#we do. for the record. if you get most any cold drink blended its like a slushie

[tillman]

The only rush so far was 3 british people coming in and asking if our machine would accept their british rewards card (it didnt and I felt bad) and asked if we made slushies 👍

[differentkettleoffishalltogether]

I’m On Fire [Chapter 1]

Summary: With her sister’s wedding fast approaching and her Mom hounding her about finding a date, Y/N makes a terrible decision that lands her and her least favorite genius in a confusing situation.

A/N:  This is the first part in a series, I’ve written the first few chapters already so I’m hoping to update pretty regularly! I hope you guys enjoy, and any feedback is always appreciated! ❤️

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Fem Reader

Category: Fake Dating, Enemies to Lovers, (Eventual) Smut, Fluff, Angst, it’s a Slow Burn Baby

Warnings: None really for this chapter, cursing? Mean-ish Spencer

Word Count: 6.5k

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Series Masterlist

Masterlist 

I wasn’t at the BAU long before it started to feel like home. The team became my family, pure and simple.

Having been recruited by Hotch at only 22 I'd sort of fallen into the roll of the little sister to the team without really meaning to. It's not that I was naive, or particularly sheltered even. I know I'm good at my job, and I'd want to be, given how my life's revolved around it almost entirely. But the team seemed to adopt a protective mindset over me right off the bat.

When I first joined the FBI everything was terrifying. I worked so hard for my PhD, trying to get into the unit, but there's almost nothing that can actually prepare you for the real thing. Being out in action in the field, working the cases out in real time. Sometimes they had a smooth, easy conclusion followed by loud obnoxious drinks together. Then there were the others, the ones that kept me up for days after and felt as though they owned little pieces of my heart still.

It was JJ that helped the most on those horrible flights back on the jet. Noticing my anxious ticks and uneasy disposition after that first case that had ended badly. JJ had been through it all before, taking too many cases home with her. Seeing her son's little faces in the kids that we couldn't help. If I was the baby of the team JJ was the big sister, looking out for everyone.

Morgan on the other hand was the outrageously cool older brother, the one you just wanted to be. Early on he'd helped my weak self with the ruthless fitness regimen the FBI required, he offered to pull some strings and get the test written off. But I couldn't accept that, there was something in me that just wanted to impress Morgan, and honestly still does. Like somehow if he thought you were cool, then it became true. So I passed the exam, but getting up a flight of stairs was near impossible for a week after.

Emily was probably the fun aunt. The one that would sneak you booze at the family gathering, or take you to your first concert. Emily was actually the one who'd found me, digging around colleges for potential recruits she'd had me picked out for a while I later found out. Insisting that Hotch give me a shot. It was reassuring to know I had someone who would stick up for me from day one.

I was an tech analyst, among other things, sort of a counterpart for Garcia in the field. So it was no surprise to anyone when the two of us hit it off as though we'd known each other forever. We weren't the same by any means though. Penelope was bold, and bright, and confident beyond measure, where I've typically felt like more of a blend into the background type. I've always thought of myself that way, despite my achievements. I'd also always believed I was fairly inoffensive, no one I'd met had ever had a huge problem with me, 'till I got to the BAU that is.

Every rose has its thorn I suppose.

That thorn in my side was Dr. Spencer Reid.

It wasn't that Dr. Reid was a bad agent, or even a bad person. I hadn't actually met him before that first day in the conference room, but I'd known who he was for a long time. Before I came along he'd held the mantle of 'youngest ever recruit' in the unit, while I was studying I'd read any of his work I could get my hands on because of that fact.

I figured it must've been some sort of hazing when he looked me up and down that first day I was introduced, and then proceeded to blank me entirely for a full week. Up until I'd wrapped my first case.

The whole team went straight from the jet to the bar. Proceeding to get far too drunk. Spencer joined, which the rest of the team found unusual, and I probably should've taken as a sign of things to come.

That case went well, and everyone was in high spirits but Reid had a sour disposition, at least it seemed that way every time he looked at me. After a few too many drinks I went outside in an attempt to sober up in the cold air, unfortunately Reid must've snuck outside not long before.

"Ugh" was all he said when he first caught my silhouette approaching him. The night was unusually cold so it had been deserted outside the bar that evening. I wasn't really sure why it made me nervous to be alone with him like this, the two of us leaning back against the same small area of brick wall, looking out at the cold night.

"Nice to see you too doctor" was all I could muster, I was drunk enough that I let my sarcastic tone leap out, "you can relax, I'm just trying to get some fresh air, it's too stuffy in there, and loud. I'm not here to talk to you or anything."

"Well aren't you a sensitive thing" he responds in kind, at that point I wasn't really sure if it was a coincidence or if he'd been genuinely avoiding me, but things were starting to clear up.

"I'm sensitive, that's a fun take on things" I joke, taking a long sip of cold water from my glass.

"And what's that supposed to mean, newbie?" his emphasis on the last word all but confirms my suspicions.

"Fuck man, what's your problem with me? Is it because I'm new, or because I beat your stupid record?" I quip. hoping that at the very least it might coax him out of his shell. Dr. Spencer Reid getting angry at me could honestly be better than the nothing I'd been experiencing from him until now.

"What stupid record?" he sounds genuinely confused

"I'm the youngest BAU recruit now?" I didn't know why else he could be so sour. He'd never met me before last week, and since he'd ignored me that first day I'd done all I could not to step on his toes. So if he had a reason to hate me this much, it wasn't something I'd done on purpose.

He takes a few moments to respond, raising his eyebrows and considering the information. He chuckles. He fucking chuckles.

"That's funny." he says, his voice leveling out, "I didn't peg you as funny newbie" that word sets something off in me again. Something about it is dismissive, or belittling. Before I could fight back he starts to move, maneuvering around me and heading back inside. A little too tipsy to think of anything constructive to say, I just mutter "Fuck you Spencer."

He swings open the door, as he walks inside he just says "See you Monday, Newbie" without even looking at me.

And that was only the beginning.

----

"You know I'm just trying to make sure you get enough rest sweetheart. There's no need to get so defensive!" it was far too early in the morning to be dealing with this call. Since joining the BAU a few years ago this was a standard call from my Mom. Equal parts well meaning and over-bearing, and generally asking far too many questions.

"I'm not getting defensive Mom, I get plenty of rest, my job is just very important to me and you know that." I knew she was right to be at least a little worried, this job was consuming, and in all honesty I wasn't sure how people like JJ were married and still here. It seemed like an impossible feat.

"Fine sweetie, how are your co-workers doing then? How's Penelope? Give her my love" she loved Penelope, I think she thought that Penelope tethered me to the normal world, and in a way she was right. She kept me sane, and fun, and made me eat pizza and do face masks once a week at least. Even when I didn't think I wanted to.

"Pen's great Mom, everyone's good. Well, the usual ones get on my nerves, but I'm fine." As I say it I glance across at Dr. Reid, the only person who's also in as early as I am most days. I'm not sure if he can hear me but he's tapping his pen so loud on his desk that it takes all of my energy not to walk across the bullpen and stab him with it.

"Y'know what Mom, I'm actually just after getting to work and it's a busy day so can I call you back later?" I chance, getting her off the phone is always an ordeal.

"Fine, fine, I'll let you go. But wait one last thing!"

I knew what was coming. It was always coming.

"Are you seeing anyone, Margot's been wondering too, just thought I'd check in?"

Pinching the bridge of my nose and trying not to scream down the line, I just sigh out the frustration instead.

"No Mom, believe it or not, I've made no progress on that front since you asked me all of 3 days ago."

"See you are being defensive!" she snaps

"I gotta go, bye Mom. Love you!" I say, hanging up quickly before dropping my head down into my arms on my desk, resting like that for a few moments in silence.

Hearing Garica chuckle behind my ear I perk up and spin around. She's holding a small paper cup of coffee and hands it to me. I look at it confused, "Sorry about the paper, I couldn't find your mug in the cabinet" she apologizes, looking over at Dr. Reid and rolling her eyes. Now I know he can hear me from his seat, he takes that moment to sip from my mug and place it gently back on his desk.

It hadn't taken long for him to start toying with me. It was always stupid childish things. Things I couldn't get genuinely annoyed at, that would give him far too much satisfaction, knowing he was getting to me in any real way. This was one trick he liked to play if he got into the office before me, he'd take my mug and make his coffee in it, just to spite me I guess.

"Why does he even do that, it's so stale" she said, just a little louder than normal to make sure he could hear. Garcia and Reid were still good friends and team-mates but she liked to stand up for me when she could. He liked to avoid me as much as possible so he'd usually go to Garcia before me if he needed help with something. Even when the two of us were out in the field together. Which was obnoxious but it was just another thing I'd gotten used to over time. And as long as it didn’t interfere with the case I just forced myself to let it go.

"I know it's such low grade bullying isn't it?" I shot back with a chuckle.

"So I'll take it that was Mommy dearest" Penelope gestures to my phone. She knew my Mom, and she knew about her general overbearing energy. I let out a groan thinking about the call again, and the calls that were to come.

"Isn't it always Mommy dearest?" I joke

"So she's still on your ass about the wedding then?" I'm sure Penelope was almost as sick of hearing about it as I was,

"Margot's getting married in like 4 months now, and every time Mom calls there’s just some new hometown loser she wants to set me up with Pen. It's fucking exhausting" I take a sip of the coffee she made me, savoring the bitter taste. She sits down on my desk for a moment, leaning in.

"Honey, did you ever think that if you got out there and found someone, she wouldn't be on your ass at all?" I don't want to think about that, about how she's completely right. All I can do is let out another small groan and lean back down onto my desk.

"Too early Pen" I say, it's muffled by the desk but she gets the message. Hopping up and heading to her own office as some more people start to arrive for the morning.

Leaving me alone to make a start on my paperwork that had built up throughout the week. Fridays were usually slow like this, giving me a little too much time to think. I couldn't shake the thought that my Mom and Penelope were actually right. Maybe I was a bit too invested in the job, and maybe that was a pretty big factor in why my last relationship imploded but I wasn't about to admit that to anyone.

----

After that the day crawls by, thankfully no cases pop up so the weekend might actually be free. Trying to make sure I clear up all of my paperwork takes a little longer than I'd hoped and leaves me alone in the bullpen. It seems like everyone's gone home by the time I've packed up and I'm ready to leave. Which wasn't as out of the ordinary as I'd like it to be really. Everyone else seemed to have somewhere to be on a Friday night.

Waiting for the elevator to arrive my phone started to ring, I could see my Mom's caller ID on the screen. If I just let it go I know she'll call back later, may as well get it out of the way. I take a deep breath in anticipation before I answer.

"Hey what's up?" I answer, stepping inside the elevator as the doors ping open.

"Hi sweetie, I've got good news! Do you remember David? That lovely boy, he helped out your Father that summer in high school?" I know what's coming and rub my temple, trying to stifle the headache I know is coming. As I answer a hand slides between the elevator doors, popping them open again.

Dr. Fucking Reid walks in, and he looks about as happy to see me as I am to see him. I make eye contact and look away just as fast, willing him away with my mind. "Yes Mom, I remember him, why are you telling me this?" I already know the answer but I'm fed up, she still sounds excited when she responds.

"Well you won't believe it! I ran into him at the market this morning and I thought you'd like it if I passed on your phone number to him, maybe for the weddi-" it took all I had not to shout into the receiver, and maybe I would've had the elevator been empty.

"Mom! Jesus!" I have to reign myself in, but I have a bad idea, "You know what, I'm actually sorted. I've got a date lined up now" I'm not sure why I said it with no real plan in place. She sounds even more excited than I've ever heard her.

"Oh my, that's amazing sweetie! That was fast, I can't believe you found one since this morning, it's someone from work so?" she assumes, and I'm just not thinking fast enough to correct her.

"Mmhmm, yeah" I'll figure out the logistics later I rationalize.

"Oh! Is it that boy you're always on about, the one who teases you?" she asks, and her voice is full of joy, and it makes me feel horrible that I'm lying already, and that I'm going to let her down.

"Yup, that's the one, look Mom I gotta go, I'll talk to you later! Night" I blurt out so fast it has to be obvious I'm nervous.

I can hear a stifled chuckle behind me. Fuck. How loud is my phone speaker. Could he hear that. Surely not. But this elevator was completely silent. The doors open and I have to stop myself from running to my car at top speed. Instead I walk out just a little faster than normal, turning around to shoot him a small wave goodbye. And he's got this devious smirk on his face that makes my stomach turn.

Sitting into my car I pull out my phone to text Garcia immediately.

I'm on my way to yours right now. It's urgent.

——

Traffic's light so it takes maybe 10 minutes before I arrive at Garcia's place. My mind's racing and my body takes me there on autopilot. Why did I say any of that, why did I even answer the damn phone. Why did I wave goodbye to Spencer, I never usually did that. Maybe that's why he had that look on his face. Maybe he was just thinking of something funny that happened earlier and it had nothing to do with me at all. That was something he'd do to mess with me for sure.

How was I going to walk this back with my Mom, she was just gonna have more questions that I couldn't answer. Fuck.

Garcia buzzed me up and her door was open for me by the time I got up the stairs. This little purple apartment had become my second home. It was where I spent most of my evenings off, laughing on the same sofa I was collapsing face first into right now. Garcia nestles in beside me and runs her hand over my hair, "Hey sweet pea, what's happening? I don't want to sound too concerned but you're not giving me much to go off? Are you dying, is there drama? You're going to have to tell me what's so urgent before I burst a blood vessel?"

I let out a muffled, "is drahmuh" into the pillow, Garcia shakes my shoulders.

"Sit up babe, damn!" I have to heave myself out of the pillows, sitting upright on the sofa beside her, clutching one of the pillows in my arms.

"It's drama" I repeat,

"Well, out with it then, you know I'll take all the drama I can get! Spill, spill" she rushes me along. I'm already apprehensive, Reid's her coworker too, but if anyone would understand why this was such an issue it was gonna be her.

"Okay, I'm after doing something stupid and I think I really need your advice" I cringe already, thinking back to the elevator, throwing out my words faster, I continue the story, mostly trying to get it over with, "my Mom called again when I was on the way out tonight and she was trying to set me up with this guy, and Reid was there, and I got all flustered, and I told her I had a date already" I throw my head down into the pillow again.

"Wait why was Reid there?" she looks like she's trying to fit puzzle pieces together and she's getting nowhere, "And what's the drama?"

"Shit Garcia, it was in the elevator and it was all quiet, and maybe he heard the call, maybe he didn't but he had this fuckin' look on his stupid face" I can't shake the smug little smirk, it's burned inside my eyelids. Garcia's face falls in what looks like disappointment.

"Ugh Y/N! That's nothing chill out, why does it matter if he heard your call? I know you guys are all weird but none of that is any of his business anyway!" she shoo's her hand in the air, dismissing the whole situation.

"No Garcia, it is his business now" I have to close my eyes when I say it, I can't look at her "I told my Mom that he was my date, well, I didn't say his name or anything, she assumed it was someone from work and so I just agreed, and then she suggested that it was him and then I fucking panicked Pen, I fucked up so bad. What do I do?"

I finally opened my eyes to look up at Garcia. She was sitting in pure silence, pursing her lips in what seemed like contemplation. The puzzle pieces finally slotting together. It's as though a light bulb goes off behind her eyes and she bursts out in fits of laughter. Doubling over on herself before finally taking a few breaths to calm herself down. I'm honestly not sure why she finds the whole thing so funny, she know's how needlessly annoying he's made my life, she's seen it first hand and heard me talk about it over and over again in this very apartment over pizza.

"Garcia, this is not fucking funny! This is serious!" I try to calm her down, I need advice not whatever this is.

"I'm so sorry Y/N, I love you dearly. But this isn't funny, this is hilarious. It's like you're Sandra Bullock in some mid-90's rom com. I love it" I don't love it, in fact I hate it. I nearly snap at her but pull myself back.

"Pen, come on, help me out. What do I do with this, how do I fix it?" I plead.

She stops laughing and pulls out her phone, "Okay, I'm sorry. I'm going to order us a pizza, and we're gonna sort this thing out together, sound good?" I just nod and collapse back into the sofa. I think I feel better now that I've gotten it out in the open.

----

Penelope makes us tea while we wait for the pizza, she keeps lemon & ginger in her cabinet for me, just like I keep mint for her. The warm mug and the steam calm me down. After a few minutes alone to think about it I start to figure it out a little better. I figure I can just lie to my Mom for a while, it might suck but I can pretend for a bit and then make up some excuse as to why he can't come closer to the time. Then I can just bring Garcia instead and everyone's happy. I'm about to float my plan to her there's a knock on her door. I was so caught up that I hadn't really noticed quite how starving I'd gotten. Leaping up of the sofa to grab the door.

I swing it open but it's not the pizza guy. Somehow it's the opposite of the pizza guy, my worst nightmare is on the other side of the door. He must notice my eyes blow completely wide. "Y/N!" he says, more of a statement than a question really, like he's telling himself that he's actually seeing me in the doorway. I'm not as gentle.

"What the fuck are you doing here Reid?!" I can't even disguise my anger. He seems a little flustered, like he's got absolutely no idea how to proceed.

"Um, uh, is Garcia here? I can, um, I can just come back later?" he swallows hard and shakes his head, before I can agree and tell him to get lost Penelope races to the door, pulling it wide open.

"Nope, that won't be necessary Doctor! Come on in, you're right on time sweetheart" she waves him in and he walks past me, his demeanor changing almost instantly. He's smug, like he's won whatever battle this was. And I hate it. Though he's still as confused as me despite the newfound attitude. Reid sits down on the sofa, right where I had been sitting. I bite my tongue and sit on the opposite end.

"Are you okay Garcia?" he asks with a genuine concern, "What's going on, what was the emergency?". He's not stupid, he knows she's not in danger now that he's here. But he wants answers. I don't know that I've ever seen him this confrontational with anyone, well anyone but me. The entire time I’m staring her down as she sits in the armchair opposite the two of us. My keys are in my pocket and my car's right outside. I could just jump up and make a break for it. Escape.

"You know what Doc, you won't believe it but I'm not actually the one with the emergency" she takes a beat, and I'm starting to think that I might understand why people murder other people after all these years, "Y/N has something urgent she needs to talk to you about" she's silent for another moment, and she almost looks giddy, "Actually Spencer, you might already know a little something about the matter already, now that I think about it" she smirks, and it's pure joy.

My keys are in my hand ready to bolt when the doorbell chimes again. "Oh, that'll actually be the pizza this time, if you two will excuse me" she hops up out of the armchair and races to the door, leaving the two of us alone in a horrible silence. The tension is almost too much, I want to speak but I really have no idea what to say, or how to even start saying it. But he starts.

"Y/N what's going on, I feel like I'm out of the loop here? What am I missing?" he asks, and there's something uncharacteristically genuine about the way he says it, but he can't turn to look at me as he speaks. I almost want to let my guard down and just have a conversation but I can’t force myself to do it. "Shut up Reid." is all I mutter, folding my arms across my chest.

He turns sharply on the sofa to face me. "Hey Y/N. Believe it or not I'm about as happy as you with whatever kind of Parent Trap situation Garcia's got going on here. But from what I'm picking up on you've got a problem and I'm supposed to be able to help with it. So do you want to tell me what's going on or not? I can just go?" I can see that there's an anger bubbling right below the surface, threatening to burst. I know I shouldn't but I let him stew in silence for a little too long and he jumps up off the sofa.

"Y'know what, typical" he mutters, rolling his eyes as he says it, "this is all about you." he throws his bag over his shoulders and begins to walk towards the door. Something in me just snaps.

"All about me?! Are you fucking kidding? I've been tip-toeing around you for years, ever since I joined this damn unit!" I shout as Garcia comes back into the room, pizza box and plates in her hands.

"So, who's hungry?" Garcia asks, trying to break the tension, or pretending there's no tension at all. Reid shakes his head in disbelief and rubs his temple before he speaks again, "Actually I was just gonna head out" he gestures to the door, "I'm clearly not wanted here so I'm gonna leave you guys to it." Spencer makes a move to leave but Garcia grabs the strap of his shoulder bag, yanking him back ever so slightly before he really has the chance to escape.

"You are going absolutely nowhere kid" She points back to the sofa, "get back there" she glances to me, staring with far too much intensity. "You too, sit." Her voice is more stern than I've ever heard it, even while we were on a case. I can't help but obey her command and I sit back down on the sofa in silence. Followed by Reid, clearly processing the same uneasy feeling of a serious Penelope.

She sits opposite the two of us again. "Y/N, Spencer, I love the two of you with all of my heart, albeit separately, and I would die for either one of you. But you've got to chill the hell out!" she says it like she's had it bottled up forever. The tension that releases from her as she says it looks euphoric.

She opens up the pizza box and lays it on the coffee table and takes out a slice for herself. Taking a bite she leaves the two of us in stunned silence. Once she finishes the mouthful she turns to me specifically, "Y/N you tell him, or I will." dead serious. And the feeling in my belly is like I've just fallen down an elevator shaft.

My stomach is in knots as I turn to Spencer on the sofa next to me. His face is puzzled and I think I might be able to make out pure terror in his expression. I don't know that I've ever been looked at like this before and my stomach screws up tighter. I have to take a deep breath and I can't believe I'm about to say it. "Fuck it" I have to take another breath almost immediately so I just have to force the rest out, "I don't know if you heard the call I was on while we were in the elevator earlier?" I look up to gauge his reaction and I can see his face relax, and worse than that, one corner of his mouth lifts into a sort of smile. It's a look of pure smug satisfaction and I think I might scream. I have to close my eyes because I really don't think I can look at that face as I say the next part.

"My sister is getting married in a few months and my Mom's been on my ass to find a date for the wedding and she keeps trying to set me up with these losers, so I fucking panicked, and I told her you were my date." by the time the sentence is out my eyes have screwed up so tight it feels like I have to pry them open.

He sits in silence for too long. Thinking, maybe?

"So I'm the boy who teases you then?" he grins. So he did hear. And he did laugh. He looks far too self satisfied. Now he knows he's right. He knows I've talked to my Mom about him, that he's gotten in my head. I can tell from his smile that he's savoring the moment. Mostly because I can't slap the smug smile off his face I drop my head into my hands. In an effort to disappear I guess.

"So," he says, taking a moment, "is that all you wanted to say then?" he asks, lighthearted and obnoxious, back to his usual self. I snap back to reality, shooting my head back up.

"What do you mean is that all?" I throw back genuinely shocked,

"Is that all you had to say Y/N? Can I go now? It's a long bus ride home y'know" he smirks but makes no effort to move. He can't possibly be making me do this.

"Well no, obviously!" I stutter, "I mean, are you, will you, uh?" I can't bring myself to say it out loud. He leans in on the sofa looking directly at me, refusing to break eye contact.

"Did you have something you wanted to ask me Y/N?" I just want to smack that fucking look off his face,

"Fuck you Spencer Reid" I almost whisper under my breath, but Garcia snaps me back to reality.

"Hey!" she looks at me, stern again, "Ask him." it's not a question, or a suggestion, it's a command.

"Fine okay" I scrunch my eyes up again, "Will you come to my sisters wedding with me as my fake boyfriend?" I curl up into myself as I say it, I can almost feel the bile rising up from my stomach. Like I'm having a biological reaction to the whole thing.

Reid crosses his arms and sinks back on the sofa, like he's performing the act of thinking. He's considering my offer to make me squirm.

When he finally speaks he says "Well I would Y/N, but I really fail to see what's in it for me" he's after getting cocky now.

Garcia pipes up, excited, "Oh, Oh! I know! I have an idea!" she interjects, "Spencer remember how a while ago, back after your apartment flooded you were all all worried about your antique books and prints and stuff?" he nods, "Well Y/N could digitize the collection for you as a back up? I know you're a technophobe? C'mon Y/N, you know you could do that no sweat, and it would take you a lifetime alone Spencer?" I really don't want to admit it but she's right. Even I knew Reid was adverse to any technology that wasn't vital, but it was your specialty. And maybe that was a good trade off, a job like that would be near impossible for him to pull off without help. I take a glance over at Reid and he seems to have had the same train of thought as me. He lets out an exaggerated sigh and relaxes his posture.

"Fine, I guess that's a fair trade. I'm in." he resigns and I almost can't believe it. I'm barely processing the whole conversation as he sticks his hand out to me, I'm confused for a second before I grab it and shake it firmly. Condemning myself to whatever's about to happen. And it's not the time to be thinking about it but maybe this is the first time Spencer and I have ever touched? But I shove that thought away.

Garcia's positively beaming and she's not even trying to hide it. "Now it's like you're both in a Sandra Bullock movie, oh, but you're Hugh Grant maybe?" she points to Reid.

"Don't push it" I shoot in her direction, taking a slice of pizza, now that my anxiety stomach has sort of passed.

Once the pizza's been eaten in near completely awkward silence Spencer stands up off the sofa. His unsure demeanor has returned and he looks nervous. "I actually should get going this time" he says but Garcia pipes up to protest,

"No, it's not even late!"

"It takes me a while to get back home, thank you though Pen. For... this?" he gestures to the whole living room, "Night" he waves. He's almost made it to the door before I stand up out of my seat. I'm not really sure what comes over me, maybe it's gratitude, maybe it's guilt, or maybe I'm just exhausted.

"Wait Spencer. Let me give you a ride home?" I ask and it's like it's not even me saying it .

"Thanks, but I think I can make it home just fine" he dismisses, and there’s an antagonizing tone in his voice that snaps me right back to our usual rapport.

"I'm trying to do a nice thing here, fuck! Just let me do something nice!" I snap, and he throws his arms up in surrender.

"Fine alright, if it'll make you feel better"

"Fuck you Reid" I mutter under my breath and I sort of hope that he does hear me really. If he's gonna be hostile about this I can be too. I give Garcia a hug goodbye but I'm going to scold her for this whole thing later.

----

I lead the way outside and climb into my car, Spencer hops into the passenger seat and it feels as strange as always to be alone with him. Especially because it's not an accident, and it's not in work. Maybe this was a horrible idea. He seems like he's unwilling to break the silence, so I just get it over with.

"Where the hell do you live man? I'm gonna need directions." I say, as deadpan as I can muster, which probably isn't all that intimidating.

