the kiss and brought a hand around your neck once again, this time giving it a fairly decent grip. His face looked so calm, like this was nothing he hadn't done before, but his actions told a completely different story. How he managed to keep his expression so composed while taking full control of you made a shiver run down your spine, and the heat between your thighs grow exponentially. 

“Listen; I’m the one in charge here, y/n. What makes you think a tiny, powerless slut like you could ever even attempt to control someone so much bigger, so much stronger than them, hm?” 

“I-I dunno…” You stuttered out, much to Tsukishima’s liking. 

“You don’t know, that's exactly what I thought. Well then, let me teach you where your place is.” While his left hand maintained its place around your throat, his right hand snaked up your thigh and under your skirt, his fingers ghosting over your clothed sex. The faint contact made you whine, you couldn't stand how badly you needed him to touch you. Your eyes pleaded for him to do something, and he basked in the glory of making you so weak so quickly. He then obliged, rubbing small, slow circles onto your clit.

“Your place is right here; being dominated by me. You will feel pleasure only when I allow you to. You will cum only when I allow you to. You will be obedient, and you’ll love every second of it. Am I understood?” 

You nodded your head with what free range of motion you had, your hips bucking in the direction of his fingers, trying to gain more pleasure in the only way you currently could. 

“Use your words, and address me only as sir.” He instructed, moving his fingers away from you. It was bad enough his moves were teasing at best, but denying you of any contact completely was infinitely worse.

“Yes, sir. I understand.” 

Tsukishima let go of your throat, using both hands to undress you, leaving you in nothing but your panties, which were horribly stained with your eagerness. It stroked his ego immensely, looking at the girl who plagued his mind, who made him feel so inferior so many times, naked in front of him, so ready to be ravaged by him. So exposed, so pathetic, but so undeniably sexy. 

He pulled up a chair, taking a seat in between your legs. His fingers danced over the skin of your inner thigh, leaving a trail of goosebumps in their wake. You felt so needy all you could do was whine, not a single beg or plead coming from you. He hooked a finger onto the side of your panties, pulling them over to get a good look at you. Your pussy glistened under the fluorescent lights, coated in wetness you had never experienced before. It was like a work of art for Tsukki, who took a minute to admire the piece before he pulled your underwear off of you entirely. 

He took his left thumb and ran it down the length of your sex, dipping between your folds before coming back up to your clit, finally starting to please you again. A moan slipped from between your lips, filling the quiet of the room. Tsukishima brought two fingers from his opposite hand up to your lips, and without needing instruction you allowed them entry. Your tongue swirled around his digits, a slight hum ringing from your throat as your oral fixation was satisfied. 

His fingers left your mouth with a small pop, and they were brought down to your core. They prodded at your entrance, teasing you by the anticipation of entry. You wanted it, wanted it so bad it was much more a need, and at that point you weren’t too proud to beg for it. Just as your lips parted Tsukishima pushed them into you, a whine coming from you instead. You fell back onto the table, your back arching off the wood as his fingers worked wonders unknown on you. With an upward curl he brushed up against your g-spot, your hips bucking upward in response. The pads of his fingers massaged the rough patch of flesh momentarily, making your legs shake as helpless little curses fell from your lips.

As he began pumping his fingers again he also sped up the rate at which his thumb circled your clit, and it became quite clear to Tsukki that your orgasm was approaching, and was doing so fast. You could feel the knot in your stomach getting tighter and tighter, it was almost unbearable. You heard his voice say something, but your head was spinning you could barely make it out.

“Answer me, slut. I’m not repeating myself.” Was all you could make out, but considering you didn’t know the question, it was an impossible feat. Just as your orgasm was about to arrive Tsukishima removed his fingers from you, his thumb ceased all movement, and you were left with a ruined orgasm and your hips bucking into the air.

“You’re not cumming until you can answer one of my questions correctly. That should be good enough incentive for a stupid, needy little bitch like you, right?” You propped yourself up on your arms, looking at Tsukishima in utter bewilderment. You couldn’t believe what he was saying, or that he was going to make you answer questions in order to cum, but you had to admit he wasn’t wrong. It was a pretty good incentive.

“Y-yes sir.” 

With a quick smirk Tsukki sank his head down between your thighs, his tongue dipping into your pussy, savoring your delectably sweet taste. His his hands held the backs of your thighs, giving himself unrestricted access to your sex. His tongue flicked over your clit every so often before lapping up your juices again, until he finally gave the bud uninterrupted attention. His lips latched around it, starting to suck as his fingers entered you once more. Your back arched sharply, and your hands moved to tangle into his hair, tugging on the blonde strands. Before you could even process what it was you had done, Tsukishima was hovering above you, slapping your cheek before taking a rough hold of your chin.

“I told you not to touch me, did I not?” You nodded your head frantically,

“You d-did, sir. I’m sorry.”

“Yeah, you will be. Off the table.” 

You followed your instructions, and as soon as your feet hit the ground Tsukishima pulled you onto your knees, and held your chin in his hand once again, forcing you to look up at him.

“I don't think I need to tell you what to do here, do I?” You shook your head lightly, your eyes full of wonder as you looked at him. 

“No, sir.”

“Good, then show me that you're actually good at something.”

You shimmied in between Tsukishima’s legs, frantic hands fiddling with his belt as you tried to get his pants off as quickly as possible. You didn't know what was causing you to be so eager, but something in you urged you to act as quickly as possible. As you pulled his pants and boxers down his erection sprang free, the pure size of him catching you off guard. You were no inexperienced woman, this wasn't your first time seeing a penis, but you had yet to deal with anyone of his size. It was a bit intimidating, if you were to be completely honest. 

As you were told, you weren't allowed to actually touch him. You presumed if you used your hands at all it wasn't going to end well for you, but to that you could fairly easily oldige. You licked a long stripe from the base of his length up to his tip, your tongue pressing along a vein that ran that same course. You circled his tip before sucking on it, letting out a satisfied moan around him as his precum leaked out onto your tastebuds. 

You started to take him further into your mouth, each bob of your head adding another inch until you had all of him. Your eyes watered as you felt him in the back of your throat, and you gasped as you came up for air. Tsukishima looked down at you, smirking as he saw a tear run down your cheek.

“You should do more of that.”

“More of what?” You asked, tilting your head in confusion.

“Crying for me.” 

Tsukki took hold of your hair, forcing his cock into your mouth and once again making you take the entirety of him. He held you there, letting out a groan as you choked around him. He brought you up for air and marveled at the tears running down your face, and the desperate look in your eyes. It was art for him and him alone to scrutinize, and he was most certainly a fan of the piece. Before you could fully focus your attention he was in your mouth again, his hips pushing up off the chair as he fucked your face. You gagged around his length, the sounds remarkably gratifying for Tsukishima to hear. 

He brought you back up for air one final time, holding your head up so the two of you made eye contact. He chuckled at you, admiring your current state. Spit dribbled from the sides of your mouth, tears spilled out of your eyes, and you were perilously trying to catch your breath.

“Messy little girl. You're looking more and more like the stupid little slut I've always known you are. Cmon, say it for me, tell me you're a stupid little slut.” 

As if his words weren't degrading enough, this request was surely the icing on the cake, the cherry on top of the sundae. He had you exactly where he wanted you, powerless and obedient. Just a small little toy for him to play with how he pleased. He wasn't satisfied with your lack of obedience, and slapped your cheek once again, roughly grabbing your face after.

“I wasn't giving you an option. Say it.” He demanded.

“I-I’m a stupid little slut.” You complied, your voice barely above a whisper.

“I can't fucking hear you.”

“I’m a stupid little slut!” You repeated, much louder this time. Tsukishima let out a satisfied chuckle, nodding his head. 

“That's right, and who's stupid little slut are you?” 

“Y-your stupid little slut, sir.”

“That’s right.”

Tsukishima pulled you up off the floor, laying you out on the table. He pulled his shirt off, your eyes combing over every little detail of him. You knew on top of being a student he played volleyball, so he had to be fairly muscular, but you weren't expecting what you got. He had a body even Odysseus would be jealous of, making you the ever loyal Penelope.

Tsukki lubed himself up with your wetness, as you were far from falling short of it. No man was ever this rough with you, ever this dominant. It turned you on more than you would like to admit, but there was no need to with Tsukishima. He could tell from the look in your eyes, the tone of your voice, the way your hips slightly bucked as you sucked him off. 

Without warning his tip began to prod at your entrance before starting to slip in. It was no easy feat, though. You were incredibly tight, and even then you hadn't taken anything even close to Tsukishima’s size. He took things slow, watching as every inch of him stretched you further. You whimpered at the sensation, it was intoxicating beyond what your words could even describe. A groan slipped between his lips as he bottomed out, light curses following it. The way you tightened around him made it so hard for him to control himself, but he knew you needed a moment, and he wasn't trying to hurt you.

Not at the moment, at least.

You nodded your head lightly as you felt adjusted, giving him free reign over your body once again. Tsukki grabbed your hands, pinning them above your head before he began to move. He slowly started to pull out, and with a sudden snap you were once again taking all of him, a soft scream coming from you. He did this a couple times, watching how your body jolted. Feeling how your thighs tensed up next to him. Each of these thrusts hit your cervix, sending you reeling each time. 

He picked up the pace, starting to pound into you at a relentless pace. You wrapped your legs around his waist, keeping him close and forcing him to go as deep in you as possible. Tsukishima brought one of his hands down to wrap around your neck, the other still holding your wrists in place. He gave the sides of your neck a squeeze, the lack of circulation rushing toward you just as he hit you with a particularly hard thrust. A light scream fell from your lips, the pleasure in that moment so crazily overwhelming. This routine continued; harder thrusts while he actively choked you, very slightly less hard ones as he gave you a moment to breathe correctly, all the while denying you of your high.

“You better not cum, slut.” He warned as he felt you once again starting to get just a bit too tight around him.

“W-wanna cum....so bad.” You weakly replied, tears welling in your eyes as you spoke. Once again, just as you were on the precipice of release, Tsukishima denied you again, pulling out and leaving you empty. Tears fell from your eyes as you uselessly whimpered and protested, all of it only earning you another slap to your cheek.

“Really thought I’d let you, huh? Dumb little bitch.” He said as he turned you over onto your stomach. He filled you up again, but before he moved any further he began raining spank after spank onto your ass. You could only assume it was punishment, but it felt far from it. The pain was nothing but masochistic pleasure for you, and sadistic pleasure for him. Each stung more than the last, and thus each felt even better than the last.

Your senses were so overloaded as he started to thrust into you again that your brain had turned to utter mush. Coherent thought was so far behind you it was like it was never something you could’ve done in the first place. The only thing you could process was pleasure, and to enhance it you lifted one of your legs back up onto the table, the other continuing to stay hanging over to keep yourself up. This new angle let Tsukishima hit sinfully deep in you once again, adding to the utter brainrot you were experiencing. Words no longer were an option for you, only whines and whimpers, a stray profanity at the very best.

Tsukishima grabbed a fistful of your hair, picking your head up off the table. He made you look in the direction of the door, bending down to speak into your ear.

“Look, you left the door unlocked. Someone could come in at any moment and watch you getting fucked like the little whore you are. But I’m sure you'd like it if someone saw us, wouldn't you?” 

You couldn't bring yourself to form any sort of coherent response, and Tsukki very well knew that. He chuckled at your attempt to reply, which was just a rhythmic whine as if you were trying to get some words out.  

“You're not very quiet, either. Stupid sluts like you like having everyone know how good they feel, don't they? I’m sure someone's come by to spy in, hearing how utterly pathetic you sound.” 

His words only made you whine and whimper more, your head in an absolute daze from the sheer amount of pleasure you felt. Tsukki let go of your hair and your head fell down, and you got a good look at yourself in the mirrored wood table. Your mouth was hanging open, your hair a tangled mess and drool slipping from the corner of your parted lips. He had fucked you so past dumb you didn't even know you could be this far gone, and all the while you still had no clue if you would be allowed to cum.

Your hips pushed back against his, meeting every one of his thrusts and forcing him deeper. Each time he re-entered his tip made quick contact with your cervix, the repeated feeling driving you absolutely crazy. Your eyes rolled back as you let yourself fall onto the wood once again. You took everything he gave you, all the while holding your orgasm back. Each time he felt you were a little too close he pulled out, you couldn't even count how many times you'd been denied release, you were sure the number was shameful. You could tell this was getting harder on Tsukishima as well, the twitching and pulsating of his cock inside you letting you know he was having trouble holding back as well. 

