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lacroxton · 1 year ago

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Automatic Autonomic Automated Vending Machine

One of my favorite fics I wrote and also the first translation I tried. Inspired by Cyberpunk 2077, Death Stranding and Atomic Heart, it's a story about freedom, promises and the post apocalypse Terra with Vending Machine Exusiai & Messenger Texas.

Warning: Blood and Gore

Once there was a flood; A surge that gave birth to all life. Once there was a flood; A surge that selected our civilization to survive. And then there was another flood.

The flood that left nothing behind.

Later that night, Texas opened her eyes and saw two men staring at her bed, clutching a hoe and a harpoon respectively. The harpoon's tines touched both sides of her neck, and the soon-to-be murderer was tense and shaky. Texas wasn't sure whether the corners of his compressed lips were laced with excitement because the moonlight was too faint to cast a shadow.

She and Exusiai originally came to this church to escape the sandstorm. The journey to Laterano passes through vast wastelands—places that had never been favoured by Mother Nature, and would never be transformed into mobile cities. The whole world had forgotten them, but God still allowed them to survive, so the people were left with nothing but faith. They gathered together, lingering in groups of three or five, praying. No one knew what they were praying for, but they were confident that a miracle would happen one day.

It was at this time Texas and Exusiai pushed the door in. As luck would have it, this small self-rescue community had just vacated a few beds. Last week, a man had died of a hyena's sharp teeth; a mother and her daughter had died from picking poisonous sandfruits. If the food in the warehouse didn't replenish soon, everyone here would starve to death. Exusiai hence made a proposal: to exchange three nights of safe and sound sleep with hot, yummy meals.

At first, people questioned whether this was some kind of originium arts or tricks unleashed by Texas. They had never seen anyone travel with a vending machine, let alone a talking, enthusiastic, joyful vending machine. The flashing pixels would form an image of a redhead Sankta on the machine's square screen, with up to 24 combinations of facial expressions and an excellent sense of humour beyond the human level. Of course, these extra "add-ons" were shenanigans Exusiai came up with just to sound a little bit cooler. Based on her polymeric converting system, her most crucial core function was actually INSTANT COOKING : you can put any raw materials into the ingredient slot, select the recipe and wait for a few seconds; gourmet foods full of umami will instantly drop out and ready to serve. Wilted rice cobs become hearty rice balls, and expired tuna cans become creamy bowls of tuna soup. If you put in a few shrivelled berries, even the melt-in-your-mouth desserts will no longer be a luxury. Exusiai fulfilled everybody's wishes with a big smile: the first day, and the second day, until eventually, no one questioned her or their own stomach. They praised: these are the best food we have ever eaten in our lives; these are the evidence that God has come to save us.

And that was also why they would never allow the precious happy hour to come to an end. Selfishness let greed swell and fester in their hearts, finally, on the last night, they decided to take possession of Exusiai for themselves and leave Texas to Death.

Luckily, Texas had been acquainted with Death for so many years. The harpoon that choked her could've bounced off the bed, projected back the way it came, and quickly pierced the murderer's heart whenever she wanted. The guy holding a hoe beside him was even skinnier, and wielding an unfamiliar weapon in panic could only backfire. Inertia would cause that weak body to trip over the bricks behind him, inadvertently knocking over a bright oil lamp on the way, until drowning the entire church into a roaring fire.

But before all this could happen, Exusiai's voice drilled into Texas' ears. Texas tilted her head and saw the screen of Exusiai still showing a smiling face; her voice still sounded warm and joyful. She asked those two guys, and everyone in the room who pretended to be asleep: Even if you've taken me for yourselves, how do you know they won't eradicate you the same way they eradicate Texas? How can you be so sure that the fairness everyone promises will indeed be fair?

......We can get through anything as long as the Lord stays with us! Nobody could tell who shouted first in the darkness.

Is that so? Another voice came up, however, retorted, you don't think putting on this face will help you cover the fact that YOU are the thief who steals from the warehouse every chance you get, do you?

As it turns out, people's beliefs are often more vulnerable to suspicion than they could ever imagine, just as fragile as their relationships with each other.

Like something important had suddenly dawned on him, the harpoon was removed from Texas' neck and then dragged slowly toward the tall man guarding the warehouse. The hoe guy also clenched his teeth, turned to aim at the old man lying under the window who always got pardoned from labour duties due to health conditions. Their movements ceased to tremble, so the stone effigies around the church were soon stained with blood. In the midst of yelling, cursing, and killing each other, no one bothered to care that this was a place blessed by God anymore, leaving only dead bodies and pieces of flesh twisted ugly on the floor.

Then, Exusiai selected a few freshly slaughtered tenderloin, had Texas put them in her ingredient slot, removed the bones, and grilled them on both sides to make black pepper patties: crispy outside, juicy inside. Her body wasn't equipped with a gustatory system, therefore couldn't taste anything, but she hoped Texas would like it.

Such a shame it ended so soon. Exusiai's vocal compartment created a series of chewing noises. I was kinda looking forward to watching Texas fight over me.

There was no need for that. Texas divided the patties into equally small pieces with her originium sword, then sealed and packed them into a leather pouch—which would be her sole food supply for the next two days. If you're willing to go with them, she said, I won't interfere much.

What if I'm NOT willing?

The pixels that make up Exusiai's pupils had narrowed, so that her eyes could scan every frame of Texas' movements, watching her light a cigarette by the remaining flame of the oil lamp.

The cigarette seemed to have damped too badly. Texas lowered her eyebrows in silence for a long time before finally exhaling the first puff of mist.

She thought for a moment and said to Exusiai, then I will guarantee your freedom.

For a long time, Texas couldn't be sure whether adding the word "freedom" to her vocabulary would be a change for the better. But, she must admit that ever since she met Exusiai, "freedom" had always been intertwining with her life.

When she thought back to that day, Texas' memory was already a little fuzzy. She hadn't eaten a full meal for probably five or six days straight, so hungry that she couldn't even spell out a word, and every breath of air she took only made her stomach emptier. Her car crashed far away, and her package was destroyed in a cave even further. At the end of the day, only half piece of hardtack was left in her pocket. But that was the last straw Texas could grasp. She couldn't eat it yet, not in such a rush. She just needed to find a roof in the ruins of this nameless city to rest for a while; so that when she woke up, the illusion sleep brings to her brain would allow her to hold on for another day.

Texas leaned against a broken wall covered in mud and dust. She knew no one would come to save her. No one would rescue a messenger who failed her mission. Not before The Silence , and sure not for fifty years after it. The only hope was the golden sunset shining on her cheeks; Texas exhaustedly shut her eyelids, wishing it would bring her a sweet dream.

Then it brought back a terrible chunk of brownie. And a very talkative vending machine.

Exusiai had so many things to say, as if she was trying to list out all the details that did and did not happen to her life in a single sentence. She said she hadn't met a living human for fifty years—spent thirty years drifting in the sea, and twenty years drying out on the land after the flood receded. The good thing for her was that Sankta's ancestors, Aggeloi, were a kind of inorganic swarming construct floating in space, which led the modern technology of Laterano to be waterproof, and not even have to rely on electricity. By solely absorbing cosmic radiation, Laterano machines could function perfectly under almost every circumstance; some newer models could also disassemble, reorganize, polymerize, and activate any substance on the molecular level.

By conducting hundreds of millions of calculations for armageddon, Sankta's God, the supercomputer under The Basilica, had ultimately decided that the Digital Life Project was the best option with higher success rates. Even if their paradise got annihilated by the Seaborns, and their primary network connection got cut forcibly—as long as a certain number of angels' consciousness was successfully uploaded, one day, the Sanktas would return to their homeland and continue the Laterano civilization.

Exusiai was one of them.

Her consciousness was uploaded to a vending machine, which had no mobility whatsoever, nothing but to lie on her back in the ocean currents, looking up at the sky. Therefore, Exusiai had only been to places where the wind took her. The seawater licked her metal surface and plated it white with infinite waves of salt. Time has never been slower than the years stuck between gears. The wait was too long for the Sanktas to maintain their sober soul; so far, Exusiai had received 1099 neural signals from the other machines shutting themselves down—signals of solid, mutual emotions constructed by the shared memories of Sankta, which is also the confirmation of the very faith of being alive.

Every time these signals dissipated, it felt like some dull, gloomy, lifeless light spots distantly fell across the horizon. But Exusiai was looking up at the sky still. Waiting, expecting, humming while counting the seconds, and fifty years passed just like that.

Until Texas' elbow accidentally touched her button.

Exusiai said she had nothing else to give Texas as a courtesy for their first meeting, and her ingredients, the residue of fruits and dirt dropped inside her slot during all these years, were barely enough to make a brownie. It's probably gonna taste bad as hell, Exusiai added, but at least you wouldn't die from eating that.

Texas wolfed it down almost immediately. She was so, so hungry that her tastebuds no longer distinguish between good and bad, mistaking the sweetness of blood in her saliva for a chocolate flavour. She even ripped off a couple pieces of skin on her mouth as she rolled down the grassy crumbs with her teeth.

Then she licked the corners of her dry, cracked lips and asked Exusiai why would you save me, using a voice as hoarse as broken bellows.

Simple. Said Exusiai, scrutinizing the employee name tag on Texas' chest. The plastic seal was severely scratched, and so did Texas' entire body, as it was tattered and torn, revealing scabbed wounds on her shoulders and tail. I need a messenger to get me to Laterano.

But verbal promise never equals trustworthiness, Exusiai. Texas could feel the thirst now; taking carbohydrates all of a sudden with a flimsy stomach wall apparently triggered some acid reflux up to her throat. For example, I might promise you first, then drop you in the middle of nowhere halfway through.

It's your freedom to do what you want, Texas. Just like it's my freedom to trust a starving ghost lying next to Death. Exusiai didn't tell Texas what she really trusted was a pair of eyes that couldn't lie.

Then what? Texas asked. Those eyes lit up for a rare second. After I get you to Laterano?

Then a REAL piece of strawberry shortcake, of course. Said Exusiai. But if I'm in a good mood, I might also be merciful and share half of it with you.

The Lupo without a home and the Sankta without a human body had been on a long journey together ever since.

The vending machine's weight was lighter than expected. Texas quickly scavenged some iron parts and fabrics from the wreckage of the surrounding buildings; Exusiai's polymeric converting system then polished them into a brand new cart with four wheels and two strong straps. Using the rest of the materials, she even tailored a new set of well-fitting clothes for Texas. It was still a long, long way from Laterano, so they spent the daytime walking in sunlight and nighttime under the tarp by a campfire. When Texas fell asleep, Exusiai would dim her screen and lay on the ground, counting the stars.

Exusiai also cooked many, many meals for Texas. From burger and soda combo to fettuccine alfredo, from apple cheese tart to creamy mushroom soup, the chef's recommendation never repeats itself. Although the truth was, these were the foods that Exusiai wanted to eat the most, and yet she couldn't, so sending Texas to collect different ingredients and cook them was the only effective placebo for her cravings. After Texas finished a dish, Exusiai would also force her to comment on it, as if she were some kind of a regular cast on a cooking show.

Texas remembered she had watched something just like this on an old VCR when she used to eat earthworm burritos and cricket jerky back at the shelters in Columbia. That show must be about 60 to 70 years old, even older than The Silence , and the person in front of the camera with a microphone, known as the host, would use a crazy amount of fancy words to describe whatever dish served to her. In the same way that "a steak without wine isn't a good steak," all of the diners captured on screen must also demonstrate an exaggerated nodding, smiling face as if the deliciousness has blown their mind away. Nobody ever found out if those foods were indeed that delicious.

However, Exusiai's 24 pixel combinations didn't allow for such precise facial expressions. Her screen would only display a progress bar below her complacent grin—accompanied by a short piece of electric punk music that runs way off-key at the end of the bar. She was clearly neither a good host nor a good singer.

Texas, on the other hand, was neither a critic nor a liar. So she simply rated every single dish Exusiai cooked her as "tasty".

Time flew by, and they met many other people along the way, leaving new stories with new encounters. Although the flood had receded for twenty years, it was still hard for people's hearts to sprout again from the barrenness. At first, they were tormented by the never-ending hunger and fear. Then, they spent countless days and nights tearing down the fortress besieged. Finally, they returned to the surface, only to find out they must work even harder to keep themselves alive. Everything else was torturous, only the stories were glamorous, so people immediately embraced a new faith. These stories then spread further and further through the winds of the wilderness.

When the neural signal of the last Sankta's death had reached Exusiai, people started praising again: a newborn God had come to this world. God is among the machinery, with a grey wolf guarding her side. Wherever they go, there will be no worries or troubles; Wherever they stay, that place shall be the home of all joy.

People voluntarily elected the talking, enthusiastic, joyful vending machine to wield the sceptre of salvation for all mankind.

The only remaining Sankta therefore walked on earth, stretched her wings and halo, as she had become the living Laterano.