"Sorry, yeah, so you're gonna want to turn on the ignition" he teases. I definitely wasn't intimidating enough.

"Don't push it" I say, turning to give him a cruel stare, he just reacts with a smirk, that same one from the elevator earlier.

"Oh, I'm pushing it?" he asks, feigning disbelief

"I'll kick you out of this damn car" is all I can think to say. He barely responds, he just lets out a soft chuckle. I want to ask 'what's so funny' but he speaks before I can get the words out.

"I can't believe you talk to your Mom about me" he continues to laugh. That's enough.

"You know what Reid, of course I have! I work with actual murderers on a daily basis and somehow you've been the only real source of friction in my life since I joined the BAU!" He stops giggling a little, but not entirely, he looks like he's making an effort to contain himself.

"I'm sorry. I guess I just never knew I got to you like that" he still finds the whole thing amusing, but I sure as hell don't.

"Directions, now" I demand, looking straight out the front windshield.

"Fine, keep going straight on this road for a while and I'll tell you when to turn" he says, finally playing nice.

The two of us drive silently for most of the journey, the radio playing softly in the background. Eventually we arrive outside his building, and it's nicer than I thought it would be. But I have no idea what I was really basing that on. For some reason it hadn't occurred to me that Dr. Reid lived in an actual home, I had pictured him sleeping upside down in a cave maybe, or in a cryogenic chamber with all the other life-like genius robots.

"So," he says, breaking the silence, "When is this wedding?"

"4 months from now, in and around" I respond, matter of factly. Spencer nods, taking it in.

"Alright, so I've got 4 months, in and around, to learn enough to convincingly pass as your loving boyfriend. Doesn't sound so difficult." he jokes, his tone harsh and sarcastic.

"Look Spencer, I know this is insane and honestly kind of stupid. But in all seriousness, you can back out right now if you're not on board with whatever this is. I'm telling you this is the last exit ramp." I try to say it with sincerity, giving him a genuine out if he's not comfortable with the weird set-up that Penelope pulled on us both. He thinks on it for a moment and shakes his head.

"So how are we gonna do this?" he asks, and I really thought he was going to back out. So I don't have an actual answer.

"Well, I uh, I haven't really given a plan much thought. How about I come over and start working on some of the stuff you want digitized like Garcia mentioned and I can use the time to give you the footnotes on my life?" I suggest, at least that would make it easier to knock things out all at once. Rather than having to spend even more of my free time with Reid than necessary. He looks content with the improvised plan.

"Alright, sounds good." he undoes his seatbelt and opens the door to hop out of the car before turning back to me, "Are you coming inside or what?"

— —

Next Chapter

Series Masterlist

Masterlist

[whump-a-la-mode]

I request fluffy fluffity fluff with feverish, injured villain, hero caretaker, painkillers and a kitten. Please.

This is so cute ヾ(•ω•`)o I don’t write a lot of fluff, but this is some cute cute sick fic. Hero caretaker? Check. Painkillers? Check. A kitten? You know it! Thanks so much for the ask!!

CW//Fevers, injury mention, intoxicated/feverish character, painkillers

The text had been unexpected, to say the least.

That wasn’t to say that Hero wasn’t unused to receiving messages, especially strange messages. Half of the time, a buzz on their phone indicated that they were about to have the record for ‘weirdest thing they’ve ever seen’ broken.

Yet, this text said nothing of giant lizards attacking downtown, or a mad scientist’s experiment gone wrong. So, perhaps, to a normal civilian, it would have been quite a normal message to receive.

“Hey, Hero? I have a really big favor to ask.”

From another hero, it would have been quite the daunting request. But, it was not from another hero. At least, not in the traditional sense.

Hero had known Doctor for quite some time-- hell, every powered person in the city knew Doctor. In some ways, they were more of a hero than the rest of them, put together. While most hospitals flinched and scurried away from the world of villains and vigilantes, Doctor embraced them wholeheartedly.

A particularly egregious wound, carved in the heat of battle? A power malfunction? Any one of these things could result in the doctor being awoken in the middle of the night, an exhausted, limping hero upon their doorstep.

Or, a villain. Doctor insisted upon making their policy for such things very, very clear. Adamantly, they refused to involve themself in the matters of heroes and villains. Their battles, their allegiances, to the doctor were all naught. As they explained it, no matter one’s actions, no matter their beliefs, no one deserved to have their wounds go untreated.

Thus, their home had quickly become a neutral ground. Lifelong sworn nemeses could have their injuries wrapped mere feet from one another, and not one glare would be shot. In Doctor’s presence, there were no heroes or villains. Only patients. Only those who needed aid.

But, it was the first time that Hero had been on the receiving end of such a request. Of course, they were not about to refuse the doctor. With how much help they had given them, it would only be right to return the favor.

“What is it?” Hero tapped in reply.

Given the length of the doctor’s response, the three dancing progress buttons hung on Hero’s screen for far too long.

“Do you know Villain?”

It wasn’t a name they’d ever expect to hear in a conversation so casual. Villain. Though Hero did not consider themself to truly have a nemesis, if they had to define one, it was Villain who would be on the very tippy top of their list.

That was, especially after their battle the day prior. Their wounds still screamed at them, no matter how they tried to quiet them with painkillers and icepacks.

“I know Villain.” Hero replied simply.

“Okay. Do you think you could take care of them for a few hours?”

Instantly, the conversation shot up to the top of their list of ‘strangest possible talks to have over the phone.’

Take care of them? Take care of Villain? What cold they have possibly gotten themself into that required Hero, of all people, to aid them?

Then again, they had looked quite rough after their battle...

They had no need to question, as Doctor continued on their own:

“They’re sick. I need to go to work, but they shouldn’t be left alone, right now. I know it’s a big favor, but they need this, Hero.”

They bit their lip.

As a protector of the city, they had a very, very long list of priorities, and upon that list, helping Villain in any way, shape, or form was at the very bottom. Helping Doctor, on the other hand...

“Okay.”

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It was only upon arriving to front door of Doctor’s home that Hero had a rather odd realization: Never before had they been to that place in a completely stable state of mind.

If they had made the decision to bother the doctor, it meant that, whatever injuries or illness had befallen them, they could not manage it on their own. Thus, far more often than not, when they stood in front of this home’s door, they did so with a head full of cotton and legs formed of gelatin.

Now, however, their mind was not clouded by any malease. Instead, it was clouded by the stark realization that they had, perhaps, just made a terrible decision.

By the time they had arrived at the house, however, it was already far too late. When Doctor opened their front door, Hero knew full well that there was no turning back.

The doctor looked terribly bedraggled, and they could not help but wonder if it was wise for them to even go to work in such a condition. Yet, every powered person in the city knew far better than to distrust Doctor’s judgement.

“Thank you.” The medic began, a warm smile creeping onto their cracked lips. “I know this was awfully short notice, but I couldn’t think of anyone else who would know Villain as well as you.”

Well, Hero certainly knew what Villain’s fist felt like, crashing into their face, though that was about it.

“Okay, come on, come on.” The doctor rushed. “I need to be heading out soon.”

The hero nodded, hurrying after them into the building. It wasn’t exactly a sprawling thing-- certainly not large enough to house all the equipment that it did-- but, nonetheless, it functioned, through some miracle.

Against their prediction, Doctor did not lead them to the home’s makeshift infirmary. Instead, they moved to the cramped dining room, which, truly, consisted of little more than a table with just enough chairs to seat a guest or two. The house itself was not impressive, its owner only made it so.

But, Hero had seen that dining room, barren table and all, more times than they could count. There was nothing unusual to be seen about it. No. The strangeness of the hour came in the form of who, exactly, was seated there.

Villain.

Oddly enough, either they had forgotten to take off their ostentatious garb, or they had simply not had the time. The villain’s cape draped over their shoulders as they hunched over, forehead pressed to the table’s surface. A full glass of water and a small pile of crackers sat near them, untouched.

Hero bit their lip. Seeing their nemesis was never a good thing, of course, but something about this simply made their heart stutter.

“What’s wrong with them?” They began, before their voice took on a more panicked pitch. “They’re okay, right? They’re gonna make it?”

Doctor snorted.

“Hero, they’re fine. They say they had a fight, overexerted themself a bit.”

A fight? Oh, god, was this all their fault?

“But... They look terrible.”

“They just have a fever.” Doctor reassured. “Power exertion is nothing to scoff at, but I promise, they’re not in any serious danger.”

Hero hummed. “Then, why did you bring me here?”

“Because we need to make sure they stay out of serious danger. They can hear you, by the way, so don’t be an ass, please. But, yes, I’m confident this fever will break, so long as it stays down.”

“You’re putting them in my hands?”

“Yes. I trust you. Seriously, Hero, you look like a deer in the headlights. I’m not asking you to perform open heart surgery, here.” They smiled playfully. “All you need to do is keep them cool and keep them comfortable.”

“What does that entail?” Nervously, they chewed the inside of their cheek.

“Not a lot. Keep a wet washcloth on their head, make sure they drink water.” As the doctor glanced to the nearest clock, they began to hurry their words. “There’s a thermometer on the counter. If their fever goes over 103, call an ambulance. But, as long as its below that, you’re safe.”

“And... keeping them comfortable?”

“Just... try to get them to sleep. It won’t be easy for them, in this state. But if you can manage it, it’ll be a lot better. Oh, and, there’s Advil in the drawer. Give them some if they’re uncomfortable, okay? Okay, I really need to go, so, you got all that?”

“Uh- I think so?”

“Good. Okay, bye! Remember, above 103, call an ambulance. What temperature is dangerous?”

“103.”

“Great. Thank you so, so much! I’ll get you like, some chocolates or something. Bye!”

By the end of their speech, Doctor’s words had sped to the point of blending into one long stream of syllables. They tossed a coat over their shoulders, shoving their feet into their already-tied shoes.

“Oh, and try not to kill each other, okay?”

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━ 

Hero was alone.

They supposed that wasn’t entirely true. In fact, it was quite far from the truth. The house was anything but empty-- their nervous glances to the dinner table’s current guest ensured them of that. But, that did not help the chord of nerves that wrapped itself about their stomach.

Power exertion was nothing to be scoffed at.

Though they weren’t alone, they were the only one in the situation who could be described as responsible. It was they who had to keep their nemesis alive. And, worse... comfortable.

How were they supposed to rock their sworn enemy to sleep? Maybe, a good place to start would be stopping staring at them like some kind of creep.

Yeah. They should probably do that.

The hero inhaled through their nose, letting out a long exhale from their mouth, before approaching the table. Throughout the whole conversation, the villain had not so much as raised their head-- their movements coming only in the slightest of twitches.

Standing at the stalled villain’s side, Hero could not help but feel to have walked into the den of a lion. Yet, not the slightest movement was made. In an attempt to gently draw their attention, they ghosted their hand over their nemesis’s shoulder.

“Hey, Villain?”

There was a twitch, and a groan, but nothing that could be described as words.

“Um, Doctor is gonna have me take care of you now, okay? Can you look at me? I think I’m supposed to take your temperature.”

If the villain had been listening before that point, there was little indication. Had they already been asleep? Had Hero already ruined everything? Either way, blearily, Villain lifted their head, unfocused eyes fixing on the wall before their face.

Placing their hand to their forehead, Hero nearly jerked their palm away. Their skin felt like the burner of a hot stove. But, if Doctor said they were okay...

“How are you feeling?” As they spoke, they felt the slightest bit of the doctor’s voice slip into theirs. That soft, coaxing tone that all medical providers seemed to be able to imitate. “You haven’t touched your water.”

“Mmm...” The fevered villain murmured. “Can’t...Swallow.”

“Does it hurt?”

“Mmm.” They were unsure if that was an affirmation or not.

“Okay. Um, well, the doctor says you need water. Let’s get you some water, then... What do you need, Villain?”

The villain blinked, seeming, by all accounts to be on another planet.

“I’m cold...” At last, they muttered a pair of coherent words. “And hot...” Well, maybe not so much on the coherent part.

What was it that Doctor had said? Something about keeping their head cool. That was it, right?

“Okay, um. I’ll cool you down, and warm you up, okay?”

“Hero!” It was an excited cry, even with the way the syllables all blurred into one another. “Hero...”

“Yeah, Villain?”

“Hero, I looooove you.”

Oh.

No, they were just feverish. Delusional, they probably didn’t even know where they were. They had no clue what they were saying, just making sounds.

“I’m gonna go get you a blanket.” Hero spoke hurriedly, rushing off to do just that. For a few moment, they dashed about the house, gathering supplies and, hopefully, not rummaging too much through Doctor’s things. When, at last, they returned to the kitchen, it was with a dripping-wet washcloth and a bottle of tylonel.

Villain, so it seemed, had fallen back into their half-restful state, head on the table. With a gentle hand, Hero tipped their chin up, brushing the washcloth over their forehead.

“You want something to help with the pain, bud?”

“Head hurty.”

“I’ll take that as a yes.”

They placed down the washcloth, and, in an exercise in tedium, coaxed a pair of white pills down the villain’s throat, alongside a wash of water. Hopefully, it would be enough, as a snowball would make it too the depths of hell before any more water went down.

“I have everything set up on the couch. Can you walk?”

“Mmm... Carry me... I love you!”

“Y- Yeah, alright.”

Despite the feverish villain’s words filling Hero’s chest with an odd sensation, they obliged, plucking them from the chair and draping the washcloth over their forehead, taking care to ensure that no water would drip its way to their eyes.

The couch, as opposed to most of the furniture in the house, had seen some serious use. With only one bed in the building, when a hero was wounded with such severity that an overnight visit was necessitated, it was upon the couch that they slept. Though, luckily, use had not worn away any of the seat’s comfort.

A large, white, puffy comforter had been draped over the seats, and, upon laying Villain down, Hero secured the blanket around their body, tucking it in in the corners and ensuring that no draft would disturb them.

It was all medically necessary, of course.

Though, they couldn’t help but giggle at just how ridiculous their nemesis appeared, dwarfed by the fluffy comforter, face half covered by a rag.

“Alright.” Hero smoothed a hand over Villain’s hair-- to make sure they weren’t sweating excessively, of course. “Are you alright? Comfortable?”

“I love you! Love you...”

“Okay. Well, do you need anything?”

“Sleep...”

“You’re tired?”

“Sleepytime.”

“Alright, bud. Sleepytime.”

They couldn’t help but smile.

With a few more strokes through their hair, the fevered person soon let their muscles go limp, sacrificing themself to the whims of the blanket they were half-submerged in. The sight alone was enough to make Hero’s own eyelids droop.

It wasn’t like they could disturb the villain while they slept-- no, they needed their rest far too much for that-- and, there wasn’t anything else threatening the city...

What would a nap hurt?

Though there was no certainly no room on the seat for another full-grown human, that was a problem easily solved. In a blink of white light, Hero’s bleary form was replaced by that of a feline, with a countenance just as exhausted.

The felidae-turned hero leapt onto the couch, settling themself near the edge, before shifting themself against Villain’s feet.

To know if they woke up.

After all, it was very medically necessary.

[just-come-baek]

get in, loser 1

Pairing: Taeyong x female!reader

Themes: smut | mafiaboss!taeyong | carthief!reader

Word count: 6.2k

Summary: How to get noticed by the most dangerous man in the country? I guess stealing his sport car and dying it hot pink must catch his attention.

Warnings: car theft | speeding | alcohol consumption | jaehyun being taeyong’s henchman | hardcore brainstorming | taeyong being touchy | more in next chapters

A/N This series will be around 5 chapters long. New updates shall be posted once every two weeks I hope. Also, @starlightbebes challenged me into posting chapter 1 on Taeyong’s birthday, so I won. ^^ Pay up.

***

Considering it was Saturday night, the city seemed oddly serene. Any other night, I’d witness some wild shit, yet tonight, it was quite peaceful. No prostitutes were arguing with no-cooperative customers, no inexperienced adolescents throwing up in the public trash cans, no aggressive football spectators fighting with their rivals.

Despite the calm aura, the city was vibrant; colorful neon signs were blinking, inviting people into different liquor establishments, cars honking on drunken pedestrians jaywalking across the streets, a few undiscovered musicians playing on the main square with plenty of tourists recording them.

Each establishment promised an unforgettable night, and for some people, it would be a real dilemma to pick one among such a rich palette of entertainment. I, on the other hand, had a pretty well-defined plan of stealing a fancy car – a precious possession of one, infamous crime lord in the country.

It wouldn’t be my first car theft, yet it surely was going to be the most meaningful one. Everyone in town knew that Lee Taeyong was up to no good. When it came to his personal taste, though, it was impeccable. The most expensive, the most extravagant, the fastest cars belonged to him, so stealing one of his astounding vehicles would be the cherry on top of my villainous career.

Rumor had it, tonight he’s celebrating in his VIP club – the Cherry Bomb; if you ask me, its name is a little bit tacky, but who I am to judge? The crowd of people trying to get inside was enormous, so despite its name, the local must’ve been quite profitable.

Being the most dangerous crime lord in the country must be a pretty time-consuming profession – I wouldn’t expect him to get to the club before midnight. Regardless of what must’ve been on his to-do list tonight, his schedule was bound to be packed.

It was almost 1 o’clock when matte black carbon-fibred McLaren P1 LM with “DRAGON” written on its registration plate pulled over in front of the club; in an instant, people in the queue grew silent, mesmerized by the handsome man who nonchalantly got out of the car, tossing the keys to the valet boy.

Lee Taeyong was just as good-looking as he was deadly – with his styled-up tousled vibrant-red hair, ripped black jeans, and a top-brand leather jacket, he made people turn their heads despite their gender and sexual orientation. In all honesty, I did my research, I had dozens of pictures of him, and I knew what to expect. The pictures didn’t do him justice, though. His natural beauty was enchanting, but when topped with his charisma and cocky confidence, it was a lethal mixture.

When Taeyong strolled inside his establishment, I, just like the other people who were in rapture, could finally get my shit together. It was remarkably difficult to remain in the right state of mind when he was within your eyesight, and tonight, it was going to be my most significant theft, so I couldn’t get distracted.

“You can do this,” I encouraged myself before running across the street, ready to execute the first stage of my plan.

I didn’t dare to doubt my skills for even a second. Tonight I would succeed, and Taeyong would have to call an Uber to get back to his grand mansion.

***

It’s been three days since my ingenious heist, and I was getting impatient. I wanted Taeyong to find me and talk to me, yet I was waiting and waiting, and he didn’t seem interested in getting his car back. It was actually disappointing. I couldn’t contain my curiosity; I just needed to see his reaction after I had his car tuned. I had made sure to be caught on their CCTV, so he would quickly track my traces, but it only proved me he was working with rookies.

Checking the time on my wristwatch, I walked into the run-down car repair shop, wanting to sneak one last peek at my masterpiece before I’d put a cover over it so Taeyong would gasp upon the big reveal. The new car paint looked amazing – Doyoung, my friend and a mechanic, did a great job dying it hot pink. Too bad, he was too scared to wait for Taeyong with me. I couldn’t blame him, though. Taeyong was known for his short temper, and it was understandable that Doyoung didn’t want to stick around to witness Taeyong’s wrath.

“What is taking him so long?” I asked myself as I plopped down in a ripped leather armchair, cracking a cold one. “How long does it take them to find the guys who don’t want to be found?” I wondered, pulling my phone, scrolling through the new content on my social media.

It was taking them forever, but when the sun was slowly setting behind the horizon, I could hear a vehicle park in front of the car repair shop. Judging by the engine’s roars, the car was expensive.

It must’ve been Taeyong himself.

“Finally,” I hollered as I got on my feet, throwing my slowly dying phone on the armchair. If the crime lord showed up, he needed to be welcomed accordingly. Taeyong was a royalty amongst gangers, and he deserved the best treatment.

Midnight blue Bugatti Chiron registered under “FURY” stopped on the parking lot, and I waited for Taeyong to get out. Seconds passed, and he was still sitting comfortably in the vehicle, building the tension. I didn’t feel stressed, though. Although we hadn’t been properly introduced, I knew a whole lot about him – he was famous for his rage. However, right now, he had to be impressed rather than enraged. Or at least, it was the emotion I hoped for him to feel.

Only a complete psycho, and me, would dare to steal one of his automobiles.

The descending sun was blinding me, and when I raised my hand to block the direct sunlight, the car doors opened. Even in daylight, Taeyong looked like a five-course meal. Today, he was wearing a pair of blue jeans and a Gucci T-shirt; the outfit was simple, yet on him, it looked elevated.

“Very impressive,” he shouted loudly before he coolly walked over. “You’ve got balls, I have to give you that,” he added, and I smirked, considering his words as a compliment. Men of high positions often have trouble complimenting people, let alone women, and Taeyong didn’t seem to be an exception.

“It’s a pleasure to finally meet you, too,” I answered politely, offering him a handshake, which he contemptuously denied. “I must say, I expected to meet you sooner,” I jabbed, but Taeyong only looked at me condescendingly before he walked inside, impatient to check up on his stolen property.

“My people located you yesterday morning, but I wanted to see you in person, and you must know, I am a busy person,” he explained, studying the shabby interior. “No one steals from me.”

“Well… I already have, and it was easier than I previously assumed,” I answered confidently before approaching the cover. “I have a surprise for you, are you ready?” Taeyong didn’t even flinch, and I considered his indifference as an agreement. With one quick pull, I uncovered the vehicle, allowing him to see my teeny tiny change. “I hope you like pink.”

Taeyong grew silent.

I had told Doyoung to change the car paint to hot pink, yet Taeyong didn’t even blink. I expected him to get pissed or, at least, annoyed, but when I looked at his features, I couldn’t see any reaction.

“Actually, pink is my favorite color,” Taeyong emotionlessly announced, and I only stared at him in utter confusion.

What the fuck?

“Well… I expected a different reaction,” I spoke, the wires in my brain incapable of coming up with anything intelligent. A guy with such a foul reputation favors the color pink.

Imagine my shock.

Apparently, Taeyong is a man of many layers.

“Who are you?” Taeyong condescendingly asked as he sat comfortably in the armchair, putting my phone on the armrest. Calmly, he leaned backward, crossed his legs, and entwined his fingers over his bent knee, waiting for me to tell him everything he wanted to know.

“I think you already know who I am,” I stated, and he just stared at me intensely. His people must’ve done a background check on me, yet he still wanted to hear it again. Stealing his car was one thing, but disrespecting him about such trivial matter seemed way worse. Doing something so risky and bold was admirable in his eyes, but wasting his time like this was just annoying, so I simply did what was expected of me.

I told Taeyong about my childhood – how I spent my allowance on go-kart races; it was my escape whenever my father got drunk and picked up fights with my mom. Then, I disclosed my secrets on how I began stealing cars – when I was seventeen, because of excessive drinking, my father needed a liver transplant, and it was the only way of getting money remotely quickly. Later, at the age of twenty-one, I participated in my first street race, though this time, it wasn’t because I needed money – I did it because I enjoyed the thrill.

“How did you steal it? How, on Earth, did you go inside the club without any of my workers noticing you?” Taeyong asked, and although he must’ve already concluded my operating plan, he wanted me to explain it myself. This time around, I didn’t even hesitate.

“I blended in,” I shortly answered with a shrug. “It wasn’t that difficult to find out all the information I needed to get inside unnoticed. I checked all your staff’s social media accounts; it took me like… three days of stalking to get their names and work schedules. That night, I sneaked into the club right after your arrival, and when somebody asked me something, I told them I was busy doing the thing the manager wanted me to do. They just assumed I am the new girl. Normally, I don’t do things like that when I steal a car, but this time around, I wanted to do something extra. Are you impressed?” I challenged, and Taeyong cocked his eyebrow, deeply in thought.

“Huh, last question. Why have you done it?”

“Isn’t it obvious?” I inquired rhetorically, and Taeyong didn’t even bother to give me a proper answer. He seemed bored, and it was making me feel a little bit fed-up. “Well… in all honesty, I am sick and tired of freelancing, I want to work for you,” I elaborated, and Taeyong just chuckled as if I just told him a hilarious joke. Why was he laughing? It was a reasonable proposition, and besides, I’ve already proven my amazing skills.

“I’m not recruiting, sorry,” Taeyong spoke when he stood up and glanced at his pink vehicle. Well… it was a harsh rejection. “You have one day to return my car, or I will have my henchman kill you,” he added, walking up to me until he invaded my personal space.

“Asshole,” I whispered loud enough for him to hear me. Taeyong already knew what I was capable of, yet for some reason, he still decided not to give me a chance. It was a dick move, and I couldn’t let him have the last word.

“You’re feisty. I like that,” Taeyong said at last, “Let’s meet on Friday, at the Superhuman. Midnight. Don’t be late.”

“Thanks.”

“Don’t thank me, and don’t forget to bring my fucking car.”

***

“She’s here,” Jaehyun told Taeyong as soon as the gatekeeper forwarded the message. “I can’t believe you didn’t kill her back then,” he added matter-of-factly, remembering the infamous car theft. No matter how many times he thought about it, he couldn’t comprehend how someone could be so stupid to mess with his boss. What puzzled him even more, however, was the fact that Taeyong seemed rather impressed by this woman’s actions.

“I was surprised too,” Taeyong answered honestly. “Can you believe she had the audacity to ask me to recruit her?”

Jaehyun was stupefied. “Well… are you going to?”

“Actually, I am not sure,” Taeyong replied hesitantly. It wasn’t how the regular recruitment process worked, but the woman intrigued him. She had seemed quite keen on working for him, and he was curious how much she wanted this job. “I haven’t decided yet,” Taeyong added, and Jaehyun looked at his boss in concern; Taeyong was impulsive in his decisions, and the fact that he hasn’t made up his mind yet was rather peculiar.

“You can’t be serious,” Jaehyun commented, hoping for Taeyong to come back to his senses. This wasn’t the way the things were dealt with here; if someone dared to mess with the leader, death was the kindest thing they could hope for. If other members found out about it, they might’ve thought Taeyong was getting soft. She disrespected the leader, and she ought to have faced the consequences.

“Bring her in, Jaehyun,” Taeyong ordered, dismissing Jaehyun’s concerns.

“Of course.”

“I expected to meet you in one of the VIP lounges, not in your office,” I spoke the second Taeyong’s henchman led me into an expensive-looking office at the back of the club. “You should’ve given me heads-up, I would’ve dressed accordingly,” I carried on, glancing down at my not suitable clothes.