You saw no use in begging at this point, and you couldn't have mustered the words for it even if you wanted to. You simply whined and whimpered with every thrust, your body jolting forward each time. Tsukki held on tight to your hips, keeping you in place as he pounded mercilessly into you. In your daze all your senses had dulled, but you could hear just enough for Tsukishima's next four words to be heard, almost as clear as day. 

“Cum. Do it now.” 

In an instant you finally let yourself topple over the edge. Your voice was so hoarse you couldn't scream, rather you let out something between an incredibly loud moan and a whimper, your back arching and your legs shaking vigorously. Tears spilled from your eyes as your body was overrun by an orgasm unlike any other you had experienced. The feeling was only intensified by Tsukishima cumming inside you, depositing a sizable load inside of you. Your vision was blurry and a little white around the edges, and your chest heaved as you let out shallow breaths. Soreness set into your body as you took time to regain yourself, almost ten minutes passing before either of you even thought to move. 

Tsukki pulled out of you slowly, admiring how fucked out you looked, your small body sprawled out on the table. He figured moving would be hard for you, so he gently let your leg down and peeled you off the table, sitting down in the chair behind him and sitting you on his lap. Your head fell on his shoulder, your eyes still a little glazed over, but for the most part it seemed you had come to. 

“Are you feeling okay?” You nodded your head lightly, your breath finally leveling out. Your throat was pretty scratchy, and you knew your voice would be raspy, so you just didn't bother speaking yet.

“What have you learned today, then?” 

“A good couple things.” You croaked out, wiping a stray tear from your cheek. 

“Oh really? Enlighten me.”

“Well, I learned that economics is just something I'm never really going to understand. I also learned that you are a complete and utter asshole, even worse than I thought. Finally, I learned that you are a way more experienced man than I thought you were, and maybe I don't hate you as much as I was letting on.” 

Tsukishima laughed out lightly, giving you a bit of an approving nod.

“Good, I’m glad I at least taught you something. Maybe not what I originally intended, but learning is learning. I think with a couple more study sessions you’ll start to understand the econ material, though.” 

You didn't say this out loud, but the thought of getting to spend some more alone time with Tsukishima actually wasn't the most terrible thought in the world. It seemed clear enough to you that the resentment between you two was clearly something much, much different than that, and so you were open to the thought of exploring what it actually was. Maybe not in as much of an erotic way as you just had next time. Not that you would've minded if it escalated to that point. 

Although, you thought, if Tsukki was going to fuck you like that every time, brainrot from class material was going to be the least of your worries. 

The both of you made yourselves presentable again, packing up all your belongings and leaving the room clean before walking out, which you did fairly slowly due to how sore your legs were. You both walked through the library, which was overwhelmingly empty besides a few staff members working hard at hardly working. It was to be expected; it was a Friday night and you were the only two in the world who'd pick studying over any other activity. You stopped just outside the entrance, turning to your side and giving Tsukishima a wave.

“I guess I’ll catch you later then, Tsukishima.” 

“Oh, so no thank you for helping you study? I guess the one thing I didn't teach you was manners, huh y/n?” You chuckled at his comment, shaking your head a bit.

“Guess you didn’t. It’ll have to wait until next time.” You turned on your heel and started in the direction of the train. Before you could get far Tsukki grabbed your arm and pulled you back over to him, holding your chin so softly with his other hand, the action so outrageously condescending.

“Oh no, I’ll gladly teach you right now.”

[venicebixch]

Do It For Me part 8 (final part)

all fluffiness. enjoy!

After a few minutes we both stand back up. The paint is pretty much washed off him at this point but I still had it all over me.

“Let’s clean you off, baby,” he says, grabbing the rag he was just using. He guides me underneath the water. “Is this a comfortable temperature for you?”

“Mhmm,” I nod my head, smiling up at him.

He grabs the soap on the side of the shower and puts it on the rag, making it sudsy. He brings it up to my face and gently starts wiping the paint away, then moves down to my arms and hands.

Soon enough, the paint is cleaned off of me.

I bring his hand up to my mouth and kiss it. “Thank you, Vin.”

“You’re welcome, pretty girl.”

I blush and look down, trying not to let myself smile like an idiot. Usually fluffiness and all that cringe shit gives me “the ick” but when it comes to Vinnie, it doesn’t bother me. In fact, it makes me unbelievably happy.

Truthfully, him as a person is starting to make me weak at this point, in the best possible way. I feel so comfortable with him.

He helps me wash my hair and then we get out, and put clean clothes on.

“Are you hungry?” He asks.

“Yes, I’m starving. Can we order pizza?”

He smiles. “But of course,” he says in a weird accent.

I give him a confused smile and shake my head laughing. “Wonderful, thank you sir,” I try to mimic his voice.

He lets out a snorting laugh.

“You’re a strange one, Vin.”

He nods his head smiling at me. “Yeah.”

He orders the food and when it arrives, we sit down to eat.

I sit back on the couch with my pizza in my lap as he sits across from me on the chair.

As I’m watching him eat, I start to admire him. His eyes, his jaw line, his curly hair, his full lips, his tattoos. He’s so damn handsome. And he’s kind hearted. He has a good sense of humor.

I like that he’s not afraid to put up a little fight with me. I like the way he laughs at his own jokes. I like the way his brows come together when he’s focused on something. I like the voices he makes and the weird sounds. I like all his quirkiness.

A small smile spreads across my face as I look at him, and a sudden feeling of affection for him hits me like a train.

Then almost immediately a wave of guilt comes over me. I could kick myself for the way I treated him when we first met. He didn’t deserve it. He’s nothing like the way he portrays himself online.

I suppose I acted the way I did because I’m used to being defensive when it comes to relationships. I’ve never had a good one, so I’ve learned to be on my toes and show little affection at all times. But I’m slowly letting my guard down with Vinnie.

He notices me looking at him, lost in my thoughts.

“What?” He smiles at me.

I shake my head and look down. “Nothing,” I smile at him. “You just make me happy.”

He grins at me. “Really?”

“Mhmm. Like super happy. A cringe level of happy.”

He sets his plate and and comes over to me, taking my food from me.

“What?” I look up at him, smiling.

He reaches down and bear hugs me, both of us falling over on to the couch. He gets on top of me.

“What the hell are you doing?” I say, giggling.

He pins my arms above my head and leans in, peppering my face with kisses. My forehead, my cheeks, my nose, my ears, my lips.

He lets my arms down and I wrap my them around him as he buries his face in my neck.

“You make me happy too,” he says quietly. “Super cringe happy.”

I laugh and he moves his face, resting his forehead against mine.

“So like… are we dating then?” I ask.

“I wanna ask you properly,” he says.

“Okay.”

He looks down at me, smiling silently.

“Are you gonna ask or am I gonna have to work for it some more?”

He laughs, shaking his head. “Y/n. Will you be my girlfriend?”

I nod, biting my lip. “Yes, Vinnie. I will.”

“Nice,” he kisses me softly.

“Thank you for being patient with me. And I’m sorry for how I acted toward you before,” I say.

“It’s okay,” he says, resting his head on my chest. “I have no hard feelings over it. I’m just glad you’re mine now.”

As hard as I’m trying not to, I can’t help but smile like an idiot for him.

[nightshadedawn]

Writing prompts!!

Select one of the prompts and a ship and I'll write 300 words for it! I'll keep this open for a week!

Prompts are broken up into categories and further numbered within those categories to help everyone quickly find prompts, so please either give me the category and number of prompt or the prompt itself.

Fuck

"Fuck you." "You know what, [name], I've been trying but you haven't been cooperating." "What."

"I don't hate you." "You bought an entire fucking island to avoid me so we wouldn't be roommates our second year of college." "It obviously didn't work out well because we still ended up in Art History together."

"I'm fucked, I'm screwed. I'm gonna faaaaiillll."

"Well, fuck me and leave me to bleed."

"You're crazy." "Yeah, I'm fucking insane!"

"I have fucking questions!"

"You sir- are fucking hilarious."

"I love you but you're a fucking idiot."

"Love- fuck off."

"I'm cute as all fuck, but I'm an asshole if you piss me off."

"Insomnia's a real fucker, you know?"

"Fuck it- just- breathe! Breathe, damnit!"

"You and your bisexual ass can get the fuck out of here."

"Let's fuck the world over, 'cause that's all we're good for."

"Fuck it. We're not done yet."

"Occasionally I tell people to go fuck themselves just to mess with their puny lives."

"I didn't want anyone else. Fuck it, I just wanted YOU."

"You're a fucking bisexual disaster. Don't at me, brah."

"I'm just a sad, mostly human being that doesn't know what they're doing with their life." "Only mostly?" "Granny honestly got it on so who knows what the fuck Mom is."

"I don't mind if you call me a freak, just don't say it to my face. That's really rather rude." "You're a fucking idiot." "Yes, I've been told."

"I'm DONE! I'm done acting happy, I'm done pretending to be okay, I'm DONE playing this game. I am so. Fucking. DONE. With shits like you! Don't ever come near me again."

"The only reason I kept fighting was because of the people I cared about! And you took them all away from me! I'm not done fighting yet! I'm not done fucking fighting until your body is rotting in the fucking ground!"

"Giving a fuck what other people think about you is like giving them control of your life."

"Please don't pretend to give a fuck about me. I know better now."

"They said I can't." "Well, fuck 'em." "What?" "You're not weak. It's your life. Fuck 'em. Do what you want."

"I trust you about as far as I can throw you. Which is to say I don't. I can't. I'm weak as all fuck."

"I'm as cute as a cucumber. Wait, fuck, that's a kiwi."

Shit

"When you're a sarcastic piece of shit but people keep falling in love with you anyway."

"My sister is a huge piece of shit." "Awe, that's not nice. What'd the shit ever do to you?"

"Shit aside, this isn't the worst plan put into motion."

"Literally no one cares about that shit."

"I'm not a bitch, I'm an asshole. Guys still want to screw me even if all I spew is shit."

"Congratulations! You're in deep shit."

"You've shown great aptitude for bullshitting."

"Shit... I don't... I don't know why I'm crying... Just please don't leave me alone..." "Never."

"I'm one of those people that people regularly tell me not to do stupid shit and I do it anyway."

"I've lived my life watching through windows. I'm ready to go break shit now."

"I promise, I'm okay."

"You expect me to believe that bullshit!?"

"I'm just getting a little tired of having to deal with this shit!"

"Hey, I'm kinda feeling like shit tonight. You think you could... come cuddle me?"

"I don't see myself as someone who breaks promises, spills secrets, or tells lies. I'm not a great person like that statement would suggest. I just don't talk to people enough, and when I do, I don't give enough of a shit to care."

Asshole

"'Cause sometimes, people are just assholes no one else cares about."

"It was an accident! I didn't mean to-" "Now why don't I believe you?" "Because I'm an arrogant prick and an asshole." "At least you're aware of your short comings."

"No, I'm not getting high off lemonade. What are you drinking, bitch?"

"If you're not sucking cock for the fun of it, I don't know what you're doing with your life."

"Ten out of ten. Would bang again." "Please stop." "Love you, babe."

Forget

"I haven't quite forgiven you for that." "No, I don't expect you did."

"The most unforgettable stories are also the most unbelievable, don't you know?"

"I don't need you to hold me like it's okay to forget. I need you to hold me like it's okay to remember, to hold on, and then to let go."

"Sometimes people forget... I'm not normal."

"The world is a wonderful, beautiful, amazing place. That's why it doesn't matter if in thirty years, no one remembers us."

"I want you to remember what it felt like to fight against me."

"Do you remember what it was like when we were young and alright?"

"Do you remember what I promised? That we'd always be together. I don't break promises. Not to anyone, but never to you. As long as you'll have me, I'll be right here. So please, let me stay."

"I want you to remember this feeling; it will follow you all your life."

"Why don't you remember ANYTHING I said!?"

Pain

"Don't you ever wish we could ever be something different? Like, I don't know. Something less hellish?" "I don't know. Sometimes I welcome the pain."

"I just get so restless, and I can't stop moving, and when I have to sit down and focus... it's really hard because I just want to be up. It's genuinely painful when it strikes in the middle of class or something."

"Pain is what made me human."

"You don't understand all the pain we went through to get where we are now."

"I will break, I will burn, but I will not let you hurt me."

"Listen to me and this broken heart of mine."

"It's not your fault you've been hurt before."

"I don't enjoy hurting people." "Could'a fooled me."

"Does it hurt?" "Always."

“It’s not me you have to worry about killing you if you hurt our daughter, it’s my wife.” “Oh, honey, you know me so well.”

"I knew from the beginning I'd never be able to hurt you."