Sadly, the results of being at the center of attention were often mixed between good and bad, Texas was well aware of that. As many people accept their existence, there will only be more people coming after them, and that's how every story ends. Whenever God seems to tilt the scale to one side, those who desire to be favoured but have not been granted will automatically gather on the other side. The center of the scale is engraved with war. No one ever realized that wars have always arisen from people themselves, and have nothing to do with God, nor with Exusiai.

But Texas was not the type to guess at people's hearts. Whatever side people showed her, she would believe it until they betrayed her. That's why Texas was always covered in blood. Mostly from other people, occasionally from her own, with the crimson slicing her forehead open, drenching her hair and burying her heavy eyelids. Exusiai stood just behind her, acting as a solid wall, letting crimson handprints blend into her crimson metal. That wall was uncomfortable to lean on, and it was even colder to the touch than stone bricks, but the key selling point was that the wall could tell a lot of corny jokes. Exusiai's excellent sense of humour put Texas at ease.

While waiting for Exusiai to prepare dinner, Texas unprecedentedly had a sweet dream.

The dream was of a certain cafe recommended by another cooking show. Texas had never been to a cafe, only seen it on videotape, so the whole place was covered with an old film-like filter. But Texas did drink coffee. She remembered the coffee at the shelter as a liquid very bitter, very sour, and very astringent with no aroma at all. Not sure why it was so popular other than it keeps people awake. Thinking that maybe real coffee wasn't like this, Texas ordered another cup of brew in her dream, but it still tasted the same. She frowned, and her tail froze briefly, only to be watched by her tablemate, stifling a laugh while letting out a long gulp of air.

Texas lifted her head up. The girl on the other side of the table looked like a Sankta, with a halo, wings, striking red hair, a cheeky face and beautiful eyes. Texas didn't think she had ever met this girl before. But the subconscious reaction of the brain soon let Lupo know that the angel in front of her was indeed Exusiai. Perhaps it was because she had a delicate piece of strawberry shortcake in her hand.

Then, Exusiai took Texas's coffee cup, tore open a few small paper sacks and plastic wrappings, poured sugar and milk into it, tasted it first, and stirred it evenly with a wooden stick. This time, Texas couldn't taste the bitterness anymore. It wasn't sour, wasn't astringent, and the coffee became nutty and sweet for the first time. A sweetness that Texas could understand.

Humans are supposed to eat together. Using a mysterious tone, Exusiai in the dream scooped off the corner tip of the cake and handed it to Texas. With a voice no longer being mechanically compressed, every expression and movement of hers was so smooth. Curious about this Exusiai's touch, Texas then reached one hand out to her and realized that Exusiai's skin was much softer than her own.

If there's no one joining the table, Exusiai stopped for a while, even the best food could be unappetizing.

Texas had to admit that Exusiai was right. She realized with hindsight that her tastes had sweetened over the time being with Exusiai—she even seemed to have become a little bit like Exusiai, with a pleasant glimmer of expectation for tomorrow.

She hoped, when they arrived at Laterano, that half piece of strawberry shortcake would be just as good as the one in her dream.

Texas woke up, only to find herself lingering in that same dream once again. The light of dusk stung her eyes. She tried to stand up, but the sharp pain and exhaustion coming from all parts of her body kept tugging her down, making her realize that struggling was nothing more than a futile waste of time.

So she had to strain to roll her eyeballs and hold open her blood-slicked vision, looking around.

She was surrounded by broken statues and marble columns. Collapsed church steeples in her far distance; scarred stained glass windows and stone arches in her near distance. The building's unusual solid structure caused one-third of it to survive the devastating crash from The Silence , whereas the other ruined two-thirds had the setting sun spilling in, wrapped around by gravel.

Texas leaned against a pure, white forest. Her memories were finally starting to flow again, which was a good thing, but what wasn't so good was the large amount of viscous blood gushing out along with it. She looked down, and the bleeding holes in her body then followed suit, loosened and gurgled like a dying crimson brook, one bubble after another. Texas's clothes were tattered and torn again. Only this time, the murderers were more skillful than ever. They had waited with more cunning and purpose, laying an early ambush around Laterano, armed at military grade enough to suggest that the still-functioning secret government had sent them on this mission. Texas couldn't quite understand why a force of this size had still yet to be used on rebuilding mobile cities.

And of course, none of that mattered anymore. The crushed arm, the thigh impaled from the crook of the knee, the ripped-open liver and intestines brushed by the warm wind, none of those things mattered anymore. Texas moved her tongue laboriously, letting the blood slide across her tastebuds with her weak breath. What mattered was that she couldn't taste anything any longer.

She lost her mobility, lost her sense of taste, lying on her back, looking up at the sky, and became just as wretched as Exusiai. Texas apologized for the half piece of cake. She poked out a few fingers, broken but barely retaining the sensation, and started touching the ground, searching for the metallic surface that made her feel at peace. Her colour had long been redder than the paint on the vending machine. But Exusiai didn't say a word. She stood quietly beside Texas; as if she was just a solid wall.

Their story was never supposed to end like this.

The Sankta had sung all the songs she could, told all the corny jokes she had, and made all the food she was able to, but the Lupo right in front of her wasn't getting any better because of it. Even though Exusiai's screen clearly possessed 24 different combinations of expressions—no matter how often she switched these pixel arrangements, none of them could accurately convey the absurdly huge sense of powerlessness that had descended upon her. She judged that her internal programming had made an unfixable error, or how else would she have only learned by now, that waiting for someone to die had turned out to be so hard.

Let's just......go with the joyful face then. Texas said softly, sounding like a dimming bonfire.

Then the joy returned to Exusiai's screen. She saw the corners of Texas' mouth lift gently upward as well—Texas looked so pretty when she smiled. Exusiai thought to herself, that if her happiness could make Texas happy too, she wouldn't mind being happy forever. She just felt confused at the same time. If Texas actually died, but there was no empathy link between Lupo and Sankta, hence no light spot belonging to Texas falling across the horizon—then how exactly should Exusiai mourn her?

But Texas had made her choice long ago.

She held onto the vending machine's shell, fingers sluggishly climbing upwards, bit by bit until she reached Exusiai's ingredient slot. Having the ability to polymerize and reorganize any substance meant that, even without the supercomputer's core connected, Exusiai could recreate her original body anytime, free of mechanical constraints, if she just used a living human of comparable mass as blueprints and raw materials. Texas had known that from the beginning. She also knew that the fact Exusiai had never brought this up, was because they promised to go to Laterano together. For the cake, apparently.

A pair of eyes that couldn't lie and a mouth telling only the truth. The same goes for both Exusiai and Texas. So, Texas chose to honour the other promise she made to the Sankta.

......Eat me up, Exusiai. One of Texas' arms stuck into the vending machine, and the other encircled the shell. She finally managed to straighten her neck, then pressed her groggy head against the conversion button, shivering, face turning sideways. As the soft Lupo ears snugly against Exusiai's hot metal surface, all she could hear was the creaking sound of mechanical parts and the off-key music singing "now processing" to the air.

I WILL GUARANTEE YOUR FREEDOM.

The human in the story closed her eyes in relief and chose to give God a hug.

Exusiai's gears mashed through Texas' young body at full speed. Hair, flesh, organs, and all different kinds of bones. In the iteration of death and rebirth, the piercing roar flew over Texas's lightly scratched ulna, half-healed ribs, worn-out cartilages and spiderweb-cracked femur......But without any exception, every bone of her was holy white, the same colour as those sun-bathed stone tiles on the dome of the Memorial Hall. They were reduced to pieces in unison with a short notification tone, becoming sustenance for Exusiai, light and airy, just like the last bit of frosting sprinkled on a dessert.

As the remnants of the secret operation squad scoured the ruins, the bloodied Lupo with two originium swords had already disappeared. Instead, a true Sankta with wings and halo pointed a pitch-black rifle at their nose.

Sankta's hair was striking red.

Sankta's eyes were beautifully shined.

Yet in this golden sunset, no one could truly see Sankta's face.

Exusiai could never figure out, why they had such a look of fear on their faces when she simply just returned all the arrows, bullets and originium arts back to where they belonged?

Unfortunately, the only Texas who knew the answer to that question could no longer answer her. It was as if Texas had never been born on this earth—and no one, no one except Exusiai, knew about her name, her past, or her future. The last thing left to prove that she had existed, was the tattered and torn clothes on Exusiai. The gift that Texas had worn for a long, long time, and now it had finally been gifted back to the owner.

The sunset had come to an end.

In the long night, Exusiai tucked her hands into her pockets, dragging her narrow shadow forward, alone.

Ahead of her, was The Basilica of Laterano that buried the supercomputer's core; And behind her, was nothing but a silent, barren, white and lonely land.

Strawberry shortcake didn't seem so delicious all of a sudden, Exusiai said to herself, thoughts interrupted by a small, firm chunk hidden deep in her pockets.

—Exusiai found the half piece of hardtack in Texas' jacket.

Doing her best to mimic the movements of Texas, Exusiai peeled off the outer wrapping and took a bite, chewing very, very slowly. Tens of thousands of taste signals on her tongue fed back to her brain, that it was "salty with a hint of sweetness". Perhaps sesame was also on the ingredient list, but time and the poor assembly line had far grounded away its aroma. It tasted hard and certainly dry, with crumbs flying everywhere in her mouth. Definitely didn't look good enough for an appealing advertisement.

But the flavour was so familiar. Exusiai thought, fingers rubbing against the fabric.

Till she eventually realized it was the flavour of being alive.

It was the flavour of Texas.

Exusiai then shed her first tear, declaring that hardtack was the most delicious food on earth.

END.

Lacroxton

#texusiai #ektk #Texas #Exusiai #arknights #arknights texas #arknights exusiai #post apocalypse

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blessedabove · 2 months ago

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As a seasoned travel journalist, I often found myself in the most unexpected of places, but my latest assignment to explore luxury travel destinations with a humorous twist had me embarking on a journey that promised both opulence and hilarity. My adventure began in the bustling metropolis of Tokyo, where the sheer scale of the city and its futuristic ambiance had me marveling like a wide-eyed tourist.

Of course, my trip started with the usual travel hiccup – my luggage decided to take a detour to Hong Kong, leaving me to navigate the labyrinthine streets with only a carry-on bag filled with the essentials: a camera, a notebook, and a single change of clothes. My first guide, Hiroshi, an endearing fellow with an infectious laugh and an inexplicable fascination with 1980s pop culture, introduced me to the finer points of Japanese etiquette. Despite his best efforts, I managed to commit a faux pas almost immediately by mixing up the words for “thank you” and “delicious” during a sushi dinner, leaving the chef both flattered and confused. The next leg of my journey took me to the romantic canals of Venice, where I met Marco, an ex-spy turned tour guide with a penchant for dramatic storytelling. Marco insisted on recounting his supposed espionage days in hushed tones as we glided through the waterways, although I suspect most of his tales were lifted straight from James Bond movies. My accommodations in Venice were nothing short of luxurious, a palazzo overlooking the Grand Canal, complete with a private gondola service. Yet, in a classic twist of irony, I spent one afternoon locked in the bathroom due to an overly complicated antique lock, only to be rescued by the hotel staff after a series of increasingly desperate and hilarious attempts to free myself.

I attended a traditional Balinese ceremony, where I accidentally joined the local dance troupe’s performance, much to the amusement of the villagers. In Rio, my attempts at samba dancing resulted in a near-disastrous collision with a fruit vendor, who graciously forgave me after I purchased an entire basket of mangoes. Throughout my journey, I met an array of fascinating characters, each adding a unique flavor to the tapestry of experiences. There was the retired British professor in Florence who insisted that I simply must try “the best gelato in Italy,” only for us to discover the shop had closed decades ago, leading to an impromptu tour of the city’s lesser-known ice cream parlors. And then there was the overly enthusiastic tour group in Dubai, who mistook me for their leader and followed me around the souks, hanging on my every word as I fabricated facts with the utmost confidence. My travels were not without their moments of introspection. In the midst of luxurious comforts and humorous escapades, I found myself reflecting on the universality of human experiences, the kindness of strangers, and the beauty of cultural exchange. Even as I navigated the occasionally absurd world of luxury travel, I realized that the true value of these journeys lay not in the five-star hotels or gourmet meals, but in the laughter shared, the stories exchanged, and the connections made across continents.

As my journey drew to a close, I found myself back in the comforts of home, armed with a trove of stories and a renewed appreciation for the world’s wonders and quirks. While my experiences had certainly not gone as planned, they had been all the more memorable for their unpredictability. From Tokyo’s neon lights to the tranquil Balinese temples, from Venice’s romantic canals to Paris’ culinary delights, my adventure had been a tapestry of luxury and laughter, a testament to the fact that no matter where you go, the journey is often more extraordinary than the destination itself.