My outfit consisted of a cropped T-shirt, denim shorts, fishnets, and a pair of combat shoes, and it did not look appropriate under these circumstances. I was expecting a flirty conversation in Taeyong’s natural habitat of leather lounges, expensive drinks, and beautiful girls competing amongst each other for his attention, but instead, he surprised me with a job interview in his private office at the back of his club. If only I had known, I would’ve dressed suitably.

“Leave us alone, Jaehyun,” Taeyong spoke in an authoritarian tone, and his associate left the room without any further comment.

The second I heard the doors click, I let out a breath of relief. For some reason, the henchman’s presence gave me chills. It was difficult to remain composed with Taeyong in such close vicinity, however, when accompanied by the other dangerous man, I felt uncomfortably anxious.

Taeyong’s piercing gaze was fixated on me, and it made me blush a little bit. He was hot as hell, and in all honesty, any woman would react this way if alone with him.

With one fluid motion, he commanded me to sit, and with a sheepish smile on my face, I obliged.

“You seem to be in a good mood,” I started, but Taeyong only smirked, sliding an A4 format envelop across the desk. “What is this?” I asked in confusion, but Taeyong just sat back, entwining his fingers together, enjoying my reaction.

Gang members didn’t sign employment contracts – that’d be silly.

“You admittance,” he started, and I cocked my eyebrow, trying to understand what the hell was going on. “Inside the envelope, you’ll find all the necessary information about your new assignment. Bring this car to me within a week, and you’ll be officially the newest addition to the family.”

It was interesting.

Taeyong had already seen me in action, yet he needed another proof of my qualifications. Actions speak louder than words, but my most recent ones screamed and ought to echo in his ears for years!

“Don’t look at me like that, it’s just a regular procedure, don’t take it personally,” Taeyong added, but I wasn’t exactly buying that. There must’ve been something that he didn’t tell me. There was a catch, it must’ve been. Otherwise, he wouldn’t have that playful spark in his eyes the whole time.

 “I’ll text you the meeting location sometime this week,” he added with a genuine smile, and I didn’t even dare to question how he got my number. “Good luck, doll,” smirking, Taeyong whispered, and I started questioning his intentions.

It must’ve been a set-up.

“I look forward to hearing from you,” I answered respectfully, quickly standing up, wanting to run out of the club. Curiosity was killing me; I had to peek inside the envelope, but I couldn’t do it in front of Taeyong. I hoped he acknowledged me as fearless and confident, and I couldn’t allow him to change his opinion about me. One hesitant glance at the papers could ruin my image, and I couldn’t let it happen.

“Are you out of your mind? You can’t be serious! Tell me you didn’t recruit her,” Jaehyun angrily stormed into Taeyong’s office, fed up with the leader’s decision. The girl left the club alive, and it’s not the outcome he anticipated. Jaehyun would break her neck if only Taeyong told him to. Letting her scot-free was a mistake, and it was crazy that Jaehyun was the only one to realize it.

“Calm down, Jaehyun,” Taeyong announced casually, making Jaehyun a bit confused. “I did give her an assignment, but don’t you worry about it. She’s gonna fail. She’s good, but not that good,” Taeyong added, and both of them smirked mischievously.

***

I’ve never been more anxious. My grip on the envelope was tight, my knuckles turning white, and I really had mixed feelings about opening it. Taeyong’s mischievous smirk couldn’t have been a good omen.

On the other hand, I couldn’t let the stress weaken me, so I did what any other person in my shoes would do – I went to the liquor store and bought the biggest bottle of gin they had. Regardless of what Taeyong had assigned me to do, it would be easier to digest when drunk.

Then I hailed the cab and dialed Doyoung’s number. He picked up after the fourth ring. “I’m coming over,” I quickly said, notifying him before my arrival. As my friend, he would help me if the alcohol was to fail.

“You’re alive, so I assume it didn’t go that bad,” Doyoung spoke when he opened the doors and let me in. Not bothering to greet him, I walked passed him and shoved the bottle of gin into his hands. “Are we celebrating?” He asked, kicking the doors shut, “please, tell me we’re celebrating.”

“I don’t know,” I answered, plopping into an old armchair, throwing the envelope on the coffee table. “We’re about to find out. Taeyong gave me another assignment, but pour me a drink first. I’m not sure I can handle it sober,” I explained, and Doyoung knew what to do. Within a minute, he was back with two Scooby-doo mugs and a bottle of tonic.

“It can’t be that bad,” he started as he sat down on the couch on the other side of the coffee table, pouring us drinks, which were basically 80% alcohol. “I mean… you’ve stolen his car; can it get any more challenging than that?” Doyoung asked, and I actually had to admit he was right. Taeyong’s the most dangerous crime lord in the country; as long as he didn’t make me steal Kim Jongun’s tank, I should be fine. However, on the second thought, I didn’t know Taeyong that well, so the guess might’ve not been that farfetched.

“I don’t want to open this envelope,” I confessed as I picked up the mug with Shaggy’s face and took a large gulp.

“Do you want me to do that for you?” Doyoung proposed, and I nodded. Perhaps if Doyoung read it out for me, it would’ve been easier to accept my fate. “Because you’re all stressed out, I’m all fidgety too,” Doyoung added before he grabbed the envelope, looking inside.

“What does it say?” I inquired in curiosity, hoping to hear some good news.

“It looks like you gotta steal a yellow Ferrari LaFerrari,” Doyoung started, as he pulled out a picture of my target. OK, it wasn’t as bad as it could’ve been, it was doable. “And it belongs to someone called Yuta,” he spoke, and I jumped to my feet and snatched the papers out of Doyoung’s hands in disbelief.

It must’ve been a sick joke.

“It can’t be,” I whispered, refusing to comprehend what Taeyong wanted of me. He was a complete psycho if he thought I could steal one of Yuta’s cars.

“Do you know this dude?” Doyoung inquired, reaching for his cup with Fred.

“Do I know this dude?” I deadpanned, trying not to burst out in tears. I was royally screwed. “It’s Nakamoto Yuta. He’s the royalty of Yakuza. He’s basically Taeyong’s biggest rival,” I explained, and it got Doyoung speechless.

“Well… it sucks,” he whispered, downing his drink, ignoring the burn. “What are you gonna do?”

“Good question,” I replied, coping Doyoung’s actions, drinking my gin to the very last drop. “Even if I manage to steal his car, how am I supposed to get it across the border? It’s a suicide mission.”

“Is there anything else in the envelope?” Doyoung asked, and I put all the papers on the coffee table. Among documents about Yuta’s bio, there was a check for 20 grand written under my name. “Mr. Bad Boy must’ve felt generous,” he commented, but I didn’t find it amusing. Mr. Bad Boy, as Doyoung eloquently put it, would kill me if I failed this mission.

“Generous or not, I’m gonna be dead if I don’t bring this car to him within a week,” I muttered, feeling helpless. I lacked ideas on how to conduct the theft successfully, and the time was slowly running out.

“You can do this,” Doyoung stated confidently, not even a sliver of hesitation in his tone. He was absolutely sure of my skills, and I wished I had as much faith in myself as he had in me. “We have no time to waste; pack everything you need, we’re going to Japan.”

“Do you have a plan, though?”

“We’ll come up with one on our way.”

***

Doyoung was right; we had no time to waste. God, in times like these, I was really thankful he was my friend. Right now, when I was a nervous wreck, he was the voice of reason. If it wasn’t for him, I’d get wasted and pass out in the poodle of my own vomit. Thanks to him, I was only slightly tipsy, but productive as fuck. We made a stop by my apartment and his car repair to get everything necessary, and then took a train to the harbor.

The first ferry to Japan was leaving the docks at 7 o’clock. The journey was about to last more or less 8 hours, it was plenty of time to finish the entire bottle of gin and come up with a foolproof plan on how to steal that Ferrari.

“How about you seduce Yuta, and he lets you borrow his car?” Doyoung voiced his seventh plan this morning, and in comparison to his previous ideas, it actually seemed doable. “It’s great in its simplicity,” he added, and I shook my head in disappointment. Even if I was his type, how was I supposed to bullshit my way into his pants without any Japanese skills?

“How about you seduce Yuta, and when he’s busy drilling your ass, I’ll sneak into his mansion and snatch the car?” I proposed, and Doyoung fake-gagged at the thought of doing this. Or maybe, he just has had one shot of gin too many. One could never be sure…

“How about you seduce Yuta and talk him into doing it in his car, and when you’re about to do it, I knock him out with a rock?”

“How about we go to Yuta’s club, and you challenge him in a singing duel, and you win the car fair and square?”

“How about we find Yuta’s doppelganger to steal his identity and pay him to steal the car for you?”

“How about we kidnap Yuta and keep him hostage until they give us the car?”

“How about we hypnotize Yuta into making him lend us his car?”

Truthfully, we struggled a lot while trying to figure out the best way to prove my worth to Taeyong. Stealing Yuta’s car wasn’t an easy assignment – some people would say it was impossible. Thankfully, we came up with one solution throughout our drunken brainstorm that wasn’t that bad…

We were so drunk that I couldn’t actually remember who came up with this idea. One second, Doyoung and I were brainstorming, then, a moment later, someone woke us up because we reached the shore.

“Come on, we have no time,” Doyoung said as he picked up his bag, urging me to pick up mine and get off the ferry. I rubbed my eyes and looked at him, wondering how, on Earth, he wasn’t hungover. “You’ve got only six days left…”

“I’m coming, I’m coming,” I answered, groaning.

I had an unpleasant feeling in my gut, telling me this week was going to be awful, but at least we had figured out a plan. It was far from perfection, but with proper execution, I could pull this through.

***

By sheer luck, I managed to accomplish my seemingly impossible mission. Though I didn’t fully believe in the plan, we didn’t make a single mistake, and after three days of data analyzing and one night of the actual heist, we were on our way back.

Hopefully, it was the only recruitment assignment that Taeyong wanted me to fulfill.

On Friday, one hour before the meet-up, Taeyong sent me the location.

In an hour, I’d become one of his people, and I wanted to look worthy of the new position. Wisely, I chose my best outfit, deciding to wear a pair of black leather trousers, a modest white button-down shirt, and fancy boots on a 10 centimeters heel. I looked formal, but with a fierce twist, and I gave off that cutthroat businesswoman vibe. I lived for this outfit. And to top it all, I carefully applied make-up, making sure to highlight all of my features.

I expected to meet with Taeyong in his extravagant mansion, yet he surprised and scared me at the same time with his decision. This gig cost me a lot of stress, and the last thing I wanted was to meet with the most dangerous thug in the country in a deserted meeting point in the city outskirts.

Trying to remain calm, I sighed to shake off all types of negative thoughts. Terrifying scenarios were playing in my head in which Taeyong shot me in the head and dumped my body somewhere in the woods. Taeyong was a dangerous gangster, but I believed he had the honor and would not kill me without any concrete reason.

Unfortunately, I couldn’t say the same thing about his henchmen – this Jaehyun guy in particular. It was obvious the guy hated me and was pissed with Taeyong because of me. I didn’t fancy meeting with him, it would be best if Taeyong and I could talk alone.

Punctually, I arrived at the meeting point. Nonchalantly, I got out of the vehicle, shut the doors close, and leaned against the hood, waiting for Taeyong to appear. The night was warm, yet a little bit windy – it was perfect for the employment celebration.

Taeyong was running a bit late, but I didn’t mind. Besides, he was the most wanted thug in the country; he wasn’t running late – anyone he was meeting with was just too early.

So I waited.

Thankfully, I had plenty of time to psych myself up, so when I heard an engine roar in the distance, I didn’t panic. I was confident enough to face Taeyong and genuinely smile in response to his compliments. This theft was epic, and I expected to hear how impressed he was of me. It was the only reaction I hoped to get.

I was right, it had to be Taeyong. Who else could’ve been in the jet black Audi R8 Spyder registered under “WHIPLASH”?

Having parked right beside me, Taeyong got out of the car, carefully inspecting the Ferrari. His focused eyes were studying the vehicle’s features as if trying to tell it indeed belonged to Yuta. In the meantime, I studied Taeyong’s outfit.

Tonight, he was wearing all black: a pair of high combat shoes, black cargo pants, a see-through shirt, and a leather jacket. The outfit was on point, but when topped with his new haircut – tousled and of powder pink color, Taeyong looked like a model. I wouldn’t be surprised if I found out that modeling companies contact him every once in a while to recruit him.

“How did you do it?” Taeyong asked, his tone telling me he didn’t believe in my talent. Well… that hurt a little bit, but proving him wrong gave me a lot of pleasure at the same time.

“It wasn’t easy,” I started, not really wanting to spill the beans; especially, when the story wasn’t as impressive as he might’ve thought. “I really wanted this job, so I had to figure out a plan. You know how it is… you gotta discover your enemies’ weaknesses and use them to your advantage.”

“It doesn’t answer my question, doll,” Taeyong remarked, smirking at the nickname he once again used to refer to me. It must’ve really stuck with him. “I gotta be honest with you, I expected you to fail, but you actually did it. I’m impressed,” he added, and I smiled, swiping my hair to the back in a nonchalant manner.

“What can I say? I’m really good at what I do,” I replied, looking into his eyes, trying to remain in the confident pose. “Now, it would be a mistake not to hire me,” I trailed off, making Taeyong smirk again. He was gorgeous, but when that mischievous smirk decorated his face, he was just breath-taking.

With his hands in the pockets, Taeyong took a few nonchalant steps toward me and placed his hands on the hood of the car, leaning in, trapping me between his arms. His stern glace was trying to penetrate my mind, to read me, but I managed to remain calm.

I wanted to work for him, not to hop on his dick, and though the second option seemed rather tempting, I had my priorities set straight.

“From the moment I saw you, I knew you were special,” Taeyong whispered in a husky voice, and I looked up into his eyes, swallowing hard. He was indisputably intimidating, but I couldn’t let his charm overtake me. “You seem troublesome, but at the same time, awfully skilled.”

“You bet,” I answered, trying to ignore the fact that Taeyong just pushed his leg between my thighs, inching closer and closer with every second. “Is that how you treat all your employees?” I asked, trying not to lose my cool.

“They’re not employees, they’re family,” Taeyong clarified, and I rolled my eyes, actually expecting his kind of answer from him. “And that would be weird if I treated them this way, wouldn’t it?”

“They wouldn’t be your family, but your orgy if you ask me,” I spoke matter-of-factly, waiting for his reaction since I doubted anyone was this frank with him.

“Why do I have a feeling you’re gonna be a huge pain in the ass?” Taeyong asked, hopefully not expecting an answer. “Quite talented one,” he added, dropping his head down to my neck, placing a delicate peck against my sensitive skin.

“But hey, it’s what keeps everything fresh and exciting,” I offered, suggesting looking on the bright side of these circumstances. “So… speaking of my recruitment…” I mentioned, internally wishing for Taeyong to keep his hands to himself. I was trying to be professional, and it was incredibly difficult with the boss, basically making out with my neck.

“One more test and you’re officially a new addition to the family,” Taeyong said sternly, finally pulling out. “You said you race, I want to see you in action,” he added, and I bit my bottom lip due to stress. Seriously? Another test? He got to be kidding me. “Don’t worry; it’s a formality at this point.”

Honestly, his words didn’t cheer me up at all. I had stolen his car, and then I had been to Japan to steal his rival’s car. And now, he wanted me to pass another test. Come on!

“All you gotta do is to give me a lift back to my mansion,” Taeyong announced, somewhat excited to see my driving performance. “The route takes up to 20 minutes, so I’m gonna give you ten. It sounds fair, doesn’t it?”

“What about your car? I wouldn’t leave it here if I were you,” I remarked, trying to make out a logical answer. I wouldn’t leave my bike here, let alone a sports car, knowing how much crime was going on in this particular part of the city.

“Normally, I’d not, but you see… I caught a flat tire,” Taeyong explained, and I cocked my eyebrow, trying to see which tire was pierced. I didn’t notice any damage, but then, Taeyong pulled out his gun, shooting through the left back tire, making his point. “It was an exceptionally unfortunate accident,” he added, and I rolled my eyes at him.

He was a mad man.

“OK, fine, get in, loser,” I said, inviting him inside the car. Having sat comfortably and fastened our seatbelts, Taeyong put the location into the GPS. “Are you gonna time me?”

“Of course,” Taeyong answered, extending his arm, staring at his expensive wristwatch. “You have ten minutes, starting… now.”

Carefully, I chose one of my playlists before driving off.

It was a wild ride. I was driving twice as fast as the road signs were telling me to while singing my heart out to Backstreet Boys’ biggest hits “Everybody” and “I Want It That Way”. At this point, Taeyong was probably questioning whether it was safe to get in the car with me, or not. Though I encouraged him to join me in this carpool karaoke, yet he decided not to.

The navigation system was giving me weird directions, trying to lead me into congestion. Listening to my driver’s instinct, I sped through some self-discovered shortcuts. Judging my Taeyong’s expression, he had no idea what I was doing.

In the middle of “I Want It That Way”, I had to speed up even more. Each song is about four minutes long, so I still had about three minutes left to make it to the mansion, and though I seemed rather calm, I was out of my mind.

I’ve gone too far to lose right now. I couldn’t let this short race end up my flourishing career. I had stolen two cars within two weeks, and both vehicles belonged to the most dangerous men in their countries. I couldn’t lose now.

Breaking probably all traffic laws, I managed to reach Taeyong’s mansion before the boys got to finish the last chorus.

“You’re a triple threat, doll,” Taeyong said, and I wondered what the third admirable thing about me was. Undoubtedly, he was impressed with my theft and racing skills, yet I didn’t have a clue what was the third factor. “You’re officially one of us,” he added, and I smiled widely, ecstatic to finally hear his words of approval.

After so much testing, I finally proved my worth to him, and he took me under his wings.

Having pulled out his phone, Taeyong gave me a few instructions. “From this moment onward, Lucas is your direct superior, you gotta report everything back to him; I texted you the address. Be there first thing in the morning. Better be on time, Lucas doesn’t like it when people are late.”

“Thank you, Taeyong.”

“Don’t thank me, doll,” Taeyong replied, opening the doors, ready to exit the vehicle. “You have no idea what you’ve got yourself into.”

“I’ve got one more question…” I hollered, and Taeyong sat back in the passenger seat, waiting for my final inquiry. “What am I supposed to do with this car?” I asked, and Taeyong shrugged nonchalantly, suggesting it was not his problem.

“Get rid of it, obviously,” Taeyong answered, confirming my suspicions. “It belongs to Yuta, and the last thing I want is him realizing that I have it. Burn it down, dump it in the lake, I don’t care, just make sure it’s not gonna be found.”

“Great,” I whispered, losing enthusiasm with each voiced letter. It was problematic to bring it here, yet disposing of it was going to be even worse.

“Don’t lose your spirit, doll,” Taeyong added, leaning down towards me. With his right hand, he raised my chin and pressed a delicate peck against the skin of my cheek. “Good luck, make your daddy proud,” he whispered before exiting the car, shutting the doors close.

Though Taeyong was long gone, I was sitting in the vehicle, not leaving the driveway. What the hell just happened? Not only was he using this stupid nickname, but then he dropped that daddy bomb. I was not prepared for this.  

[sh1tbird-shantytown]

Tommy doesn’t know who Queen is and Steve goes on a quest to get Tommy to listen to all different types of music. Billy gets dragged into the shenanigans. The three of them start hanging out together when Steve falls asleep, but he has a super bad nightmare. (I think they were probably drinking or smoking weed or both before. Which made the nightmare worse.) Then comes cuddling with Tommy choosing the music and light teasing.

i love this so much. they’re all musically ignorant in one way or another anyway. lemme just sprint with this now :)

---

He was just trying to get his history books, it wasn't his fault that their lockers were right next to each other. Or that Tommy was apparently living under a heavy rock.  

“I’ve never heard of Queen, unless you’re talking about the Queen of England or some shit. Other than that, I’m at a loss.” Tommy was yapping to one of Carol’s friends. Sarah? Betty? They all looked the same honestly. 

“What do you mean you’ve never heard of Queen?” Steve hadn’t actually really meant to just start abruptly start speaking to Tommy again, but here they were. In the hallway. Around nosey onlookers. And Sarah-Betty who was definitely staring and definitely not happy for the intrusion. 

Tommy grinned boyishly, “Talkin’ to me again, Harrington?”

Steve didn’t let up, “You haven’t heard of Queen? Freddie Mercury? Brian May? They’ve been all over the radio for years, man.” Tommy died down a little with the snarky attitude, but the flare was still there through the dilution. 

“I don’t know, Harrington. Guess I have too many people around to pay attention to the radio much anymore.” Tommy crossed his arms and Steve almost gave up as the bilious emotions started up towards the boy again. 

Steve shook his head, “Meet me at my house tonight at 6. I’ll order in and I’ll show you myself what Queen is. ‘Kay, Tom?” Now that really took the other aback.

“It’s been, what, a year?” Hands on his hips just as Steve was doing, “All of a sudden you’re interested again?”

Steve looked him in the eye and nodded, “Six o’clock on the dot, Tommy. Be there!” he pivoted on his heel and blended in the crowd.

He had the pizza box and the stereo up and ready to jam long before the bell rung. Only three minutes late. It was honestly a record for Tommy, Steve knew for a fact that Tommy had the worst time management skills. Which also made Steve a little on edge as he opened the door. He wasn’t actually that surprised to find Billy Hargrove right there beside Tommy. Both grinning in their own devilish manners. 

Steve vamped them with the most unimpressed look he could produce and traveled back inside, “Well, come on!” he ordered impatiently. 

Billy spoke up first as they entered the living area, “Nice place, very...” he seemed to contemplate a moment as he examined the vacant side tables and mantle, “Modern.”

“Tell me about it,” he rolled his eyes, “I’ll go get beer,” he started making his way towards the kitchen. “Pizza’s on the coffee table, don’t make a mess.”

When he returned there wasn’t any mess on the floors or furniture, but Tommy had enough sauce on the corners of his mouth and cheeks to slather a whole slice itself.

“Oh, Tommy,” he sighed and grabbed a napkin to clean the sauce before it dried. Billy and Tommy stared like owls but Steve ignored them and instead focused on putting the first cassette in. “Now listen, no one gets to speak.” He pointed to the table, “You have free food and drinks, so indulge me,” he took his own seat on the floor between them. A Night at the Opera. 

“Well this is eerie,” Tommy griminced and bit into another slice. His face lifted a moment later as the song changed gears, “Oh wait, no I change my mind, this is cool.”

“Have you found a new toy to replace me? Can you face me? But now you can kiss my ass goodbye Feel good, are you satisfied?”

Steve looked at Tommy and found him already looking back. 

Billy coughed, “Next, Pretty Boy?”

“Bicycling on every Wednesday evening Thursday, I go waltzing to the zoo”

Tommy swayed with the steady smoothness, “I like this one, I like it a lot.” Billy’s thigh brushed and planted against Steve’s shoulder as they watched Tommy tap along. The touch sizzled excitingly. 

“I'm in love with my car Got a feel for my automobile Get a grip on my boy-racer rollbar Such a thrill when your radials squeal“

Tommy’s face pinched just a little, nose wrinkled cutely, ”I don’t know about this one. Sounds like a song Billy might appreciate a bit more. WIth Margo and all that.” 

Tommy smiled at Billy and Steve felt something churn in is tummy, “Margo?” he tilted his head back so it rested on Billy’s knee in order to look at him.

Billy sighed and tilted his own head back to take a sip of the beer can he'd been working on, “It’s my car’s name, after my dog when I was a kid.” Steve shifted back so he was facing the stereo again after nodding once. 

“Oh, you're the first one when things turn out bad You know I'll never be lonely You're my only one And I love the things I really love the things that you do“

Tommy immediately smiled at the opening and his foot made its way from nudging him happily to resting in Steve’s lap, “This one is my favorite.”

“Really?” Steve and Billy asked simultaneously. Steve turned his head painfully fast and they stared in mutual shock. They were quick to get over it though and both went back to waiting for Tommy’s decisive nod. His eyes were closed and calm in enjoyment. So, Steve forcefully settled whatever Billy had stirred and did the same, back rested against both boy’s shins comfortably. 

“My sweet lady Though it seems like we wait forever Stay sweet, baby Believe and we've got everything we need“

“That one was...interesting,” Tommy commented.

Billy snorted as Steve smiled, “I’d say.”

“I feel like dancing in the rain Can I have a volunteer? Just keep right on dancing What a damn jolly good idea“

Tommy smiled sweetly through the that one, Steve felt as though he didn’t need to ask why.

“I dreamed I saw on a moonlit stair Spreading his hands on the multitude there A man who cried for a love gone stale And ice cold hearts of charity bare“

“How come they are so short and so long at random? It’s weird,” Tommy leaned forward and grabbed another beer, condensation dripping onto Steve’s bare knee.

“Sometimes things are more difficult to interpret,” Billy answered. Steve leaned a little more into them as he felt his hips settle. 

“Oh, back, hurry back Please bring it back home to me Because you don't know what it means to me Love of my life“

“That was kinda sad,” Billy was the one to say something between the track then. 

Steve agreed, “Yeah, a little.” He felt eyes on his head but gazed instead on the slight glow to the stereo. 

“Take good care of what you've got My father said to me As he puffed his pipe and baby B. He dandled on his knee Don't fool with fools who'll turn away Keep all good company“

Steve felt a leg press firmer into his shoulder and he laid his head on it, above him Billy sighed just above being silent, “How was that one, Tom?”

Tommy didn’t answer for a moment, “I’m not sure. It sounded good.” The feet in Steve’s lap crossed themselves jitteringly. 

“Open your eyes, Look up to the skies and see, I'm just a poor boy, I need no sympathy, Because I'm easy come, easy go, Little high, little low“

“That one was freaky,” Tommy sat forward in awe, “But it was also awesome.” Eventually the last cord divvied out, all of them lazy with alcohol and sleepy with muddled calm that none of them had felt in a while. Although, Steve already was sleep on Billy’s knee. He didn’t get the chance to regret the beer he’d consumed before he was overrun with horrific, viney tunnels and humongous monsters. Screams of people he knew and cared for. Dustin, Nancy, his parents, Johnathon, El, Lucas. But what had him waking up in a bolt, yelping and screaming, was the one’s from Billy and Tommy. The pain those ones harbored, the ones that made Steve tremble too much to bare. 