"I shouldn't care. Caring only hurts."

"Sometimes when people get hurt, they shut themselves away. They push away people and the things that hurt them. But I think it's more interesting when they fight back. Revenge is a bitter tale, but it's a more interesting story told."

"I don't want to fall in love. Falling means you get hurt. I want to grow. I want to grow to love someone, see them at their smallest and grow into their mightiest. I want to grow to love, because when something grows, it never stops growing."

"My head feels heavy and my heart just hurts."

"Don't stress the small stuff. It only makes your brain hurt."

"In the end, we were made of blood that could be spilt and bones that could be broken."

"'Broken,' he'd promised. And 'broken' he'd become."

Death

"I have been scared of many things. Surprisingly, my death has never been one of them."

"They're both very strong willed, bull headed, "death to all those who defy me" kind of people."

"Even the bravest close their eyes when facing Death."

"Death seems like the best option right now." "No. No, it does not."

"Touch my phone and you accept Death as your new best friend."

"You tend to just find death everywhere you go. Isn't that a problem?"

"Death is not a good look on you, honey."

"I've got about a hundred years worth of death on my hands and isn't that great?"

"Death comes to all those who wait for it."

"Murder, death, and mayhem are my favorite things to write about."

"You are an angel of death by association. This is your duty."

"I hope you've got some kind of special armor under that dress, 'cause with the way you're surrounded, if you don't, you're gonna die."

"We're gonna die." "That's the plan."

"How many times must she die before you're satisfied?!"

"This time, I'm not letting you die for me."

"Someone's gonna die tonight, but it ain't gonna be me."

"Fine. I'll let you die. I'll just have to bring you back to life."

"But why'd you have to die?"

"If I die, it's officially Your Fault."

"Welp. time to die again,"

"No! No! You don't get to die! You don't get to die and leave me alone!"

"Don't ask me that! Don't do that!" "Why?" "Because everyone knows that when you talk about the future right before a big battle, you're gonna die!"

"When it comes down to it, I want you to make sure I die."

"How did you save them?" "Easy- I died."

"I would live and die for you, but I'd never kill."

"We are not gods. But I shall die like one anyway."

"There was a time when I swear I was just waiting to die."

"I'd rather destroy myself than let her die for me."

"The truth is- I'm just tired of watching you die."

"I've died so many times, and I'm still falling for you."

"I am so done with children." "You have nine." "And I would die for each and every one of them."

"It's a miracle in itself that you haven't died yet."

"The explosion killed thousands. How are you alive?"

"You bother me." "I can't imagine why." "Surely it has nothing to do with the fact you've killed hundreds of people including my family. That couldn't possibly be it."

"I trust you, but the question is, do you trust me?" "I trust you not to get yourself killed." "I think you might be asking a little too much."

"How are you going to tell your sister you killed her best friend?" "I'm not." "That's no way to start a relationship."

"You are legit trying to kill me." "Oh darling, if I really wanted to kill you, I wouldn't be trying. You'd be dead already."

"I'm pretty sure I killed someone. But then again, I could be wrong."

"I'm going to kill someone." "Oh dear god, please be me."

"Ohhhhh, my sister's gonna kill me for this one."

"One time my sister tried to tell me I wasn't right. Valid, I wasn't. But I still tried to kill her anyway."

"Do what you will. But don't come crying to me if it kills you."

"Oh god, just kill me now." "As you wish."

"The next time somebody tries to kill, me, I'm gonna scream." "I should hope so?"

"This child threatened to kill me." "She threatened to burn the entire city to the ground. I don't see what your point is."

"We are all dead and it’s your fault!"

"Oh look. The sun is shining, nobody is dead- today's gonna be a good day."

"I swore I wouldn't do it again. But here I am. Wishing all of them dead."

"I guess being dead wasn't good enough for you. You wanted to erase me from history too."

"Who even knows if we'll be alive tomorrow?"

"What story did they tell you?" "That'd I'd never make it out alive."

"And if I refuse?" "Well, *chuckle* don't suppose you'll get out of this alive."

"You just need to survive."

"The world is a cruel, unfair place. But it's the one we live in, so we gotta do what we can to survive."

"You've done your best to destroy me, but I survived all along."

"I survive because there is nothing else I could do."

"The world didn't want me. But I survived anyway."

"I think I'm more surprised that you're telling me this than the fact that you survived it."

"We exist in this time and place. This isn't the end."

"You hide it in the corners of your mind like it doesn't exist."

"Once upon a time, there was a girl. A regular, ordinary type of girl. The kind of girl... that no longer exists."

"In any other world, we would not exist."

"Hell exists in ways you don't expect it to."

"I exist in your eyes, but not in your life."

"You weren't supposed to exist."

"I suppose that magic exists. In some way or another."

"Time is inconsequential. Unreal. It doesn't exist. All that exists is the here and now."

"The world only exists the way we want it to."

"The world need not know you exist. More importantly, the world need not know you exist as you do."

"Who's dying this time?"

"I've existed long enough to know this is a very bad idea."

"We only sort of exis

"There's something beautiful in the way you look at the world like nothing else exists."

"We exist to be tempered into impossible weapons."

"I am aware of worlds and things that should not exist."

"The difference you have to learn about the past and future is that the future gives us a reason to keep living... the past only exists to hold us back."

"You are the bane of my existence." "I'm the bane of existence in general."

"How many times have I thought about dying? Too many."

My entire life you've made me cry. All you're doing now is making me cry again.

"My room's a mess. Kinda like my life. But nobody's complaining about that."

"My life was wonderful. But it was better without you in it."

When life gives ya lemons, we find someone who has vodka and makes martinis.

"She's living her life in monochrome."

"There are some things in life that just get you down. And then there's her."

"I've been wrong all my life. This is just another instance, isn't it?

"Home is not a place. It's a feeling. Feeling of contentment, life, respect, safety. That is home."

"I live off of two things: spite and validation. I live to spite those who say I can't, but I need validation from those who say I can."

"Please don't live for tomorrow. Live for today."

"My favorite kind of people are the ones who live for themselves, and not for anyone else."

I knew we'd live forever.

"There's not enough time on Earth to see everything. We could go back a billion years and live every moment up to now, and even then we wouldn't see everything." "Nah. But with you, I'd like to try. I feel like I could do anything with you by my side."

[pocketfulofrogers]

Everything Comes Back to You

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Reader

Summary: Dean can count on one hand the amount of weaknesses he has. Despite his every effort to keep his distance over the years in an effort to keep you safe, he find himself at your door a few too many times. Everything changes when it you who calls him.

Notes: My first supernatural piece! A story told through many years.

September 14, 1996

There were few things you despised more in this world than calculus. The lecture had drug on and on, monotone and continuous, until you felt like you could scream. A miracle of reprieve came when the door opened and in walked a boy who seemed to glide on charisma. He made some kind of offhand joke and flashed a smirk that had half the girls already in his palm.

For you, it was what you saw in his eyes that drew you to him. Something akin to the pieces you kept buried deep within you.

December 22, 1996

You’re sweet, unbelievably so. The way you taste, the way you sound, the way you feel. It’s so easy for Dean to bury himself in you, forget about everything that isn’t in this bed. You had been the solace he didn’t know he had been searching for- offering just a few moments of peace in this life he had no say in.

Most days he believes you may be the light that will save him, other days he believes it unfair to ask such a thing of you.

You nuzzle into his chest and his arms around you tighten. “What are you thinking about?” You ask.

Maybe it’s how tired he is, running between the motel to check on Sammy and darting straight back to the comforts of this bedroom that has him feeling so unnaturally mushy. You’d say it’s the Christmas spirit looming in the air, threatening to infect him with just a bit of joy.

You did love Christmas, and he loved you.

But love was not something he was allowed in this life - stability never something he’d known. Dean knew the drill all too well. The moment he allows himself to plant any semblance of roots, it’ll be time to load the Impala and disappear. Kansas may have been home once, but it isn’t home now.

Still, he couldn’t help himself when it came to you.

Sometimes his mind wonders to what his life could be if he were to just ask you to run away with him. Leave this little town and never look back. No more hunting, no more fighting, just wonderful, uncomplicated, boring life. Life with you.

He’s never met a hunter that’s successfully left the life, though. The longer you knew him, the higher the chances got for you to get caught in the crossfire and he’d never forgive himself if something were to happen to you.

You’re silently watching him, waiting for a response to a question he had already forgotten.

“I should go check on Sam.”

April 18, 2002

“You gave my address to who? Mom, just because someone says they knew me doesn’t mean you should tell them where I live! It doesn’t matter if he seemed like a ‘wonderful young man’ you know there are things out there.” You’re pacing in your living room now, tempted to grab your shotgun.

“Oh, Y/N, stop it with that nonsense. He had a photo of you and now he’s on his way.” Your mother dismisses you.

You groan and toss your head back. “Well hopefully you can describe what he looked like to the cops when they find me-“

Then a car pulls up, engine roaring and rock music blasting. You knew that car, you knew it well. Sneaking up to the window, you take a peek around the curtains and see the sleek black Impala. A man gets out, the leather jacket he’s wearing tickles a memory long buried.

It isn’t until you see his face that it settles in- butterflies swimming in deep rooted anger. The boy who left you with nothing but an aching hole and a postcard with no return address was all grown up and damn if he didn’t look good.

“Gotta go.” You hang up the phone.

When he knocks, you brace yourself- scrounge up all the will-power you have so you can kick him out. There will be no apologies or pleasantries. No sir. None. Not one.

But Dean’s always been one step ahead of you, so, he’s quick to start when you open the door- death glare only momentarily stalling him. “Listen, I know-“

“Get back in your car and go home.”

“Just hear me out for a minute.” He pleads.

You want to tell him to go, you really do, but one glance at those green eyes and every fiber of your being is pleading for you to just wait. Call it hope, call it weakness, call it a desperate need for some form of closure, you let him in.

Narrowing your eyes, you ask him, “Why are you here?”

“I wanted to see you.”

You hate how that almost settles your anger, how after all these years he still had some ridiculous hold on you. “How can you possibly believe I would want to see you after what you did? That kind of hurt doesn’t just disappear, Dean.”

“I know, I know. I’m also here to apologize. I should have said more-“

“More?” You interrupt exasperated. “Please tell me you did not come all this way to ask me to absolve you of your guilt.”

“That’s not-“

“Because you showed up on my doorstep, asked me to pack a bag and run away with you- leave my life and everything I’ve ever known to go who knows where with you. And then, when the sun rose in the morning, you were gone.”

“You hadn’t exactly been happy with me.” He tries to defend himself.

“Yeah, but you know what I did that night? I packed a stupid bag and waited for hours in front of that stupid diner. Waiting and waiting, but you never showed! You just left me! Know what I got out of it? A postcard from Topeka with a half assed ‘I’m sorry’ written on it.”

He falters under your gaze. “Y/N, I am sorry. I really am.”

“I just want to know why, Dean.” Your voice falls and he can no longer meet your eyes. “Come on, there are a million excuses. You couldn’t leave Sam, you couldn’t leave you dad, you didn’t actually love me. Just pick one so I can move on.”

“I did love you.” He bites back.

“Then what, you couldn’t leave the life?”

His eyebrows furrow as he takes a step closer and lowers his voice. “What do you mean?”

You sigh. “I was young but I wasn’t stupid. The family business wasn’t sales, Dean.” His eyes widen. “People started disappearing right before you and your family showed up. They stop disappearing and then all of a sudden, you’re gone. I had my suspicions, but it wasn’t until I met another hunter a few years later that I knew for sure.”

He makes his way into your living room and you want to ask what gave him the idea that you wanted him in your home.

“If you know about that side of this world, then how can you blame me for wanting to protect you from it?”

Of all of the reasons you had come up with as to why the boy you thought was the love of your life had left you high and dry, this wasn’t one. Had he truly loved you? Had he weighed his heart and your life to determine which he valued most? You can’t tell if that idea hurt more than the rest.

“Who were you to make that decision for me?”

“Who are you to expect me not to have?”

It’s quiet, uncomfortably so. Dean rakes his fingers through his hair and your arms tighten across your chest. This wasn’t how it was supposed to be. None of it. He wasn’t supposed to have left you destroyed, calling out for him in the middle of the night. You were supposed to have moved on, supposed to have said goodbye to the boy with so much sadness in his eyes and so much love in his heart.

You never really do forget your first, though, do you?

He sighs, drawing your attention back to him, and pulls his gaze from the ceiling. “This isn’t what I came for.”

You tighten your arms across your chest and take a step closer, then another. “Do enlighten me, then. What are you really here for?” You’re dangerously close now, a breath away and Dean can barely think. “What is it you want?”