#explore #money #rich life #Nice

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servicedapartmentsblog · 1 year ago

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Luxury Accommodation: A Taste of the High Life

In a world where everyday life is often a whirlwind of activity and stress, there is an increasing desire to escape the mundane and experience the extraordinary. Enter luxury accommodation, a haven of opulence and indulgence that promises to transport you to a realm of unparalleled comfort and sophistication. In this article, we delve into the world of luxury accommodation, exploring what sets it apart and why it's worth experiencing at least once in your lifetime.

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Luxury accommodation understands the importance of relaxation and rejuvenation. World-class spas and wellness centers offer an array of treatments and therapies designed to promote physical and mental well-being. Yoga retreats, meditation sessions, and fitness facilities ensure that guests can maintain their health and vitality while indulging in the lap of luxury.

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Beyond the opulent rooms and exquisite cuisine, Luxury Accommodation Colombo often offers exclusive experiences that set them apart. These may include private helicopter tours, guided excursions to cultural landmarks, or access to private events and performances. Such experiences allow guests to immerse themselves in the local culture and create lasting memories.

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For More Info:-

Luxury Three Bedroom Apartment

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casspurrjoybell-19 · 2 years ago

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CLAIMED - Chapter 38

*Warning: Adult Content*

Golden rays of bright daylight filtered through the air, illuminating each freckle on Beta Jaxson Ortiz's face in such a way that almost made Head Warrior Corey Cahill believe in miracles.

The cavity in his chest overflowed as he watched his Mate, a reflection of his heart and soul, playfully poke at his little brother, Theon Cahill.

"I think I need to take up eating dirt because I swear you make that shit look like a gourmet twelve-course meal," Jaxson grumbled through a smile, bending forward from where he sat between Corey's long legs to wrangle up the wandering infant and place him back onto the picnic blanket that they all shared.

The Crescent Falls Beta then used his thumb to coax Theon's tiny palm open, trying to intercept the fistful of dirt before the wriggling baby could bring it to his mouth.

Theon only squealed as he resisted the steal, lips curling into a giggle in front of toothless gums as if he thought it was a game.

Jaxson ground out a huff as he recruited his other hand to assist in battle.

"Goddess-dammit, since when did babies become Pro-Wrestlers,?" he cried, exasperated as Theon continued to effortlessly thwart his pilfering.

Corey could only chuckle, leaning back on his palms to savor the precious moment as glints of amusement flashed through his dark brown eyes.

No matter how much they both enjoyed the last five days they'd spent together, cooped up like hermits as Corey bred Jaxson like a beast atop every flat surface known to man, neither could deny that this breath of fresh air was a much-needed reprieve.

In fact, the very second that Jaxson's Pheromones simmered down to a level that didn't leave Corey popping a Knot at the mere whiff of him, the Beta was asking, no, demanding, to be informed as to the whereabouts of Theon.

It had taken all of thirty seconds, including a momentary backtrack in which Corey shoved one of his own shirts over Jaxson's nude form, for Jaxson to sniff the baby out.

He burst into Alpha Oasis Amador and Luna Berlin Cahill's quarters unannounced, limp-sprinting as fast as he possibly could over to the crib, before gripping the squealing baby to his chest so tightly that for a moment there, everyone thought that he might break him.

But when his arms softened, pulling back to pinch Theon's rounded cheek with watery eyes and a soft 'I missed you so much, bubba' it was obvious that the itty bitty infant already had the Beta wrapped up tight around his wee little fingers.

"He takes after his big brother," Corey responded, voice low, relaxed and playful.

He tilted his head and reached out a finger to jiggle Theon's juicy cheeks while Jaxson endured in his attempt to grapple the fist full of dirt away, letting out a few grunts in the process.

"In fact, I think that this little wrestler could teach us a thing or two about self-defense. Maybe he should start sitting in on Warrior Training with me every now and then."

Jaxson faltered in his war with Theon, hands going slack as he threw a disbelieving glance over his shoulder at his Alpha.

Corey felt the reprimand before he heard it.

"I fuckin' dare you to bring my baby anywhere near those goddamn training fields, Corey Cahill," he scolded, words laced with equal parts sass and threat. "Because I swear to the Goddess, if I find out he was within a fifty-foot fuckin' radius of those grounds, I will not hesitate to fill my asshole with cement and blue-ball you until your damn penis explodes."

Corey instantly cringed, pushing off of the heels of his hands to cling his arms around his Mate's waist.

Hunching over, he pressed his cheek into the nape of Jaxson's neck in apology.

"I apologize, my love. I promise that I will never suggest such horrendous things again."

Jax threw him a lopsided brow raise filled with so much paternal scorn that Corey, big, bad Alpha that he was, hunched even further down, hiding from the scold.

"Glad we could come to an agreement," the Pack Beta clucked before focusing his attention back down on Theon, who was busy munching down on a dirt-filled fist of victory. "Dude listen, your big brother nearly just scored a lifetime of chastity and a chancel to the forehead. You better tell him that if he knows what's good for him, he'll halt this reckless behavior immediate..."Jaxson froze mid-gossip, sputtering through a face full of gummy dirt as he goggled incredulously down at a madly giggling Theon.

The baby only stared right back up at Jaxson in response, eyes creased with amusement as he reached down to grab chubby little toes with newly emptied hands.

Corey, having scrounged up the courage to rest his chin on Jaxson's shoulder and take in the scene, vibrated against his mate's back with a genuine burst of laughter.

"That's what I'm talking about," the Alpha praised, untangling one arm from around Jaxson's waist in favor of reaching out and brushing a thumb against Theon's cheek again.

"Hey, stop brainwashing him," Jaxson smacked Corey's hand away with a playful glare before directing a desperate expression down to Theon, dirt still stuck to his eyelashes. "Quick Thee, tell him that I'm your favorite."

Theon only giggled harder, gumming at his big toe, and Jaxson faked a blanching expression through a giggle of his own.

"Eww. You know we only suck on our own toes in private, young man."

Corey's laughter died down to a chuckle, eyes still locked on Theon as he tilted his head to place a brief kiss on the side of his Mate's neck.

"What kind of mischief have you been teaching my little brother, Jaxon?"

"Oooh, nothing," Jaxson cackled ruefully, bending over to nuzzle his nose against Theon's chubby cheeks with a wide grin. "I only educate him on the most important things in life. For example, we recently finished up a very important lesson on the essentials of arson," the Beta blew a raspberry onto soft skin, and Theon screeched happily, "Insults for dummies," he moved down, repeating the action on Theon's soft, rounded baby belly with a wiggle of his eyebrows. "And best of all, Reasons Why Jax is the Best Uncle 101."

Corey's heart soared, sitting quietly as he watched Jaxson pour a slew of kisses over every inch of Theon he could reach and his baby brother squawk with joy as he patted happy hands all over Jaxson's face in response.

More dirt smeared around Jaxson's forehead and nose but the Pack Beta hardly cared, much more intent on smothering the infant with as much love as he could possibly convey.

It was such a perfectly imperfect sight that the Alpha found his throat filling with cotton, a tiny glimpse into the incomprehensibly beautiful mess of their lives, a glimpse into what they still had so much potential to become, rendering him motionless with thought.

Hearts thudding in a synchronous lullaby, Corey closed his eyes and Jaxson scooped Theon up, cradling his baby against his chest as he leaned into his sturdy mate and basked in the glossy luster of the balmy afternoon.

So much had changed in such a short period of time.

And while they had lost so much along the way, they had also evolved, learned and loved.

Cared, shared and cried.

And now, as Corey held his tomorrow in his arms, he knew.

"Goddess, Jax. I love you so much."

Jaxson paused, foregoing his newfound kiss attack on Theon to rest the crown of his head backward against Corey's chest, gazing up at his other half with a smile so wide that his eyes turn to slits.

"Oh, Corey..." he cooed as he snuggled in, heart aflutter, "I love you more, my giant, adorable little dingleberry."

Jaxson connected his lips to Corey's jaw before lifting his gaze back upright, only to settle it down onto the tiny being resting in his arms.

The Alpha shook his head with dissent, wholly disagreeing with his Mate's words.

There was no way that Jaxson could love him more.

Not when his entire existence bled for the happiness of his Mate.

His arms tightening, Corey cradled the two people who made up the fabric of his being as tightly as he reasonably could without turning them into a pulp.

"But... you don't understand," the Alpha whispered, throat coated over with layer after layer of emotion.

He would hardly ever be able to find the right words to encapsulate the power behind the surge of devotion that shot through him like a bow but he would certainly try.

"Jaxson, you drive me wild yet soothe my soul at the same time. Your voice, your touch, your strength, your existence, fills my heart with certainty and serendipity and desire and chaos and... and stardust." he breathed, confident that he wasn't making any sense at all but at the same time wholly unable to stop his heart from spilling out all over itself. “You blind me with totality, Jax and I need you. I hunger for your acceptance, your love, such that I tremble with it." his words were cotton-soft and dripped from his cheek along with the weight of a salty tear. "As a child, I used to pray to the moon. But Jax, my love, my gift... now you are the brightest star in my sky."

Silence fell like a thick layer of snow as Corey concluded his grandiose declaration, something much deeper than just love tugging at this chest.

The rustle of grass around their blanket, the occasional coo from Theon and the heat of his Mate's body were the only tangible proof he was still tethered to this earthly plane.

But eventually, after an endless delay, Jaxson reached up, wiping at his moist cheek with a sniffle.

"Yes," the Beta finally spoke, voice watery.

Now, it was Corey's turn to be confused.

"Umm... yes?"

Jax pivoted, a waterfall of tears leaving trails through the smears of dirt that still marred his cheeks, until he was finally eye-to-eye with his Alpha.

His Mate.

His Corey.

"Yes," Jax repeated, voice quivering with a joyful kind of certainty. "Yes, I will marry you."

Corey's vision went black around the edges, instantly hyperventilating.

There was no way.

No way.

The large man could have sworn that he was about to pass out right then.

If not from the barrage of disbelief and shock and awe and euphoria and whatever the hell else had taken hold of his soul and whipped it around on a wild bull ride, then from a shorting-out of every circuit of his being.

Blinking absently, Corey swallowed hard.

"Am I... dead?"

Jax giggled through his tears, rocking Theon gently when he began to fuss.

"You better not be, or else I'll have to get out my chancel again and punish you for leaving me at the altar.”

Corey blinked once more, every ounce of intellect stuttering to a halt as images, pictures, flashes of forever obscured his consciousness.

He could practically hear it, see it, smell it all, mini-Jaxes running around and hanging onto his shoulders, snuggling his neck, calling him Papa.

Waking up in a place he could truly call home as he led alongside the man who made his physiology weak, his mind buzz and his heartbeat take flight.

Even though his ears had certainly heard his Mate's words loud and clear, the Alpha's brain was still operating at zero percent as he opened and closed his mouth multiple times like a fish out of water.

Was all of that really within his grasp?

Or was this all some elaborate illusion that his mind had conjured up out of sheer desperation?

Luckily, JaXson had more to say, gifting Corey with much-needed extra time to reboot.

"I'll marry you," he repeated, setting Corey's bumbling brain back a few more seconds, "Under one... well actually, two conditions."

Corey nodded like a bobblehead, leaning forward to show that he was all-ears without having to reveal his lack of verbal capacity just yet.

If he spoke now, he was absolutely sure that it would be nothing but a jumble of incoherently emotional gibberish.

Yeah, it was definitely better to stay quiet.

At least until he could conjure up the willpower to stop replaying the fantastical sight of Jaxson round with their child over and over again in his mind's eye.

"First condition and the most important one," Jax smiled a watery smile, emerald irises radiant as he gazed down at the squirmy infant, pressing a kiss to tiny knuckles when Theon wrapped a hand around his pointer finger and held tight.

"We have to keep him." Jaxson states, looking up, eyes pleading. "We have to, Corey. I just... I feel like he needs me, he needs us," he says, glancing back down at Theon, tortured and withering. "And Goddess knows, I need him, too."

"It is done," the words fell out of nowhere, Corey's fizzling brain apparently only answering to Jaxson now.

The Alpha couldn't have cared less who his neurons belonged to right then, though.

Hell, Jaxson could scoop his neural tissue out and eat it like ramen noodles if he wanted and Corey would still be just as jovial as ever, ready to wait on him hand and foot just like the whipped, dipped and thoroughly tripped Alpha that he was.

"He has been ours for a long time now, I think."

"Oh, thank the Goddess," Jaxson couldn't contain his excitement, hand flying up to support Theon's head as he cradled his baby close to his heart. "I didn't know what I would do if you said no. Well, actually, that's a lie, I probably would have just stolen him and ran away to a place where no one would ever find me but I'm glad we don't even have to consider that option anymore," he sobbed a little through it but managed to finish off the half-joke.

For a second, he wondered if it was normal to feel this happy as Theon gurgled, merrily gumming away at his collarbone.