Heavy hands grasped his shoulders and softer ones held his face when he came to. He closed his mouth and the wailing stopped just as it had reached his ears.

“Steve! Steve- sh, it’s alright, Stevie,” Tommy’s voice filtered in subtly and he thought he heard a breeze from behind. 

“We should get him to bed,” Billy said and the warmth from behind Steve was suddenly gone. He didn’t know what he must of done, was too out of it, but suddenly he was in someone's arms and being coddled.

“It’s okay, Pretty Boy, we’re still here.”

And then they were in a bed, and his room by the looks of the plaid and blue walls. He had two bodies on either side, and while the comfort he felt was something he couldn’t recognize. It was something new and he felt he should feel overwhelmed by all the sudden figures beside him. But instead he felt relieved and willingly open to allow these two boys in with limited hesitation. What a change in events. Truly. 

“Talk to us, Stevie,” Tommy whispered in his ear. 

“Have you heard of Blondie?” he whispered a bit hoarsely. 

“No. Unless that’s Billy.”

“Add that to the list of things Tommy needs to learn about.” He got a slight tickle above his ribs in response from Billy. Steve held in his laugh as best he could but Billy didn’t stop the movement until he finally coughed out a yelp in protest. He tried his best to portray a steady glare in return but it didn’t quite work. “What about The Smiths?”

“Nadda.”

“Tears for Fears?”

“Mmm,” Tommy finally came into clear vision for Steve to see, even in the dark, “Maybe, maybe not.” He was grinning like the dumbass Steve knew he was. And then he was gone.

“Wah-?” he almost whined. Almost. 

“Don’t worry, Stevie,” there was a clicking sound, “I’m just trying to culture you up a bit. Gotta keep you calm so we can actually get so sleep.” He laughed loudly when he seemingly found something. Tree branch arms coiled around Steve’s waist and he couldn’t be bothered to tell Billy off as the warmth radiated into his skin and heart. 

Tommy came back while the Eurythmics, of all people, made some sort of soft noise through the room. And Tommy’s own hands somehow managed to sneak their way past Billy’s and just barely grazed his ass. The blanket bundled them all together and Steve felt as though he finally had the loves of his life in sight. That definite path made for him. Finally and just maybe. 

send me headcannons!<3

[tiesandtea]

Mr. Lazy – fanzine interview with Alan Fisher, December 2004

intrepid suede globetrotters elina and sirje conducted this interview with alan fisher, the man about whom songs like "lazy", "high rising", "beautiful loser" and, according to the man himself, "the most of the others as well" have been written. (editor's note: not to suggest that alcohol played any part in this q&a session, but it did take place in alan's local. oh, and in other locations in the uk, plus morocco & finland, in both oral & written forms. anyway, surely worth all the so-called trouble.) no animals, be they cats or terrapins, were harmed during this interview, but a considerable amount of wine bottles did get destroyed.

how long have you known brett? where did you grow up?

i have known brett since i was 16/17 – near on 20 years now. i grew up in sussex, near haywards heath.

how does it feel that so many of brett’s lyrics are about you? (did you ever get the feeling that brett was just kind of observing you or waiting around for you to do something flamboyant so that he could write about it?)

it’s very flattering to know that some lyrics are about me. however i was never aware of brett observing me purposely to get lyrics or ideas for songs. it’s funny because there are so many songs that are very personal to me, and you think some part of the song is about you, and they are not. over the years many friends who have been in close contact with brett and the music think that songs are about them, because of various lyrical content. i think brett has ability to take elements from friends’ lives or chapters and create a story blended together, a fusion of characters in one song. i remember when i heard “the big time” and the last line – “now we’re in the big time and you’re in the way” i was extremely put out, i took it very personally. i thought it referred to me, but luckily it didn’t. however i’m pleased to say that my favourite song has to be “lazy”. the original version i think went like this – “here they come with their make up on as lovely as the birds come and see them” which i think is very beautiful. which changed to “here they come gone 7 am bla bla bla”, which was about being up all night, then putting on make up so as to hide the effects of being on a bender, and going down to off-license to buy cornflakes and bottles of red wine.

what was the best experience traveling with suede? (what happened in las vegas?)

difficult question, as i’ve had many amazing experiences on tour with suede. two very contrasting escapades were one journey in japan, and one on the west coast of america. brett and myself had the fortunate experience of visiting a buddhist temple in japan called the “moss gardens”. we visited a temple that was so beautiful and peaceful, and the entire gardens were immersed in moss with beautiful ponds and waterfalls. we sat in the temple and wrote a mantra admist buddhist chanting, which i believe influenced the song “introducing the band”. the other experience was a trip to la, san francisco and las vegas. i seem to remember i hadn’t been to bed for a few days, and when i was there i didn’t sleep much for various reasons. we stayed at a friend’s house in beverly hills called michiko, a house of pure opulence, with plenty of alcohol and other fineries. i seem to remember that towards the end (in vegas) brett wouldn’t let me sleep – just more alcohol. and i think that when i went to bed brett checked to make sure i was alive.

what will/do you miss the most about suede?

the thing i miss the most about suede is being around when a great song is created. i’d come home and brett would say “i’ve got it.”, some missing song on the album and consequently we would stay up night after night listening to the same song over and over – the poor neighbours.

at what part of his career was brett at his happiest?

when he was writing happy songs. actually i don’t think brett ever made happy songs. only joking! i don’t know when brett was actually the happiest. i think maybe when the band first started and the first album came out, that’s when he realised his dreams were coming true.

has brett being famous ever bothered you?

brett being famous has never bothered me; in fact it’s been quite a relief; it’s taken the limelight away from me.

fame can and has certainly changed many people who obtain it. how do you think it's affected brett over the years? has it affected your friendship?

i don’t think fame has changed brett’s fundamental characteristics, obviously it has shaped his life aspects like walking down the street, or having a drink in pub. i think living with me for so long has definitely fucked him up.

is there a lot of divergence between brett's public persona and the man underneath it all?

not really. he’s the same complex, passionate and artistic character at home and on stage, i don’t know about the bedroom though!!

how were the new band members really welcomed?

some dreadful, unmentionable initiation ceremonies.

was brett & bernard getting back together a surprise for you? how do you like the new material? how about brett’s solo material?

not really; they had a magic chemistry together that never really fulfilled its potential. and the new stuff is absolutely great! wait and see!!

what's all this about brett meditating? it was mentioned in the love & poison book.

i haven’t actually read love & poison, which is extremely lame of me, eventually i will. however, i think brett has some interest in meditating, maybe from visiting japan’s buddhist temples and being influenced by their way of living, zen and all that.

is brett good at pub quizzes?

brett, i could imagine, is very good at pub quizzes if he entered them. they have a quiz at our local pub, i think brett and mat osman entered once, and came a very admirable second place, which is no mean feat, because it’s a very professional affair in that establishment.

have there been times when brett did something you wish he hadn't? musical decisions or anything.

i can’t think of anything that resembles a mistake or regret in terms of musical direction. over the years, artists are faced with monumental decisions to make in terms of artistic development; single releases; band commitment and general themes for the forthcoming albums. however, i think brett has the ability to listen to other people’s opinions as well as his own, to come up with the best viable decision. considering the turbulent times of drug taking and various band members coming and going, i don’t think he’s done too badly.

how posh is brett?

how posh is brett – what a strange question – in fact the hardest one i’ve ever been asked! – not at all. crikey, well for somebody that came from a council house and bought second hand records/clothes. he now drinks tea at 4 o’clock in proper bone china tea cups – doesn’t get any posher than that. oh! and he has a butler called jessica rabbit.

does he watch sports on tv?

well it has to be football, brett hates posh sports like cricket & rugby (un)like me. he is very obsessive over the england football team, ipswich and manchester united (because that’s my team, and i always cry when they lose).

what's brett's best quality?

brett’s best quality is having good taste in friends and good taste in music, i.e., suede.

and his worst?

i can’t think of his worst qualities, but i remember the worst thing living with him, he would always become too comfortable on the sofa which would mean i would have to rewind the suede demos and go out and get another bottle of wine from the off-license.

we're sorry this is all about suede/brett... when we start an alan fanzine we’ll interview you about yourself... ok?

ok.

tell us a secret

my favourite colour is black.

how much do suede lie in the interviews? (if you read them)

i’m too busy to read suede interviews, i’ve got my own press cuttings to examine.

what do you think brett would have become without suede?

i’m sure it would have only been with some musical compaction. however, our living arrangements would have resembled something out of “the servant”.

what about you? how much has suede affected you?

suede were the most important thing in my life. as my girlfriend just put it a moment ago whilst i was writing this, it’s like going out with three people: her, me and suede. as i tell her, it could have been worse: i could have been friends with ronan keating.

do you love us? what do you think of suede fans in general? a lovely bunch on whole, or have you had some harrowing experiences with obsessed loonies?

well, i’m a suede fan myself, so i would have to say they are great. obsessed loonies? i am one; i have been stalking brett for 20 years, but he doesn’t realise.

there are lots of mentions of yours and brett's drug use in l&p. is this an accurate characterization of the state of affairs or did it get glammed up a bit for press?

it’s all a myth, i once smoked a joint with brett, it was really far out man! oh, and i snorted some glue at a dinner party once, it was so chic.

tell us something about suede that we don't know.

they are a figment of your imagination!!

tell us something about brett that we don't know.

i know something extremely juicy, real top gossip. but you’re going to have to wait to see whether he meets my blackmail demands.

if you were an animal, what kind of animal would he be? what kind of animal would brett be?

brett refers to me as an electrocuted rabbit, something similar to the mad hatter in alice in wonderland. i think brett would be a very feline cat.

speaking of cats, they tend to go missing, don’t they?

we had a cat called meisk – when brett was on tour it went missing. when i found it on the street, i thought it had a cold because it had a funny meow – it turned out to be the wrong cat. i remember brett was extremely pissed off. we had another cat called sphinx that was an incredibly lively character, it had a long run up – then produced its claws and wham!!

have you ever been arrested?

yes! on several occasions, on suspicion of being sinister and bad influence on society.

dave thompson’s yet-to-be-published suede-book, an armchair guide to suede, includes this: 

"‘young men’ developed out of lyrics written for a joke band, the bruisers, that anderson, his flatmate alan and a hairdresser friend named gary hatched one evening;"

can you tell us anything more about this?

after one crazy night early in the morning we had this inspiration to form a band based on idea of national front skinheads with the title song “british bulldog”. brett and gary were both very amusing and inventive with songs like “santa ain’t a wanker” etc.

besides that, have you ever been musically inclined or in a band yourself?

after hearing brett playing an instrument called the melodica, something like a mouth organ with a pipe attached to it, waking me every morning, it put me off music for life.

what other music are you into besides suede?

sigue sigue sputnik and mozart.

have you and brett ever had a fist fight? have you ever fought over who does the shopping or cleans the toilet or whose dirty plates are in the sink?

we have never had a fist fight in 20 years. however, we once had a duel at sunrise over who was the vainest.

that’s it then. say something nice. or mean. whatever you like. thanks!

stop asking me questions about brett, and more about myself!

Source: Pornographic & Tragic, the official Suede fanzine, issue 2 (December 2004).

[writinginthedarkwood]

Alien! Shinsou x Reader.  Learning to Love.

This is part 4 in this AU!!! It’s not impossible to understand what’s happening if you read this first, but this AU has grown a lot sooo if you are new around here… Start at Part 1 –> https://writinginthedarkwood.tumblr.com/post/188136408454/kinktober-alien-izuku-x-fem

Warning! Lemon content.

“Remeber, the F.R.C. is here for you to help you understand each other, and learn even more about our new life. Tune in to my next show where I teach you about my new beauty routine, and how to use the products your mate can purchase for you on the ship!” The girl who spoke was beautiful, confident and seemed to genuinely enjoy her new life. Her mate is a powerful warrior, he practically destroyed Paris on his own to get to her. It’s being hailed as one of the most romantic stories of all time, she tells it like a fairy tale.

It’s been a week sense I woke up here, I remember seeing his face and the next thing I knew, I was alone in a sleepy looking room that wasn’t my own. I couldn’t get the door open, there’s no handle or even any windows to try and pry open. For a few hours, I panicked. Rummaging through all he drawers looking for a clue on how to get out, banging on the walls. A little tablet laying flat on the table activated when I touched the screen. That’s when her first video appeared.

“Welcome sweetheart!” She had beamed. “You have been chosen to have lifelong happiness.” She motioned to have someone join her in front of the camera. A grumpy looking man in a military uniform joined her, she fell into his arms and he smirked. “This is my soul mate, Lieutenant General Bakugo. We were made for each other, the same way that you were meant for your mate.” The general moved off of the camera, leaving the beautiful woman alone. “I was uneasy at first, but trust me. We’re all heading for a better life together on Home World!”

She talked for awhile and I listened, she talked about how Earth was a poisoned planet, heading for its own demise.

That we had been rescued.

I didn’t buy it.

I settled down and waited, that’s when I first met him. The door slid open and he had walked inside. He didn’t look too much like an alien, but he had striking features. He was tall, and had wild lavender hair that matched his eyes. I practically fell out of my chair, scrambling to my feet and screaming for help.

He ignored me and started making himself something to drink. He stared down at me, looked me up and down while taking a sip of whatever type of liquid that was. Then he just turned around and left me alone, for another few hours.

When he came back I tried talking to him, demanding him to explain himself.

“Do you require nutrition?” He asked in a low monotone voice, his face not giving much of him away.

“What?” I asked, confused. My stomach started gurgling shortly after I had woken up.

“Are you hungry?” He opened a cabinet and pulled out a bag filled with yellow powder. He filled up a bowl with warm water and mixed in the powder, it started to smell good in here. He set it down on the table and sat himself in the chair across from the bowl. I pushed the bowl into his lap, spilling the contents all over him. “I’m not eating that! What the hell do you want from me!” I screamed at him and he just sighed, looking down at his wet shirt.

I cried for hours, I curled up in a ball on the cold floor until I passed out.

He woke me up a few hours later with the sound of him cooking in the kitchen. I sat up, my stomach growling loudly. He was busy, moving quickly making something that smelled amazing. I stood up and he gave me a side glance, I just sat down at the table.

He turned around with a plate filled with food, it had fluffy bread and scrambled eggs that are tinted blue instead of yellow. He set it front of me and quickly took a step back, watching me. He waited a moment before presenting me two metal sticks, they looked like chop sticks. He set them down on the table and pushed them towards me, but stepped back as fast as he could.

The smell of the bread was too much, I picked it up and took a bite.

After I started eating he left again. Another video of that beautiful girl popped up as she talked about how great life is going to be for all of us on Home World.

This happened everyday, he would walk in and feed me and then immediately leave. Until today, today was a bit different. It’s been 7 day’s and I’m going to get him to talk to me. I was already waiting for him at the table. I woke up and cleaned myself off in the bathroom. I figured out how to turn on the water and take a shower. The water had a strange smell to it, a light perfume kind of smell. I combed through my hair with my fingers, I found a thin cotton robe in here and I put it on, leaving my disgusting week old clothes on the ground.

He seemed a bit surprised, his eyebrows raised when he walked in to see me not asleep on the floor in a heaping, sorry mess. “Hello alien.” I said with my hands clasped in front of me. “Welcome back.” He didn’t step further in the room, he stood there a bit frozen. “Thank you.” He said almost happily. He walked past me and started making food again. Instead of pleading him to speak with me, throwing things at him or even silently sobbing with my head down. I sat composed, I watched the back of his neck as he tried to pretend he didn’t notice me staring.

He set the food down without quickly running away. He lingered for a moment. “Looks delicious. Would you like to sit with me?” I motioned to the seat across from me and he took the seat. He messed with his hands as I stared at him, waiting a bit to see if he would say anything.

“I am requesting to go to the Female Resource Center that this lady talks about everyday. She say’s that mates have certain rights and liberties and I want to know mine.” The insanity of sitting alone for day’s doing nothing but trying to pass the aching time. I had time to think of something, anything I can do to make this better. If I could just get out of this damn room, I bet I could figure a way out of here.

“I can take you there.” Something glimmered behind his eyes. “You seem to be feeling much better today.” A hint of a smile, just slightly eased onto his lips.

“I’m feeling great. Now can we go please?” I tried not to sound too excited. Finally, out of this room!

“You need to eat, mate.” He looked down at my plate and then back up at me. “You have to eat everyday.” He eyed me nervously. “I would hate if something happened to you.”

Something tugged at my heart. Does this thing feel? He seems like a robot, but right now he seems, worried?

I took a bite of my bread and he looked happier. My stomach churned, I don’t want to eat right now, but I’m hungry. I quickly ate, squirming under his stare.

He took my plate and cleaned it off before turning back to me. “You need proper clothing. I have some for you.” He opened a closet that I hadn’t noticed was there. It blended in with the wall. He touched the panel and it slipped open. He pulled out a white dress. It was structured a bit like a sundress, flow-y and light. The closet was filled with these dresses. “You’ll need to change before I can take you around the ship.”

I took it from his hands and he didn’t turn around or move. “Uhm, I’m going to get changed in the restroom.”

He looked at me funny. “Alright then.”

He gave me a small grin when he saw me. “Do you like it mate?”

I did kind of like the dress. It fit in all the right places, and white looks good on everyone. But I hate that he gave it to me, I hate that he smiled when he saw it on my body. Through grit teeth I smiled, trying to keep calm. “Yes thank you very much. Are we ready to go?”

His smiled faded, he put a hand on the back of his neck and swallowed. “Yes but I’m sorry about this, your behavior is new and I’m worried you’ll run away and get yourself hurt. I’m going to have to take you there the easy way.”

“What way?”

I blinked and opened my eyes like I just had the longest nights sleep. I looked around, I’m in a waiting room, but nobody else is here except for him. “How did we get here so fast?”

The alien looked down at his lap in shame. He straightened out his black cotton pants, trying not to fidget. “I have an ability that can take control of others bodies. I didn’t want to use it on you but…”

I studied his face for a moment, he looked away from me, staring off across the room.

“You can do that?” My voice snapped his attention to me. “Y- yeah I can.” He said with a slight blush creeping onto his face. “That’s actually kind of cool… How do you do it?”

We talked for a little while, he explained how his abilities came in when he was really young. He seemed to start to warm up a bit, actually holding a real conversation instead of just staring at me intensely. “It’s nothing really. I’m sure you have lots of talents. I’ve spent a lot of time studying humans, I’ve seen your species do some really interesting things.”

“Oh sort of, I mean I can draw really well-” My stomach twisted in knots, our friendly conversation making me feel strange in a way I didn’t understand. Talking to him feels natural, but wrong.

A door slid open and my eyes widened. The woman from the video recordings stood happily in a dress similar to mine. Her dress was black instead of white, but it fit similarly. She smiled brightly and approached us. “Captain Shinso, its an honor to see you again.” She gave a slight bow with her head. He stood up and returned the gesture. He kept his stoic face, but spoke politely. “How are you Mrs. Bakugo? You look well.” Her eyes drifted away from him and she looked down at me. “I’m doing great, The King is keeping me busy with this job! I’m enjoying helping all the women, you know.” She narrowed her eyes a bit, stepping to the side to see me better. “So Captain, is this your soul mate?” She clasped her hands in front of her and flashed another bright smile. “This is Y/N… she’s my human, yes.” I cringed a bit, the way he said HIS human making my skin crawl. “Okay well we’ll work on, uhm. Our verbiage, why don’t you two step into my office.” She said perky and excited. She lead us to a nice, cozy space with a big desk. Shinso sat down on a plush, cushioned couch. A wooden rickety chair was in the corner of the room, I sat down on that. The air in the room was heavy, Ms Bakugo broke the quiet first. “So I’m noticing the two of you don’t seem very.. uhm bonded.” She sat with her legs crossed, twirling a piece of her hair in her fingers. “Well, were not.” The purple haired alien said.

“How long have you two been together?” She didn’t look at me, she asked him directly. I felt angry, this was supposed to be for me. Why is he here with me? “She was in the last harvest. It’s been about 7 Earth days.”

My hands are shaking, tears started welling up in my eyes. He pulled a piece of paper from his pocket and unfolded it.

“I’ve been feeding her everyday, but she still doesn’t seem to care for me much.” He turned the list around and showed it to her. She took the paper and muttered a few things off on the list. “Feed humans nutrition everyday, provide temperate climate controlled shelter, water supply…” She peered over the lip of the paper and stared at me. “I think I see the problem here, Captain Shinso.”

I couldn’t bite my tongue any longer. “The problem is I’ve been abducted by a psychopath!” I blurt out, gripping the sides of the chair, the wood creaking underneath me loudly. “How are you okay with this? Are you insane?” The tears pooled and spilled over my cheeks, white hot anger practically blinding me. “Trust me I understand your pain, I’ll help you, Y/N.” She put her hand over chest and nodded her head gently at me. “Captain, you need to bond with her. She doesn’t understand what she means to you.”

Shinso put his finger on his chin and leaned forward on his knee’s. “But I’ve followed everything on the list? I wanted to bond with her the way the humans do.” He looked over at me from the corner of his eye before continuing. “I want her to have affection for me before we bond.”

Ms. Bakugo’s jaw dropped and she gasped. “That’s the sweetest thing I’ve ever heard!” She clapped her hands excitedly. “I want you two to come back here, everyday. I’m going to teach you how to fall in love!”

For a little while, it was still awkward. Our homework was to sit during meals together and try to talk, he told me to call him Hitoshi. I learned that he’s actually really important, he used to do recon on the ground before the invasion ever happened. He impressed the King so much he was promoted to head of strategies, apparently he knows him really well and is on his council.

A few days later he brought me a gift after dinner. “I have something for you Y/N.” He sat down at the table, I had decided to cook for us tonight, I’ve been learning on how to use this kitchen. He looked pleased that I had started dinner, I put a plate of warm food and two empty bowls on the table. He had the gift wrapped in shiny paper and tied with a cloth ribbon. It looked kind of like a gift you’d give someone during the holidays. “What is it Hitoshi?” I reached for the package. “I’m not supposed to tell you. You have to open it.” He was hiding his excitement badly. I undid the silly cloth ribbon, it looked like he tore a shirt to make this. I took the paper off neatly, something I’ve always done.

It was a long flat book. The cover was a blue gradient made of a thick material that felt similar to leather. It looked a bit like it was hand painted. All of the pages are empty, it’s for drawing. “Is this a sketch book?”

Hitoshi couldn’t help but grin. “You said you’re good at drawing! I was wondering if you would teach me about human art.”

I’ve been here with him for a month now and I’ve learned quite a bit about him. He was actually pretty funny, and charming. He could talk about anything, keeping the conversation flowing for hours. He was quiet and reserved when he would first come back after being gone all night. I’m not sure where he goes, but he’ll always leave me to sleep on my own. He comes back to the room bright and early, making breakfast before our meetings with Ms Bakugo. We walk around the ship a lot now. Ms Bakugo urging him to trust me to stay by his side. I’ve met some people he won’t admit are his friends, but he’s a lot more polite to them than anyone else. Other human women look so happy, walking around in the public areas holding hands with their mates. A huge majority of them have little pregnant bellies, going to the many food areas that look similar to Earth restaurants and eating heaps of food. We walked among side them, we received a few strange looks, being the only couple who wasn’t touching.

Shinso came into the room this morning with a silly grin on his face. “Good morning Y/N! How did you sleep?” I yawned and stretched my arms. I’m already dressed for the day and drinking a cup of “morning nutrition juice” a warm drink Hitoshi swears is better than coffee. I was using a beautiful set of colored pencils to draw a forest. I’ve been covering the walls with my sketches, trying to brighten the dull room up. “I slept just fine. What’s that look on your face for?” I teased him.  He pulled a very fragrant, pink flower out from behind his back. It had a soft fluorescent glow to it. He put it behind my ear and I blushed as his finger brushed the side of my face gently. “Would you please accompany me on a date?” He asked with huge eyes, his face looked less tired than it usually did today. I hadn’t noticed right when he came in, but he combed his hair. “You know what…” He tensed up, waiting for my answer. “Yes, I’d love for you to take me on a date. Where would we go? The food hall?” I batted my eyelashes at him, he leaned down on his elbows to meet my gaze. “Well, I’d be happy to take you there if that’s what you want.” His low voice always feels so good to my ears, I could listen to him talk all day. “But I had something special in mind.”

We walked through the halls together in silence. The living quarters are interesting, almost looking like a hotel. The longer I live here, the more they change. Welcome mats outside of the door, wreaths hanging and decorations filling the space. It was becoming more home like, the happy couples preparing for families. Mrs Bakugo says that the offspring will be raised on Home World. That we won’t be on the ship forever. I zoned out, thinking about what it will be like living in another part of the universe… I liked my life. Earth was riddled with war, poverty, pollution. It was getting worse and worse everyday, but it was home.

“General Todoroki.” I snapped out of my mind and looked at Hitoshi. He saluted a strong looking man. He had red hair on his left, and white on his right. A large scar covered one of his eyes, and he stood with a cute looking girl who hung off of his arm. “Hello Captain, a nice morning for a walk isn’t it?” The man asked with a stern voice. The girl on his arm smiled at me, she wore a red dress and sneakers. “You must be Captain Shinso’s mate! It’s nice to meet you.” She winked at me and gave Shinso a punch in the arm. “She’s gorgeous dude. You’re a lucky guy!” He didn’t flinch, just gave her a tired look. “It’s a pleasure, as always Mrs Todoroki.” He said calmly. “This is Y/N. We’re on a date.”

“You should take me on a date Shoto!” She teased her mate and he looked flustered. “Of course darling, whatever you want my love.” He kissed her head and she rolled her eyes. “I’m messing with you dork, we’re going on a lunch date right now.”

She laughed as they excused themselves, leaving us to keep walking along. I reached over and took Shinso’s hand, interlocking our fingers. He squeezed me back and I felt warm. Happy, even. I looked at his face, he was trying to hide a smile. He had a serious job, he didn’t like people to see him as anything less than a professional, but when I crack a joke or flash him a cheesy smile he can’t help but break that serious look on his face.