You look up at him and in a second he’s gone, just like that first day. It’s nostalgic and painful and warm all at once. How was it you still had this power over him?

“You.” He breathes out.

October 14, 2006

“Hey, uh, Fairmont? That’s close to Eudora, right?” Dean asks, trying so hard to seem casual.

Sam peaks around the bathroom door, noticing his brother has been ‘cleaning’ the same weapon for the last thirty minutes, and raises a brow. “Yeah, not too far.” Dean just hums. “What’s in Eudora?”

“Huh? Oh nothing, just thought a detour would be nice with everything going on.”

Sam spits his toothpaste into the sink. “Didn’t we spend a Christmas there?”

Dean stalls. “Well, you know, we moved around so much it’s hard to tell when we were anywhere, really. I couldn’t-“

“No, no, I’m sure we did. I had that English teacher that snored through Shakespeare.”

“Your memory is definitely better than mine, I couldn’t tell you much about-“

“And there was that girl, gosh, what was her name again?” Sam prompts his brother, already knowing the answer.

“There’s been so many girls, Sam, can’t expect me to remember all of their names.” Dean chuckles nervously.

The flop sweat on Dean’s forehead is almost reward enough, but hearing him sputter and flail was just too good for Sam to give up.

“She had the hair and the mom, liked Christmas.” Dean stutters again. “Oh right! Y/N! Aka the girl who’s name you say in your sleep on a weekly basis.” Now he’s red. “How long has it been man? If you could’ve made it work, you would’ve. What’d she say when you saw her last?”

Suddenly the floor is very interesting to Dean. “That I can’t keep coming in and out of her life.”

“That’s all the closure you’re going to get, Dean, take it.”

October 18, 2006

Work had been the worst. The only thing you wanted was a bubble bath and a huge glass of wine. The last thing you expected when you finally reached your driveway was Dean Winchester sitting on your porch, but of course, with the cluster fuck of today, this might as well happen.

You take a moment to collect yourself before stepping out of your car.

“Heard you took down a Rougarou in Tennessee. Thought you said you didn’t want a part of this life.” He raises a brow and you can’t tell if it’s an accusation or an ‘I told you so’ moment.

“Was there for business, it was just good timing. Guess you were right, though, can’t just sit by.” You shrug. He looks like he’s waiting for something, something you’re sure you can’t give him. “What are you doing here?” You ask, sounding more tired than upset.

“I know, I’m sorry. But we had a case nearby and Sammy told me no, but next thing I know I’m in my car and then I’m here. Really, it’s your fault. Should’ve moved.”

You snort. “And you wouldn’t have found me?” He only shrugs. “What is it you want, Dean?”

“A friend?”

“You drove all the way out here for a friend?”

“Guess you could say I’m in short supply.”

You look him up and down, noticing the bags beneath his eyes and something in you aches for him. Of course, you had heard about the passing of John, that may be the very reason he’s here, but knowing Dean, it’s not a subject he wants to touch.

Ten years later and you can still read him.

“Fine, but don’t ask me to run away with you.” You tease. “Twice is enough for this lifetime.”

June 16, 2013

Dean is in the middle of another argument with Sam trying to defend the importance of bacon when his phone rings. Sam’s dramatic sigh of relief earns an eye roll from his brother.

“Dean Winchester.” He answers, but he can’t hear anything on the other end. “Hello?” He tries again and this time he makes out heavy breathing. “Who is this?”

“Dean.” His name barely slips from your lips and to his ears before you groan.

He leans forward quick enough to earn concern from Sam. “Where are you?”

“Sound stressed.” You chuckle before sputtering.

“Y/N, tell me where are you.” His voice is the kind of calm that would usually send ice through your veins, but right now you were struggling just to keep your eyes open.

“Not sure.” Your speech is slurred and the panic Sam sees in his brother’s eyes drives his fingers faster as he works on a trace.

“How bad is it?”

“You should see the other guy.”

“Dammit, Y/N, not the time. Where are you hurt?”

“Broken ribs, I think. This gash in my side seems a little alarming.” You squint down at it trying to determine if your blurry vision was a result of the gapping wound or the nice blow to the head you took. “Objectively, all very bad.” You mumble.

Dean is over Sam’s shoulder now and if he hadn’t looked as terrified as he did right now, Sam would be making a less than funny comment about it.

“Were you on a hunt?” His voice is still cool, but he begins to waiver when he has to strain to hear your confirmation. “Is it still after you?” He has to press the question two more times before he gets a response, by then he’s already started the Impala.

“Finished him ‘for he finished me.”

“Y/N, were on our way.” Dean grits out. “You just hold on a little longer and we’ll get you all patched up.”

You barely manage to hum response before everything begins to fade out, Dean yelling your name in the background.

June 17, 2013

They had only barely made it in time. Dean had come sliding to your side, bandages already in hand. He spoke softly to you, a drastic contradiction to the frantic shake of his hands.

Sam had never seen his brother like this before.

“Dean, I don’t think…”

“No! Just,” Dean tossed the keys to Sam and slipped his arms beneath your limp body. “Get us to the nearest hospital.”

He sat in the back seat with you holding as much pressure against the flaps of skin as he could, still talking so softly to you. Sam’s heart ached as he heard his brother beg you not to leave him and make promises they both know he can’t keep.

When he could no longer feel you breathing, his eyes shot up to the review mirror and Sam slammed on the gas.

Squealing into the ambulance drop off, Sam began to yell for help as he pulled open the back seat door. Dean was frozen, all of the color drained from his face.

Emotion cut off from his voice, he had barely managed a whisper. “I think she’s gone.”

From there, he had spent the last six hours trying to force himself to come to terms with the fact that he had lost one of the only good things in his life. Sitting there in some criminally uncomfortable waiting room chair with his head in his hands.

All he could see was you. You twirling around in a bright sundress with the Kansas sunset kissing your skin. Your eyes closed- lips parted slightly as you slept soundly. You angry, red in the face accusing him of using you as some kind of sick tie to a simpler time.

Was that all she was to him? No, he shakes his head at just the thought of it. To him you were the only thing that made sense. A singular constant that he felt like his whole being revolved around.

But he had never told you.

Finally, by 5am he had almost convinced himself that he would be fine.

So, when the doctor comes out with blood speckling the bottom of his scrubs, he wants to shut down, but he needs to know.

“Just give it to us straight, doc.”

“She’s alive.” He says. “The surgery was tough and she gave us quite a scare, but she is alive.”

His knees almost give out from beneath him.

June 20, 2013

Everything hurts. Your side, your chest, your head, your skin. The gentle breeze from the vent above you is what pulls you out of the darkness. The harsh fluorescent lights are almost enough to send you right back to the comfort of the dark, but a shifting pressure at your thigh piques your interest.

Slowly, trying not to groan despite every muscle in your body screaming, you look to your left. Dean’s arm is draped lightly across the tops of your thighs, his hand curling in at your hip. For a moment you do nothing but watch him sleep, his eyes fluttering behind his eyelids every so often.

He looks like shit.

Dark, sunken bags have built up beneath his eyes and it looks like he hasn’t shaved in days. A part of you feels flattered imagining the fuss he had to have made to not only get you here, but to stay here himself.

Without thinking, you begin to move your hand to caress his cheek. Your fingers trace the lines of his now furrowed brow before you thread them through his hair. The movement hurts, but it’s worth it.

Especially when you’re rewarded with a lovely green as his eyes slowly open. For a moment you think there may be no yelling or ‘are you out of your mind’ speeches when a smile begins to slowly light up his face. And then, as if he’s suddenly remembered what has happened, his smile shuts down into a scowl.

“You almost died.” He hisses lowly.

“Almost.” You echo and try to cough out a laugh, but it devolves into a groan. His alarm doesn’t disappear when you try to wave him off. “I’m fine now, so why don’t you go shower or something? You smell.”

“So you can try to slip out?” He narrows his eyes at you. “Not happening.”

“You’re usually the one that slips out.” You mutter, but he doesn’t hear you. “You can’t kidnap me, Dean.”

“The hell I can’t.”

June 23, 2013

“Bedroom here, bathroom down there. Sam and I are here… and here.” Dean’s pointing to doors as you struggle to hobble behind him on his tour of the bunker. When he stops, you almost run into his back. “Sammy went to grab some stuff from your house, but it looks like you don’t live there anymore.” He only raises a brow when you advert your gaze.

Instead of responding, you turn around to point at a door a couple down. “Mine? Sounds good.” You scurry as quickly as you can into the room, but Dean catches the edge of the door before you can shut it.

“You’re not going to explain yourself?”

You laugh bitterly. “Explain myself? Are you kidding me? I don’t answer to you, Dean.”

“You know that’s not what I meant.” You want to turn away from him, but he’s holding your gaze too intensely. “What’s going on with you? You’re living out of cheap hotels and hunting on your own now?”

“Oh, that’s rich coming from you.”

“Y/N, cut the shit. It’s just you and me here. Have you even told your mom what happened?”

And it’s this comment, this sincere question that takes the final piece of your resistance from him. He watches as the tense set of your shoulders fall and your face relaxes. The malice and resentment slips from your features and it’s a relief.

“She’s dead.” You barely manage to whisper. “Vetala. Didn’t know they worked in pairs. Her husband found her tied up in the kitchen three years ago.”

He’s stunned. It’s probably the only thing you could have said that would steal his fire in an instant. He knew that kind of pain, that kind of drive. He knew it too well. You sniffle before quickly wiping your eyes and his face falls imagining the pain you’re feeling.

To his surprise, the moment is gone as quick as it started when he watches you swallow down your emotions and rebuild that wall in almost an instant.

“Don’t worry, I know you’re not one to be domestic. I’ll be out of your hair the second the doctors clear me.”

It stings. “Just like that?” He asks, not caring this time if you hear the hurt in his voice.

“Why would I stay? You make it clear what you want each time you stop by my house for a quicky and then slip out without a word.” The stunned look on his face is infuriating. “I get it, Dean. It’s convenience and consistency. Not love.”

“Not love?” He repeats your judgement, rolling the word around his tongue and he has to admit he hates the taste. He repeats it again, louder this time and it startles you. “Y/N I gave up everything I ever wanted that night I left you at the diner because I love you. I have tried and tried to stay as far away from you to keep you safe because I love you. I show up on your doorstep in moments of selfish cowardice because I can’t stay away! Almost my whole life I have been drawn to you time and time again and I know it hurts you. It kills me to hurt you, but I can’t stop because I love you.”

Dean’s chest is heaving, his breath falling across your face with how close he is to you now. “You love me.” He has to strain to hear you, but you need the clarification. Love or loved?

“When I saw you laying on the ground, bleeding out, I wished it was me instead. But when I held you in my arms and you…” His voice breaks and his eyes water. “And you stopped breathing…”

Before you know what you’re doing, you have your hands cradling either side of his facing, soothingly hushing him.

“Dean.” You murmur. “I’m okay, you saved me.”

“Stay.” The word bursts through his lips without his control. “Please, just stay.”

A single tear falls from your eyes as you nod knowing that the idea of a place called home had changed over the years, but this, him- he had always remained.

[shewantedtobeasecretgirl]

12. Granny Out of Control a.k.a. headless chickens, Gene Simmons’ girlfriend and Rapunzel

In the previous chapters: Judy and Stone act after their embarrassing encounter in the shower as if it hadn’t even happened; they implicitly agree on not telling Mike that his one-night stand was just the consequence of Judy’s revenge-fueled rumors about Stone’s sexual preferences. Ed loses his voice so the show has to be canceled, Jeff offers to give guitar lessons to Judy instead in his spare time. Granny buys a metal magazine to learn more about Seattle-based rock bands; the picture of Pearl Jam makes her think the perfect match for Judy isn’t Jeff but Stone. Krisha picks Effie up in the city to tell her that Kelly Curtis and Susan Silver have plans with her as a photographer; she also gives her the list of codenames the band and crew members use at hotels. Effie also joins her when she feeds Stone’s unsociable cat, Red who is incompatible with all girls who try to approach him.

 „I don’t know, man… Are you sure you saw them?”

“Don’t piss me off, Schmitty, of course I’m sure. I know whom and what I saw.” I mumble as I put the flashlight back between my teeth. I can’t believe I’m doing this. Not only makes he me do this stupid act, he even drives me crazy with this weak-minded questioning in the meantime. The guy obviously watches too much TV. Especially detective shows about drug cartels.

“But let’s go over it again. Maybe you were wrong or misunderstood the situation or…”

I sigh, and take the flashlight out of my mouth only to direct the blinding ray of light in his face.