"We're gonna have so much fun, Thee. I'm gonna make you eggs in the microwave every morning and let you have whipped cream straight from the can every night. And Oh, I'll even take you on my three AM grated cheese doom quests with me. Oh, my little accomplice."

Corey reached out, unable to just sit by and watch as Theon and Jaxson snuggled.

He used both hands to caress the scalps of both of his boys, eyes soft and adoring.

"I think that he still has a few months left on formula before we can move on to whipped cream, pancakes and stove-cooked eggs, sweetheart." the Alpha made sure to gently allude to the fact that microwaves were not a worthy cooking device for such a food item, beginning to wonder if he would have to both baby and Jax-proof their future kitchen.

"But I am sure that once he is ready, he will love everything that you have to offer," Jaxson gasped, sustaining a sudden revelation at his Mate's words. "Fuckin' fish nipples on a stick, you're right. I still know fuck all about kids. Corey, we need books, we need classes, we need a goddamn doctor."

"Shh, we have time, Gift," Corey explains, squeezing Jaxson's nape, pulsing out soothing pheromones when he sensed his mate's anxiety flare.

Falling so effortlessly into action when it came to his mate's mental well-being was practically second nature to the Alpha at this point.

"Now, I believe that you said you have two conditions that I must fulfill in order to become your husband and I would very much like to attend to the second one or else I fear that I may never breathe normally again."

If Corey was being completely honest, breathing was far from the top of his priority list right now.

But he excused the fib anyway, as long as it kept his mate from deciding that he needed clinical help for choosing to prioritize fulfilling whatever side-quest Jaxson had waiting for him over fundamental biologic necessities.

"Oh."

Corey's redirection technique worked flawlessly as Jaxson dove right into his second request.

"Okay, so listen. I've tried really Goddess-damn hard not to be nosy about whatever it is you and Oasis are so clearly planning behind my back. But if we're gonna get married, then I have to know what kind of crazy shit you two are getting into and why in the hell I wasn't invited to the party, too."

Corey sighed as he squeezed Jaxson's nape once more, more for his own comfort this time.

He fixed his lips to tell the full truth.In all honesty, the Alpha had been avoiding the topic for a while now, a deep-set fear of rejection convincing him to put off telling Jaxson until he absolutely had to.

But now, after getting through the momentary delay of Jaxson's first heat, it seemed that it was time for him to face the music.

To call him something as one-dimensional as terrified would be an understatement.

But even through his multifaceted apprehension, the Alpha was still determined to give his mate the answers he not only wanted but also deserved.

"I apologize for not informing you sooner," Corey started off his explanation with an apology, brushing his thumb across his claiming bite that lay in the crook of Jaxson's neck.

After a long moment of hesitation, he lifted lead-heavy eyes, holding them there when the weight of what he was about to ask threatened to drive him straight down into the crust of the earth.

"But before I do, I must ask a request of my own."

Jaxson's smile faltered a little, thrown off guard by the sudden gravity in Corey's tone.

"Okay. What is it?"

Corey nodded, trying to encourage himself.

"Jax... All that I ask is that you do not answer the question that I am about to pose solely on a desire to appease me. Know that no matter what your response, I accept it with a joyful heart and a sound mind."

"Corey..."

"Gift, please," the Alpha's voice lowered, free hand reaching out to rest on Jaxson's knee as if requiring stabilization.

With a bereft sigh, Jaxson nodded, reaching out a hand and offering his littlest finger in his Alpha's direction.

"Pinkie promise."

Warmth bloomed like a perennial flower throughout Corey's chest as he remembered the first time they'd made this same type of promise to one another.

So much had changed since then but as he wrapped his own, much larger pinkie finger around that of his Mate, bringing it to his lips to bestow a kiss to the place where their skin met, the Alpha couldn't help but revel in the way the simple action marked the fulfillment of a past oath,and subsequently, the birth of a renewed one.

"Jaxon... I am an Alpha," Corey began, lips brushing their intertwined pinkies as he spoke. "And now, in the wake of my parent's passing and my subsequent... memory alterations, Oasis and I have both agreed that it is time for me to fully step into that birthright. I have been granted the deed to the land my parents once led and... I wish to erect a brother pack in their honor," he explained, forcing himself not to analyze the flurry of emotion flashing through the emerald irises across from him. "But, my love, I cannot, will not, think for a moment to do so without you by my side." Corey forced himself to push forward despite the twist in his gut, knowing that his next words were tantamount to determining the trajectory of the rest of their lives."My Jax... You are strong, you are capable, and you are fierce beyond measure. You constantly seek understand, to grow, and pursue life through laughter. And if you so choose to pursue this dream with me, those are all of the features that I would be honored to have in a Second."

Jaxson's eyelids fluttered, moistening with the dawn of cataclysmic understanding.

The Beta breathed in, the hollow of his neck straining inward with the profundity of it.

"Are you really asking..."

"Yes," Corey confirmed, not an ounce of hesitation present in his voice. "I am not only asking you to be my husband but also... my Beta."

In a split second, Jaxson's face shifted from stunned, to touched, to scrunched up with emotion.

And then, slinging an arm around Corey's neck so that he could yank his Alpha closer and bury his face deep into the larger man's shoulder, Jaxson devolved into a fit of weeps loud and wet enough to rival a hurricane.

"I'm gonna shit my pants," Jax sobbed and Corey reacted without delay, wrapping his Mate up tight in his arms before sliding the smaller man into his lap.

Theon giggled from his place squished up between the two, chubby hands reaching up to paw at their chins.

"You really want me?"

Tangling his fingers through Jaxson's bouncy curls, Corey could finally breathe the air of relief.

The oxygen around him even tasted different as all of the anxiety he had clung to over the past few weeks steadily trickled its way out of overloaded veins.

"No one else could ever compare," he reassured, voice smoky and true.

Jaxson wailed, blubbering some of the fattest tears he'd ever managed to conjure up in his entire goddamned life as he clung to his Alpha, fingertips gripping the neckline of the larger man's black t-shirt.

The foliage surrounding them rustled, as if ushered to life by the lucent display of the starry-eyed pair.

"F-fuck everybody else, Oasis can find a new Beta, I'm yours," he choked out between rattled inhales.

The words were abrasive, a direct reflection of the typical, unrefined manner that usually Jaxson functioned within, but even Corey had to admit that a rarely-occupied part of his primal brain hummed with satisfaction at his mate's blunt rejection of another Alpha.

The Beta uncoiled his hand from his Mate's shirt in favor of cupping Corey's cheek instead as he pulled back a few inches, the urge to witness his Alpha eye-to-eye overcoming him.

Jaxson was so downright adorable right then, curls an absolute mess and face blotchy with tears, that Corey had to bite his tongue to keep from launching at him.

"I want a giant bay window in our living room, the best-est nursery in the whole wide world for Theo, and an extra desk right next to yours so I can annoy you all the time," Jax rattled off the list as if it were rehearsed, pausing every few seconds to hark out another sob.

His eyes wandered, unable to keep still amid the wondrous bout of excitement.

"And... and I wanna exchange ring-pops at our wedding. I mean, fuck the diamond industry, amidite? Honestly, if I ever got a real ring, I would totally get some kind of cool-ass gemstone or maybe like a volcano rock or somebody's kidney stone. Ooh, I wonder if they sell any of those dope fuckin' space pebbles that those moon rovers always bring back from..." Jaxson's breath caught as his gaze finally shifted back onto his Mate and settled onto the item he held in a shaky hand, sentence dwindling to dust.

Corey held the glass jewelry box as if it were the most precious item on the planet as he presented it to his sputtering Mate.

The golden band shimmered with a genuine, antique sort of sheen in the sunlight and the emerald that sat, perched atop it like a shining beacon, reflected in Jaxson's eyes, potentiating the luster of his own, Veridian irises.

Corey's voice was as deep as ever when he spoke but an extra watery husk clung to his vocal cords the entire way through it.

"Jax, I will spend the rest of my life proving how much I love you. I want to build our life, our family, our whole entire world around your light."

Reaching up to grasp the freckled hand that still rested limply on his cheek, Corey pressed a kiss to Jaxson's palm before repeating the action on his ring finger.

"With this ring, I not only ask but plead for your hand," he paused, steeling himself for the most important part. "Please, Gift. Become Jaxon Cahill."

The Alpha's eyes swam with dewy moisture as he tilted his head, voice but a whisper.

"Marry me."

Jaxson had long come to the conclusion that nothing in life would ever be perfect.

But in this moment, with this ring, with this love that lurched up his throat and shoved a few more cries of disbelief from between his lips, he felt pretty damn close to achieving it.

The Beta's shoulders hunched, tears making little muted dripping noses as they plopped onto Corey's pants.

Then, choking on a smile, he held out a shaky left hand.

"It's not a ring pop or a kidney stone,but I think it'll do," he mused through intractable sniffles, watching as Corey's sweaty fingers carefully removed the ring from the box.

Time moved in slow motion as the Alpha brought it closer, closer and closer still, until a new weight on his fourth finger rendered Jaxon utterly speechless.

It was surreal, like they were floating in some kind of alternate dimension as, in a single, seemingly mundane afternoon, their entire universe shifted.

For a long time, all that Corey and Jaxson could do was just stare, holding one another tight as they gazed at the shining, emerald gem that fit so flawlessly on Jaxson's finger.

A gleaming symbol of their unbreakable union, the stunning piece of jewelry seemed like it was always meant to reside there.

They remained frozen just like that, trapped in their warm little bubble of joy, until a chirp-y squeal from Theon fetched them from their reverie and eased them back into the present.

The infant sat up in Jaxson's arms, chubby little hands latching tight to Jaxson's pinkie.

Then, he leaned forward, encasing his lips around Jaxson's ring and gumming down on the bright green emerald as if it were the tastiest meal on the planet. Both men fell into a whirlwind of laughter at the precious sight.

"Well, I guess someone still thinks it's a ring pop, huh?" Jaxson cooed with a chuckle, smiling bright enough to blind the sun.

He hiked Theon higher up in his arms so that all three of their faces would be parallel, face scrunching up as he bestowed a butterfly kiss to Theon's nose,

"Do you like it, bubba? Do you think Corey did a good job?"

"Hey," Corey's voice held a frown, although Jaxson could still sense the thrill of amusement behind it. "I am not Corey. I am your fiancé," he corrected, simultaneously grabbing both of his boys and tipping backward so that they would land comfortably on top of his wide chest.

Jaxson collapsed into the horizontal embrace with a squawk of amused surprise which quickly dissolved into gentle adoration as he watched Theon wriggle, mini palms smacking Jaxson's face and Corey's chest in tandem.

Little bubbles of drool popped beside Theon's smiling lips as he shifted his plan of attack, toppling over at the waist to copy how Jaxson lay with half of his face squished up against Corey's firm pec.

Making eye contact with his smaller guardian, the infant reached out a hand before smacking it down onto Jaxson's cheek once more.

"Da..." he squealed happily.

The two larger men exchanged awestruck glances.

"Wait, was that.." Jaxson started, aghast, only to be cut off by confirmation of his own question.

"Da-da..."

The scream that Jaxson unleashed echoed throughout the entire meadow.

"Oh, my sweet, beautiful, adorable, amazing, perfect baby," the Beta sobbed, squishing the tiny being against his chest with a paternal ferocity.

Corey looked on, arms encircling them both in a thick band of protection as he fought against pinprick tears of his own.

The newly formed family was a sight to behold as they rolled around on the picnic blanket until the sun fell low on the horizon, sharing kisses, exchanging touches and basking in the hope of the orangey-pink glow of early evening.

And somewhere deep inside, both Wolves, Dashiell and Luka howled with immeasurable pride as they gazed through their humans' eyes, glimpsing the final puzzle piece of the rest of their lives slip right into place.

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coopers-kitchen · 2 years ago

Photo

Ever since cannibalism became legal, a lot of classic American things have been making big business with special cannibalism-themed events, including rodeo.

This guy was born into a family of cannibals, so he quickly became one of the best longpig wranglers in the business. They’d grab some unwilling pig - either from the street or from the crowd - strip them naked, cover them in butter, then set them loose. They make it to the exit, they’re free, but if someone grabs them, they’re getting a nice, juicy longpig.

Sure, a few guys did make it to the exit, but when there’s a crowd of hungry cannibals you know they didn’t make it very far.

You can tell this guy’s good at what he does, but let’s face it - where’s the thrill? Not many guys got the upbringing he did, so he ended up taking four out of five hogs home, and coming back the next week a little wider. Hell, when you have access to so much free food, it’s natural to pig out.

I met up with the owner of the rodeo at Cannicon and he offered me $100k to put this pig in his place. He gets to make the show more exciting, I get a meal, this pig gets what he deserves - sounds like a good deal to me.

I visited the rodeo and made sure to introduce myself after the show. Even offered him a real gourmet - after all, he’d already caught the centerpiece.