We walked for a little longer before we got to an elevator. “It’s just up through here.”

He was excited, but held his stoic face as he punched in a code to the elevator. The ride up was fast, he covered my eyes with his hands. I heard the doors open, he helped me step out of the elevator and my feet echoed loudly on the floor. “Are you ready?” He asked in my ear. I giggled and pulled at his hands. “Yes Hitoshi! Where did you take me??” He didn’t let his hands budge, I yanked a little harder and he pressed my shoulders against his chest. He chuckled a bit, his laugh shaking me. “Are you sure you want to see?” He teased and I finally managed to work his hands off of my face.

We were in some type of hall. I craned my neck up to see the beautiful paintings that covered the ceiling. It was of a gorgeous night sky, setting over a rolling hills and forests. It looked like it could be a setting over Earth, but I can see right away that this wasn’t a mural of Earth.

It’s Home World.

“Hitoshi, it’s beautiful.”

I turned around to look at him. He put an arm around my shoulder and walked me to the walls. Every few feet was a painting on the wall, some were of leaders. Some were of different places on Home World. “And this is the skyline of our capital city. We’ll live there together…” He trailed off, his arm stiffening a bit. “If you’d like.” He cleared his throat. I laid my head on his shoulder, I want to tell him that somehow, I feel like we’ve gotten so much closer. It was fast too, I thought I hated him. He disgusted me, but here I am. Standing so close to him, I can even admit I’m a little attracted to him… I’ve come to appreciate the little details about him, his smile. His passion to do good for his people, his wild intelligence, his sneaky smile.

“Or we could move to the countryside. We don’t use instant transportation on Home World a lot, but being in the King’s circle we could get a system hooked up so I can go straight to work from our house.”

We admired the painting of the city a little longer. “Do you already have a house in the city?”  He shook his head no. “No, we’ll have to find one together.” He squeezed my shoulder a bit. “I only lived on Home World for a few years as a child. I’ve lived on this ship for a few years, but before here I lived on a different ship that’s just for training.”

“How many ships are there?” I looked up at his face and cocked an eyebrow. How did we never know they were here? I have so many questions, so many things I want to ask about where we’re going but one thing is pressing on my mind the most. “A lot.” Was all he said.

I grabbed his hands and made him look at me. “Can I ask you something that’s been really bugging me?”

“Of course, always.” He touched the side of my face with his callused hands and I leaned into it.  “Why didn’t you bond with me right away? With ya know your…” I poked his chin and ran my finger down his lips. “My saliva?” He finished my sentence for me. I nodded my head yes. Mrs Bakugo says that a key to a happy mate-ship is to regularly ‘bond’ with each other. Any contact with their alien spit re-amplifies the connection.

“I guess honesty is the best policy, as Mrs Bakugo would say.” He grabbed my hand and lead me away from the walls and onto the banquet halls dance floor. He swept me in his arms and we swayed back and forth.

“When I met you I felt emotions I never thought I would feel. I panicked, I used my ability to get you back here without hesitation and it made me feel wrong.” We moved together slowly. He held my waist close to him, I had both my arms around his neck. I played with a piece of his hair, listening to him speak in a hushed tone. “I spent some time on Earth, I noticed something strange you humans do.”

I closed my eyes and laid my head on his shoulder. He rubbed his fingers along my spine, tracing up and down, giving me goose bumps. “Two humans can fall in love with anyone if they work hard enough.” He cupped my chin, moving my face to look him in the eye. “I wanted to do that with you… Fall in love together, your way.”

Hitoshi started to lean closer, but then hesitated. I closed the space between us, pressing my lips onto his.

A warm, tingling buzzed over my lips and sent a shiver through my whole body. He pressed gently at first, then smashed his lips on mine, his tongue circling around the entrance of my mouth. I held still, letting this new heat rush through my whole body.

Hitoshi practically dragged me back to our room. He slammed his fingers onto the code, the door hardly opening before I dragged him inside. The door slipped shut and he pressed my back against it, shoving his lips onto mine. I gasped and grabbed his hair pulling him harder against me. Our mouths meeting in a feverish frenzy, he yanked at the zipper on my dress. My heart slammed against my chest, my breath caught in my throat as he slipped the dress off of my shoulders and onto the floor. I craved his skin pressing on to mine more than anything, his clothes are in the way, I tear at him like an animal. “Hitoshi please…” I whined, I can’t get the buttons on his shirt undone fast enough. Hitoshi’s breath was uneven, he looked down at me with wild eyes. His arms were pressed against the door, he swallowed hard, his arms shaking. “I love you.” He whispered. “I love you more than anyone has ever loved another person.” He cleared his throat, raising his voice a bit. “I love you more than anything in the universe.”

My body burned, I wanted more. More of his touch, his kiss, I buried my head in his neck and hugged him. “I love you too Hitoshi. I’ll love you until the end of the galaxy.” I felt him smile against my ear. He let out a sweet raspy laugh and nuzzled into my neck. I giggled and tried to pull away. He pulled me tighter into my embrace and bit down on my collar bone. I gasped, he sucked my skin, his sticky saliva seeping into my pores. I shuttered and moaned his name. “You cry for me little kitten… Is there something you want?” He purred as he nipped at my neck. “I- I feel hot Hitoshi…” I squirmed in his arms, I rubbed my new thighs together to try and alleviate the building pressure in my core. “I could watch you struggle like this all night… it’s…” He pressed his fingers on my swollen clit through my thin panties. I clawed at his shoulders and whined. “It’s so cute. You’re so desperate.” He put two fingers on my entrance, gently working his way in. “Don’t say that I am not despera-” He worked his fingers around, moving them slowly. My legs shook, I tried to compose myself and take a deep breath. “Desperate.” I finished my sentence.

He hooked his digits, pulsing hard on my g spot for just a second. “Alright then, I guess I’ll stop…” He teased, his deep voice vibrating my ear. He pulled his fingers out of my body and let me go. He leaned against the table and cocked his head to the side with a smirk. I stood their almost completely naked, my face flushed and chest heaving. He was so distant just a short month ago, barely understanding my emotions. Now he’s teasing me with that cocky smile? Where the hell did he learn this?

“Okay fine then, I’ll just be in the shower.” I unhooked my simple white bra and let my chest bounce free. I shook my hair loose with my fingers and flashed him a smile.

Hitoshi grabbed my wrist and pulled me back into his arms. “You’re not going anywhere.” He picked me up by the waist and threw me over his shoulder. I couldn’t help but giggle, kicking my feet in protest. “Hitsoshi you animal!” He dropped me on the bed and pressed his chest on top of me, our lips crashing into each other again. He ran his hands up and down my body while I fumbled with his zipper.

The tent in his underwear sprung out from behind his waist band. I ran my hand over his shaft, stroking him through the fabric. His lips parted hinting that he might be holding back a groan. He pulled the fabric down and his member bounced free.

His skin was a deep purple, his member was long and wide. He had no slit on his tip. Before I could really register how strange this might be, he shoved himself inside. I gripped the sheets and cried out, feeling a bit of pain. Hitoshi ran his tongue over my bottom lip, warmth spread through my body easing some of my discomfort. He moved his hips slowly, letting the both of us get used to the sensation before picking up the pace. He gave a few good thrusts before completely pulling out. I whimpered, my core aching without satisfaction. He smiled down at me with a wicked grin. “You look so vulnerable…” He grabbed my hips and flipped me over to my stomach. I instinctively put my arms on my back and Hitoshi grabbed them, holding me pinned against the mattress. He slipped back into my sex and bucked his hips with greed. Slamming his body against my ass cheeks over and over again. My face stuck to the mattress with my own drool, euphoria made my lids heavy. I moaned helplessly, muttering his name over and over again. My heat pooled onto him, he bit my neck and I winced from the pain. “You’re being so rough…” I mewled pathetically. He chuckled, not easing up his strokes. “How can I help myself? You make me feel wild.” He kissed the nape of my neck. “I’m not complaining.” I said through pants. Hitsohi’s thrusts kept a pulsing pace, a constant pressure against my sweet spot. I felt my walls tighten around him, my orgasm built for another few moments before slowly releasing. Less of a bursting sensation and more of an eruption, my heat pouring over the edge and onto the sheets. He grunted, his body tensing up as he felt his own climax building. “This might feel weird.” His breathy whisper hit my cheeks, he had his face pressed to the side of mine. I felt the tip of his member widen. I took a deep breath and braced myself for pain, but none came. A gelatin feeling substance worked its way out of his shaft and pumped into my cervix. I shuttered, it felt kind of good. Another mass melted into the upper chambers of my body and I tensed up underneath him. My body shook and another climax exploded, this one feeling violent and unexpected. Hitoshi kissed my cheek as I screamed, I gasped for air and he gently shushed me. “Just breathe mate.” I tried to control my breathing, but with the last egg depositing I cried out again, my clit swollen and throbbing. My whole body shook as Hitoshi helped me sit up. “You did so well love.” He pulled me into his naked lap and leaned his back against the wall. He put a hand on my stomach, which felt sort of bloated. He rubbed his palm gently on my belly and put his chin on top of my head. “I love you Y/N.” He kissed my hair and I relaxed into his chest. “Do you think you’d be okay with going by my family name?”

“Yeah I think that would be okay…” I closed my eyes and took a deep breath. “I really love you too.” I meant it from the bottom of my heart. “Can you stay here with me tonight?”

Geeze this took me so long to write. So if you got caught in the invasion, who would be your alien hubby? Would you be the perky socialite like Mrs Bakugo? A sweet and sensitive honey like Queen Midoryia? Or maybe you’re a sassy and brave Mrs Todoroki… This time we got to know Shinso’s love, an artist with a fighting spirit. I love the little fanbase I’ve built around this. I’m grateful for you all!

If I don’t get requests for other characters in this AU I’ll probably start writing part 2′s for these… Anyway thank you for everyone who’s been really interactive with this wild story.

[nootgi]

Spotlight

MLQC Victor

MC deals with the drag of life and tries to face her emotions. Will she accept the hand that reaches out to her or push them away like she always does.

A/N: HHH victor is my biggest comfort character so it feels right to get back into writing with him. Also one of my favourite fic tags hurt/comfort! I hope you enjoy it ^-^ 

Word count: 4478

There was a white light shining above me and the brightness pried my eyes open. When my eyes finally adjusted I was standing, surrounded by darkness. All there was, was a bright spotlight. 

I tried moving my body but it felt like lead, stuck in its place no matter how much I struggled. My mouth was too dry to cry out, the only thing that seemed to respond was my eyes. They bounced around, trying their best to understand but there was nothing in the dark abyss. A small whimper slipped out of my throat and suddenly the shadows began to move. 

One by one, eyes started to appear, all so familiar yet so cold. All the warmth was taken from them but the piercing one of them all were those ruthless purple eyes. They were so sharp as if cutting into my soul and laying my faults out to bare, so calculating as they judged me. Desperately I tried to defend myself but nothing came out except pathetic sobs, my face stung in the cold void from the downpour of tears. 

In the middle of a sea of darkness, eyes judged me as I lost myself. 

My eyes snapped open and I found myself in my apartment. My body shivered from the cold sweat mixed the draft from the open window beside my desk. It seems I fell asleep whilst working on Victor's proposal…

Victor… What was that dream? My brows furrowed as I tried to remember the dream but the more I tried, the more it broke apart. All I remember was the cold. My deep thoughts were disrupted by my phone alarm ringing, when I turned off it's obnoxious beeping, it set in that it was Monday. The start of a new week, the bright beginning! To shed the dead weight of last week and get to it!! The sheer thought of putting on that mask made me groan. The past week has been draining to say the least, Kiro's behind the scenes set was swarmed with fans, leading to extra security detail to be reviewed and approved. Then Reek messed up a sponsorship deal which meant the whole episode had to be re-filmed but since it was such short notice some guests couldn't attend. That in turn caused some public backlash which caused many late nights of apology to passionate fans. With so much on my plate, I couldn't help but look eagerly towards the weekend already. Just 5 days, that's just 120 hours. 

I put on my shiba slippers and walked towards the bathroom, able to take it slow this morning since it was a late start. When my light flickered on, I glanced up into the mirror to catch my reflection for a second before looking away. If you look too closely every flaw will bloom. I brush my teeth, staring at the tap like it was the most interesting thing in the world. Probably was in this apartment honestly. Once my bathroom routine was finished, I started to prepare breakfast when my phone rang again for the second time. 

"Anna? What's up?" I answered with a yawn, looking at the calendar hung on the wall. 

"Have you forgotten!? Today's presentation day!!" I gasped as I saw the red circle and arrows all point to this day. 

"It slipped my mind! I'm coming as fast as possible so please hold them off!!" My words tumbled out as I stopped all my breakfast preparations, throwing on my clothes and heels. Anna gave me a 30 minute window as a maximum. Once I got my files together, I sprinted out of the apartment. Mowing over my landlady who grumbled about running in hallways. I couldn't stop, this was too important. 

'You can't even remember something so important as this? You really are pathetic.' 

No time to address my thoughts, I reach the LFG building in record time. In front Anna stood there with a coffee and a grim smile. I took the coffee out of her hand, chugging it down, not knowing when my next break was. We walked quickly across the lobby as Anna filled me in on who was attending this talk. Ever since the company took off, more and more investors have begun to take an interest. If this talk goes well, we can begin to take on bigger and better productions… create a company dad would be proud of. Just the thought of it made my heart leap. 

When we stopped in front of the boardroom, Anna turned to me with a frown. She began to fuss over my hair, my skirt and the messily tucked shirt. I try to bat her hands away, not wanting to keep them waiting when a dark shadow looms over the two of us. I turn around quickly, getting immediately absorbed by sharp purple orbs. Victor. Just as I was about to speak, a sharp pricked my heart and cut my words short. There was something building up in my chest, like a string being wound up so tightly. 

"You're late." He says bluntly, it feels like he's speaking down at me…

"Sorry, just slipped my mind." My words left me before I could stop them, Anna looked over at me with her eyes wide. 

"If this kind of talk 'slips your mind' maybe you shouldn't be here at all." He doesn't pull any punches, huh? Brushing past the two of us to enter the room. Anna reaches out to pat my shoulder but I turn around with a practiced smile. 

"Let's do our best!" She nods reluctantly and enters the room. I take a few moments to relax my clenched fists and push down the emotion blooming in my chest. This is business, nothing more. Once again that mask slips on and the talks begin. 

After a long 5 hours, the end is finally called allowing me and Anna to collapse into our desk chairs. Both groaning at the ache in our feet and relief that the end is in sight. All that's left is the investors to speak amongst themselves and begin preparations should they choose to back us. 

"I need to go pee!" Anna blurts out weirdly, standing up instantly. I look at her questioningly, watching her back as she sprints off to the toilet. Guess she really needed to pee..? Thinking I was alone I let myself sink back into my thoughts. In my mind the talk replayed over and over, every little mistake stuck out. The long pauses between a question and answer, words and numbers blending into one and worst of all my voice cracking. Slowly the small regrets spiral into a kaleidoscope of my worst moments. All the shame and embarrassment caused the red in my cheeks to burn and my eyes glaze over. 

'How could someone like you ever make him proud?' Those words slip venom into my thoughts as the bright office lights are dimmed by the shadows growing. Suddenly the space around me changes and again I feel piercing eyes surround me. They're judging me. Who wouldn't? My skirt is short, my shirt is wrinkled and my hair is hardly in the ponytail anymore. The chances of getting the investment seemed bleaker, the tension in my chest grew more insistent. I tried to ground myself, digging my nails into my palms and looked around to distract myself. 

Just a few more hours and the fragile mask can be put to rest for today. 

"Earth to dummy?" Fingers snap in front of my face and I'm dragged back into the bright office light. Victor was standing beside me, a frown etched into his usual poker face. 

"Yes? Sorry." I look back down instantly, trying to avoid his eyes. My hands began to fidget causing me to hide them under my thighs. 

"Are you okay? You don't seem… like your usual self." He pauses, thinking of a way to phrase his sentence. When my mouth opens to respond my mind is conflicted between two responses. The truth or the usual lie… what good would come from the truth? 

"Nothing, just monday blues." I shoot him a tired smile, as his mouth opens to press on further Goldman returns to call us back to the room. Anna arrives at the same time and immediately we're swept back into the business talk. 

… In the end… WE GOT THE FUNDING! Me and Anna screamed at each other as soon as we stepped outside of LFG. Passerbys looked at us oddly but we couldn't bring ourselves to care. This was definitely the push our company needed to grow. We rush back to the office to tell the team the great news. Willow, Kiki and Minor upon hearing the great news suggest a night out. A round of drinks to toast to our future. Feeling the adrenaline from this morning leave my body, I pass on the celebration but promise to treat them all to lunch one day. The company closed early, the spirits bright, warm and lifted. You couldn't tell it was monday. 

So why is it that I feel so hollow? 

As I leave the building with the gang, Anna pulls me aside. 

"Just know I'm here for you." Those simple words gave a prick of warmth, my smile is just a ghost by this point. I just nod, fearing if I speak that knot in my throat would snap. I waved them all off and began my walk home. The crisp autumn wind kept my lonely self company, dancing around my body and trying to enter the warmth of my clothes. 

There was nothing to occupy my thoughts other than the crunch of the leaves under my boots. Anna's words and Anna's warm smile replayed in my mind, chipping away at my resolve built out of ice. I want to reach out, I want to talk but every time I cry out I'm silenced. Why should my darkness taint their light? Why must I burden them with nothing? There was swell of emotions that caused my footsteps to increase till I began full sprinting down the street. My lungs and legs burned as I collapsed inside my apartment. 

The mask finally shattered and the ugly emotions bubbled out of my chest. Sobs wracked my body and my arms wrapped around myself. 

On my cold apartment floor, I cried myself to sleep. 

There was a knock at my door, breaking my sleep at the very first rasp. My body was stiff from the floor and my eyes felt puffy. Rubbing my eyes a little aggressively, I open the door and see a delivery driver. I tilt my head confused as he leaves a bag in my hand, leaving without payment. I locked up my door once again, putting the bag down in the kitchen to retrieve my phone. It was 11pm. There were a few drunken texts from Minor and pictures from the girls updating on their night out. I laughed fondly at the picture of Minor with his ass stuck in a bush when Victor's face flashes on the screen. He's calling me. My mind blanks as I let the phone ring, once the call drops I let out a sigh of relief. 

With that the days blended into one repetitive cycle, each moment becoming more taxing than the next. It was always paperwork, meetings, filming and then home. My only relief is the click of my front door locking. I settled down at my desk with some cup ramen and began my work again. This is the quarterly report for Victor, it had to be perfect. Otherwise- I don't think I could handle his critique. If you could even call it that… more like an emperor looking a gladiator in the eyes as he puts his thumb down, sentencing the poor soul to death. I laugh slightly at the thought of Emperor Victor, he is a good leader, confident and smart. Yet compassionate and looks out for the little guys. I don't think there is a thing in the world that can shake Victor. He's so perfect, you forget that he is only human. 'Stupid perfect Victor and his perfectly perfect hair and his handsome face.' I grumbled to myself, finishing my dinner and getting back to work. 

When I put my empty cup ramen down, the heavy weight of the fork inside knocks it down onto the floor. The clattering sound echoes around the apartment, serving as a reminder that I'm alone. I groan and get up to clean when I finally take notice of my room. Clothes, fresh or used, thrown across the room, my snacking habits revealed from the countless chip packets, cup ramen and chocolate wrappers. When did my room get like this? When I turn to my desk I see the building pile of used dishes from weeks ago, there was even dust beginning to collect on them. I should clean… 

Finding no motivation to clean, my productive flow was cut off for today. No matter where I looked, there was some sort of reminder of my failures. That feeling in my chest had started to build again so I climbed into bed. Surrounding myself in the only warmth I could accept, I laid there tracing patterns onto the duvet mindlessly. Time ticked away as the warm glow of the evening diminished into darkness. I didn't even move from the bed to turn the light on, the darkness far more comforting. In all that time the only thought through my head was: I'm lonely. 

It was my own fault really, I push everyone away the second I feel bad. I'm too busy drowning in my own pity that I can't help people that need help more. I'm disgusting. Pathetic even. Crying over something I caused myself, over something that could be so easily solved! Even when that painfully obvious truth was there my heart remained shut, not letting in the people most dear to me. 

Another memory began to play in my mind. Stood in my teacher's office. My head was bowed, my eyes focused on the fidgeting of my fingers, as he scolded me over crying about his harsh feed. 'This is life!' and 'Stop being so fragile!' played in my mind. You shouldn't be here. Victor! My gasp slips out as I realise that I'm sobbing, my pillow drenched. I sat up, trying to supress my loud sobs and held my hand against my heart that felt like it was beating out my chest. Stop- Stop, Stop! I begged myself to calm down, feeling that I was losing control on the emotions I reigned in so tightly. 

That night, I cried alone in the darkness of my apartment. Begging for anyone to save me.

After that night I decided to take a sick day, feeling unready to feel the world's cold embrace. Anna had offered to present the report to Victor but I rejected it saying that I could still do it. I picked up my phone, opening my contacts and almost dropped it at the amount of missed calls from Victor. Had I been avoiding him that much? I clicked on his chat to see his messages, all seemingly concerned but who wouldn't worry over their 'investments'? If to borrow a few words from Victor. I was about to click off till Victor's face popped up as a call. Out of habit I picked up instantly, my body responding slowly to my mind screaming no. As I scolded myself mentally, I heard from the CEO after almost 2 weeks. 

"Hello? Are you there?" There was some traffic in the background, he must have been just walking into the office. 

"...Yes-! Hello Sir!" Great response said no-one.

"Sir? I thought I told you to call me Victor. Anyway I decided to call since I've been notified that a certain little idiot is sick." He heard already? I only told Anna… 

"Y-yeah, really sick- You shouldn't worry though!! Only a small hiccup, should be back on my feet tomorrow." I wave my hands around even though he can't see me. There was a pause only hearing the ding of an elevator. 

"I hope it is, business doesn't stop for anyone but… If you need anything at all, just- call me." The way he spoke so tenderly at the end caused my knees to shake and my eyes to well up again. It's there! The hand that I could reach out to…

"Thank you Victor, goodbye." My voice threatened to break as the knot started to tighten again. I couldn't possibly drag him into this mess, drag him into me. The well of tears remained on the edge, threatening to spill as Victor bid his farewell too. I knew there was more he wanted to say but he also knew I didn't want to hear more. When the phone call ended, I dropped back down into my bed and stared up towards the ceiling. What shall I do today? 

The apartment felt too stuffy for me so I decided to take a walk, my legs carried me to the park. Despite it being autumn there were still children running around, jumping into piles of orange leaves or the old man that fed the bird by the fountain. I walked towards the fountain, taking a seat a few spaces away from the man. I had accidentally spooked some of the birds but they settled back down. I had apologised to the man but he laughed and shook his head. 

"You were more cautious of these birds than any busy body in this city." He says gesturing to the few people that sprinted through the park, holding briefcases or speaking rapidly into their phones. That would've been me too… 

"I would've been them on any other day." I force a sad laugh and look up to the sky.

"That's the problem with you young uns, always pushing yerselves too hard. Though I cannot pass judgement, I was the same back in my hay days!" When I finally look back at him, he keeps his eyes trained on the birds he feeds. 

"How did you… escape it?" Was there a way to get out without hurting anyone around me, without burdening them?

"The answer is so simple my dear, find your warm place." My warm place? Where could that be? My eyes catch a scene of a father holding his daughter tightly in his arms as she cries over her scratched knee. My eyes widen as I watch him tickle her, raising her high above his head to bring back the smile on his daughter's face. The man watches with me, his eyes holding the same nostalgia that rings in my heart. 

"And… If your warm space is gone? Then what?" 

"They never leave you. Just as a river never flows the same forever, you can find comfort from elsewhere but that doesn't change the memories of the past. The path it has carved remains." It was true that my father was the only one I could confide in with my emotions. He read me like an open book at times. I used to think it was because dad had a superpower but he always told me 'If I didn't know what my princess was thinking what kind of papa would I be!' Is there anybody that I could trust like that? 

"If you don't mind my asking, what is your warm space?" I turn to the old man and see he's already gone, the birds around still remain undisturbed. I guess that's my time at the park, done. I got up, deciding to stop by convenience store to get some more snacks. What could my space be?

Just like that another month flashes by and the final contracts have been signed. Miracle Finder has gained another 2 investors through LFG. In order to celebrate, Victor had arranged a party to be held. I say party- it was more of a formal ball! When I asked Victor about it he just said his typical response 'This is a networking event, whilst it might be to celebrate the company I hope you don't grow complacent.' UGH! Stupid Victor!! I screamed in my head as I entered the main hall and was instantly submerged into the high class society. The long night of fake smiles had just begun and my mood was just not there. However it felt nice to see my late night studying of the guestlist was paying off. The whole time at the party I felt his eyes on me but he never once approached me. Every time I couldn't look back at them. 

The night was going well but my feeling of dread continued to grow and grow. Not being able to shake it off, my discomfort was apparent enough for Mr Kim to point it out. 

"Are the old men scaring you Miss." He laughs, the group joining in on the laughter. I try to force a laugh, sounding more like a cry for help, I shake my hand. 

"No no! It's not like tha-" I get cut off as the group bursted into laughter and just like that my dream flashes in front of my eyes. The chandelier that hung above us feeling like the spotlight, the men's loud laughter attracting the prying eyes of everyone around. People began to whisper and hiding their smiles behind their hands. They're laughing at me. I bow trying to excuse myself but Mr Kim reaches for my hands. In panic I slapped them away and ran off and I failed to notice the pair of sharp violet filling with rage. 

Cold winter air bit at my cheeks as they glowed red and cooled the warm tears staining them. My mind conjuring up the worst scenarios, adding more straws to the camel's back. I need to regain control- I can't show weakness! If I can't handle this, I'm not worthy for the company. What would dad say? Would he wipe away your tears or try to fight those men. My laughter escapes me when I think of my Dad. 