“Okay, but this is the last time. And I’m only willing to tell it again because I have nothing better to do and because technically, I can’t do anything else until we finish this. Open the bag and hold it.”

“Yes sir... so you went having a shower…”

“Not that it matters if I went showering or shitting but yes, I went to the restroom.”

“And you opened the door…” he goes on with the storytelling like a small child who already knows his favorite bedtime story by heart.

“And there were they, standing at the sinks…”

“Stop. Are you sure it was them?”

“Of course I am, I could recognize Judy and Stone from miles!”

“Are you 100 % sure?”

“No, I’m only 99 % sure because there’s a very small chance that they both have doppelgangers right in this town but let’s say I’m very likely to have seen them.” I confirm while I start portioning the green leaves into the plastic bag Schmitty is holding.

“And they were…”

“…basically naked.”

“Basically?” he asks like he’d never heard the word before.

“Yes, basically.”

“How do you mean “basically”?”

“What? I’m fucking around here with sharing my weed with you and you’re already high? Unbelievable…”

“No-no-no, seriously, man, you didn’t say “naked”, you said “basically naked”. Define the difference. It’s important.” he flails fussily.

“Stop shaking the bag, it’s difficult enough to do this only with one hand. So, uh, they weren’t completely naked, they both were wearing a towel…”

“The same towel or…?”

“Hah, interesting idea, but no, they both had their own towel on. But I assume none of them was wearing any underwear…”

“That’d be normal, I mean, after showering… but that’s the weakest point in your theory, them having a shower at the same time… it sounds so unreal.”

“Yeah, I thought the same until I found the only logical reason.”

“What? That you only dreamed the whole thing? Or that it was just an intense trip due to the shrooms Mike gave you?”

“I know it sounds unbelievable but at this point, I’m pretty much convinced they did it on purpose.” I close the bag and throw it at Schmitty who hides it immediately in the inner pocket of his jacket and pats himself on the chest satisfied.

“Thanks. But I can’t follow your thinking, Scully. Why’d they secretly meet in the shower?”

“I don’t want to shock you but… I think they had sex right before. I almost entered but then I glanced them and they were almost naked, both giggling and Judy was groping Stone and… I backed out, I was so surprised, I didn’t even know what to do…”

“But they hate each other.” Schmitty protests shaking his head.

“And? Since when can’t people who hate each other have sex with each other?”

“Man, this is too much to me, Stone has Amber at home, Judy is like a nun, they can’t stand each other so obviously, they have sex??? Bullshit, that’s all I can say. I don’t know what you saw but it definitely couldn’t be a post-coital scene.”

“Look, I don’t understand the exact reasons either but…”

“I’ve always been told that as soon as we start touring, girls will try to drag me in the tour bus all the time but I imagined it somehow different…”

We both freeze at the hearing of Stone’s smug giggling and our surprise only grows when we recognize the voice that belongs to his companion.

“Sorry for ruining your wet rock star dreams but it’s impossible here to talk to someone face-to-face, even the walls have ears in this crew.”

Schmitty and I exchange a meaningful look and to his nod, I turn the flashlight on the lowest level. Walls might not have ears here but this bunk bed curtain we’re hiding behind definitely does. Even four, to be exact.

“So what’s the purpose of this conspired, hyper-secret meeting, Camden? I’m hungry so let’s get over with this as fast as possible!”

Hungry, yeah, I can imagine. So you prefer quickies, Stoney?

“I just wanted to talk about yesterday.”

Schmitty stares at me with popped eyes, even his jaws drop of shock.

“Ha. So you were thinking about it?”

“Yes but not the way you think. I’m not gonna tell you tirades about how much I regretted it or stuff because I didn’t. I only want to ask if you talked to Scully about it?”

Schmitty grabs my forearm, digging his nails into it, his other hand is shaking uncontrollably.

“No and I don’t know why I should force it, I mean it happened, it’s embarrassing enough for both of us so let’s draw a veil over it.”

“It’s embarrassing for both of us? Do you really think I give a damn about that? I mean, okay, I lost control, which doesn’t happens really often to me but who cares, I can handle the consequences. You feeling embarrassed, now that’s the last thing I care about. But have you already thought about the feelings of your friend at least for one single second?”

We both furrow our eyebrows and her words probably found their marks since Stone doesn’t answer, which makes Judy go on with the pep talk.

“Okay, neither of us is going to say a word since we both have selfish interest in keeping it in secret but if Scully shoots his mouth off and he finds out about what happened… just think into it, it’d ruin his self-esteem. I mean, it’s inevitable that it turns out later but the best strategy is discretion. Now, it’d be too fresh for him, let’s wait until he forgets about this little… intermezzo.”

Schmitty covers his still opened mouth in complete horror and even I start feeling uncomfortable now that my intuition is basically confirmed.

“So, would you finally promise to talk to Scully?”

“Dunno… I’ll consider it.”

“Jesus Christ, Gossard, would it hurt not to piss me off once in a lifetime?”

“To answer your question, yes, it would but this time it’s not about you, Miss Fussy. I was just thinking that we should let it slide since after all, it’s not as a big deal as you think.”

You fuck her and then try to ditch her? Come on Stone, I thought you were better than this.

“I mean, you make such a fuss but I don’t think Scully would let it slip, he’s probably already forgotten about the whole scene. And if I came up with it, he’d just start overthinking it; when he knows he has to shut his mouth, he becomes gossipy all the more.”

Ha, thanks Stoney but just for the record, I don’t gossip, I just process things by discussing them with other people, see also at “coping mechanisms”…

“It’s you who’s overthinking it. Just stop protesting and do what I ask you. I even use the word “please”.”

“Fuck, okay, I’ll see what I can do, just leave me finally alone with this. Can I ask you something too?”

“It depends…”

“Could we stay here for ten… fifteen minutes? You know, it’s about my reputation…”

“Fuck off, Gossard!!!”

We both exhale with a deep sigh when we hear them leaving the bus.

“Holy. Shit.”

“Holy. Fucking. Shit. Dude, you were right!”

“Of course I was right, I always am, you just never believe me.“

“But… damn… I didn’t see that coming… Gahhh.” Schmitty facepalms, rubbing his forehead worried.

“I’m surprised, though, I thought they didn’t notice me.”

“Apparently, they did. Jesus, I doubt there’s something serious between them but now that I heard it with my own ears, it all makes sense! They hook up, they are both embarrassed since they are enemies, plus the Amber-factor… and poor Jeff, he has a massive crush on Judy and she knows it, maybe she tries to have two irons in the fire… So she convinced him to keep the fling in secret not to ruin her chances at Jeff… She looks so innocent and now she turns out to be an actual snake… Do you think Karrie knows about it?” he jabbers staring desperately in front of himself.

“Whoa, stop, dude, are you insane? She’s not a bitch, they just made a mistake and she freaked out. Her worrying about Jeff sounded genuine, after all, Stone is no perspective for her, he’s got that… he’s got Amber, whatever she is for him. And I don’t think Karrie knows anything, even if she does, she’ll pretend she doesn’t.”

“But this changes everything! Jeff is our friend too and I don’t want to lie to him.”

“Trust me, he’ll never ask “And tell me Schmitty, have Judy and Stone had sex?”, so you don’t have to.”

“You’re making fun of me but you know too how dangerous information these are so you’d better have a good idea what are we going to do know.”

“I’ll tell you, Schmitty: we’re gonna act casual. Just watch me.”

***

„There’s no chance I could reach that string. Just… no. I don’t have that muscle, I’m done.” I moan as I desperately try to stretch my pinky finger to play the next chord following Jeff’s instructions.

“Hey, relax, just reach a bit further, you’ve almost got it.” he chuckles and makes an insecure move to help me out but he changes his mind in the last moment and pretends he only wanted to scratch his arm. And I pretend not to have noticed it.

“No, it’s impossible, I can’t twist my wrist that much. I don’t have freakishly long fingers like Stone, it’s enough.” I give up and put the guitar aside. We’ve been practicing for like one hour, I played him my still rudimentary sounding song idea, of course without telling him what exactly it was. He improvised a bass line to it on his acoustic bass guitar, his fingers are still running back and forth over the strings despite the fact I stopped playing. When I was a kid, Grandpa would tell me that if you cut the head of a chicken, it can still run around for a few seconds before collapsing, maybe it’s a similar phenomenon. Or maybe it’s like when a freight train hits a car and it pushes the vehicle in front of itself for miles before stopping. Headless chickens and train wrecks, why am I thinking about stuff like these while hanging out with a nice guy?

“I’m sure you can do it if you practice it. Look, my fingers aren’t long either.” he raises his palm. Is he expecting me to measure mine to his by placing them together? Could we rather just draw them around and compare the drawings like small children? Okay, he’s got strong, manly hands, that’s not bad at all. But how can he stuff those thick fingers between the strings? And those jewelries, God, they are terrible. Would he mind if I asked him to put them off?

“No, I can’t. I’m not good at these moves, I’ve already tried to play the violin, it didn’t go well. It went awful.” I protest, rather to overtalk my racing thoughts than to argue with him. I hope he’s not going to ask me about the details, I don’t feel like telling him that story at all.

“Okay, it was you who asked me for help, so…” he shrugs with a half smile, his fingers are still nerve-wrackingly torturing the instrument.

“Actually it was you who offered to help so…”

“Fair enough. I don’t want to force it so… if you want to finish all your future performances by saying “sorry, now comes the chord which is incompatible with my wrist so go the fuck home” – then okay, I don’t care.” he puts down the guitar. I try to decode the expression on his face, is he disappointed or just casual or…?

“How do you do that?” I ask quickly, I can’t bear that look.

“What?”

“This… everything…” I flail helplessly.

“I don’t know… I think I got bored with doing nothing and wanted to try something new and I realized I could do everything instead of nothing.” he leans back with a challenging smirk.

“Geez, you spend too much time with Stone.” I roll my eyes. “I mean… I played you something and you immediately knew what to do with it. Your head is full of ideas and variations, can you hear the harmonies instinctively or…?”

“I don’t know… when I hear a melody, I start hearing the other parts in my head… but sometimes I just mess around and try different things to check if they can work as a song or as an idea that I can use later. I try to keep my ears fresh, I fight against crafting only bass lines in my head, that’s why I pick up the guitar from time to time. You know, if a bass player never leaves his comfort zone, after a while, he’ll tend to operate only with the same five or five notes, it’s like a tunnel vision… or tunnel hearing…” he ends his explanation with a shrug and a lopsided smile, as far as I’ve observed, he does that pretty often.

“That’s amazing… I envy you so much. I’ve been studying and playing music for as long as I can remember but I’ve never felt that… sense of liberty? I practiced my ass off, I learned everything I could, at Juilliard, we basically dissected classical musical pieces into single notes and… I developed some weird perfectionism in the meantime, I know how good music is supposed to be composed but… I myself just can’t do it. I was so busy with studying other people’s works that I couldn’t develop the ability to create something, it’s like… my knowledge paralyzed my creativity… Or that’s just what I keep telling myself because I1m not willing to accept the fact that writing music is a gift you can’t just earn by practicing and learning…”

“Maybe you’re right.” he shrugs again and his reaction somehow hits me hard; I don’t know why, though. “I think I’ve already mentioned you that I took piano lessons but I hated it. I found literally nothing intriguing in it, it was boring, I’ve never been into Beethoven or some shit like that.”

“What?” I frown. I didn’t expect him to like the same things I do but… could he just show at least a little interest in what I like? I even talked about art and skateboarding with him. Okay, he doesn’t owe me anything, we’re not dating and all but if he ever wants something from me… okay, he probably doesn’t, it was obviously just a stupid gossip.

“Hey, I didn’t mean to trash your music, it’s just not for me, I appreciate it but I don’t like it. I’m just a Montanan jerk, did you forget?”

“You’re not a jerk, don’t say that… I’m just… nothing, forget it.”

“No, if you want to say something, don’t swallow it. Did I hurt you?”

“You didn’t… I’ve just spent my entire life playing classical music so I can’t imagine how someone is able not to like it at all.”

“Same here with sports.”

“God, I hate sports!” I exclaim and I immediately begin to laugh realizing I’m not better than him either.

“You see? But speaking of your music studies, there’s one thing I’ve always wanted to ask.”

“No.”

“No what? Am I not allowed to ask the question?”

“No is the answer to the question.”

“But I haven’t even…”

“Trust me, it’s no.”