We had a real gourmet meal, then the sleeping pills in his beer started to take effect. By the time he woke up he was caged up in the back of my truck on the way back to California.

Of course he protested - cannibals usually are when they end up a link down on the food chain - but hell, with a hog like this, you can afford to take your time.

I took his balls first, and let him watch while I ate them, commenting on the delicious taste. I swear his mouth was watering - oysters are a delicacy, he should know - then I kept him caged up for a while as I took him, piece by piece. Nothing helps a cannibal realize he deserves to be eaten more than tasting his own meat. By the time he was down his calves he was an eager housepig, pretty much begging me to take more, tempting me with his juicy thighs and big fat belly.

Well, good things can’t last forever. After a few months he was nothing but a torso, and he knew there was nothing more to taste. If I hadn’t already had a nice big cock dog, his dick’d be rock hard in anticipation when I transferred him to a beer only diet.

For this hog I picked an pineapple, longpork, macadamia nut, cherry, and barbeque spice stuffing - half up his ass, half down his throat. I saved some of his meat for the stuffing but there’s no way a pig this good is going to have enough meat left over to fill a gut that big. It’s rare to see a pig that eager to eat his own meat, knowing what comes next. After that it was just making him down a bottle of bourbon, slathering him in a bourbon-BBQ glaze, and impaling him on a spit. He squealed like a pig the whole time, but he still obeyed my instructions. stayed still, helped me guide the spit through his chest and up his throat, and opened up nice and wide as the metal pole emerged from his throat.

The amount of meat on this pig kept him alive and squirming for hours as he cooked, even as the smell of his roasting meat filled the garden. When it was finally time to dig in, the meat was juicy, delicious, and melt in the mouth tender. All those longpigs he’d eaten even before I took control of the diet just made him all the tastier.

Besides, the rodeo owner’s making more money than ever now that there’s more competition at the Longpig wrangling. Still, I made sure he knows who to call if he ever wants to spice things up again.

Want to help fatten this hog up for the lucky chef who gets him in his kitchen? His Pateron is https://www.patreon.com

#fat longpig #male longpig #gay longpig #dolcett #male dolcett #cooking vore #gay cooking vore #longpig spitroast

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forsworned · 4 years ago

Text

a mutually arranged attachment. (yoriichi tsugikuni x reader)

warnings » none in this chapter

word count » 2.7k

categories » f/m

chapters » one two four five six seven eight nine ten

relationships » modern college student au! yoriichi tsugikuni x f!reader

characters » mitsuri kanroji, shinobu kocho, yoriichi tsugikuni (obvi), muichiro tokito. michikatsu tsugikuni, tanjiro kamado, uncle keshi (oc), nezuko kamado

author’s note » lmfao i am so bad at updating but here ya go guys!!!

『© do not steal/repost my work w/o permission』

『♡』chapter three: drunk anniversary [part one]

It had been two days since you last saw Yoriichi. He had told you that he was going to be out of town until Friday and asked you if it would be an inconvience to you if you made an extra set of notes which you, of course, said it was not a problem. But you found yourself already missing his presence. Class dragged on later than usual and you were practically hauling yourself to chemistry.

"Are you okay, [name]?" Mitsuri pouted at you. It wasn't very hard to tell when you were upset especially when you were around your friends.

"She's just upset that Yoriichi is out of town and they won't have another study date." Shinobu teased poking your cheek. You stuck your tongue at her.

"Whatever. I just won't tell you about how I'm going to his family restaurant's anniversary then." You mused, copying down the formula from the board. Mitsuri and Shinobu's mouth went agape at your words.

"No way!" Shinobu was very much in your face fangirling and you used your hand to pry her face away.

"Oh, my God! Are you serious? What happened?" Mitsuri interjected excitedly.

"Well..." You trailed off. You were just edging them for pure fun at this point and they were fussing at you to spill. "Alright! Sheesh. He invited me to his family's restaurant 40th anniversary tomorrow night. Well, his uncle invited me and Yoriichi gave in so technically still an invitation."

"No freakin' way!" They cheered in unison which caused the entire class to stop what they were doing and glare at you three. Your professor simply sighed and a muttered a "as you were." as he got back to his novel that he was fully indulged in.

"Mhmm." You smirked as you scribbled into your notes and the girls right in your face again.

"You wanna know the best part?" Now, you were really edging them and they could just barely take it.

"Oh my God, please tell us we're dying." Shinobu was squirming in her seat which was something that Mitsuri would normally do. Funny how much you rub off of your friends.

"The women just sit back and relax while the men chef it up in the kitchen and he's going to be back there cooking gourmet meals for moi." You were only kind of exaggerating. He did say he knows how to cook and well technically he was cooking for you, so not really a lie.

"[name] why did you wait this long to tell us? We literally had movie night last night you could've spilled!" Mitsuri pouted at you.

"I know right. She is such a tease." Shinobu smiled slyly and you knew she was going to say something awfully dirty. "I bet he'll really like that side of you, [name]."

Your cheeks pinkened as you fussed at her wanting to flick her forehead but she evaded every one of your attempts. She always knew how to get under your skin.

"Shut up, Shinobu. Anyways--"

"Anyways, we need to get a super hot outfit for you." Shinobu interrupts you. You frowned at her.

"It's a family event, idiot."

"Yeah, maybe it wouldn't be such a great idea to dress so sexy." Mitsuri said in a concerned tone as she looked over at the both of you chewing at her nails.

"Ugh, fine then let's go for super cute." Shinobu scoffed. "But, we're picking it out for you."

"Ooo! Yes, I second that! We should go right after class."

You groaned and rolled your eyes. "Fine, but nothing too showy or revealing or too short."

Shinobu is quick to flick your forehead and you shoo her hand away."Uh, duh. That's why we said cute, not hot. But for your first date we're definitely making you go smokin' hot."

Mitsuri clapped her hands together and beamed at the both of you brightly as her and Shinobu discuss the details of your outfit. You drowned out their mundane conversation as you worked on your lab report. Something about 70's chic and a mini skirt? You shook your head. You could only blame yourself. After all you did choose to update them about things.

"Oo! This is so cute. Try it on [name]!"

You eyed the outfit that the pair had spend nearly an hour on as you sat in the dressing room playing Candy Crush on your phone. It was very much "70's chic" as Shinobu had put it. A long leather burgundy jacket, midi floral dress and a white turtle neck was shoved in your face.

"I think this is very you, don't you think?" Shinobu tilted her head at your questioningly as she looked from the outfit to you.

You nodded your head impressed as you took the fabric in your hand to look at the back and front of the dress. "Yeah, I actually think it's really cute."

"Yes!" The pair cheered in unison. After several attempts of mixing and matching outfits they finally earned your approval.

"You have calf high boots right?" You heard Shinobu ask as you gaze at the material a little more.

"Yeah, they match pretty well with this jacket." You looked at the both of them and smiled. "Thanks, guys. I really appreciate this."

Your friends "aww'd" as they shared a hug with you. As annoying as they were you found comfort in them that you really couldn't find in others. It was nice to have friends that wanted to see you do great in this world.

. . . . . ✦ * 　　 ✦ . 　⁺ 　 .⁺ 　　 ˚ • . . ✦ ･ . ✦

"Why, can't I find my--"

"Your favorite lipgloss?" Shinobu holds up the item in her hand as she sat on your bed.

"Oh, yes thank you." You reach out to take it but instead she unscrewed it and applied it your lips making a lip rubbing motion for you to copy which you did.

"And my--"

"Perfume, right here." Mitsuri holds up the vial and you smile at her.

"Thanks, Mits." You reach out to take it from you but she apply it to your pulse areas for a longer lasting scent.

"Okay, now,"Shinobu reached out to fluff your hair in all the right places before smiling at you. "you're done."

"You look beautiful." The rosette beside her cooed as she took your hand in her soft ones.

"And super hot--I mean super cute." Shinobu giggled and the both of you joined her.

"Thanks guys. I really appreciate this."

Shinobu quirked a eyebrow at you. "Even though you were almost completely against us ever being involved?"

You chuckled at her and ruffled her hair to which she shooed your hand away. Mitsuri was most amused at your interaction. "Yes, even though I almost kicked your asses to the curb."

Mitsuri looked at her watch. "Oh, you better get going! It's already 7. Do you want us to walk you there?"

You waved her off. "I'll be okay, don't worry. I know what Shinobu is thinking right now. Something along the lines of 'We need all the attention on you until you secure the bag.'"

The three of you laughed knowing full well that was definitely something she would say and she wasn't wrong. You didn't want any other distractions tonight. You wanted it to be about you and Yoriichi and nothing else. Not like it was hard getting to this point but, boy, did it feel like it was dragging.

"Ok, well, off I go." You smiled as you grabbed your bag and began to head out. Mitsuri and Shinobu sent you off with words of encouragement and sexual innuendos to which you got a little embarrassed about, nevertheless, you were happy and excited to finally start your night and what awaited.

. . . . . ✦ * 　　 ✦ . 　⁺ 　 .⁺ 　　 ˚ • . . ✦ ･ . ✦

As you drew closer to the restaurant, festival lights and torches had lit up the street and the aroma of traditional japanese food filled the air. You immediately felt warm. It reminded you of your mother's cooking and you longed for something homecooked and comforting. Small groups of people littered the front of the doors and it was clear that they were all related to Yoriichi. All the same long hair and sharp eyes and if it wasn't one, it was the other. You could tell they were all from the same clan and it felt intimidating as hell. They shared the same Hanafuda symbol on the backs of their kimonos, shirts, earrings. Now that you think about it, you hadn't realized that the symbol was hanging up on the front of the shop. Was it always there?

Their eyes were all on you as you passed by, but instead of them harshly judging you or whispering about you to one another they all happily greeted you as if they knew you were coming. You were overwhelmed with the conversations that they were striking up with you, asking your name, major, what your aspirations were. It made you feel so warm speaking to them, like the same way you felt when you were with Yoriichi. It was like a small fire was igniting in the crevices of your chest and it was only blooming the more and more you were indulging.

Currently, you were speaking to two siblings that went by the names Tanjiro and Nezuko who behaved entirely way too mature for their own ages. You were amazed at how much you could relate to with the both of them and how well spoken they were.

"Oh, how rude of me! I made a bunch of senbei to pass out and I didn't even offer one to you." Tanjiro smiled at you as he offered you a small bento box with what seemed to be senbei, rice and mixed vegetables. Your mouth went into the shape of an 'o' as you were surprised he would even offer such a thing.

"Oh, I couldn't." You shook your head.

"Tanjiro, makes the best food! Please enjoy it, you won't regret it." Nezuko exclaimed cheerfully as Tanjiro rubbed the back of his neck in slight embarrassment.

"That's very sweet of you, Nezuko." He ruffled her hair and pushed the bento box towards you again. "Please, I insist."

Well, hell. Now you definitely had to accept. You sighed as you took the wooden box from his hand and began to try the food he made and you were pleasantly surprised. The look on your face had said it all because the siblings were giggling at you.

"This is damn good." You said as you stuffed your face some more.

"Told you!" Nezuko replied truimphantly as she crossed her arms and grinned at you. It made you laugh with how supportive she was of her older brother.

"This is your number one cheerlea--" You began to say, but the person you had been waiting all day to see passed by you and you nearly let your bento box clatter to the floor.

"I'll be right back, guys." You handed Tanjiro the bento box and jogged after the man of your dreams. Your hand lightly touched his shoulder and you smiled brightly.

"Hey, I've been looking for you all night." You breathed, but something didn't feel right. He simply stood there motionlessly, wordlessly. His head rotated slightly to look at you and you were met with eyes that seemed to be vacant yet menancing. Your heart dropped to your ass as you took back your hand and he turned towards you fully now.

"You've been looking for me all night?" The way he asked it didn't even sound like a question. It was a demand. He looked like Yoriichi in every single way, and yet he didn't. Your eyes trailed down to his body and you noticed the chest of his black button down had exposed his tattooed chest. A dragon etched into his skin was splayed intricately across his chest with layered chain necklaces at his collarbones. Every nerve in your body had screamed at you to leave, but you stood there like a deer in headlights. His glare was so overwhelming it was beginning to engulf you in fear and fatal curiosity. Was this your Bella Swan moment?

"[Name]! You made i--"

You somehow managed to break contact with the man in front of you to who you knew now was definitely Yoriichi. His expression dropped as he looked between the both of you. The tension immediately rose as he set down the tray of pastries he was holding onto the counter and stepped in front of you.

"What are you doing here." Yoriichi's voice was a cold as ice. It littered your skin with goosebumps as you gulped dryly. You realized as you stood there in internal panic that Yoriichi was speaking to his brother that you never even knew existed until today. Although, the situation clearly did not call for it, you felt a little betrayed that he had not told you that he had a twin brother. Relatives began to crowd around the three of you as you were now the main attraction.