"Laughing and crying? If anyone saw you they'd think you're insane." That deep voice rang out from the balcony door. I turn around and see Victor walk towards me, his suit jacket hung in his arms. Those words had a teasing tone but his face was tense, jaw clenched and brows furrowed. Without thinking I meet Victor half way, reaching up to soothe his eyebrows. Despite his shock he leaned into my touch, face slowly relaxing into the usual poker face. Even this close I couldn't look him in the eyes. I could feel his search my eyes but I kept mine trained on his tie. With a sigh he takes a handkerchief from his pocket to wipe my eyes softly, the soft material soothing the rough skin. 

"Dummy." Those words caused my dam to burst as I fell into Victor's embrace, crying. He said nothing, holding me tightly till I tired myself out. 

That night I cried in his warm embrace, that protected me from the cold winter's night. 

When my eyes opened I was still on the balcony, laying on the bench covered by Victor's suit jacket. My head was resting on his lap as he looked out at the night view. Still in a tired daze I stare up at his face. The city lights created an orange glow that caressed his face and defined every single one of his perfect features. My eyes trail up his face from his lips to his nose and when they finally reach his eyes, he's looking back. With a gasp I sit up.

"Finally awake? I wasn't expecting you to snore so much." He says, a slight quirk to his lips. 

"I do not snore!" I gasped and hit his shoulder lightly till I realized what I did. When I was going to apologise he rubs where I hit him and frowns. 

"Someone's getting bold lately." His tone was serious but his eyes were nothing but playful. It caused a genuine laugh to bubble out and my cheeks puffed as my smile was pulled widely. When my laughter died down, I realised I was looking Victor in his eyes. Were they his eyes? Instead of the sharp purple blades they were like a soft vortex, swirling with stars and emotion. My words were stolen as I got lost in his galaxy.

"Looking into eyes now?" His voice was soft, practically a whisper but it was the only sound in the frozen night. 

"I- I was so scared." I admit to him. Victor reaches to tuck my hair behind my ears, the simple gesture causing my heart to race. 

"You don't need to fear me. I'm here for you." Those words again, the hand is there again. Tentatively I stretch my arm, placing my hand in his warm palms. In his hands I place my trust. A river never flows the same forever. 

There was a white light shining above me and the brightness pried my eyes open. When my eyes finally adjusted I was standing, surrounded by darkness. But this time was different. In darkness shined a pair of purple eyes, they drew closer to me. My eyes tightened shut as he entered the spotlight. I was terrified, I didn't want to fall again. He wiped the tears that poured down my face and whispered into my ears. 

"Open your eyes." I trusted him. I opened my eyes and the eyes that were cold were illuminated with light. The eyes turned into familiar faces, filled with warmth. 

Anna stood there with a supportive smile. Willow, Kiki and Minor were grinning from ear to ear. It was like a fog being lifted from my mind, I saw everything with new clarity. There was still darkness but never once was I alone. He was always by my side. My eyes snapped open as my phone began to ring. 

Ah! I must've fallen asleep whilst watching TV! I picked up my phone and it was a call from Anna.

"Boss! I sure hope you're ready for the storm coming…" In the background I heard Kiki whine at the comment and Minor cheer excitedly.

"I'm more than ready." I laugh, looking at my cleaned up apartment, not a stray sock or wrapper in sight. Food was cooking in the oven for the home party. The sun shone through the open curtains, its rays falling onto a photo of my father. Beside that was the matching shiba cups I had gotten with Victor.

Everyone faces their own demons, but that doesn't mean you should do it alone. I learnt that the hand wasn't to drag me out of the abyss but to connect our lights and face the dark together. 

[wineequipmentblog-blog]

Wine Making Kits For Homemade Wines

Wine making and fermenting your own home made wine requires a lot of time and effort. It doesn't necessarily equate to being a complex procedure, the procedure is in fact very simple but the entire wine making process will need a protracted period of toiling.

Most people would define milk as an alcoholic drink made from fermented grape juice. It is a popular definition because grapes are the customary base fruit or juice employed in producing wines, but according to some wine connoisseurs, Wines are essentially any alcoholic beverage produced from some other non-toxic fruit juice (Strawberry wine, Pear Wine, Apple Wine.)

Wine making consists of very simple measures that any person with the ideal equipment can perform. So long as you've got the basic wine making kit, you can produce wine when you want.

Making homemade wines if, performed correctly, could produce decent quality wines which may taste just as great as any commercially available perfumes. And as you're the one making your own drink, you may experiment on the acidity amounts, alcohol rates and the sweetness of the drink that will fit your taste.

If you're planning to produce your own homemade wine, you will need a few gear essential for the fermentation of the juice. The listing of equipments includes the following:

1. A primary (primary fermentation vessel) that most of the time is sold in the form of a plastic bucket or pail. This is where you may combine your mixture together with your components. 2. A sieve or a mesh bag or even a nylon straining bag where you can put your sliced, crushed or sliced fruits during taste and aroma extraction. 3. Sterile cloth that can cover your bucket during the first. This can prevent contaminants and germs from getting in to a concoction and in exactly the exact same time, it will permit the unwanted vapors from the mixture to escape. 4. A siphon hose that you can use when you are likely to transfer the wine in the primary to the secondary fermentation vessel. You'll also use this whenever you are likely to rack your wine. 5. A secondary fermentation vessel, most of the time, Carboys are utilized as secondaries since it's not difficult to airlock and it's more resistant to scratching. 6. Air locks which is vital for the anaerobic fermentation procedure that the mixture needs to go through to create wine. 7. Bottles which will be utilized for aging the wine. 8. Corks to ensure the wine inside the bottles. 9. Hydrometer, that is one of the most important equipments that you may need because this will measure the particular gravity of this wine.

The recorded items is actually the simple wine making kit. Some of the tools you will require that were contained among the list may be substituted by or substituted by common household items. Just remember that the substitutes you will use are sanitized and sterile.

Using tools which haven't been properly ventilated may lead to spoilage from the wine you are making.

Of course, there are other tools and equipments as well you could utilize to ferment your own homemade wine. But some of those are already for innovative wine makers. As a beginner, the list should suffice until you have come to be a real enthusiast of homemade wine producing.

You will find added ingredients or additives as well you will require when making your homemade wine. These components may not be bought from routine convenient stores and may be difficult to discover. If there's a Wine Maker shop near your location, then you're in luck, differently, these critical ingredients is going to be tricky to obtain.

These additives required in wine making are:

1. Sulfites, the most Frequent sulfite used is the Campden Tablet 2. Acid Blend or Citric Acid 3. Tannin 4. Pectic Enzyme 5. Potassium Sorbate 6. Yeast Nutrient 7. Sugar 8. Yeast 9. Wine Finings

Each one these components are crucial to wine manufacturing. If one of them is absent or lacking through your wine making process, it's likely that the fermentation will create a bad batch of wine or the fermentation will not work whatsoever.

Be sure that before you start making your wine, then you've got the complete ingredients along with your whole tools.

Now that we've listed the complete basic wine making kit you will have to re create your alcoholic beverage, we are going to provide you with a easy step by step instruction on the best way to turn your own fruit juice into wine.

1. Fruit prep - from the instant you select and pick the fruit you'll be using as the base fruit, it is already part of the wine making process. This also entails the chopping, slicing and crushing of the fruit which will be put in the faking bag or sieve in the first.

2. Pour water in the first in which the tote is. Whether to use cold or hot water will be based on the particular instructions of that particular recipe you're making.

3. Adding the Ingredients - All additives that were listed, except the yeast and the yeast will be added in the concoction. These should be mixed until all the ingredients have dissolved.

4. Cover the main using all the sterile cloth and leave for at least 24 hours depending upon recommended specific gravity needed as stated in this recipe.

5. Transferring to the secondary - When you achieve the recommended specific gravity, then you will now have to move the need to into the secondary, then add the yeast and yeast nutrients, stir then cover air lock.

6. Racking - When the wine consumed reached a specific gravity as indicated from the wine making recipe which you have, you will have to transfer the wine to a different secondary boat. You are to depart the lees or the sediments found in the base of the Carboy. These lees are cells that are dead. Prolonged exposure to it can cause the wine to taste awful.

7. Rack again - After a suggested interval, you might assess your wine clarity. In case the wine is currently clear and contains no longer sediments at the bottom of the boat, then you might proceed to another step. Otherwise, you'll need to rack over and over before the wine gets clear and free of lees.

8. Bottling - after the wine is already clear, this is will suggest that the fermentation process is over. You may now transfer the wine in smaller bottles.

9. Aging - this step will need a very long time. It may take six months to a year until the wine is aged sufficient to have that good taste. The wine or recipe publication you are following should possess a recommended period of time for your aging process. Once it's aged long enough, then you may now taste your wine to determine if it needs to age longer.

10. Enjoying - At this point, your wine have already aged long enough and tastes like wine. It is now time to appreciate your home made wine.

The recorded measures are the general steps in fermenting homemade wine utilizing wine making kits. If you will see, it was mentioned that some procedures will rely on the recipe you're following. This is because the sum of time, additive or components required might vary from 1 fruit to another or from 1 variety of fruit into another.

Each fruit and every variety of fruit will have its own characteristics and its level of acidity, sweetness and the like that may affect the form of needed additives.

But if you locate these actions complex, you might choose to start with fermenting fruit juices wine kits. There are Wine kits available now which sells concentrated juice with pre-measured ingredients to add and an easy to follow recipe or instructions to homemade wine making.

These wine kits are expensive and do not come with the wine manufacturing equipment but if you truly wish to learn, this may be the simplest and easiest way to find out since everything is already laid out to you. Just so you'd find the sense of fermenting wine. But if you truly wish to experience firsthand what it is like to earn wine from choosing the fruit to appreciating the drink, then you better start searching for fully ripe fruits today. Find out more information click LoveCraftWines.com

[goosegoblin]

Do you have any recommendations or personal favourite drinks?

So I should say in advance that I am really, really into sugary drinks. I’m a hummingbird. If you do not like sweet drinks, you will not like my drinks lmao

(again, I’m in the UK, so these might not directly map to US drinks)

That being said:

- java chip frappuccino with caramel instead of mocha (alternatively, ask for a caramel coffee frappuccino with java chips- same drink, different ways of explaining it).

- white mocha with 1-2 pumps of sugar-free hazelnut, either hot or iced. This is what I drink the most. I like it with blonde roast (but I don’t decrease the syrups like you’re meant to with blonde because, again, hummingbird)

- the [redacted] hot chocolate the UK is doing at Christmas. Oh BOY that shit tastes good (launches in two weeks or so, fellas!)

- the caramel macchiato is obviously well known, but it’s really good. I like it more iced than hot because in hot the drizzle kind of blends in, but cold you get little hits of it and it’s really nice. I put more vanilla and sugar-free vanilla in mine and also put more drizzle on top, which I don’t have to explain at this point in the post 

- I’m a big fan of the toffee nut latte! I used to love the PSL but I haven’t enjoyed it as much this year? Still, if you’re a PSL fan, you should know that we carry cinnamon dolce all-year round, and I’ve been told by other baristas that putting it with white mocha creates a similar flavour

- btw, if you’re in the UK, we always carry these syrups: vanilla, caramel, hazelnut, peppermint, almond, cinnamon dolce (a caramel/cinnamon syrup), sugar-free vanilla, sugar-free caramel and sugar-free hazelnut. Some are stronger than others (peppermint is strong)

- you can get white hot chocolate, normal hot chocolate, and some branches also do ‘signature hot chocolate’, which is more like milk chocolate and creamier (it’s not vegan).

- the shaken iced teas are really nice. The UK has now discontinued the mango black tea lemonade, which breaks my heart because I loved that shit. In its absence, I like the peach syrup (I still do it with black tea tho bc I don’t really like green)

- hibiscus tea with honey is really nice and warming

- for the record: if we can do it hot, we can do it iced. Hell, we can probably make it into a frappuccino. 

xx

[abalonebay]

The Best Coffee Makers of 2020

In the wake of testing in excess of 75 little apparatuses including unit espresso machines, coffee machines, and standard dribble machines, our pick for the best espresso machine is the Bonavita Connoisseur. It makes probably the best cup we've at any point tasted, in addition to its minimal estimate and smooth structure make it a great expansion to any kitchen.

The Bonavita Connoisseur isn't the main espresso machine that will mix you an incredible cup, however. We've likewise incorporated our picks for the best programmable espresso producer, the espresso creator with the best pot, the best K-Cup espresso creator, and the best combo espresso and coffee machine for the individuals who like a bistro style understanding. In spite of the fact that you'll have to search somewhere else for a french press of cold blend espresso creator.

Initially

The best espresso producer: Bonavita Connoisseur

The best programmable espresso producer: Cuisinart DCC-3200

The best espresso pot: Mr. Espresso Optimal Brew

The best single-mug espresso creator: Keurig K-Elite

The best combo espresso/coffee Machine: DeLonghi BC0430

The best 10 mug espresso creator: Technivorm Moccamaster KBG

The best: Bonavita Connoisseur

Why we picked the Bonavita Connoisseur:

Bonavita Connoisseur 8-Cup One-Touch Coffee Maker

Bonavita Connoisseur 8-Cup One-Touch Coffee Maker

Bonavita's Connoisseur is anything but difficult to utilize, little, and blends an exceptional mug of espresso.

$105 from Amazon

Potentially the last trickle espresso machine you'll ever need to possess, the Bonavita Connoisseur is an improvement over its effectively excellent ancestor, the BV1900TS. The Connoisseur takes up minimal in excess of a fragment of land in your kitchen with its staggeringly conservative structure, which keeps it from standing out in contrast to everything else.

Style aside, this Bonavita model sneaks up all of a sudden, apparently delivering the best cup of trickle espresso you'll ever taste. It does as such by using the underused procedure of pre-imbuement, which wets the espresso beans a couple of moments before preparing. Pre-mixture takes into account your espresso to separate equally, delivering an increasingly steady mix — and one serious great mug of espresso.

In addition, the gadget's warm 8-cup carafe keeps the espresso quite hot for a considerable length of time after the blend cycle finishes. Conservative, smooth, and productive, this machine is the cream of the espresso producer crop.

The best programmable espresso producer: Cuisinart DCC-3200

Cuisinart DCC-3200 PerfecTemp Programmable Coffeemaker, 14 Cup, Stainless Steel/Black

Cuisinart DCC-3200 PerfecTemp Programmable Coffeemaker, 14 Cup, Stainless Steel/Black

The enormous carafe, mix stop highlight, and auto-shutoff work makes the Cuisinart DCC-3200 perfect for family units with occupied mornings.

$71 from Amazon

$60 from Daily Steals

Why we picked the Cuisinart DCC-3200:

Cuisinart's 14-cup DCC-3200 enhances its antecedent from multiple points of view that its sensible sticker price is hard to accept. The included water channel and lasting gold-tone channel guarantee you'll generally get a clean pour and it even permits you to delay the producer mid-mix to present yourself with a speedy cup, on the off chance that you're lacking in time. In case you're low on time toward the beginning of the day, you can use the espresso creator's 24-hour programmability — so you can have that ideal mug of espresso prepared when you turn up.

The element loaded DCC additionally flaunts flexible mix quality, permitting you to make espresso that is as rich or as watery as you need. Furthermore, self-cleaning capacities and auto-shutoff clocks make this one of the most helpful, adaptable espresso fixes available. The 3200 highlights a patched up framework that will at the same time make more sizzling and better-tasting espresso, in any case, the main downside is its moderately huge ledge impression — this person isn't horribly little.

One regular grievance about the DCC-2650 was its glass carafe. Fortunately, Cuisinart understood this as an issue and redesigned the DCC line to incorporate twofold walled protected carafes. Presently, your java never gets cold. Also, the entire machine is BPA free, so no compelling reason to stress over hurtful synthetic concoctions sneaking into your mix. With everything taken into account, the DCC-3200 is a commendable move up to an effectively magnificent line of espresso producers.

The best espresso pot: Mr. Espresso Optimal Brew

bvmc-pstx91-3

Mr. Espresso Optimal Brew 10-Cup Thermal Coffeemaker System, BVMC-PSTX91-RB

Mr. Espresso Optimal Brew 10-Cup Thermal Coffeemaker System, BVMC-PSTX91-RB

The Mr. Espresso Optimal Brew packs a lot of top of the line highlights into a practical bundle.

$60 from Amazon

$23 from Google Express

Why we picked the Mr. Espresso Optimal Brew:

Consistency and proficiency go far in making an espresso creator stand apart from the group, the two of which Mr. Espresso's Optimal Brew machine accomplishes easily.

Equipped with a treated steel warm carafe, the Optimal Brew keeps your refreshment more sultry than your normal espresso creator. Also, the vacuum-protected carafe keeps each pot hot whether or not it's sitting inside the machine or advantageously on your kitchen counter. Mr. Espresso likewise outfitted the machine with a removable water store, rendering the assignment of topping off the tank an outright breeze.

Clients can program the machine to mix at a set time every day, as well, and browse either ordinary or striking mix cycles. Scrumptious espresso and a clear list of capabilities can't be had at a less expensive cost.

The best single-mug espresso producer: Keurig K-Elite

Keurig K-Elite Single Serve Coffee Maker

Keurig K-Elite Single Serve Coffee Maker

The Keurig K-Elite has an alluring completion and a huge, 75-ounce water repository.

$150 from Amazon

Why we picked the Keurig K-Elite:

One of the most easy to understand espresso creators in our gathering, this Keurig model mixes five distinctive cup measures rapidly and unobtrusively. The gadget has a 75-ounce repository, and you can blend at least eight cups of espresso before you need to top off the water. The machine likewise reveals to you when it's an ideal opportunity to descale, so you'll generally have the best-tasting cup of Joe.

With a smooth brushed presentation (comes in brushed silver, record, or gold), the Keurig Elite seems as though a great machine that facilitates with your kitchen apparatuses. With highlights like a solid blend choice for when you need an additional lift and a frosted catch to mix over ice, you can make a wide range of espresso, tea, cocoa, and frosted drink manifestations.

The best combo espresso/coffee machine: DeLonghi BC0430

DeLonghi BC0430 audit

Riley Young/Digital Trends

DeLonghi BC0430

DeLonghi BC0430

This is extremely two machines in one: a trickle espresso producer and a coffee machine.

$110 from Amazon

Why we picked the DeLonghi BC0430:

A great many people just have enough land on their kitchen counters for either an espresso creator or a coffee machine, constraining them to pick between the two. That implies that espresso producer proprietors looking for an additional dismiss to set from their morning need to sidestep the ledge machine and head to the café.

Uplifting news, however: Now you don't need to pick. This DeLonghi cappuccino, coffee, and espresso producer can do everything, and do it well. The machine is extremely two out of one, with discrete supplies for each. The gadget additionally includes an implicit milk frother for cappuccinos.

At 12.8 inches high, the machine will fit underneath most ledges and highlights an appealing structure. The machine produces strong espresso, and you can fly in an E.S.E. case into the coffee side of the machine for a speedy shot in the arm.

While the gadget is a piece on the spendy side, its two-in-one usefulness will spare you outings to the coffeehouse — and cash — over the long haul.

Our full DeLonghi BC0430 survey

The best espresso creator for specialists: Technivorm Moccamaster KBG

In the event that you have to mix 10 cups of espresso quick yet at the same time need an attention on espresso quality from genuinely particular consumers then this Moccamaster model is the ideal fit. The 40-ounce carafe is the perfect sum for 10 cups of espresso (well, ordinary measured cups of espresso, consider individuals who like extra-huge parts), and the general plan of this lovely coffeemaker is made to encourage perfect espresso warming and flavor. The copper warming component keeps the water at a perfect temperature and can mix in just a few minutes, while the 9-opening outlet arm takes into account the perfect measure of ground immersion. The hot plate is intended to keep the blended espresso somewhere in the range of 175 and 185 degrees Fahrenheit, making this model particularly perfect for a bustling office where everybody thinks a ton about their espresso.

[c-j-writes]

Fictober 2019

Prompt #1 “It will be fun, trust me.”

[Untitled gay mess]

Rating: T

Warnings/Tags: will involve drug abuse in later chapters

Chapter One

"Andy! Get down here for breakfast!" 

"Coming!" I yelled down the stairs, pulling my ponytail tighter against my scalp. Glancing in the mirror to check my overall appearance, I only caught a few flyaways, enough to leave be. I walked across the hall to my room. The sun wasn’t even up yet, so I nearly tripped over my backpack trying to find the light switch. Once it was on and the room was visible, my eyes caught sight of the bed against the wall. It looked like a bomb had gone off overnight.

My mother used to tell me when I was younger that the best way to start any day was to get up and make your bed. Before anything. Okay, maybe stretch and wipe the sleep out of your eyes, but before anything else. It was important, she said, because if you start every day with a made bed then that’s at least one productive thing you’ve done in the first few minutes of being awake. That’ll give you a precedent to keep up the good work for the rest of the day. 

It always seemed insignificant to me. What could rearranging a few sheets and pillows really do to affect the rest of my day? I didn’t pay much mind to it until I started playing soccer. When I got into my first league in middle school, I wanted to follow any and every rule and superstition my mom could tell me from the sport. Like wearing my socks inside out for games and using the same pair of shoes for the entire season. I wanted to be just like my mother, a national soccer champion. So, when she told me it would bring good luck to make my bed in the morning, I made a deal with her. On days that I knew I’d be practicing or competing, I’d make my bed. Otherwise, it was a disaster of the cotton variety. 

“Your breakfast is gonna get cold, Andy.” 

“Coming,” I replied, but I couldn’t move from where my feet sunk into the carpet I stared at my pillows all scrunched up and the blanket on the floor. There was no game today, no practice. I’d picked up on my consistency when she got sick. I started making my bed in the mornings that I visited her in the hospital. When she didn’t come back, I just stopped. 

A quick glance at my phone told me I had about twenty minutes until my ride got to the house, so I wasn’t rushing too much. My father, however, believed that any minute spent awake before ten o’clock should be spent at hyper speed. 

I breathed in through my nose, imagining the air filling my lungs, held it for six seconds, and breathed out through my mouth. A promise for a good day. While my father liked to start out with mile a minute productivity, I found it was easier to start with a few seconds of calm before the storm of the day hit. 

“Andy!” Sometimes, impatience won over peace of mind in this household. 

“Yeah, I’m on my way.” I dragged my bookbag onto my shoulder and walked down the hall, rounding the corner to step downstairs.

"What's for breakfast?" I asked after jumping the last step to the kitchen. Dad turned around with the Faultz family smile already adorning his face. I never got that smile, my dad said I got my mother’s.

"Eggs, bacon, and sausage for you, pancakes for me," Dad answered. He put the plates on the counter and started eating. I could tell the grin he had on was trying to hide his own amusement.

"What, that's not fair!" I grumbled, making my way to the table to sit across from him. I stared at the plate in front of me, not making any moves towards the silverware to the side. 

"An athlete needs a balanced meal, Andy, you can't eat pancakes.” His cheeks were already full of his own sugary start to the day. I grimaced, not wanting to start yet another conversation about talking with his mouth full. 

"So, if I quit being an athlete, I can eat waffles?" My dad was so surprised he almost choked on his food. His face turned a bit red from the whole ordeal.

"Don't worry, I'm kidding," I said, chuckling. 

“You better be, your soccer scholarship is getting you into college." There was no way I’d forget that. Soccer had been my life for the better part of fifteen years. It was one of the only things that my mother and I had in common before she died. That’s part of the reason why Dad has been so adamant about me pursuing it. Because what kind of daughter would I be if I didn’t carry out my famous mother’s legacy?

"I know, I know.” I sat back, losing more of the appetite that hadn’t really been there in the first place, what with it being six in the fucking morning. “I can't believe I'll be going to college next year."

"It took a lot of work, don't ruin it. If you don't break some more records this year they could revoke it." He was always worried about that. Sometimes I wondered what he’d even think of me if I didn’t have soccer. 

"Oh come on, Dad. I'm me, breaking records is in my blood.'' I had a right to be confident. After all, I was the first girl in my school to make varsity team captain in my sophomore year. And I’ve defended that role since. 

"I know." He smiled at me, chuckling and shaking his head. I glanced over to the entryway, catching sight of my ripped up shoes from the summer.

“Speaking of soccer, could you pick me up some new shoes for practice?” I shot my dad a sugary smile.

“Weren’t you supposed to be getting those yourself? Isn’t that why you got a job over the summer?” He wasn’t wrong. I slaved away for two months at some ice cream shop when I could’ve been on the field practicing. 

“Yeah, but,” I started, trying to think of some valid reason to not bring up the fact that I’d blown too much of my money on snapbacks and new band tees, “don’t you want to buy them for me, for old time’s sake? This is my last high school season, isn’t that like nostalgic or something?” 

Standing up, I set my plate in the sink while I waited for his reply. He opened his mouth just as a car blared its horn outside. Three short trills. “That’s Sophie,” I commented, picking up my bag and taking off for the door. I stopped to grab my skateboard and glanced down at the shoes, then at my father. He rolled his eyes.

“Fine, I’ll see what I can do,” he sighed. I let the smile split open my face. 

“You’re awesome, thanks. See you later, Dad.”

“Bye, kiddo.” His reply was cut off as the door closed behind me.

The headlights to Sophie’s car blinded me as I walked to the passenger side, she turned off the beams on my way. My best friend waved excitedly from the driver’s seat. She loved the first day, it was always her favorite. With a shake of my head, I pulled open the door and got into Sophie's Lexus. 

"Hey Soph," I said as I sunk into the plush cushions. Her parents were loaded, naturally, so she got top-notch everything. From her car down to her pencils. They were the type to flaunt their wealth simply because they could. But then, it was Southern California. Our entire town reeked of wealth.

The aroma of her fancy, iced coffee filled the small vehicle. I didn’t understand how she could drink something so sweet this early in the morning, but I nearly squealed when I noticed the cup sitting beside hers. 

“You are a goddess,” I said, taking a swig of the scalding liquid. As much as my father believes in productivity, he doesn’t believe in coffee, especially if you’re under thirty years old. Soph knows my order by heart with all the times that she’s been my hero and taken me to the nearest cafe or brought me a quick pick me up under my dad’s radar. 

“Yeah, I’m aware,” she replies, smiling as she looks behind her to pull out of the driveway. “But don’t stop telling me.” I shake my head, watching the headlights move across the street and create warped shadows along with all the houses. “So, you excited for the first day, Ands?”