“If you say so…”

“I’m just kidding. Most people attack me when they learn I’m a musician asking if I’d sing or play something for them, it’s so annoying, it’s like the “grunge question’ of classical musicians…”

“Okay, I get it.” he smiles. “But that’s not what I was about to ask.”

“Thank God. So, I guess you don’t want me to teach you reading sheet music either, because that’s usually the second question, which is usually asked by people with no musical hearing at all...”

“No, it’s more of a… personal one.” he hesitates squinting at me for the final permission.

“Hit me.”

“Why are you here?”

“Here? Like, here and now, with you or…?”

“No, I mean, why are you here, with the band? You graduated from one of the most prestigious music schools on Earth, you could conduct top choirs or whatever… and you’re here, loading our shitty van every single night, smelling sweat and cigarette smoke, spending days in a tour bus with beer drinking ugly dudes… Why? I guess Juilliard graduates can pick whatever job offer they want so...”

“I’m here for the money.” I answer without thinking and it immediately sounds false. Am I? Really? “I came here for the money, I don’t deny it, I had no job and however terrified I was, something told me I had to take this opportunity.”

“But… as a classical musician trained at Juilliard… why this job? I just can’t get it.”

“Well… I’ve known for a very long time that the music of baroque era is in which I’m the most interested. It’s, you know, a passion to me, it’s like punk was to you. And if you want to be really good at it, you have to go to the place where it comes from. Here in the States, you can basically hear nothing that was written before Mozart.”

“Europe?”

“Exactly. So in my senior year, I applied for a scholarship of the music academy in Leipzig.”

“And…?”

“And I won it.”

“So you studied in Europe too?”

“No, I didn’t.”

“Why?”

“Because my father died a few months before I graduated and the small firm he ran died with him… it was a very complicated period so I asked the academy if I could postpone it by one year.”

He’s chewing his lower lip and speaks up only after digesting for a few seconds what he’s just heard.

“And they refused your application?”

“No, they sent me a kind acceptation letter in which they cited their scholarship regulation that said postponement is allowed once. So I moved back to Seattle and started teaching.”

“Oh. I guess something came up one year later too.”

“Well yeah, my sister’s almost dying, that came up.”

He exhales with a deep sigh, I have the feeling he already knew all the details, he just couldn’t do the math. Maybe Karrie told him our family saga. I don’t mind, though, I don’t feel like telling him those stories either…

“Well, that’s a lot… but it also sounds like… you gave up your dreams.”

Now it’s me who can’t do anything else but shrug.

“Maybe… or maybe, it was just a warning from the universe. I’m not religious but I do believe that everything happens with a reason, maybe you can’t find it out ever because it’s something bigger than you or your shitty little life. My family needed me and they still do, or at least they need my two hands I can make money with so… plus, I’ve always been terrified of performing. I have worst stage fright, I doubt I would be able to conduct in the spotlight of the world’s biggest concert halls… anyways… have you ever heard about famous, female conductors?”

“Normally, I’d say you’re a coward and you should follow your dreams but I understand the family factor, of course. And I don’t want to act like a hypocrite either, I could have looked for another graphic design program too when mine was canceled in Missula.”

“But changed your dream instead.”

“Exactly. And maybe that’s what you should do too if universe or God or Buddha or the spirit of Johann Sebastian Bach is trying to message you that you picked the wrong dream.”

“Are you trying to say I should switch my brain to believe loading shitty vans and smelling Scully’s and Schmitty’s stinky feet is my real dream?” I giggle.

“If that’s your way, than go for it, girl!” he plays the overly enthusiastic motivational trainer. We crack up but none of us is laughing heartfelt. His face finds finally rest in a genuine, encouraging smile. “Let’s raise our glasses to the new dreams!”

We both reach our hands to clink our imaginary glasses.

“To the new dreams!”

***

I’ve been on the road with them for days and nothing. Not a single move or a sound that’d confirm we’re following the right traces. And I’m thirsty. So thirsty. But they are so envious, I know they are hiding spare water in their stupid spacesuits or what but they claim they have nothing to share. Sure. I would never drink recycled pee, anyway. But those two moons look pretty cool, the night sky compensates me for every inconvenience I’ve experienced since we started chasing that gross sandworm… everything for the melange…

However important my mission is, it gets interrupted by three quick, impatient knocks on the door.

“You’ve been shitting in there for forty-two minutes! I know you’ve finished and you’re just reading! I have to pee! Get the fuck out of there! Why do you have to do this all the time?”

Maybe because this is the only place where I can have some progress with my current reading undisturbed? I reluctantly close the hardcover volume of Frank Herbert’s Dune and glance lazily at my wristwatch.

“First of all, it’s been only forty minutes. Second, it’s shorter than a blink of an eye, if you measure it in cosmic time. Not even applicable.”

“Okay, I can use astronomical metaphors too. My bladder is a red giant that is about to explode so…”

“I’m coming, I’m coming, geez, urinary incontinence? You should see a urologist.” I remark opening the door. He basically tosses me out of is his way and almost slams it on my nose.

“It’s rather you who should see a doctor, fuck, Stone, what did you eat? Uuugh, I’m dying.” I hear his muffled indignation.

I lie down on my bed and stuff the pillow under my nape. I turn the pages back and forth for a few times until find the place where I was before Mike kicked me out. So, back to those goddamn pervert Fremen fuckers…

I barely manage to read a few lines, when Mike comes back and throws himself on his bed, unmuting the TV that is showing underdressed ladies caressing their own body and telling their erotic fantasies in seductive voice. I clear my throat. No reaction. I do it again, this time longer and louder. Nothing.

“Sorry, am I bothering?” I ask sharply but our guitarist seems to be completely immersed in the curves. “Okay, busted. I know you only went to the toilet to jerk off. You only watch Playboy TV and noname porn channels, you really need to get laid.”

“Done, last night. Remember?” he answers slowly and mindlessly, his eyes are still glued to the screen.

“No, because I wasn’t there, thank God.”

“You’re just envious because you have to practice celibacy, otherwise Amber would cut your balls off.”

I squint at the girls over my book.

“Not that I feel tempted. Jesus, I’m sick of these… udders…”

“Hey, watch your mouth! Those ladies deserve more respect! Especially her!” he points at the blonde, blue-eyed, busty woman on the screen who is dropping her lingerie standing at a bath tub.

“Why, who is she?” I look back at the text in front of me, not that I understand a word of it. Since I receive no answer I turn my head towards Mike only to see he sat up in the meantime and stares at me offended. “What? I have no idea.”

“That’s Shannon Tweed!!!” he flails outraged.

“… who is…?”

“Who is a goddess, Playmate of the Year in 1982 and last but not least, the girlfriend of Gene Simmons!”

“Oh. So she’s old as dirt.” I summarize laconically.

“Stone, what’s wrong with you? What’s wrong with her? What’s wrong with big boobs? I thought you liked them… I mean, you are the guy who’s entitled to do anything with Seattle’s most spectacular pair of bosoms so…”

“Hey, you’re talking about my girlfriend!” I grunt.

“I’m talking about your girlfriend’s tits!”

“Exactly, that’s it! Don’t talk about my girlfriend’s tits! Anyway, how do you know what they look like?”

“Hey, first, I’m only talking about them. It’s called freedom of speech, First Amendment…”

“What the fuck, parts of the Constitution are printed now on beer tags or did I miss something?”

“…second, it is very difficult not to know what they look like, they basically poke your eyes out!”

“Only talking, ‘course.”

“Certain female anatomical features attract men’s eyes, it’s in our genetic code. Don’t even try to make me believe those features had nothing to do with you ending up with her. Wait!” he exclaims with a finger snapping. “Oh, I get it already. You miss her! That’s why you can’t stand the playmates on TV! But you could have said, it’s not a shame…”

“Dr. ‘Cready, expert of constitutional law and anatomy, psychotherapist. I’ve just said I don’t feel tempted…”

“Because those boobs” he points at the screen “are forbidden fruit and remind you of those boobs in Seattle.”

“You’re pointing in the wrong direction, Michael. You’re pointing at boobs in Indiana.”

“Whatever. You miss her, admit it. My boobies are over the ocean, my boobies are over the sea…”

“Stop!”

“My boobies are over the ocean so bring back my boobies to me…”

“Shut the fuck up!”

“BRING BAAACK, BRING BAAACK, BRING BACK MY BOOBIES TO ME, TO MEEEE!”

“I’m only saying that even huge breasts can be boring after a while.” I overshout his off-key singing.

Mike suddenly stops singing and just blinks at me completely frozen.

“You mean… you want to leave Amber?”

“Jesus, what did I do to deserve this?” I bury my face in my hands. “I mean… imagine your favorite food!”

“But that’s… risotto…?”

“Perfect!”

“But risotto doesn’t look like boobs!”

“Jesus, of course not, just imagine it!”

“Okay. Mmmh, it looks delicious. I can even feel its smell.” he moans with closed eyes.

“So you want to eat risotto now, right?”

“Oh yeah, I want it more than anything.”

“And if you could… or had to eat risotto every single day, would you feel the same?”

“Uhm, probably… not.” he opens his eyes.

“And here we are. If you’re in the position where you can play with huge breasts every day, it’s not such a big deal anymore.”

“Hm, makes sense…” he lies back. “But wait!” he sits up quickly again.

“What?”

“In that case, risotto wouldn’t be my favorite food anymore.”

“Yeah, probably…”

Congrats Sherlock. I drop my book on the nightstand, by now, I basically gave up all hope for finishing the chapter I was reading.

“But that means that you prefer small boobs now!”

“I didn’t say that but obviously, smaller tits have their appeal too. And there are girls who would look ridiculous with big breasts.”

My mind begins to wander involuntarily… Yeah, Amber is a bombshell and she drives me crazy whenever she’s around but I’ve always had a thing for more fragile looking girls…

“Who are you thinking about?” Mike asks greedily like a curious puppy.

“Jesus, no one.” I scoff frowning. “I mean, very slim girls look better with… proportionate breasts, you know, like small apples…”

I catch myself cupping my hands, what the hell, am I honking imaginable tits in the air? Okay, I have to talk to Eric to fly Amber here, I’m going to put an end to this, I’m pathetic.

“Say an example!”

What? I don’t know whom I was thinking about, I don’t even know if I was thinking about an existing person, maybe I was just fantasizing about freaky phantom breasts, I couldn’t even see them, it was just a desirable cleavage… and round hips… and shapely thighs…

“I can’t!”

“Just say an example, I don’t know, someone famous who looks like that, or someone who we both know…”

“Kylie Minogue?” I groan in agony. Hopefully I satisfied Mike’s need for a new protagonist for his erotic dreams because he only nods with an appreciative pout.

The ringing of the phone on the bedside between us interrupts our intellectual conversation and we both stare at the device surprised and confused for a few seconds, it’s usually us who call family members and friends, not the other way around. Finally, I decide to pick up.

“It’s Stone.”

“…” No one answers but I can hear some indistinct noises coming from the other end of the line.

“Hello… who’s that? Wo am I talking to?” I ask, and Mike pulls closer to the speaker of the receiver too.

“Ah… excuse me… I must have dialed the wrong number… you’re obviously not the Notre Dame Hunchbach…” an old female voice answers.

What the hell? Is this a prank call? Old people make phone pranks too?

“Who?” I mouth to Mike who mouths “Judy” as a response. Ah, yes. She also chose a codename, not that anyone is interested in her. “You’re talking to Dr. Hugh Jeego, but who am I talking to?”

“Ah, you must be Mr. Gossard. I’m Mrs. Albertson, Judy’s grandma.”

I almost drop the receiver.

“Ugh… uhm… hi, Mrs. Albertson, it’s nice to meet you… I mean, even if not in person but… I guess you wanted to call Judy so…” I make an attempt to finish this awkward intermezzo but she cuts me off.

“Actually, I am glad that I can talk with my Judy’s new colleague, this job is so different in comparison to what she worked earlier, you know, she taught in a school…”

“Yeah, I know…”

“…and now she’s with a rock band, and there are so many rumors about musicians, they drink and do drugs and…”

“We… we don’t drink… that much… not before shows…” I answer and Mike nods approvingly opening a beer can with a loud fizz. “… and we prefer herbs…”

“And mushrooms…” Mike adds.

“Shut up, you ruin everything!” I hiss between my teeth while I cover the microphone with my palm.

“Who was that?”

“It was… it was Mike, our lead guitarist.”

“Ah, Mr. McCready!”

Mike pats his chest proudly.

“Exactly, Mr. McCready…” I flip him the bird.

“I hope my Judy takes care of herself, she tends to become obsessed with work, she even forgets to eat… does she eat properly?”