"To get you." He replied back. You peered at him from Yoriichi and his eyes immediately went to you and you quite literally felt like you were going to shit yourself. Eesh! He was terrifying, yet almost just as captivating as Yoriichi. Well, they were identical twins from what you could tell at least, but his brother had a menancing yet alluring aura about him.

"I told you already. I am not going back."

His brother laughed humorlessly. "Tell that to father."

The word "father" sounded like venom. A clear threat that neither of them wanted to bring into the equation, and yet Yoriichi, much like his counterpart, was unmoving.

"I don't care. Leave." But his brother did not seem to care. He stood his ground and spoke to him just as gracefully with poison coating every word.

"He will be displeased with you, Yoriichi. Besides, you don't own this place."

Yoriichi closed his eyes in vexation. "Do not speak my name." He took a deep breath before continuing. "And you know that he gave this to place to Uncle Keshi and that you're banned from it. You've been banned for two years now."

His brother takes a step forward and you retreated behind Yoriichi again. "And who's fault is that?"

It was in that moment that Yoriichi's body began to tremble with anger, but before the brothers clashed, a familiar voice chirped in.

"Now, now. Let's be civil, yeah?" Uncle Keshi seemed to emerge out of nowhere as he stepped between the both of them cutting right through the tension.

Yoriichi visibly eased, but his brother on the other hand, his gaze was burning with fury and what seemed to be a mix of jealousy?

"Tell him he's not allowed here." Yoriichi speaks without looking at his uncle. Uncle Keshi sighed and then suddenly began to laugh as he scratched the back of his neck.

"Yeah, about that...I actually signed a truce with your father! We're back on good terms now!" Uncle Keshi clapped his hands together cheerfully, but Yoriichi's face only contorted into horror.

"You can't be serious?" Yoriichi stepped back. The look of betrayal written all over his face and you wanted so badly to hug him and tell him everything would be alright, but you barely knew him as it was.

"You don't like that me and your Uncle are getting along again, Yoriichi?"

That voice...It rang a bell, and yet, at the same time it didn't. Everyone turned in the direction to the man himself, but you were more focused on Yoriichi. However, instead of responding he lightly grasped you by the hand and led you two down the hall. Your eyes widened as he didn't seem to let go of you. The hallway seemed unending and you began to pick at your brain trying to find something to say, but all you could think about was how warm his touch was. His calloused hands were in yours and you didn't care where he was leading you. He turned to face you still walking with a smile that made your heart leap.

"Let's go somewhere where it's less crowded."

"A-and then--"

"I'll explain why I didn't tell you about my twin brother."

You opened your mouth to say something, but clamped it shut when he squeezed his hand in yours as if to reassure you and it seemed to work because your brain was leaving behind Yoriichi's familial mess. You wanted nothing more than this in that very moment. His hand in yours and your heart racing in your chest. He could lead you to hell and you'd still follow.

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aethelflaedladyofmercia · 3 years ago

Text

De Amore

My fic for @aceomenszine is finally available on AO3!

Aziraphale has come to Paris to find the answer to an important question: What's it like to be in love? Crowley's not sure why he wants to know, but he's willing to discuss it to make his angel happy. Full text below!

“What’s it like to be in love?”

Crowley stumbled to a stop on the Paris street, glaring at the angel beside him. Aziraphale stared straight ahead, walking with his usual expression: calm, poised, slightly arrogant. As if he were talking about the weather.

“Dunno. S’a human thing, isn’t it?” He scowled at a few gawking peasants, hurrying to catch up. “Romance. Lust. Sex. Nothing to do with us.”

“You could say the same of hunger, or exhaustion, or boredom.”

“Yeah, and I’d be right.” Crowley held out an arm to stop Aziraphale from walking directly into a produce cart. “Neither of us gets exhausted. You’re never tired, and I just like a good nap sometimes.”

“Really?” A flicker of that mocking bastard smirk. “How many nights did you sleep this past week?”

“Nrrg. Five or six, but that’s not the point.” They started walking again, Crowley tossing an apple he’d snuck from the cart. “I could stop if I wanted to — I’d miss it, but s’not the same as being tired. Same with you and eating.”

“But if I desire a food, so strongly I can already taste it, surely that’s…if not exactly hunger, a close approximation?”

“Don’t think so.” Crowley offered the apple, but Aziraphale shook his head. “Spend a couple days in the city, you’ll see what hunger looks like. S’not about pleasure or wanting a particular food. It’s need, desperation. And we just don’t experience that.” He tossed the apple towards a group of children, and a girl in a ragged dress caught it. “Boredom I’ll grant you. I’ve definitely been bored.”

“So, we might enjoy things as humans do, but never desire them the same way,” Aziraphale mused, smoothing his hands down the front of his stolen jacket. “But is love the longing for a connection with another, or the pleasure of that connection?”

“Doesn’t really make a difference to us, does it?”

He waited for Aziraphale to respond, but the angel simply continued walking, hands folded behind his back, eyes more distant than usual.

“So?” Crowley prodded after nearly a block in silence. “What brought this on?” Aziraphale shrugged. “Let me guess. Reading novels again? Sappy poetry? Getting…ideas?” He stepped ahead of Aziraphale and walked backwards, to ensure the angel saw his suggestive eyebrow wiggle. No response. Crowley shrugged, falling back into step. “Look, f’you want to try falling in love with a human, s’your business. Let me know how it goes. Just do it back in London, I don’t need that…drama getting back to my bosses.”

“That’s not it,” Aziraphale snapped, wringing his hands. “It’s not — it doesn’t even work that way, Crowley. Humans don’t just decide to fall in love!”

“They don’t cross an ocean and charge through a revolution for a snack, either.”

“Oh, never mind. Clearly you’re the expert here.” Aziraphale froze, glaring at a shop just ahead, and threw his hands up in disgust. “And now they’ve closed my favorite creperie! Why do I even bother? Might as well return to England and feast upon whatever lumpy brown bread the first tavern I pass serves.”

“Stop being dramatic,” Crowley hissed, turning down a side street and gesturing for Aziraphale to follow. “If you get locked up again, I’m not rescuing you a second time.” The angel’s lips twisted sourly. “Look, gourmet crepes aren’t really in demand right now, but I know a place. Might still be open.”

“I suppose that will have to do.”

Crowley rolled his eyes and glared at the sky, thin grey clouds veiling the sun. He should probably just let Aziraphale stew in his own sullen displeasure. Might even give him an advantage — a distracted angel was easier to outsmart.

But Crowley hadn’t been in the business of thwarting Aziraphale for over a thousand years. Why oppose each other, when they could work…not together, but in tandem? Ensuring all their duties were fulfilled, their paperwork properly filed.

It was better this way. Less fuss all around, less inconvenience. Pleasanter conversation. More time for trips to the theater or quiet meals, either of which was a far better way to spend an evening than any sort of elaborate espionage.

He’d been looking forward to griping about his job over a mug of cider while Aziraphale worked his way through a plate of crepes, smiling and wiggling in his seat. Watching Aziraphale get excited over something was, in Crowley’s opinion, one of the best ways to pass the time.

Only the conversation had left Aziraphale annoyed, pouting and…Crowley studied him carefully, dark glasses imperfectly hiding his eyes. More than anything, Aziraphale looked hurt. A sight that always made Crowley’s stomach twist painfully.

He sighed, tossing back his head. “‘Love is an inborn suffering, proceeding from the sight and immoderate thought upon the beauty of another, for which cause above all other things one wishes to embrace the other and, by common assent, in this embrace to fulfil the commandments of love.’”[1]

“I beg your pardon?”

“Look, I don’t know. You asked me—!” Crowley walked faster, face growing hot. “It’s from some old treatise, right? Love, he says, is seeing someone beautiful and wanting sex. Then, when you have your fill…” he waved his hand vaguely.

“I see.” Aziraphale adjusted his sleeves. “I suppose that…makes sense.” But he still looked grim.

Up ahead, not quite along their path, stood one of Paris’s parks, gates now open to the public. Apart from some rubbish cluttering the entrance, it seemed well-maintained. Crowley tipped his head, inviting.

Aziraphale’s eyes lit up and he nodded, the first hint of a smile on his face. It always made Crowley feel light, that smile, however briefly it appeared.

They wandered in silence up the path, lined by trees here, flowerbeds there. Leaves had turned yellow and the grass was edged with brown, but the roses were still in bloom. Crowley paused to pluck a particularly well-formed bud.

As they crossed a bridge over a small watercourse, Aziraphale suddenly said, “Do you think it’s true, though? That — that treatise? Because it rather sounds like he didn’t see any difference between lust and love.”

“Mmh.” Crowley paused, gazing downstream, where a group of ducks swam contentedly. “As a demon? Yeah. Fits the party line. Humans don’t think of anything but their own pleasure, always wanting what they don’t have. Jealous, possessive, until something better comes along. Then it starts all over. If love and lust aren’t the same, well, they’re pretty close, right?”

“I see.” Aziraphale stepped beside him, holding out his red cap, now filled with grains of barley and cracked corn. They each took a handful and tossed it down. The ducks swam over eagerly, bobbing to catch the seeds before they drifted away.

“But as a being who’s been in the world nearly six thousand years?” Crowley threw another handful, then leaned against the railing, crossing his arms. “Not so sure. Humans do too much that can’t be explained by simple pleasure. Besides, I’ve seen what they do when overwhelmed by lust, and what they do when overwhelmed by love and…dunno. S’not the same.”

More handfuls of grains as a second group of ducks approached.

“What d’you think, Angel?” Crowley prodded. “Must be something in all those books you read.”

“Oh, quite a lot,” Aziraphale assured him. “Much of it contradictory. Many poets will only talk about their beloved’s face, or eyes, but if it were simply a matter of beauty, surely everyone would fall in love with the same beauties.”

“Sometimes they do.” Crowley rolled some seeds between his palms. “S’where the jealousy comes in. But yeah. Gotta be more to it than that.”

“I hope you’re not planning to make those poor ducks sink.”

“What? Nk — no. Course not.” He threw the grains down and the ducks quickly swarmed, turning bright shades of pink and blue and violet as they ate.

“Crowley.”

“Oh, it’s not hurting anyone.” He glanced sideways to see Aziraphale pressing his lips together, struggling not to smile. Grinning, Crowley tossed down more enchanted grains. “Go on then.”

“Hmm? Ah, yes. Well, the overall impression is that love is…transformative. Changes the way one thinks and feels at all times. They speak of, oh, the sun shining brighter, foods tasting sweeter, winter blossoming into summer. Metaphors. Others speak of — of attraction, quickened pulse, sudden heat and so on, but that’s a passing thing, part of a — a particular moment of closeness. Surely, no human could maintain such a state for an hour, never mind weeks or years!” Aziraphale offered Crowley the last handful of grain in his cap. “And once that moment passes…”

“Back to the metaphors.” The ducks below were now spotted, striped, every color of the rainbow. One bore pure white wings, beside another with midnight black. Aziraphale chuckled, very softly, which made Crowley feel immensely satisfied. Dusting off his hands, he circled the angel and continued walking.

“Yes,” Aziraphale hurried to catch up, cap twisting in his hands. “I get the sense that the feeling is so obvious, so…universal, they never think to describe it.”

“How inconsiderate.” Crowley thought it over. “So, flash of heat, racing heart, sun gets brighter, then ten pages about the color of their eyes? That about it?”

“I suppose so.” Aziraphale rubbed a finger across his lip. “Not always beauty, though. Some appear drawn by their partner’s clever mind, or acts of kindness. Some praise stories of bravery or great deeds, others fixate on meaningless symbols of wealth. But still, those only tell why one falls in love, not what it feels like.”

“Sounds like a sort of obsession.” Crowley furrowed his brow. “That treatise had a list of…sort of rules of love. Mostly about jealousy, really, don’t think the author thought much of women, but… ‘Every action of a lover ends in the thought of his beloved.’”

“I see…so that, together or apart, one cannot help but think always of the other. That certainly aligns with the evidence.” He started to replace his cap, then paused, looking inside. “Anything else of use?”

“‘Love can deny nothing to love.’” Beside him, Aziraphale turned pink and a brilliant smile broke across his face, like the sun after a storm. He pulled from the cap the bright red rosebud Crowley had hidden within.

Crowley watched as Aziraphale slid the flower into his buttonhole, drinking in the way the delighted shiver ran across his shoulders. Then the angel looked up, hitting Crowley with the full force of his smile.

Stunning. Blinding. It stole Crowley’s breath away, wiped every thought from his mind.

One day, that smile would destroy him, and he wouldn’t mind at all.

“So, this creperie — are we close?”

“Ngh. Smh. Unh. Nearly. Another block or two.” The park’s gate stood just ahead, half shut, the bustling street beyond. Crowley quickly stepped ahead, pulling it open for Aziraphale. “You, ah, find the answer you needed?”