"Not as excited as you. Like normal high schoolers, I don’t function properly until after seven, so my system is still booting up. Sorry.” The suburbs blurred by, townhouses and pretty green yards blending together like an old painting. “Not to mention, my Dad’s already on my ass about soccer. I mean, we haven’t even started conditioning. The season isn’t until next semester."

"Don't worry, everyone knows you're going to be a huge star, like always." She turned to smile at me, long enough to make me question how she got her license. “Just like your mom.”

"Thanks, Soph."

"No need to thank me, it's the truth," Sophie said. She turned and smiled at me again, this time her gaze trailing down to my feet. "You're seriously gonna ride home on that?" She gestured at my board. I nodded, smiling out the window. I liked to skateboard home, to avoid the annoying interaction with Sophie’s boyfriend, who she would definitely want to drive home. Sophie was never one for the ‘tomboyish’ parts of me. She nearly blew a gasket when I started hanging out at the skate park with my now ex-boyfriend. It wasn’t her thing, and she hated that there was anything that I liked that she wasn’t a part of. Most people call that controlling or clingy. But with Soph, it was more sisterly. Because that’s always what she’s been to me.

A few more glances and frightening close calls later and Sophie pulled into the school parking lot and parked the car. We climbed out, staring at the building that we’d seen for years. The school was already packed, which was not surprising given how we only had ten minutes or so before the first bell. It was windy, but it was always windy, so it didn’t really faze anyone. 

Sophie and I grabbed our things and started walking to the front gates. A few guys from the athletics department waved at me or punched my shoulder, body language in place of good morning. We walked to our lockers, which we made sure were side by side after last year’s fiasco of being across the school from one another. It took me all of fifteen seconds to unload my bag and grab the only notebook I’d need. Whereas Sophie had so much decorating to do, she could have taken an hour if there wasn’t a bell. 

Just as we were about to take off for our first class, which we had together, Sophie’s dick wad of a boyfriend sidled up beside her.

“Hey, babe,” he said, leaning down and kissing her neck. She giggled at the contact. Her neck was the most ticklish part of her body, something only I really knew. Millions of sleepovers and countless nights spent on the beach tended to bring out the deep secrets in anyone.

“Hey, Derrick,” she replied, turning to lean into his arms. They were the typical high school couple. Jock and cheerleader, if you could call a swimmer a jock, which I didn’t really.

“Sup, Ands.” Derrick nodded at me. I nodded back, not responding to him. After almost a year of ignoring me every time I told him not to, he still called me that. It used to be just Sophie’s nickname for me.

“Hey, I’ll meet you in class, Soph, I don’t want to get a tardy on the first day,” I commented, turning to walk to our first period, English. Sophie didn’t even respond, she was too entranced by the brown-eyed bag of balls. 

Now, I wasn’t much of a fan of school in general, but seeing the douche that is Derrick Hansen regularly? That was straight up hell. He thought he was apart of my group of friends because he was on the swimming team as if wading around a few days a week is really a sport. The asshole acts like he’s the coolest shit since sliced bread as if no one knows that he’s probably the nerdiest kid here. I mean, he’s gotten the state record on his science exams since eighth grade. I hated him. With a burning passion.

But he was Sophie’s favorite person in the world at the moment. A role that I used to cherish. That he bumped me from the first chance he could get. Sophie didn’t see how shitty he was, she never saw. She was blissfully ignorant of the truth of the matter. And I had no way of explaining to her how fucking terrible the guy was. Not without crushing her, because that’s the kind of person she is. Fragile.

Mrs. Dells, the English teacher, was that teacher who has assigned seats on the first day of school. I had her last year for English because the school is so small that they have teachers who teach three different classes. 

When Sophie finally got to class, five seconds before the late bell rang, she had to sit across the room from me. Which we both should have expected; Mrs. Dells had us both last year, she knew how much work we got done when we sat together. The class started and Mrs. Dells began introductions. Then onto the inevitable, brain-numbing first-day activities. 

When the bell rang, I swear I was a bullet shooting out of my seat. I nearly ran to my locker, not even waiting for Sophie. If I waited for her, I’d definitely be late for PE.

"What's the hurry, Andrea?"

Hearing that name and the voice that came with it stopped me in my tracks. I turned to see Mackenzie Dalton leaning against the locker beside mine. She smiled warmly, I glared at her.

"What do you want, Mack?" I said as cold as I could. This girl infuriated me. Not exactly waiting for an answer, I shoved her away with my elbow, a bit harder than necessary, and opened my locker.

"No 'Hey, Mack' or 'How’ve you been, Mack'?" She said, stepping slowly closer to me. "No, just 'What do you want, Mack'" she chuckled, finding herself hilarious like she always did. Her head leaned against the lockers, but her eyes stayed set on me. I tried to ignore the way her gaze burned into my cheek.

"I don't have time for this, Mackenzie," I said, closing my locker after grabbing my workout clothes. I spun around and started walking to the gym. After a few steps, I heard her walking after me. "Seriously, what do you want?" I spat, not bothering to look at her over my shoulder. She caught up enough to match my stride beside me.

"Chill, cougar, I have P.E., same as you I'm guessing." I frowned, confirming her suspicion. "Yay, I get a gym partner.'' I couldn’t help the sarcastic snicker that left my mouth.

"Yeah right, I want nothing to do with you, Mackenzie."

"Hurtful," she fake pouted. "But I'll forgive you." She did this annoying move that she always does, which is jogging ahead a few steps and turning around to walk backward in front of me.

"What is it with you? Why won't you leave me alone?" She almost tripped over a trashcan by the wall but didn’t let it stop her.

"Because of your amazing conversational skills," she looked at me and continued smiling. "Why do you hate me, Andrea?" She said it gently, not accusing like I would’ve expected. Though I learned not to expect anything normal from Mack a long time ago. Her short, brown hair was bouncing around in her face, which didn’t seem to bother her much. It was different than the last time I saw her, longer. Instead of a pixie cut, it laid at shoulder length, like she’d given up cutting it and just let it grow however it pleased.

"Stop calling me that, my name is Andy." I looked up at her. I wanted to slap that goddamn smile off her face.

Before Mackenzie could call me out on not answering her, I walked into the gym and found three of my teammates. Wherever Mack went wasn’t a concern of mine, I tried to ignore her presence as much as possible. She knew not to come up to me when my teammates were around, that was one of the few boundaries she respected. I slid my phone out of my pocket to check Insta for anything new.

“Who’s that?” Liv, one of the newer girls from last year’s recruitment, asked. I looked up at her and turned to where she was staring. I groaned softly enough that the girls didn’t notice over the dull roar of students around the room. Of course, she was looking at Mack. I simply looked back at my phone, leaving my other teammates to answer.

Darian made the first guess. “Maybe she’s a freshman?”

I scoffed, along with Hailey, who commented, “You seriously think she looks like a freshman? Girl’s taller than me. She’s probably from out of town.” I stayed silent. She was right. Mack was from out of town. Her family moved here just after the school year ended. But they didn’t need to know that I knew that. And they definitely didn’t need to ask me why I knew that.

Academics weren’t my strong suit. I’ve known this for a while, but once I started playing soccer, it became less of an issue. I had something more important to worry about. This logic, of course, is the reason I’ve had a record of attending summer school since seventh grade. My teacher’s always managed to keep my grades tilted just enough to keep me on the team, but the state tests never went well. This past summer was my first summer of freedom. It was also the only summer that I had time to get a job. One that ended up taking up more time than any summer school I ever had. 

Science was one of my worst subjects. I dreaded every minute of last year’s biology course, but I managed to pull off a low, but passing score. This year’s chemistry wouldn’t be any easier. Last year I had to lock myself in my room with no phone and no laptop, just textbooks, and notes, for hours on end to make myself study. It was the worst part of the school year. 

Walking into the chemistry classroom, I took a deep breath before taking a seat. A few football players nodded at me as they entered. We talked about their first game of the season, which would be next week. One of them mentions an after-party that I have to come to. 

“Damn, is she new?” One of them, Cody, asked. Hearing the words, I’m ready to roll my eyes as I glance to the doorway because of course, she’d be in another class with me. But instead of green eyes and layered, brown hair, I find a blondie with a loose ponytail and an undercut. Her eyes look tired but still bright as she scanned the room. The guys started commenting on everything I was thinking about, but I kept my mouth shut and kept staring at her. My gaze followed until she stopped at a desk directly in the front and sat down like she was in a throne. Cody whistled quietly, but loud enough that the girl heard. She didn’t look at us, simply flipping her hair behind her back and turning her attention to the board.  

The teacher walked in and started talking, but I barely paid attention, memorizing the curve of this girl’s profile instead. The universe was making it really hard to have a chance of passing this class. A few minutes later, Cody nudged me as he stood up. I glanced over and scrunched my eyebrows in question. “Seating chart.” He nodded toward the front of the room. I rolled my eyes as I glanced at the board and looked for my name. 

My seat was two tables behind the one I’d been at. I dragged my backpack behind me and looked around to figure out who was migrating over to meet me. As I surveyed the room, I found the dreaded brunette that I’d thought I was free of this period. Mack smiled at me, sitting at the table next to mine, but on the side where whoever would be my partner would have the pleasure of sitting closer to her. What did the universe have against me? Was it trying to make this class as hard as possible?

Mack opened her mouth to make some unwelcome comment, but before she could, a figure stepped in front of her and sat down next to me. Suddenly I was staring at a blonde ponytail and a face that was much more angular up close. My mouth opened to introduce myself, but no sound came out. Then her eyes turned to me expectantly and I floundered. 

“Um… I… uh... Hi,” I muttered. She tilted an eyebrow at my sad excuse for an introduction.

“Hey, I’m Kloe,” she replied. I nodded, watching her eyes flicker between both of mine and wavering even more under the direct eye contact. “This is the part where you tell me your name.”

It’s probably safe to say that a blush covered my entire face at that comment. “Right, ah… I’m Andy.” I smile, mentally shaking myself out of the haze I’m stuck in. “So, you’re new, right?” 

“Wow, there is a brain in there.” She looked down at her notebook. I laugh softly, even though that was definitely an insult. “Yeah, I just moved here.” She reached up and tucked a few flyaways behind her ear. I followed the movement with my eyes, entranced. I opened my mouth to ask her where she moved from, but the teacher cut me off.

“Okay, everyone, I’m going to go over a few things for you to keep in mind this year…” 

Maybe it wasn’t a good idea to zone out of the lecture, but in my defense, there was a very intriguing girl right next to me and I couldn't take my attention away from her. I was powerless.

By the time I heard my father’s car pull into the driveway, I’d spent almost two hours on my phone and less than five minutes on the homework I’d been assigned today. I rubbed my eyes and closed the textbook in front of me. Standing up and stretching my limbs out, I stepped towards the hallway to meet him downstairs. I’d barely gotten out of the room when my phone began chiming in my pocket. 

I wasn’t expecting any calls, so it had to be Sophie. With a click, I answered, “What couldn’t handle being away from me for a few hours?” I heard her laugh on her end as I sit down at the top of the stairs.

“You wish,” she replied. “Derrick and I are going to a party at some baseball player’s place.” I know where she’s going before she has to ask and she knows I do because she just says, “Want me to send the address?” 

I look down at the carpet on the stairs, picking at it absently. “I don’t know, Soph, the baseball crowd is basically just a bunch of stoners.” There’s rustling in the background, she’s probably picking out an outfit.

“Yeah, but it’s the first party of the year. What? Are you just going to sit at home and have dinner with your dad instead?” I roll my eyes. She does have a point, the first party of the school year is basically the last hint of summer we get. “It will be fun, trust me.”

“I’ll ask my dad, but no promises, okay?” She squeals in response.

“I’ll send the address, see you there, Ands.” I hang up the phone and take a deep breath, closing my eyes for a few seconds. The sound of my dad bumbling around the kitchen fills my ears and I sit for a few seconds. I think back to a few short weeks ago when I could get out of any plans, with my father or Sophie, with the simple excuse of work. 

My work life was like a whole different world. I stepped into that building and I wasn’t the huge soccer star or the popular jock. I was just another part-time worker there for the summer. Nothing I did there would affect my real life. It was like an escape. I spent countless hours slinging ice cream and even more lounging on the beach while everyone in my real life thought I had been scheduled. 

But now my life was back to being completely real. No more escaping

[emmaruthrundlesh]

Emma Ruth Rundle Interview // Rock’n’Roll Journalist

(via Rock’n’Roll Journalist) “Dark” singer-songwriter is a term which deserves an official registration based on the modern wave of talented female artists. Next to Chelsea Wolfe, there is also Emma Ruth Rundle rapidly building her space on the market. Her captivating voice and an amazing taste for cold melodies are more than addictive. If you look at her list of favorite albums, the magic of her sound suddenly makes more sense. In addition we also spoke about her gear, challenges on a tour and beauties of Prague, which is also on her current European tour schedule on 18th of October.

Would like to give some introduction to your list?

This is not so much a list of my favorite albums of all time. Much of these are rather pieces I return to over and over as they are especially significant for me.

40 Watt Sun – The Inside Room (2011)

One of my all time favorite albums, English 3 piece, 40 Watt Sun, combine a slower, heavy guitar driven washes over which Patrick Walker literally pours his heart out. HIs lyrics and voice are incredibly eloquent and beautiful. The songs are, at times, in the 8 plus minute category so there is plenty of time to be reeled into their world and taken through Walker’s emotional landscapes. One of my biggest influences in the last few years.

Kate Bush – The Sensual World (1989)

A longstanding favorite and go to listen for me. Kate Bush has a few phases and different sounding albums but there is always her at the core. I think The Sensual World has become the diamond album in her discography, for me, because of the song Love and the Anger. It’s one of the catchiest and uplifting songs I’ve ever heard. Just watch the video and see Kate dancing at the end…How can you not fall in love? Also some really tasteful world influence and killer guitar by David Gilmour on Rocket’s Tale. Love it all the way through.

Smashing Pumpkins – Siamese Dream (1993)

It’s very frustrating to wake up and look at the internet these days only to be greeted by any number of people and music blogs STILL making fun of Billy Corgan – not going to lie, it bums me out and makes me feel sad for a world of critics who can’t take it the simple fact that Billy has recorded THE BEST guitar tone of all time and he did so on Siamese Dream. The songwriting is brilliant and this is really an album that takes you to a place, especially by the time you reach Silverfuck. Sure, I jump over the hits – I don’t need to hear Today every time I want to enjoy this masterpiece but if you’re somehow not familiar take the whole trip and revel in what I think is some of the most important guitar playing of the 90’s.

James Blake – Self Titled (2011)

A groundbreaking beauty of an album. James Blake managed to write and produce this minimal pop R and B (with strong classical influences) that won him the Mercury Prize. There is nothing but pure perfection and genius on this record. Even the cover art is elegant and humble in a way. I guess there is some sense of humility in Blake’s writing that takes me in even further and I become invested in all his repetitive and disintegrated lines, waiting for them to break or modulate in any number of ways as they do on this album.

Cloakroom – Time Well (2018)

I came to know Cloakroom just by association. They had done a lot of touring with label mates Russian Circles as well as some other folks I know. I sort of disregarded this band for a time – not sure why – but when Time Well came out on Relapse earlier this year, I was completely head over heals in love with these Midwestern boys. The guitar playing and textures as well as the cleverly timed riffs (for lack of a better word, this band isn’t metal at all but heavy in a deferent way) and the bonus of Doyle’s of introspective vocal has won them a very special place in my heart and headphones.

Brian Eno – Thursday Afternoon (1985)

In his 11th studio album, Eno has fully mastered the very new world he himself pioneered and invented: Ambient music. Thursday Afternoon is just one long daydream of a song with nothing but the babbling of the synthesized (or whatever he’s employed on this) brook. Nothing “happens” on this album. There is no break or moment of great change or rhythm even… it’s just the most relaxing music on Earth which is why I find my way back to it so often. Pure peace streamed right from the source of new sound.

I’m not an ethnomusicologist

Tori Amos – Boys for Pele (1996)

Tori Amos peaked, for me, on this 18 track album. It was her first time self producing as well and there is something so fierce and desperate in her lyrics and voice. While generally regarded as a singer songwriter, which I think conjures up a picture of a subdued character sitting in a coffee shop somewhere, Tori is really more of a badass and this album rocks it ways though piano and harpsichord driven tunes. I love everything about how the record was recorded and sounds as well. Even the music videos that came from this album are great. If you don’t know, you should.

Earth – Hex; Or Printing the Infernal Method (2005)

I am not sure when I first became aware of the legendary instrumental band Earth but I am sure it was later on in life than for some other more tuned in people. Hex is an album that I listened to a lot while on tour and desperately in need of refuge from the chaos of being trapped with so many other people traveling across the globe. Hex is like a soundtrack and works incredibly well for someone who’s trapped staring out a window, avoiding conversations for most of the day. If there was ever a time to describe something as dusty sounding, this is it. Having really loved the Neil Young soundtrack to Dead Man – Hex felt like a sister album to me or in that world. It has a special ability to take you into a barren landscape and push out all your youngness which is so needed!

The Body – No One Deserves Happiness (2016)

This record came into my life at a time of physiologically shattering life change and a very hot summer in LA. Most would describe The Body and an “experimental” or harsh noise (at times) project. No One Deserves Happiness introduces female forward singing over the backdrop of the bands soul reaping sounds. Chip’s hollow screams have manifested a truly horrific creature in my mind. There is a blend of classical reverence and choral singing within The Body’s noise land and it turns on a part of my brain while listening. I feel comforted by this album somehow.

Stars Of The Lid – And Their Refinement Of The Decline (2007)

Another instrumental masterpiece – SOTL also have classical inclinations or leanings or is this contemporary classical music? I’m not an ethnomusicologist. Washes of treated instruments grip your xanaxed out sandbag body and drag you slowly and mournfully in waves under a pink ocean of wonder and obliteration of the self. I have fallen asleep in my most anxiety ridden times to this album as it swallows you like no other can.

In the heart of Europe

In late October you will be coming to Prague to very intimate club called 007. Did you ever have a chance to properly walk around Prague?

I never played a solo show in Prague, but I performed here with my previous bands already. Every time I made sure, me and my band mates have enough time to check the city. It was amazing every time and I just can’t wait to come again. I visited Prague the last time in 2010 and our tour manager was Tomáš Zakopal, who was local, so he prepared a beautiful commented tour for us.

Could you please present to us your collection of guitars? From the most recent live footages I see you are a big fan of Fender guitars and especially a model called Coronado II.

This piece actually belongs to Evan Patterson, who plays guitar in my band as well in my support band Jaye Jayle. Guitar #1 in my collection is a classic mahogany piece from Cordoba. There is also one from Chinese brand Blueridge, inspired by OM model OM from Martin…(I’m sorry, I am little bit sick)… Within electric guitars my most favorite is standard Gibson SG. It was quite cheap second hand acquisition in one music store. Another piece is Fender Baritone Jaguar special HH. Then there is Fender Stratocaster. I can’t remember the exact model, but it’s quite unique as it has two humbuckers. Next to that I also have one white model from Guild. Longer I play I realize it is very important for me to have two humbuckers within electric guitars. And finally there is one really crappy SG, which I would really like to get rid of, as it is badly made. (Laugh)

Some preferences within microphones?

I use BLUE enCORE 200 the most. Probably as it was a gift. I like its sound, as it can work very well with mids and highs. Another reason is very practical. I realized I get sick more often if I use in-house microphones. If I use my own microphone, I have bigger chances to stay well.

Life on a tour

I am sorry, you don’t feel well. Do you think it’s also because of air conditioners during this years’ crazy summer season?

Not sure to be honest. I was just getting back from a European tour and I must have caught something on a plain.

Longer I play I realize it is very important for me to have two humbuckers within electric guitars

How are you trying to stay in a good shape on a tour? There is a European tour coming up during fall and that’s quite challenging season for immunity.

One can just do maximum and hope. If I can, I try to stay warm and eat plenty of hot meals. I try to rest, as much as I can and get plenty of sleep. But it’s not always that easy, where there is so much drinking and everything else which belongs to a tour life. It is practically a miracle if you survive a tour without any harm.

Is there some European location, which you really look forward to visit during upcoming European tour? It doesn’t necessarily have to be Prague…

It’s funny, as everybody in the team looks forward for the Prague the most. Evan is practically obsessed with Prague and I just can’t wait to meet friends, which I haven’t seen for years. I am also looking forward to see Porto, Lisbon and also Madrid, as I’ve never been to Spain. In general I love to visit well known places as well as completely new locations.

[whimstories]

Balcony AU

Part 1

Next // A03

Word Count: 1.4k

A/N: I made my contract and here is the first day! I would not be posting this if I didn’t say I would. There’s something about this pacing I don’t like but, I can’t figure it out. I guess we’ll learn along the way. 

Comments and critiques welcome! Thanks!

When she takes me in her arms

And speaks softly to me,

I see life in rosy hues.

Marinette hums with the fathomless voice bleeding over the Paris apartments, her head swaying to the tunes. The male singing is accompanied, as usual, with a short plucking of chords that reverb like chimes in an yawning chamber.

The sounds wash over her body like floating on a steady sea, the fresh spray of salt water and rhythmic motion of the waves lulling her to comfort. Its a different experience than any time she’s listened to music. Even the experience of Jagged Stone’s concert when she was a teen couldn’t compare. Though his slows ballads are likened compared to waterboarding through a turbulent wave.

Marinette holds her warm cup of cocoa to her lips and blows a small wisp of steam into the winter weather.

“‘Hold me close and hold me fast, this magic spell you cast…’”

When he begins singing the English rendition, her slightly warm hand presses to her mouth to prevent the torrential flutter in her stomach manifesting into a giggle.

He sounds playful and confident today. She can easily imagine his mouth smiling around his words with each lilt and vibrato. He is so clear to her when he sings, his days laid out in song in ways a conversation would take hours to convey.

She’s mouthing the lyrics before her mind catches up with her, then singing along before her nerves can stop her . She switches up the pronouns so she sings of a male and he sings of a female, but their vocals blend like silken threads to a tapestry. Its one thing to keep her distance from knowing his face, but touching his voice with her own creates a sensation of fuzzy euphoria from head to toe.

The final notes stretch across the streets once more and Marinette can hear the sprinkled clapping from fellow neighbors and strangers down below. She nestles deeper into her chair and hugs the soft shawl to her face, though still feeling warm from the music.

The voice above says a few flourished ‘thanks you’s to the unconventional audience and Marinette takes it as her cue to rise from her seat.

“Are you going to speak to me this time?” A distinctly pointed shout comes from above.

She clamps her lips to a tiny pucker, the hard thump in her chest halting her movement. Its hard, honestly, not to shout back. It’s harder every time, but its the rush of blood to her heart and the light headed fluttering in her head that makes her realize her fears again.

She touches the handle of her glass door.

“I will hop down there, if you don’t respond.” The voice teases.

She almost swings around to make sure he does not. The difference between balconies in the complex isn’t impossible to scale, and she has considered it before, but one wrong move would cause considerable injury.

Though she can’t help imagining him easily landing before her on the balcony, confident and easy as his singing, with probably dark hair and gleaming grey eyes shining at her. She has no idea what he looks like, of course, but a young Darcy-like character is never a bad base model for dreamy mystery men.

She has to grip the door handle tighter to shake the fantasy. What is she kidding, even if he was as amazing as she dreams him to be, she would ruin it somehow. It’s just her track record.

She closes the door.

When she wakes up a bit groggy the next morning, Alya, her best friend, calls her for a morning drink before heading to work.

Alya is the ultimate foodie. She finds new restaurants and cafes daily and drags Marinette along for the experience. Though that experience is summed up to ruining the perception of home cooked meals and draining most of her account on local chefs. Which as an artist herself, doesn’t feel too bad, but is bad on her lifestyle.

They’re sitting at a worn wood table, which is surprisingly sturdy when Marinette leans her elbows on the surface, in a nicely sized cafe.

“How was your business trip?” Alya asks over her Caramel Dolce Cappuccino. It had a beautiful foam flower on top until it was smeared to Alya’s upper lip.

“Relaxing,” Marinette sighs. She takes a sip of her mocha and hums before Alya is gesturing to have a taste. “Who knew going overseas to look at fabric would be so invigorating?”

“You’re probably just sick of us and finally realizing it, admit it.” She smiles, before grimacing at the mocha and back at Marinette. She shrugs innocently, as if she couldn’t forsee Alya hating her extra sweet drink.

“Maybe the first two days,” Marinette jokes. “But a week is a long time. It was so easy just talking to people and pointing at things, I barely knew how to get out of bed this morning.”

Marinette instantly regrets mentioning a bed when Alya’s eyebrows raise behind her drink. The cogs are turning and there’s no going back. “And how is your bed? Will you be upgrading to a king anytime soon?”

“No, Alya.” Marinette groans. She hunches in her chair and busies her mouth to finishing her wonderfully sweet mocha.

She raises her shoulders and smirks, “I’m just saying, the last time we talked you kept singing the same three love ballads before bursting into tears over a plate of croissants because— what, you smelled fresh pastries on the streets when he sang?”

Marinette doesn’t respond, the smooth white mug a sturdy anchor in her palms. She focuses on the hot liquid passing her lips and running a stream down her tongue. Its still cold outside and the walk to her job is a good twenty five minutes so it doesn’t hurt to bask in the warmth while it lasts.

“Marinette,” Alya laughs and touches her hand, “You’re head over heels for this guy. Why are you hesitating?”

Alya was there for her last three relationships, but Marinette could never really explain why they ended so quickly. So when she fell for a new guy in a way that was unconventional, it was obvious why the others failed and she wanted to cling to this emotion while she can.

“It’s been over a month and a half and I don’t even know his name. I have this perfect vision in my head and if I meet him, I’m sure my heart would be broken in an instant.”

Alya places her cup on the table and stares with pitying eyes, which she is doing more to mock her than actual sincerity. Its the new gleam in her eye and the casual lean in her seat that actual puts Marinette on edge, “What do you call him, though?”

“What do you mean?” Marinette replies.

“Even though you don’t know his ‘name’, our male siren must have a moniker? How else do you scream for him at ni—“

“Alya!” Marinette almost screeches as she reaches across the table and squishes her face to stop talking. Its when she looks around that the action of touching Alya’s face is more attention getting than their conversation. She thumps back into her chair with a warm face and a disbelieving jaw.