“I’ve… I’ve seen her eating… so I guess she does…” I try to reassure her but I’m afraid I don’t sound very convincing; after all, the eating habits of Miss Smarty Pants don’t belong to my main interests.

“I wish she ate more, she’s so skinny, isn’t she?”

“She is… I mean, she’s slim. But like… not too slim. Her body is proportionate… I mean, physically, anatomically… her shape is feminine…  and when I say “feminine” I mean she’s not malnourished…” I babble and the small apple tits appear in front of my eyes again, Jesus, I’ve started losing my sanity… For some reason, Mike feels necessary to grab the receiver and yell a gratuitous, cheesy tirade into it.

“My learned colleague is trying to say that she’s a very pretty young lady, with all the respect, of course. She’s the most virtuous girl I know, she behaves well, you can be proud of her, Mrs. Albertson.”

Yes, Mrs. Albertson, exactly, your grandchild behaves well, she brought condoms only enough for a whole fuckin’ football team, safety first… I snatch the receiver out of Mike’s hand and lift it back to my ear but before I could finally get rid of the old lady, the TV catches my attention. While we were listening to the phone call, the harmless playmate fantasies ended and the channel started airing hardcore porn. And either was the petting part very short or it didn’t even exist since the “characters” are pretty much in the middle of things and before we could react anything to avoid the disaster, the actress starts screaming rhythmically.

“What was that noise? Are women with you too?” the old woman inquires suspiciously.

“Turn down the volume, for fuck’s sake!!!” I scream-whisper to Mike.

“No, we’re alone, Mrs. Albertson… we’re just watching TV… Murder She Wrote, someone is being killed!” Mike improvises aggressively poking the remote. “It’s not working…” he groans with a miserable expression.

“Oh, I like that show… which episode? Maybe I turn on the TV to watch it too...”

If you knew… In the meantime the man starts moaning too so the obvious noises grow even louder.

“Oh, the murderer is being killed too!” I try to win some time for Mike, I admit, it wasn’t the most creative lie I’ve ever said…

“I’m saying it’s not working, it must be contact failure or low battery…” he explains beating the remote against his palm at full strength, creating a counterpart to the sound of the bodies snapping against each other on the screen.

“It’s the episode about the slasher.” I maintain the conversation and then address Mike again. “Then use the power button on the TV device or throw it the fuck out of the window, I don’t care, just do something!!!”

“Ah, great idea!” his face lights up and finally, he walks to the TV and turns it off. I swear, I thought for a second he was going to choose the window version, like Keith Moon. I’m sure he was considering it but found the box too heavy.

“It’s over…“ I transmit to Mrs. Albertson.

“It ended with a cliffhanger, what a shame…” Mike remarks and I can barely suppress my snorts.

“I hope for a happy ending…” I grin, Mike presses his pillow against his face, while the poor lady obviously doesn’t even know what to say. After a few seconds of silent, body-shaking laughter, he rearranges his face muscles and takes the receiver away from me.

“It was a pleasure to meet to you, Mrs. Albertson. Judy is a great girl and as far as we know, Effie too, please, hug her for us. I hope we can meet you in person too, when we get back.”

“I admit, I’m relieved, I want you to know I think you are just darling guys. And now, I call the Notre Dame Hunchbach, as I intended to. Goodnight, Mr. Gossard, Mr. McCready.”

“Goodnight, Mrs. Albertson.” we sing in unison.

After I hang up the phone, we stare at each other silently for long moments, before we burst out laughing hysterically.

***

Great. She’s late. She promised she’d be waiting for me at the bar counter at 9 p.m. I’m doing the third circle in this goddamn place and she’s nowhere to be found. Okay, RCKNDY is actually my favorite place and I was happy when Krisha offered to meet me here to unveil Kelly’s and Susan’s “great idea” about which I only know at this moment that it concerns my photos. The cigarette smoke irritates my throat and some unknown band is in the middle of sound check on the stage, the indistinct guitar noises and the female lead singer’s instructions blast at random moments from the speakers causing me mild heart attack every single time and making the crowd members overyell them. Despite the early hour, the place is packed; I can barely struggle through the mass of flannel-wearing guys and girls. Early hour… what am I talking… now that my lifestyle converges on clinical death, both metaphorically and literally, I usually spend my evenings in front of the TV wearing my pajamas. It’s good Krisha picked this day, Mom is working at that new side job again so I didn’t have to make anything up to prevent her from asking suspicious questions.

I visited the restroom to kill some time but it just made me frustrated all the more since I involuntarily became the audience of a bunch of girls, one of them was gushing about the kissing skills of her current crush… gah, I can’t believe I turned into this sour bitch, just because I’ll end up as a spinster, she’s entitled to have some fun…

Almost fifteen minutes have passed by and she still hasn’t shown up yet. I can’t hang out with Victor either, he’s helping with putting the finishing touches at the sound check. I guess I have to wait then. I pick a bar stool and try to decipher the list of beverages on the wall.

“What can I get for you?” a red-haired bartender girl asks. Her question catches me off-guard, since my good old answer “beer” hasn’t been an option for a while and I didn’t have enough time to consider the alternatives. She’s chewing gum with a bored face, reminding me of a ruminant… a hot ruminant.

“Uhm… I… ugh, I haven’t…” I jabber and she reacts with an impatient eyeroll, the countless bracelets are clinking around her wrist as she runs her fingers through her red mane.

“I’d like to have a virgin mojito.” I utter the first thing that comes to mind. She acknowledges my choice with a scornful scoff… Yeah, in case I haven’t felt embarrassed enough yet, she makes obvious that she’s the sexy and cool femme fatale and I’m a straight-edge cripple in a boring, worn, brown jacket.

“Hey, here you are!” someone grabs my shoulders.

“Me? I’ve been waiting for you for like… hours?” I frown while Krisha settles down on the bar stool next to me and places her beer on the counter.

“Gosh, sorry!” her eyes pop as she checks her wristwatch. “I arrived too early and went to the executive office to meet a few friends.” she points at some people talking in front of a door that probably belongs to the office rooms. “That’s Alex, he runs this place, he’s a good friend of Stone, by the way. And that girl next to him works here too, she’s the girlfriend of Regan.”

I observe the girl she’s talking about, she has a nice, bright smile. Fantastic. Krisha knows everyone here… and I have no idea who these people are, and by the way, I’m nobody.

“Regan?” I furrow my eyebrows. “It’s a unique name, I swear I’ve heard it but I can’t place it…”

“He’s also an old friend of mine. And of Stone of course. You might know his name because he played in Malfunkshun with Andy. I mean Andy Wood.”

“Wood.” we say the name at once. “Of course I know his name, I didn’t grow up in a cave…” I explain, maybe in a sharper tone than intended.

“Oookay… “ she raises both hands defensively. “Actually, Regan almost became the drummer of Mother Love Bone, until they replaced him with Greg Gilmore. They made Stone fire him, I was thinking “okay, that’s it, he’s gonna hate us forever” but somehow, he managed to convince him by using logical reasons. If you ever want to fire a drummer, just call him because he’s your guy.” she nods meaningfully and takes a sip of her beer.

“Based on my sister’s opinion, drummers probably leave the band willingly, after having spent some time with him.” I remark dryly. “Thank you.” I reach for my drink and slide the money towards the phlegmatic redhead. I suppress a smile when I see her realizing with disappointed face that I spared the tip. What was she thinking, seriously?

“Oh yes, I forgot your sister and you sew Stone-shaped voodoo dolls in your spare time. By the way, Regan has played with a guy called Shawn for a few years, he’s a huge talent. The dude is a Prince-freak, which is somehow odd in a city where you can’t make a single step without stomping on a distortion pedal but he’s an awesome singer. AND they are planning to jam with Stone as soon as he gets back. I can give you the address of their rehearsal room in case you want to assassinate him…”

“No, thanks, I already know where he lives so…”

“Right!” she slaps herself in the forehead.

“Anyway, can I finally learn why we’re here?”

“Soon. We’re waiting for someone… I’m going to introduce you to someone… who has a job offer for you!”

“Wow… let me guess… healthcare branch has discovered me and they want me to be the face of some firm’s dialyzer portfolio?” I squint at her as I loudly slurp my cocktail.

“Damn, you nailed it!” she bangs her fist against the counter. “Anyway, I’m not going to tell you anything until she arrives, you need to be punished for the self-deprecating joke.”

“Spank me…” I mumble but my retort stays unnoticed since Krisha stares in an indefinite direction next to me sending an enthusiastic wave towards someone.

“Look, Jer is here too.” she points at the target of her smile and I follow her gaze only to recognize Jerry Cantrell… he’s wearing black jeans and a black leather jacket with a white tee.

“Wait… didn’t… didn’t you mention… I mean, you dated, didn’t you?” I ask confused, trying to form coherent sentences. It’s not going well.

“Yeah, we did.” she wiggles her eyebrows.

“But exes are supposed to hate each other…” I try not to turn around too obviously, so I remove a non-existing hair from the shoulder part of my jacket. While he’s slowly walking through the crowd, I notice he’s holding hands with a long, brown-haired girl. She has a perfect body and she’s probably completely aware of it since the tight leather pants highlight every curves of her. Sure, a 10/10 chick for a 10/10 guy, that’s how world has always worked… His hair is let down… I catch myself smiling, Dad insisted on calling him Rapunzel…

“It was just a summer fling and we realized after a few dates that we weren’t made for each other. So no one got hurt.” she shrugs. “Anyway, we share the building with the management of Alice in Chains so we knew we would run into each other all the time. The music scene of this city it’s like a big, incestuous family so…”

We both crack up.

“Oh no…” she sighs annoyed, staring over me again. I don’t know what’s going on in her head but it must have to do something with another twenty-eight people I’ve never met. “DON’T TURN AROUND!” she yells at me when I try to check the cause of her reaction.

“Why, what’s…?”

“It’s too late, I guess she’s already noticed us… or hasn’t she? Bow your head…” she leans on the counter, letting her hair cover her face.

“What the fuck?”

“I said bow your head… avoid eye contact… shit, I don’t have the nerves for this right now…”

“Krisha? Oh my god, it’s you, I haven’t seen you for ages!” I hear a powerful female voice from behind my back.

“Oh, hi Amber, it’s nice to see you!” Krisha groans with a painful smile, lifting her head and letting herself be pulled in a half-embrace resigned. I have to bite my lips to prevent myself from giggling since she sends a cross-eyed grimace to me over the girl’s shoulder. So she must be Stone’s Amber.

“Hey, are you here with your little friend?”

And that must be me. I involuntarily straighten up as much as I can but despite the high bar stool, I’m still shorter than her in her heels. I wonder if Red peed into these ones too… Now that I’m checking her out properly, I realize somehow she doesn’t belong here. Mini dress, heels, perfect makeup… That’d be Stone’s type?

“Uhm, this is Effie, she’s the sister of the band’s new monitor engineer…”

“Ah, Julie, you see, I know everything…” she knocks on his temple with her index finger a few times. “I’m Stoney’s girlfriend.” she grabs my hand and shakes it aggressively. I don’t correct her, I just exchange a quick look with Krisha, her eyes confirm that it wouldn’t make sense anyway.

“And… are you going to stay for the gig too?” Krisha nods towards the stage after a few moments of awkward silence.

“Oh, no, I’m going partying with my girls, I just checked in, I wanted to say hi to Alex and ask him for a favor. We’re organizing a grunge-themed fashion show and this place would be a perfect place for it.”

“A what?”

Krisha’s face radiates shock and disgust at the same time.

“You know, this grunge thing is blowing up, the firm is about to launch a collection, you know, flannel shirts, jackets, shorts with leggings, so we’re looking for a grungy place to present it…” she explains with huge hand moves. As she begins to explain the details of her brilliant idea, I get immediately distracted. Not only because my mind is desperately trying to ignore this nonsense but because I spot Leather Pants Chick at the same sport were Alex and his colleague were standing a few minutes ago. Only a few seconds pass by until her partner arrives too, he immediately pulls her closer by her hips as he leans against the wall… they engage into a make-out session without hesitation. Jerry digs his fingers into her hair and as things are getting more intense, his hands slowly wander along her back until they reach and firmly grab their destination…

I swear it wasn’t so hot in here when I arrived, I can feel my face is burning, I’m sweating like I was in hell… Yeah, being forced to watch a hot guy smooching with a girl who isn’t you but in exchange, is much prettier than you, that’s how I imagine the first circle of hell. I can barely peel myself out of my jacket, my elbow gets stuck when Amber grabs its sleeve. I’m still a little dazed-off and stare at her expressionlessly while I’m trying to pick up the threads of conversation.