“I…think so, yes.” He rested his fingers on the gate — so close to Crowley’s he could feel their warmth — then quickly pulled away, folding his hands behind his back. “I’ve been trying to work out…well…whether I’m in love with you, Crowley.”

“Oh.” What was he supposed to say to that? “Oh.”

“Indeed.” Aziraphale’s eyes darted nervously and he began to pace. “I-I want you to know, I don’t desire you. I’ve never felt that sort of attraction. And I’m not jealous by any means. I’m not even certain who I’m meant to be jealous of. But…” He turned back, tugging his jacket. “I think of you. Constantly. Every action, every experience reminds me of you. I go to a concert, and I can’t concentrate on the music, only whether you would enjoy it. I hear a joke and I imagine how you would laugh, or roll your eyes, and I can’t know a moment’s peace until I’ve shared it with you. And last month…when I was reprimanded…for days afterward I could think of nothing but how I wished you were there. When I finally found the strength to venture out, it was only from my determination to come here.”

“For…crepes?” Crowley offered stupidly.

“No, you silly creature, for you.” He stepped forward, reaching up as if to straighten Crowley’s lapels, but once again his hands dropped. “I hear your voice and no matter how dark my situation — no matter how absurd you look in the current fashion — I just…feel happy again.”

Aziraphale took a deep breath and lifted his eyes — hopeful, fearful, vulnerable — to meet Crowley’s.

“Oh.” Something more was probably needed. “Yeah.”

That was, apparently, the wrong thing to say.

“Well.” Aziraphale’s eyes dropped and he turned, trying to hide his expression. “Yes. I thought you should know.” He ducked his head and hurried through the gate. “Where — where is this creperie? We should try to arrive—”

“Me too.”

Crowley hadn’t meant to say anything. His mind was still ten minutes behind, struggling to catch up, but the pain on Aziraphale’s face hurt him like a blow to the chest.

The two words stopped Aziraphale in his tracks.

“I…I think about you, too.” Crowley stepped halfway through the gate, gripping the bar so tight it began to bend. “When I wake up, or fall asleep and…and away from you, here, I just…I miss you…but you — you idiot, with your crepes and your — your execution and…and then you smile and I just…” Blast! How could Aziraphale be so eloquent? Crowley swallowed and started over. “Look, m’trying to say…don’t think I can deny you anything. And. If that’s love…yeah. Me too.”

All this time, Aziraphale stood perfectly still, his back to Crowley. But now he turned, blue eyes furiously blinking. “That’s…ah…thank you. I know y-you hate being thanked but…” Aziraphale took one step closer, then another, until only inches separated them. “Thank you.”

“Nh.” He could so easily reach across that last bit of distance. Crowley didn’t know what that would accomplish, what he’d even do, but he wanted it more than he’d ever wanted anything. “Now what?”

“I don’t know.” Aziraphale’s gaze fell. “It…doesn’t change anything, does it? You’re still a demon, and I’m—”

“I don’t care,” Crowley hissed, shocked at the fervor in his own voice. “We don’t need to play by their rules. We could — run off, or—”

“We can’t. Crowley, both our sides would — they’d find us, they’d destroy you.”

“I’m willing to risk it.” He reached for Aziraphale’s hand.

“I’m not.” The angel jerked back, putting more distance between them, eyes wide. “Crowley that’s — that’s not a chance I’m willing to take. I’m sorry, but no.”

“Fine,” Crowley growled, pulling away. “What do you want?”

“I want…” Aziraphale shut his eyes, taking a shuddering breath. “I want a shop in London, where I can surround myself with books and foods and everything I enjoy. I want my superiors to trust me, let me bring good into the world my own way, without sending me all over Creation at a moment’s notice and — and punishing me for a few miracles to make my life easier. I want us to go to plays and gardens and balls together, not for clandestine meetings but because we enjoy them. To be openly in each other’s company, without fear of reprisal. And…I’d like you to visit my shop and bring me flowers or sweets. I’d serve my very best wine and…we’d talk all night about…everything and nothing. And laugh together.” His eyes fluttered open and for the first time Aziraphale looked sure of himself. “I want what we already have. Only I want more of it.”

This time he didn’t move as Crowley reached out. Long fingers carefully adjusted the rosebud, standing it straighter in its buttonhole. “Yeah. I…I’d like that, too.”

“And you don’t want anything…physical?”

Crowley snorted. “M’not a human.” But he wondered if Aziraphale’s cheek was as soft as the rosebud’s petals. “I’d like to touch you. Your hand, your face. Your wings. Hear your voice as I fall asleep. Feel your fingers in my hair. Is that…too much?”

“No.” Aziraphale smiled gently. “That sounds perfect.”

“Maybe…” Crowley fidgeted with his glasses, shuffled his feet, but refused to step away. “If we’re careful…”

“The Arrangement is already dangerous enough. You must understand…”

Crowley closed his eyes. “I do. Nothing changes.” Except there were words now, to the feeling he had when he thought of his angel. And that changed everything. When he looked again, Aziraphale nodded, as if he felt the same.

“Right then.” Crowley circled around Aziraphale, sauntering back to the main road. “Let’s see if these crepes are worth risking the guillotine.”

“My dear fellow,” Aziraphale easily kept pace. “One bite of true Breton crepes will silence your doubts forever.”

“Breton, huh?”

“Oh, yes, far superior to any others.”

“If that’s so,” Crowley smirked, remembering Aziraphale in his cell, “s’a wonder you came to Paris. Particularly in such a…controversial outfit.”

“The city has…certain other attractions.”

Something warm and heavy wrapped across Crowley’s shoulders, invisible to his eyes, though he could feel the individual feathers tickle his neck. Aziraphale strolled beside him, hands clasped behind his back, eyes forward, as if nothing were amiss.

Carefully, trying to look natural, Crowley scratched his shoulder, brushing his knuckles down a long flight feather, softer than any mortal bird’s.

Aziraphale smiled ever so slightly and flexed his wing, holding Crowley a little more tightly. An embrace that no one could see, no one could know about, except them.

“Dunno,” Crowley said. “Still seems pretty risky.”

“Yes. But I’m an incorrigible old fool. Sometimes I can’t help myself.”

“Suppose I can understand,” Crowley said as he extended his own wing, wrapping it around Aziraphale’s waist. The angel’s composure broke as he wiggled, burying himself in invisible feathers. Crowley smiled, heat running through him, a warm spring day after a long cold winter. “After all, we’re not so different, you and I.”

[1] De Amore, Andreas Capellanus, c. 1190

So happy to finally share this!

#good omens #good omens fanfiction #ace omens #ineffable husbands #asexual ineffable husbands #ace omens zine #aziraphale #crowley #love confessions #feeding the ducks #aziraphale loves crowley #crowley loves his angel #what even is love #ace fanfiction #qpp #banter #my writing #ao3 link

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kxlinthesky · 2 years ago

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EPISODE 3 LIGHT NOVEL Chapter 2-3 English Translation

WARNING: The last section of this chapter contains a scene in which Marie attempts to force herself on a minor. As in the previous LN, I’ve placed asterisk lines (*****) around the scene for those who’d like to avoid that sort of thing.

The layout of the steam train turned murder scene was as such:

The engine room took up the front of the locomotive, followed by the cargo hold and conductor’s compartment. Behind those were the deluxe and first-class carriages, containing the A and B rooms, respectively. Next came the dining and lounge cars, the latter of which contained a bathroom, and then two second-class carriages. The rear of the train was taken up by a carriage for the crew.

Owl started by heading for the lounge, where Marie was.

“I was in the dining car at that time, you impudent detective.”

When asked for her alibi, Marie answered with dignified confidence.

“Can anyone prove that?” asked Owl.

“Oh, several people. There’s the cook, the waiter, this dreadfully gloomy man.” Marie vaguely pointed to the person with her, peering closely at Owl with her head tilted.

She had already made some snide remarks during the interrogation – she’d at one point bent over the table, showing off her considerable chest, and it had repulsed the detective enough to irritate her – but by now her good humor had seemingly been restored. Either that, or she’d asked the police herself and decided it was best to cooperate with the investigation. No matter the reason, her friendlier demeanor was certainly making the conversation smoother. Owl pulled a notebook from his chest pocket and opened it, preparing to take some notes, but he was interrupted.

“I didn’t see it before, boy, but your eyes are violet, aren’t they? How lovely.” The woman extended a pale hand and caressed Owl’s cheek. “It’s rare to see something with such a brilliant shade. I wonder if I ought to add you to my boyfriend collection.”

Her other hand joined the first, pinching and pulling at his cheeks. Despite the light manhandling, Owl replied clearly, “Collection?”

“Oh, yes. I like to line everyone up by their eye colors. They’re absolutely lovely to look at like that. Much prettier than butterfly specimens, in my opinion.”

As she continued her inspection, Owl silently reflected… maybe being so friendly actually hindered conversation. His thought process was swiftly derailed when her fingertips grazed the backs of his ears.

“How adorable,” she cooed. “I absolutely adore younger men. Their skin is still as clear as a woman’s, their hair isn’t thick… I end up wanting to touch them forever.”

Owl’s expression valiantly didn’t so much as twitch. “Thank you for the compliment,” he deadpanned, subtly shoving her hands away. Once he’d gotten her detached from him, he checked the passenger list he’d stuck in his notebook and turned his attention to the “gloomy man” with Marie. “You would be Low, correct?” he checked. “Mr. Low Steward?”

“That’s right.” Low’s eyebrows plainly rose, jealousy burning in the depths of his gaze. By the looks of it, he was having trouble stomaching Marie’s interest in the detective.

“You two were together in the dining room,” Owl said.

“That’s what we’ve been saying,” was Low’s sharp reply.

This was going to be tough. Owl forcefully swallowed the “pain in my ass” that tried to bubble out of his throat. He kept his voice deliberately level as he continued his questioning. “Did you stay in the dining car for long?”

His question was for Low, but Marie answered instead, “We did. We arrived a little after five, I believe, and we were there until around seven. It’s a principle of mine to always leisurely enjoy a good meal. Gourmet food is a highlight of traveling.”

“I agree,” hummed Owl. “The cakes were quite delicious.”

“The full-course meal was also superb,” gushed Marie. “One spoon of salmon and lobster for the amuse-bouche, gibier carpaccio as the hors d’ouevre, a sorbet for the granité, and veal stew as the main course. Oh, right, and I had them switch the sauce on my carpaccio from mustard to vinegar, and the sorbet from lime to raspberry. You can ask the steward, I had him speak to the head chef. My alibi is perfect.”

Owl carefully noted down every word she said. “Is that so? Thank you for your detailed explanation. You have a very good memory.”

“You’re quite welcome. I’m an excellent study – my job is in hospital management, you see.”

Owl kept a close eye on her expressions as he continued to scribble away. She didn’t look all that down, considering her husband was missing.

“Am I being suspected, by chance? My husband… he’s truly dead, then, is he?”

Rather, she was overflowing with curiosity, trying to sneak a peek at Owl’s notebook.

“In all likelihood, yes, he’s probably dead,” answered Owl. “But please don’t mind any doubt being cast your way – everyone on this train is a potential suspect.”

“But the most suspicion would naturally land on me, being his wife. I’ve read about it before in gossip rags. ‘A Marriage Turned Sour’ and whatnot! I love those stories!” Marie was in high spirits over the whole thing. She didn’t even seem to mind that she was at the center of this particular potential scandal. “But unfortunately for you, I had no reason to want my husband dead. You know, right, that most murders are motivated by some sort of money trouble or jealousy or the like? Well, I had nothing like that. The hospital I manage was inherited from my parents, so money is no object to me, and in terms of love, well, we both agreed that we wanted lovers. So you see, I want for nothing. He was a splendid business partner.”

“Business partner?” repeated Owl.

“Oh, yes, he was quite capable. He worked hard at my hospital.” A hint of dejection finally emerged on her face. “It really is quite a shame if he’s truly dead – I’ll have to find a new doctor to replace him, and that means I’ll have less time to attend my parties.”

Low spoke up then. “I will help out wherever I can,” he promised.

Marie sniffed and turned away, disappointment overshadowed by utter disinterest. “You’re a good-for-nothing who’s completely incapable of any kind of office work,” she huffed over her shoulder. “You could stand to learn a thing or two from that gentleman from before. He works for the government, you know, and at such a young age, too! Good head on his shoulders, refined tastes, mild-mannered, he’s quite wonderful….” She let out a small, distracted sigh, her mind clearly wandered off somewhere else for the moment.

Owl’s thoughts flashed to the man he’d seen in the dining car earlier. “Would this man be… Mr. Mastema?”

Marie jolted out of her thoughts. “Yes, that’s him! Are you familiar? He’s come by our hospital many times for his philanthropic work. I was rather surprised to run into him here! We had some wine together in the lounge, such a lovely time… I’d wanted to take the opportunity to bring him to bed, but we had a rather strange interruption….”