“We’re grown women and, as your best friend, beyond any form of crudeness.”

Marinette wisely stays silent and pretends to savor the last sips of her drink before mumbling, “Chat Noir.”

“I’m sorry, I didn’t catch that.”

“Chat. Noir,” She enunciates. “I didn’t come up with it. He did.”

“You’re serious? He told you to call him that?”

“He came out of his apartment and announced himself, like a mini concert hall. ‘Welcome to the stage, Chat Noir!’,” She smiles. “I’m not sure he knows I heard him. It was a while ago.” Marinette shrugs.

The worst of it is what she didn’t say. That she had an actual moniker for the original moniker. She recalls last night falling asleep to a seeping wet warmth on her fingers and gasping pants of ‘kitty’. She practically crushes the straw between her fingers as she moves the last drops of whipping cream in circles.

Luckily, Alya decides to relent after the admission. Though since she is a journalist, Marinette should have been suspicious of her silence. A name is a powerful one, even if it is fake. She could track down a man after finding pocket lint on the ground.

They forsake talking about love before its time to go to work and by then Marinette is itching to cut up some muslin.

[frameposting]

Post-Debriefing

[Beginning recording regarding incident number [REDACTED] with Crewman 1-A Tai Barraf, present during mission.]

[Crewman, state your name, serial and position?]

Barraf, Tai. [REDACTED], Crewman Class 1, Invisible Hand XLVII, Callisto Home Station.

[Thank you, Crewman. Do you understand why you are in this session?]

You wanted to discuss a recurring dream I mentioned during the debriefing for the [REDACTED] Tower incursion.

[That is correct. This session is being conducted by request of Cultural, so anything you say here will be recorded for the general archive and cannot be disclosed outside of this room. Do you still consent to continuing this session?]

Yes, yes I do.

[Okay. So let's begin, tell us about this dream.]

It starts with a bright light and someone leading me somewhere. I can't make out the figure immediately but I can tell he's very ornately dressed. And they're walking like they're starting to feel their age. Kinda like a Grineer after a couple of years but...they're not Grineer.

It's only when the light fades that I can see that person is Orokin. He has to be, there's no other culture that wears that kind of clothing in the system today. But he's also getting old. He doesn't look old or Grineer old but he's starting to lose those traits that we hear about in the legend. His beauty is starting to fade, that's the word...

[And what about you?]

I notice I'm dressed in simple robes. I have darker skin, probably the shade I used to have before I enlisted.

There's someone behind me, a Warframe. Athletic build, a blend of aquatic and deep blue shading. I don't look for long though, I know I have to keep following the Orokin.

As we approach the source of the light, he begins talking, and I presume it's to his Warframe. His voice is calming, reassuring. Yet what he says, how he thinks of me, it's...very...

[You can be honest here.]

Impersonal. He sees me as...not even a pet? Like an artifact. A prize or trophy? It's hard to find the word...

[What does he say to describe you?]

I only remember phrases of what he says because he's saying them to the Warframe escorting him. Something about it being good fortune, the first batch in the Yu-vin, Ye-von, something and the end of a war.

[And you were of this so-called first batch?]

"Worth the price," yeah, now I remember that part. Like I'm a living statue or something and then he mentions the person that sculpted me was a master, he's thankful that the master survived the war to make me.

[All right. So to summarize, you're dreaming that you are some kind of living statue purchased by an Orokin.]

Yeah, but I know I'm a flesh and blood human. Not grineer or infested or a Warframe.

[I see. He's leading you, his prize into a light, and what does it reveal?]

A small room, it's prepared for a simple ceremony. Like some kind of very private tea ceremony for two people. There's a small table and some simple mats. It's small and quiet, I can hear water flowing...gold trim everywhere and the light bathes it like I should feel happy for what's going to happen.

But on the tea table there's just a black vial...it's completely the opposite of the warm ambience.

[A black vial, you say?]

Yes. It pulsates with a red, spotty glow every now and then. He beckons me to sit opposite of him, and I comply. His Warframe takes a ceremonial seating position behind him and to his side.

[So what happens?]

He begins telling me something. It sounds rehearsed, like he's said it before. That I should know why I'm here, and that it is an honor that I was "chosen" to drink it.

[That's when you drink from this mysterious black vial.]

No, not immediately. I take the vial in my hands and I look at it, it's cold as Venusian glaciers and I know drinking it will kill me but something inside says I should feel proud I've done so.

[Proud to die from this liquid?]

The Orokin man...he says I shouldn't hesitate, yes.

The fluid tastes mildly sweet, it goes down fast yet has the consistency of...tar. And as it goes down, it feels like it's...hollowing...

[Are you experiencing any distress from this?]

It hollows me out. A kind of cold, numbing...like I'm filled with coldness, dread. It doesn't carve out or burn out my insides but, more like whatever it comes into contact with just...doesn't feel there anymore. I can't bring myself to scream but I can feel myself crying as I see him smile.

I put the vial back on the table and it takes all of my effort to keep it from tipping over. Once it levels out, he leans forward and puts his hand on my cheek, and I can feel the decay in his breath.

[Does he tell you anything before it ends?]

This...this is the sentence I remember. "There is nothing to be afraid of, this will be the last you will ever see of me. Now sleep, for your despair is at its end,” and the last I see of him before I close my eyes and collapse is him also drinking from the vial.

[And this is where your dream ends.]

No.

[I beg your pardon?]

The world flashes red for a moment, but then suddenly stops. I hear a tinkling of metal, and a moist hand on my chin, pressing upward to tell me look up at him.

I open my eyes and I see the Warframe face to face, he's standing up and bowing down at me. But I can't see what's behind him. I don’t have the strength  to adjust myself and see what’s behind him.

It says...in the most hissing, ominous voice I can think of... "You're free." And then I wake up.

[You're sure this is where it ends.]

Yes. And I've had this dream since the incursion. Maybe not every rest interval...but I know when it happens.

[I see. In any case, it appears that Cultural is satisfied with this information for the time being.]

Is the session over?

[Yes it is. Again, be aware of course that what we have discussed here cannot be disclosed to anyone once you leave the room.]

I understand.

[Good. Thank you. Normally this kind of session would be regarded as non-compensatory, but it also appears Cultural will be providing normal work rate for the time lost. May the rest of your shift be as productive.]

[rmjagonshi]

Whole Again  - Chapter 4

Whole Again on AO3

The temperature was immediately different upon stepping into the crypt. The stonework acting as an insulator against the cold Icelandic environment. The room beyond the doorway was wide, but low; the ceiling hardly two feet above their heads. The ceiling and walls were rounded, blending into one another with smooth curves. If Stan had been younger, he could have jumped and smacked the stone, but his knees were 50/50 on good days.  

The chamber looked as though it had been a mine once, large pillars left behind after removing material to help support the ceiling. The pillars were positioned lengthwise, one in front of the other with a gated door at the other end of the room. Cast iron and well-oiled enough to be resistant against rust. “Barred. Hmmm. You said you had a crowbar?” Ford turned to Stan, rubbing his chin. “’Course.” Stan flipped his pack around and dug out the crowbar before inspecting the gate. The metal nearest to the stone was probably the weakest due to moisture exchange. He could try bending the gate there first and yanking it out of the door frame. That was only if the gate was standalone and not integrated into the wall itself. Maybe he should have considered bolt cutters, or a welding torch.

Ford had wandered off, taking more pictures and (now that he was able) pulling his journal out to write some more. Whatever, let the alpha male do the hard work. He slipped the crowbar between the stone and the iron rod and put pressure on the crowbar. Nothing. Ok, not a problem. He grabbed the end of the bar and pushed as hard had he could. Nothing. Stan breathed and held back the flow of curses he wanted to scream. Instead he rubbed at his forearms and pushed against the bar with all his weight. He felt movement! It was the crowbar bending under the pressure. The profanities that echoed off the walls reverberated to the surface, startling an artic fox that had been hunting in the snow.  

Stan was ready to start throwing things and turn the iron to rust and splinters with a snap of his fingers, when he heard a quiet flip of a latch. He felt a rumble through the stone as some counter weight was dropped, lifting the iron gate he’d be ashamed to admit had not even dented.

“Hey. My crowbar!” Stan smacked at the tool as it rose with the gate, knocking it loose and wincing as it tumbled down on his head. “Ow!” Stan rubbed at his head, kneeling on the floor, and watching the dust fall. Part of the wall it is.

Ford exited a hidden corner of the room and Stan stopped grumbling long enough to get off the floor. “There are a series of symbols in ancient Gaelic engraved along every wall. The pictographs seem to be recording a religious or spiritual ritual that was performed here. I believe the inhabitants may have worshiped an interdimensional being, these glyphs look familiar.”    

“Hey, next time you wanna start touching random shit, let me know, will ya?” Stan shouted, collecting both of their bags, and packing away his crowbar. “Hm? Oh, yes, fine.” Ford said, completely not paying attention to anything Stan had said. Stan rolled his eyes but held back a complaint when Ford continued speaking. “I took some rubbings for further study. I may have to consult some of my old notes. Shame we tossed those journals in the Bottomless Pit, I could use some references now.” This wasn’t the first time Ford had made a passing remark lamenting the loss of the journals. If he was so upset, why not take a trip back to Gravity Falls and start re-recording all the weird things that existed there. They were on ‘ok’ terms with most of the creatures there, it wouldn’t be hard. Instead, Stan simply reminded Ford of the danger their contents possessed. “Those things were dangerous. Inert of not, some of that stuff should be forgotten. And hey, it can’t be that hard to learn ancient Gaelic. Heck, I learned your stupid nerd code in about a year. Should take you a few weeks to a month, tops.”

Ford looked apprehensive…and maybe a little resigned. “Dare I ask if you decoded everything?”

“I had that thing for thirty years, Stanford. Yeah, I read the whole thing. Could’a probably recited some pages before the whole memory wipe thing.” Stan was a world class liar, born with a silver tongue that had matured to tempered platinum with age, but he disliked lying to his brother. Sure, lying by omission was one thing, but flat out telling a falsehood gave him acid reflux. At least with Stanford. It felt…wrong. But Stanford didn’t need to know he could recite every word on every page.

Ford looked sheepish, right hand grasping at his left arm nervously. “Look Stan, I…” Stan interrupted him, “Hey, its nothin’. You missed me, but you were mad. I missed you, but I never bothered to reach out to ya. We both needed to grow up.” There was that bile taste again, but Ford really didn’t need to know about…that night either.

“I know, but I…what I wrote…what I was thinking…you know that it was just...” Ford was distraught, or approaching that limit. “I didn’t mean it.”

A moment passed. Then another. Stan sighed. Stanford had meant it. But that was a bucket of rotten fish Stan had no intention of ever opening. Even if he did, this was not the time nor place to be doing that anyway. “Hey, we’ll talk later. Right now, we have a crypt to plunder and ancient squiggles to archive. We got time.” Stan had placed a hand on Ford’s shoulder and Ford returned Stan’s smile with a weak one of his own, but a smile nonetheless. “Now common, we got ourselves some real adventurin’ to do.” Stan slung both bags over his shoulders and charged through the open gate, Ford left with no other alternative, followed him.

The second room opened into a towering chamber with a massive and ornate central pillar. Stan could hear drips of water echoing in the cavern. A rickety wooden ramp led them up to a platform that had been carved into the central pillar. A ledge bordering the room had once been connected to the central pillar, but the bridge had collapsed. Under the debris, was a body.

Everything passed the poor sod’s topmost ribs had been crushed, just a pile of grey bones and threadbare cloth that looked as if it would turn to dust. One hand, stretched out in front, was wrapped brittlely around what looked like a sculpted lizard or bird foot. Ford knelt down and broke the bones, drawing the thing up with him as he stood.  

It was a bronze, three-toed dragon’s foot. Ford held it up close to his face and Stan supplied the light. It glinted slightly, but was tarnished. It was highly detailed for its time; the toes having folds and creases to represent skin and scales before shifting to the claws. The sculpture seemed to end at the ankle joint.

“But where would they get the reference from? A Comodo Dragon? But where would they get one? Did the Nordic people travel that far south? Could one have been traded? Was it alive? No, preserved, most likely; it’s doubtful that it would have survived this climate.” Stan had rolled his eyes and pulled out a tiny notebook from his back pocket, half a pencil from the lip of his beanie and scribbled down a few key words that Ford had prattled off. “’Comodo dragon, preserved foot, how far did travel’, Got it” Ford sighed and rolled his eyes, but said nothing, Stan’s small notes did help him remember his spontaneous questions.

Stan pocketed the sculpture and his notebook, Ford’s jacket already near bursting, and they ascended the ramp to the next level. The distance from the central pillar to the next floor was too far to jump. “There doesn’t seem to be another way across. Too bad, this is all stone; my magnet gun is useless.” The answer was simple.

Stan’s steady aim with the grappling hook and squeezing Ford to his side with his free arm, ensured hasty progress. Albeit, slightly bruised ribs and a sore shoulder. Man, he was getting old. Ford had squeaked in surprise when Stan had grabbed him, sputtering his hesitation at this “horrible and highly dangerous idea”, but Stan had only grinned maniacally and held on tighter. They landed roughly. Or rather, Stanford had landed in his classic hero pose and Stan tumbled head over foot, landing on his ass. He hurt, but it was worth it.

Ford stood, brushing himself off and peering to the top of the cavern. He let out a low whistle. “These ledges go all the up. It appears that this room acts as a central connecting point to all surrounding chambers. I don’t see any direct connections, though. Maybe there are stairs elsewhere. Hey Stan, you mind waiting a bit while I take notes?” Ford glanced back at Stan who was still a bit winded from his reenactment of Tarzan. “Stan?” Stan waved him off, shuffling on the floor to lean against the wall. Getting old sucked. He didn’t recommend it.

While Ford sketched and buzzed with energy, Stan rested, drinking some water, and munching a granola bar. It was bizarre, this place felt creepily familiar, but no matter how much he tried to pull the knowledge to his head, it seemed to flitter away before he could get a good look at it. It was almost as if the ward had protected this place from his mind too. And wards. That didn’t make any sense. The shack was still warded against him, but he had no problems going in and out. What made this place different? It grated at his mind that he couldn’t remember. Sure, he’d gotten used to having gaps in his memory, and he had tried to ignore that he just knew things now, but it was like a lyric to a song you just couldn’t get right so the song plays at the edges of your mind driving you crazy, and you can’t even remember the name of the song or who sang it and you couldn’t even ask anyone because you killed them all and…ok, time to calm down. His gums had started to twinge as he clenched his dentures together.

He’d been meaning to ask Ford if he knew how to regrow teeth (he didn’t) or at least invent something like a serum that could (he could, but it was painful). ARRRGH! Why? Why just know things unless it was about something that was helpful? Stan wanted a cigar to chew on, but he settled for a stick of gum. ‘Course smoking was how he lost his real teeth, that and bare knuckles boxing in Mexico. There was more than one night he spat out a tooth, but his winnings paid for passable, if not functional, bridges. Come to think of it, he was lucky to have his eyes after some of those matches.

Eyes. Eye. Yellow eyes, what was that?! Yeah, anything that was a depiction of him was a window, but the dragon or wyvern wasn’t a depiction of him…was it? Or not him, not him him, but past him. Oy. I need an organizer. Stan rubbed his eye eyes, two eyes, and glanced around his little corner. He caught sight of three waist high stone structures that looked like sliced bread loaves. Or maybe he was just hungry. Regardless, there were three of them, and they seemed to be facing each other, meeting in the middle. He couldn’t tell if the floor between them was dusty, broken or what, but there was something weird about the pattern those mounds made. Stan called out to Ford.

“Hey, Sixer! There’s a-a thing that might be interestin’ for ya.” He didn’t spare the mental energy to actually describe anything, counting on Sixer’s gravitational pull towards him to do the trick.

“Find something?” Ford had returned and Stan pointed out the stone mounds. “Whadd’ya make of those?”

Ford hummed as he wandered around the stone figures, crouching down to trace the designs on the faces. Stan eased himself off the floor, grabbing his bag, and making his way over to Stanford. He approached Ford’s left side and stood directly in the middle of the three mounds. Both brothers jerked at the eruption of red light from the floor and designs on the stone. They both turned towards the bang of a gate opening to their right that Stan had not noticed before. “What the hell…?” Stan mumbled slowly and took a step. Almost instantly, the light vanished and the gate closed again. Ford strode over and peered through the gate, Stan followed, weirded out by the light a moment ago. “It’s a puzzle. Two people must work together to open the way through. See…” Ford held the flashlight aloft and pointed to the other side of the room beyond the gate. “I suspect that to open that one, we’ll have to make the totems match with their counterparts on this side.”  

“Hey, I got this one.” Stan patted his brother on the shoulder, fully intending to not stand in the ring of creepy red light again. Ford nodded and returned to the ring, the light appeared again and Stan ducked through when the gate rose. He stood in the center of the room, and froze.  

Shoot, he hadn’t bothered to look at the symbols. “Um..Sixer?” he called, hesitantly, voice filled with embarrassment. “Stand facing the next door” Ok, he could do that. He turned to his left, facing the barred doorway; he could see Ford from the corner of his left eye. He turned a bit more to look at Ford again.  

“No, Stan like this. See me?” Ford waved and adjusted his body to face directly between two of the figureheads. Stan grumbled, but turned to mimic his brother. “Reach out your left hand to the nearest one. This one should be a whale. Or, at least it kind of looks like a whale.” Stan rolled his eyes, stepped forwards and tried to spin the figurehead. It didn’t budge.

“Stan?”

“Hang on a minute, would ya? This thing ‘s heavy.”

He placed his hands on the top of the stone for leverage and pushed. The figurehead sank into the floor slightly before turning. “Oh”

“What?”

“Nunin’, Sixer. I got it.” He pressed down again and turned it so the whale was facing him. Ford was right, it did look kinda like a whale. Kinda. He returned to his previous position.

“Ok. Turn right, the next should be a snake” Stan did as Ford directed; this one did look a bit more like it was supposed to.

“The last one’s an owl.” No, it wasn’t. It looked like a cat’s head on a bird body. Whoever carved the mural likely had never seen an owl before. Stan’s call of “Got It” was drowned out by the clang of the rising gates.

Ford joined him a moment later, holding out a granola bar to Stan. He waved it off and pulled out the empty wrapper from his earlier one. Ford shrugged, tore it open and began to eat as they walked.

The hall they followed didn’t go up; they went down. “The rooms above aren’t connected?” Ford asked himself quizzically.  

“There might’a been a ramp or sommin that use ta be there. There was a lot o’ debris back there”. There had been a ramp, but it had been vaporized and left only dust. Stan scowled at this tidbit of information entering his brain involuntarily. Ford didn’t seem to notice, instead he just hummed and made a few notations on his phone as they walked. Several of the rooms they passed looked as though they were residential rooms; a couple of bedrooms, what looked like a galley with a stone oven and hearth, a room with what looked like it once housed a pile of tables and chairs, and a tiny closet that smelled rancid that neither of them were interested in examining further. Ford paused in another room to take a rubbing of a pedestal with a bronze plaque covered in Gaelic that he couldn’t remove. The room gave Stan the creeps and looked like a place of worship.

They continued their descent down, passing more wall carvings that Ford photographed with his phone. Stan rolled his eyes; his phone was filled with funny pictures of himself, Ford, places they had been, weird animals and the occasional picture of something for Ford. Ford’s camera had exactly one picture of the kids, a scanned picture of the two of them on the original Stan O’War and a picture of them both on the Stan O’War II. Oh, and about three hundred pictures of anomalies and glyphs and interesting plants and rock formations and…well, there wasn’t much of his family. Stan had wanted to call him out on it, but he didn’t know how to voice his concerns in a way that didn’t sound insulting.  

The hall finally ended at a spiral staircase that disappeared into the darkness below. Ford pulled out a glow stick, cracked and shook it, and let it drop. Ford counted under his breath to three, almost four. “It’s about…um…what’s the acceleration of gravity on Earth, again?” Ford frowned. “I don’t know,” Stan did, “but I’d say it’s about five or six stories down. You want me ta go first?”

“I’ll lead, just stay close behind me. And keep that grappling hook ready. We don’t know how sturdy this wood is.” They started down, taking slow steps at first, shifting their weight. The wood creaked and popped, but held firm. They made it past a full spiral before they were emboldened by the lack of instability. Ford started in with more deliberate steps and Stan resumed his normal near stomping gait. It was a mistake.

The wood below Stan gave way and he would have fallen the entire way down had his reflexes not been in top condition. The grappling hook was deployed before he’d even passed the next level and lodged itself in the wood above them, shooting passed Ford’s head and causing him to backpaddle away from the edge. Stan hung in shock with bits of wood dust and debris raining down on his head.

“Stan? Are you alright?”

“I’ll, um, I’ll meet’cha at the bottom!” This was embarrassing. “Just be careful, Sixer”

“Will do” Ford muttered quietly and began making his way, with less confidence this time, down the steps. Stan toggled the button on the grappling hook to lower himself slowly down until he reached the bottom of the stairwell. It was pitch-black. He could see the bobbling of Ford’s light above him. He was reluctant to let the rope grow loose and disengage until Ford could reach him. The echoes around him told him that the room beyond was massive. And he could hear scurrying.

He held a death grip on the handle of the grappling hook until Ford rounded the last spiral. “You good?” he said, shinning the light at Stan before growing concerned and continuing in a whisper, “What’s wrong?” Stan glanced at Ford, then back at the doorway. Ford spun and looked too when a squelching sound emanated from the room; the flashlight held at an angle pointed away from the sound to not attract attention.

Stan gulped. He had an uncanny feeling that this was gonna be his wort nightmare. Ford steadied himself and directed the beam of light into the room.

Yup ‘Worst nightmare’, in the flesh, or carapace in this particular case.

A giant spider the size of a Great Dane paused mid step, turning towards the two and hissed.

FUCK!

The thing was dead in a matter of microseconds; its body flung across the room from the force of four plasma rounds being fired at it from close range. The pistol smoking in Ford’s hand.

“Did I ever tell you what happened on that road trip I took the kids on?”

“Yup, that’s why I shot it. I have no intentions of dealing with that.”

Stan also suspected that his panic attacks over the ordeal that had kept Ford awake some nights after that had something to do with it.  

With Ford’s help, they pulled the grappling hook free and tentatively entered the room from hell, Ford taking point and pulling Stan along behind him by the hand. Stan only felt some shame at hiding his face in the back of his brother’s coat.

The room was filled with webbing and things wrapped up in that webbing that Stan had no interest in looking at. Ford carefully lead him through the room and towards the next doorway when he heard a quiet insect clicking. He risked a glance up at the same time Ford flicked his flashlight up. There was a large hole in the top of the ceiling and a large black mound slowly descending and reaching its way too many legs out.

NOPE!

Stan bolted for the door, Ford right behind him, not daring to look back as he felt the ground shudder slightly with the creature’s landing. He saw something goopy and gelatinous whiz above their heads, but he was NOT turning around to look. They made it through the door, Ford shooting a gap in the webbing that covered it, and bolted down the hall beyond. When Stan could bring himself to stop, he realized Ford was not behind him.

He heard some plasma shots ring out and a loud grunt.

Stan took a second to steady himself before turning around and heading back into the hall to rescue his brother. Another rumble ran through the stonework and a bright light emanated from the end of the hall. He rounded the corner to smack right into Ford.

“What the hell?” Stan winced at the light.  

“I stole a stick of dynamite and a smoke bomb and trailed the powers behind us and fired a shot. Those smoke bombs are incredibly flammable, you shouldn’t be using them.”

Stan just laughed with the release of adrenaline and hugged his brother tightly. “Come on. The rest of the way is safe…probably.” It was Ford’s turn to laugh.  

The heat from the inferno in the spider room, now turning it into a literal room from hell, escaped through a series of vents in the stonework and erupted out to the surface. The same fox from before jumped directly into the air with all four feet when a gust of warm air puffed across its tail. It brought its body low to the ground and thought about going back to bed.  

Ford and Stan walked along the hall that opened up as it went, ending in a tubular room with a circular door at the end. The walls were again covered in murals. Most prominent was a yellow-eyed dragon and a procession of people worshiping it. The eyes made him uncomfortable. And it had everything to do with the fact that he had to fight to keep his vision his own.

Ford was snapping pictures like a paparazzi catching a celebrity in the nude, and grinning widely. Stan just made his way over to the door and peered at the markings in the center; ignoring the face of the yellow-eyed dragon glowering at him. His vision shifted momentarily, looking at the top of his own head and Stanford taking more notes behind him. He placed a hand on the door and shook his head to return his vision to normal. He blinked a few times and rubbed his fingertips on the bronze disk at the center of the door. There were three holes and a semicircle blob that almost looked like a foot print.

Stan pulled the bronze claw from his pocket and inspected the underside. There were scuff marks on the pad of the foot and on the tips of the claws. A key?

“Hey” He called out to Stanford, using is free hand to wave over his shoulder.

“A dragon’s claw for a key?” He adjusted his glasses. “Unusual choice. Though depictions of dragons were revered as beings of great strength and power in Viking culture. The structure of this chamber seems to indicate this was done deliberately. Enemies would find it alarming and hesitant to go further and allies would see a welcome protector. Brilliant design. And the door is unusually intricate. It must have been designed to protect something exceedingly significant.” Stan perked up at Ford’s suggestion.

“Significant like treasure?” He couldn’t help the toothy and predatory grin from enveloping his face, his eyebrows waggling up and down. Ford rubbed his chin and returned Stan’s grin with a smug one of his own, “Could be. It could also be a pile of scrolls and books with more glyphs to study.” Stan frowned. “Way to be a buzzkill, Poindexter.”      

Ford just chuckled and took the claw from Stan and fitted it to the grooves in the door, “Well, only one way to find out.” The claw fit perfectly. Ford turned the claw counter clockwise until he felt the lock resist him, before turning it back to the starting position. The door jolted, and both brothers stood back as it sank into the floor with a stutter, Ford having kept hold of the claw. They stood, quiet exhilaration and trepidation coursing through their veins. “Ready?” Stan asked. “Always,” was the reply as they passed through the gateway to the unknown.

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Chapter 1