“...exactly like this one, thrift clothes are so trendy now, where did you get this one?”

She shakes the sleeve of my jacket impatiently, making me realize that’s what she’s talking about. Should I tell her the truth? That it’s not from a thrift shop, that it’s original, that Judy and I pooled the money we earned at our summer jobs together and made an agreement about taking turns on wearing it six years ago?

“I can’t… can’t remember…” I manage an effortless answer.

“You have a great taste, we three should do a thrift store tour together.” she rants on.

“Totally.” Krisha tries to seem enthusiastic but she rather reminds me of a snarling serial killer.

“Okay, I have to go, oh my god, I’m late and I haven’t even talked to Alex. We could hang out in the city next week, call me, Krish! And bring your new friend too!” she winks at me. “See you, later girls!” she finally leaves us alone, the quick tapping of heels echoes in my head even after she has disappeared behind the office door. Krisha grabs her glass and drinks its content for one sip.

“Ah, I feel much better now.” she sighs. “I’m afraid my phone is about to die. I may not be able to make phone calls for a while.”

I snort into my drink.

“I must say, she’s not the girl I’d imagine as Stone’s girlfriend.”

“Trust me, she’s not the girl whom anyone would imagine as his girlfriend. But seeing them together is always like a free circus ticket, it’s pretty funny, especially when you have coke and popcorn too.”

“Sooo… where’s the mysterious person who we’re waiting for?” I look around, although I have no clue what physical characteristics I should look for, I don’t even know if we’re talking about a man or a woman. As my gaze slowly wanders around the room, I admit to myself unwillingly, that I exactly know what I’m looking for. Long, blonde hair, black leather jacket and a white shirt. The realization makes me blush, I feel like in those good old high school days, trying to casually encounter my current crush who doesn’t even know I exist. Why am I like this all the time? Why? I’m such an idiot…

“Okay, I check Alex’s office, maybe we misunderstood each other and she went in without me noticing her. And I’m sure Alex needs some spiritual support too, the recovery will be tough for him. Do you wanna come?”

“No, I… I’d rather wait here.” I answer quickly, flushing, I’m stupid, stupid, stupid… “So it’s a she?” I shout after Krisha but she just waves me off laughing.

So… what was I thinking? I could have join her and meet her cool friends but I chose to drink here alone, not that I don’t feel lonely enough. And I ran out of drink in the meantime too… I want to procrastinate the next round until the other, friendlier bartender shows up again but unfortunately, the red-haired demon spots my empty glass and elbows on the counter opposite me with a challenging, patronizing smile.

“May I bring you a next lemonade?”

I’m about to snap back but a pleasant male voice over my head makes me change my mind.

“One more of this, whatever it is. And the lady is my guest.”

[quillandink333]

Scarlet Carnations ~ Part III

BotW Link X Zelda ~ Detective AU

Rating: T

Word Count: 2k

WARNINGS: death, murder, loss, trauma, blood and gore, terrorism, organized crime, self-harm

Summary: Inspector Zelda Hyrule, assisted by the faithful Constable Link Fyori, is infamous for cracking the most confounding of cases in a town dominated by crime. Her latest assignment is to solve the murder of her own godmother, Impa Sheikah, the late CEO of Sheikah Tech. Incorporated, while staying under the radar of the dreaded Yiga organization.

Part I • Part II • Part III • Part IV • Part V • Part VI • Part VII • Epilogue • Masterlist

The investigation was still underway a week or so later, still without even a semblance of a lead to go on, or at least not a favourable one. Auntie Purah still had yet to take the Slate into the lab as she’d promised, which was understandable. She was still in deep mourning, after all. I, however, still got up at six o’clock each and every day to make my way to the site, as if the murderer would one day just walk out into the open if I waited long enough.

Truth be told, despite my conscious efforts to suppress it, a part of me deep down was growing weary of one fruitless search after another. Most of the cases I’d led up to this one had been closed within a maximum three days. Admittedly I’d even begun to consider ways to dispose of the fatal evidence I’d been carrying with me since the start of all this. No one but Paya and I knew of its existence, and no one but us would ever have to. Besides, if these egregious felonies truly were the designs of the organization—which they had to be—there was no way I’d ever find any clues leading toward the perpetrator’s true identity, let alone that of their ever elusive boss.

And yet, every morning when I returned to the scene of the crime, with officers bustling about and those who remained of my family sitting quietly in another room, I was reminded of my ultimate purpose. It wasn’t a matter of being able or unable to catch my godmother’s killer. It was one of necessity. Letting them roam the streets as they pleased was not even a part of the equation. I hadn’t spent the better part of the last decade toiling away to reach my current level of authority as a detective investigator simply to throw it all away as soon as my will was tested. That wasn’t what Auntie Impa, nor what Mother, would’ve wanted. I had to uncover the truth, no matter the cost.

What happened next, however, would make my distress up until then seem almost laughable.

I was made aware of it via wire on one muggy afternoon at my office, when I’d decided to work on typewriting up some reports. I picked up the phone only to hear the wails of one distraught Auntie Purah on the other end.

“Zelda, it’s terrible!” she cried. “The Slate—Impa’s Slate—I’ve looked everywhere, and so have Paya and Symin and all the men here on duty, but I—it’s...we can’t—we haven’t...” The poor, old woman was hyperventilating, creating awful static noises through the speaker’s papery membrane.

“Auntie, it’s okay. Calm down,” I urged gently. “Take a few deep breaths.”

“Alright...” A few moments of silence went by before I heard her voice again. “Thank you, dear.”

“Not at all. Now, what were you saying about the Slate?”

“It’s been stolen.”

I froze, breath stagnant and eyes glued to the edge of my desk. “It’s—what?”

“Stolen,” she repeated, only deepening the pit forming in my stomach, from where my heart was now pounding. “Right out from under our noses. We’ve searched high and low for it, but there’s been no sign of it, or the thief.”

I had to reign in my voice before I’d start shouting at her. “H-How can you be sure it was stolen?” The vigilant Link’s eyes now bore into me with intensity from his place by the file cabinets.

“The lock on the safe,” blubbered my auntie, “the one in the study that it’s always kept in. You know the one?”

“Yes?”

“It was broken, and the safe was empty.”

“But...that’s impossible.”

“Precisely!” she cried, giving me a start. “I still haven’t the foggiest how they did it.”

“I’ll be there in twenty.”

With that, I hung up and prepared for immediate departure, my assistant just a few paces behind me. I had to see this for myself.

Surely enough, when we arrived, the safe’s lock was destroyed beyond repair, and there was nothing but dust to be found inside. Unsurprisingly, the thief had been careful to leave no fingerprints behind, just as the killer had been. For now, though, it was too soon to say for certain that the same individual was behind both crimes.

Upon closer inspection, it seemed the lock mechanism had been melted. My eyes widened. “That’s not something you see every day.” Constable Fyori crouched down beside me, then gave a similar reaction when he noticed the cause of my astonishment.

The thief had to have been someone with access to a welding torch or something along those lines. There certainly weren’t many who fit that description, save for the police. In fact, the whole reason they were issued out to a select few officers was for this very purpose, but situations requiring said officers to break locks such as this one using such extreme methods were few and far between. Nevertheless, the possibility stood.

It was for this reason that I finally gave in and decided to take up the case with the chief detective once we’d finished here. As always, Constable Fyori accompanied me thereto.

Chief Bosphoramus’ office was neither too grand nor too modest, not unlike my own, though it still clearly belonged to someone of high rank. It resided on the third floor of the three-storey building where my dear colleague and I made our livelihoods, boasting a broad view of the deceivingly peaceful streets below.

“It seems UC3680G662LL was the only officer on the scene who was equipped with a cutting torch,” relayed the old man, hunched over the records lain across his desk. “Unfortunately, however, he resigned just yesterday.”

I waited a number of seconds for him to follow up with something useful, but to no avail. “So...what? You’re saying we can’t go question him now? Because he ran away?”

He clasped his fingers together in front of him, looking at me like an elementary school principal. “That is what I am saying, yes.”

I wanted to growl like a bear as imitated by a child, but I held it in. “You do realize what this means, don’t you?” I scoffed. “No doubt he was a member of the organization sent to steal the Slate after killing its owner.”

“Now you listen here, Inspector.” The chief’s tone turned serious. I closed my mouth. “You of all people should know that not a single square inch of this town is safe. Not even this precinct.”

“Yes, but Sir, surely you agree that this entire case has ‘Yiga’ written all over—”

“Are you mad?!”

His thundering voice made Link and I jump. The room fell silent, the chief’s eyes flickering between the door and the open window behind him.

Then he rose from his seat to close the shutters. “Have you some sort of death wish?” he continued at an infinitesimal volume in comparison.

I bit my tongue, restraining the urge to retort with, “Whose fault is that?” for I knew I would only be spinning my wheels. There’d once been a saying in this city: “When one sheep leads the way, all the rest follow.” And Chief Detective Bosphoramus was a perfect reflection of this. Every last member of the force was the same. Weak-willed curs. Shirking from their sworn duties and hiding away behind their shields of specious ignorance.

But despite the virus of cowardice festering throughout the bureau, my partner’s lasting air of calm resignation reminded me that no one could truly blame those affected by it.

The power that the Yiga organization possessed over the town was beyond compare. Those on City Council were nothing more than their puppets, and likewise were the police. Fear and massacre were the whips they raised to drive us all into submission and to punish any and all who had the will remaining to fight. But the one group who’d dared to challenge their might, who’d stood tall ever in the face of their tyranny, had been my godmother’s company. Thanks to her intelligent mind and righteous heart, the people had been given access to technology that would keep them safe, to a degree, from crime, and little by little, the company had developed into a beacon of hope for the town and its inhabitants. Until now.

Now, that hope had been snuffed out, like it had never been anything more than a week and vulnerable candle flame, flickering faint against the darkness of obscurity, in the first place.

Later that evening, when my gaze happened upon the knife block sitting on my kitchen counter at home, my steps halted. The scars on my arms left over from my last couple of years in secondary school—the period in my life following the yet unexplained events that had taken away the one I’d cherished most—had only just begun to fade. Even so...

I shook my head, turning my back to the kitchen. But then, I couldn’t help but look over my shoulder once more. I recalled the rush of adrenaline that took hold each time my skin was breached by icy steel. It was true that letting my emotions control me would get me nowhere, but maybe...maybe just this once, I could at least do something to assuage them.

Then the image of the gaping, dark red hole running straight through Auntie Impa’s neck flashed before my eyes. I covered my mouth, quickly swallowing the bile rising up from the bottom of my throat. The idea slipped my mind that very instant.

It wasn’t until the following day’s investigation that a substantial piece of the puzzle finally revealed itself to me.

For it to have taken a whole two days to find wasn’t all that unbelievable. Even I had to admit, although my stepsister was a spineless, tattling suck-up who’d always received far more credit and affection than she was worth, no one could have imagined her ever turning criminal.

Even so, I was certain that what I discovered there in her bedroom went against the expectations of all. Upon my entering, a faint glow of teal and tangerine peaking through the floorboards caught my eye. I went to lift the plank doing such poor work of hiding the thing from sight. There it was, unscratched and in perfect working condition, its screen lighting up and displaying that dastardly riddle I’d been confronted with several days prior and still didn’t know the answer to.

Although the mystery of where it had disappeared to had been solved, its reason for being here of all places was still unclear. Why would Paya have gone to such lengths just to get her hands on the Slate? It was difficult to imagine there being any information contained therein that she would want so direly to be kept secret from the world. She and her grandmother had been close since before I’d become a part of their family as a six-year-old.

Then something hard and marble-sized went flying across the floor when struck by the pointed toe of my shoe. I gave chase, soon realizing what it was when it slowed to a halt just before the south-facing wall of the room:

A bullet.

I didn’t even need to perform a striation comparison; anyone could clearly see that it matched the one I’d pried out of my mother’s memorial shrine. Whatever blood might’ve been here at one point must have simply been wiped up, and she must have stolen Link’s revolver with whatever methods she’d used to steal the Slate. Without a doubt, this room was the true crime scene I’d sought after since day one of the investigation.

But even in the face of this victory, I could hear the voices of those who would oppose me ringing in my ears. “Paya’s the mastermind?” they jeered. “Isn’t that a bit far-fetched?” But at this point, this case had already pushed me far beyond the boundaries of my patience. I didn’t have a single damn left to give about how flawed my logic might or might not have been. All that mattered now was that I had a suspect, and so help me, if I was correct in my line of thinking as suggested by the evidence, this criminal would receive no mercy.