While Marie dreamily recounted her time with Mastema, Low’s expression darkened. His fists were clenched on his thighs and were ever so slightly trembling. Owl observed both of their reactions, then leafed through his notebook and said, “One final question. Have you seen or heard any suspicious people or events since you boarded the train?”

“Suspicious people? Let me see….” Marie elegantly tilted her head, then lowered it carefully to rest on her hand rather pretentiously. “I wouldn’t go so far as to call it ‘suspicious,’ but I was rather put off by the conductor’s unsociable behavior. He passed by me in the dining car, but he didn’t even give me so much as a hello. Other than that….” Suddenly, Marie’s face darkened with malicious intent. “Well, my husband’s secretary comes to mind.”

“You mean Miss Michelle?”

“Oh, yes. She’s very suspicious. If you’re going to point fingers at anyone, start with her.”

Low interjected here, surprise coloring his tone. “That person is incapable of taking another person’s life,” he stated.

“Oh, you think so? But you know, it’s impossible to tell what meek little women like here are really thinking,” Marie countered.

Low scrambled for a rebuttal. “B-But when we were coming back from the dining car, we saw her leaving the lounge, didn’t we? That means she went through the dining car and was in the lounge before us.”

“Whose side are you on, mine or hers?” snapped Marie.

“Of course I’m on Lady Marie’s side… but….” Low was hesitating, his next words stuck in his throat.

“You’ve said enough. Be quiet.” Marie threw him a single sharp glare, and his mouth clicked shut. She turned back to Owl and leaned forward again. “You know, detective, there’s one thing that’s absolutely vital to any murder case.”

“And that would be?” prompted Owl.

Her shoulders squirmed obscenely. “Why, a lover,” she whispered, then popped her lips in a kiss.

■■■■■■■■■■

“I am his secretary, not his lover,” insisted Michelle.

After talking to Marie, Owl’s next stop was room B-1 in the first-class carriage, where Michelle was staying. She’d agreed to speak with him and directed him to a chair as soon as he’d arrived, but irritation and caution were both plain in her voice.

Owl paused with his hand halfway in his coat, just before he took his notebook out. “… I didn’t say anything yet…?” he mumbled, trying to play dumb.

“You didn’t have to.” Perched on the bed opposite Owl, Michelle gently ran her fingers through the hair hanging over her shoulders, mouth curled in an unpleasant frown. “The madam most likely already told you that I was the master’s lover or some such nonsense. And besides, I know you’re not a doctor-in-training. You shouldn’t lie like that.”

Owl dipped his head. “My apologies. It wasn’t a complete lie, though. There was a time where I studied to be a doctor.”

“So why become a detective, then?”

“Everyone is suited for different things.”

“Did your parents disagree with you choosing such a dangerous profession?”

“I have no parents to speak of. As far back as I can remember, I was in an orphanage.”

“Ah….” The flames of rage building in Michelle’s heart died out the instant she registered what Owl had said. Her gaze wavered and fell to the side. “I’m sorry,” she murmured, downcast, her fingers trembling.

“You needn’t apologize,” assured Owl. “My foster parent raised me comfortably, so I don’t feel I have anything to be upset about. Do you have any other questions for me?”

“No….”

“Then now it’s my turn.” Owl opened his notebook and pulled out a fountain pen. “Where were you around six pm?”

“I was in the lounge. I had a book I’d been wanting to read.” She pointed behind Owl. Unlike the second-class room Owl and Clemens shared, which had beds against both walls, the first-class rooms like Michelle’s only had one bed, with the other side taken up by a desk table, along with a simple closet. Her finger was aimed at a single volume of poetry lying on the desk. “It’s Wordsworth. Are you familiar?”

“I know the name, but I’m not much for poetry. I prefer reading chemical formulas, if anything.”

“I see. A shame, that.”

“I ought to introduce you to the priest I was traveling with at some point,” mused Owl. “He’s probably familiar with most poets. He’s a bit of a Don Juan, but….”

As Owl continued, Michelle toyed with the ends of her hair, glancing away. “I can’t imagine a father making advances on an old woman like me,” she chuckled self-deprecatingly.

Owl unconsciously glanced at her face at that comment. He knew it would be rude to say it, but he couldn’t help but agree upon seeing the state of her skin. Her voluminous brown hair was still glossy and youthful, yes, and looking at her delicate figure, you almost couldn’t help but want to protect her… at first glance, she looked to be somewhere in her mid-to-late twenties at most, but she was actually at least ten years older than that. Owl didn’t want to offend her by asking for her true age, so he put that particular question aside and instead asked, “Did you head straight for the lounge after you boarded the train?”

Michelle shook her head. “I helped the master with his work for a while first, but eventually he said he wanted to take a short nap before supper, so I returned to my room… this would have been a little after five. It wasn’t long after that that I moved to the lounge with my book, and around seven I moved again to the dining car, since I had grown rather thirsty. As I recall, you saw me in there, did you not?”

“Yes, I did, and thank you for recalling everything so accurately. Was there anyone in the lounge who could confirm your presence there?”

“… I spoke to the conductor.”

“The conductor?” Owl’s hand paused during its notetaking. Marie had also said she’d seen the conductor, but she hadn’t said that Michelle had come to the dining car while she’d been there, so Michelle must’ve been in the lounge before that. “What did you talk about?”

“Nothing in particular… we just exchanged pleasantries, really. Comments about the weather and whatnot.” Michelle thought for a second. “Ahh, right, and when I was going from the lounge to the dining car, I saw the madam and Mr. Low leaving for the first-class car.”

“Besides that, did you see or hear anyone or anything suspicious?”

“No. Just a pretty mister and a cute little girl.”

“Is that so…? Then thank you for your valuable input. If you think of anything else, please let me know.” Owl stood and turned to leave, but before he made it out the door he paused. “Actually, one more thing – did you happen to see a knife anywhere?”

“… A knife?”

“Yes.” He turned back. “We believe it was used as the murder weapon, and that it was a personal possession of Mr. Johnny’s.”

Michelle shook her head. “I’m afraid I didn’t. Is it missing? It’s possible it’s simply lost amid all the documents.”

“No, we searched for it, but we didn’t find it.”

“Then the killer must have stolen it. It was decorated with a pretty jewel, so….”

“A jewel?”

“Yes. I believe it was a ruby. The master treasured it.” Michelle’s shoulder sadly slumped as her head dipped low, her fingers tightly grasping at her braid.

“Ruby… a red gem….” Owl shook his head as a thought occurred to him. “Surely not,” he murmured to himself.

■■■■■■■■■■

“I was in the dining car around six having dinner. I was there until seven, after which I returned to my room, but I soon left again to have some wine in the lounge.”

The next stop was room A-4 in the deluxe carriage to visit Mastema. He hadn’t expected to be able to meet with such a highly ranked government official so casually, but Mastema seemed to remember Owl from the auction case and was answering his questions so amiably that it almost felt anticlimactic.

“Is that so? Did you happen to meet anyone there?” asked Owl.

“Yes, I did, a young… mm, I probably shouldn’t say she was ‘sexy,’ that would start some unsavory rumors… let’s say a glamorous woman. I spoke with her for a bit, but it was only talk, you understand. She had another man with her as well – an attendant, I believe – so I would appreciate it if you would refrain from any unnecessary gossip.”

“I’m not a reporter,” assured Owl. “I have no interest in gossip or scandals, and I don’t intend to ask you anything untoward.”

“Thank you for your discretion.” Mastema pressed a single finger to his lips in a shushing gesture. “Younger politicians like myself need to procure more sponsors around this time. It’s quite the hassle.” Some might think of all politicians as arrogant, but Mastema was actually rather approachable.

“Did you see anyone suspicious or hear anything strange?”

“Mm…?” Mastema thought for a moment. “Good question. I don’t believe I noticed anything out of the ordinary… the only thing that comes to mind would be the conductor. He passed in front of my room at one point.”

“The conductor?” Again with the mysterious conductor. Owl made a note of it.

“Indeed. While I was having my meal in the dining car, I realized I’d forgotten to bring the newspaper, so I returned to my room for a spell. That’s when I saw him passing by, heading toward the dining car.” Mastema pointed to the display window set into the wall on the corridor side. The window was small and round, with a cover designed to slide over it when it wasn’t being used. At the moment, it was uncovered. “I saw the conductor’s blue cap through there.”

“His cap?”

“Yes.”

Owl peered through the window, then briefly stepped outside to look through from the other side. The glass was frosted, so it was impossible to really see much of anything through it, but it was possible to distinguish colors, at least.

He stood before the window, and after a moment’s thought muttered to himself, “It’s kind of low, huh? I’m around 5’9”, so….” The window was roughly level with his face. He bent down a bit, trying to gauge its exact height… but he was thrown out of his musings by a clamorous banging and clacking from elsewhere in the car. Owl reflexively glanced in that direction, watching the door two doors down burst open and a single man come flying out. A jolt of shock rolled through his system as he registered who the man was.

“You are a remarkably lovely woman, but I am a priest – I have sown an oath to not fall into temptation.”

“My, how lovely! Sin is the most delectable spice of them all!”

“If I may be so bold, would it not also be lovely to keep your desires safely hidden in your dress?”

“Oh, no, I won’t let you go. Not when we’ll have to part ways in the morning.”

A woman came out with the man, the two virtually entangled. It was room A-2 that the pair had stumbled out of, meaning the woman was Marie. Clad only in obscene underwear, she had her arms wrapped tightly around the taller shoulders of her partner. Owl was struck dumb by her appearance, but the more surprising – the more shocking – part was that it was Clemens she was clinging to.

“I’m so nervous without my husband around,” Marie continued. “If I’m left all on my own, I just know I’m going to cry!” She tried to pull Clemens back inside like some kind of seductive, demonic spider, but Clemens kept lightly sidestepping her moves and trying to nudge her back in by herself. They almost looked like they were dancing.

Mastema looked at what was happening, murmured to himself, “Oh, this is too much for me. I should run before I’m caught in her web,” and shut the door to his room. He really wasn’t keen on getting involved in a scandal, it seemed. At least he was consistent.

This left Owl alone in the corridor to stare blankly at the struggling pair. It took him a moment to return to his senses. When he did, though, the first thing he did was call out to Clemens with furrowed brows, “Should I ask for roast goose or bistecca for keeping my mouth shut?”

“Oh, Owl!” Clemens finally noticed Owl standing there. He whispered to Marie, “It appears our fun time together is up,” finally succeeded in pushing her back into her room, and shut the door on her before she could escape again. He proceeded to ignore her frustrated muffled complaints from within and walked toward Owl.

Owl, however, was having none of it. “Sorry for interrupting,” he said, sarcasm dripping from his tone, and turned on his heel to head for the neighboring car. As he strode away from the priest, he called over his shoulder, “By the way, you’re fired as Ellie’s tutor. Seems like you’re bad for her education.”

“Please don’t misunderstand.” Clemens hurried after Owl. “I wasn’t doing anything untoward.”

Owl scoffed. “Misunderstand? It’s an unmistakable fact that you came out a woman’s room, and the woman was stripped down to her undergarments. You’re guilty. Now repent.”

“I did not strip her. When I was returning from the engine room, she stopped me and said that there was something weird in her room and she wanted me to take a look.”

“You didn’t seem to have any trouble stripping me of my gilet earlier. You could’ve called for me before you went into her room.”

“I didn’t think it was necessary at the time. But then she said, ‘This room sure is hot,’ and suddenly started taking off her dress, and I naturally started panicking.”

“You have too much appeal. It’s bad for Ellie’s education. What would happen if she turned out like that spider?”

“I wouldn’t turn her into a spider.”

“I wonder about that.” Owl finally glanced back over his shoulder, his eyes flinty and cold. He nodded to Clemens’ cheeks. “You’re sweating pretty hard.”

Clemens scrabbled to say something, anything to clear the confusion. “This sweat is from the room, not –” he tried.

Before he could finish, though, the door to the first-class carriage suddenly opened.

“Ah –!”

“Whoa –” Owl stumbled to a halt to avoid running into the person coming through from the other side. The new person staggered and grabbed the door to stop themself. “Sorry. Are you hurt?”

Owl steadied the person by the arm, who turned out to be Low, Marie’s attendant. Face pale, Low answered quietly, “I’m fine.” He glanced up. Then he noticed Clemens standing behind Owl, and his expression soured. He shook his arm free and shoved past them both, heading for Marie’s room. As he passed, he hissed under his breath, “Curse you…!”

As the pair watched the young man knock on Marie’s door and heard her hysterical voice answer from within, Owl idly commented, “Hear that? He cursed you. Pretty sure he hates you. Well, that’s what you get for being careless, I guess.”

“Why am I in the wrong here when she’s the one who dragged me into her web?” Clemens’ tone was derisive, but his expression was aloof.

The door to the first-class carriage opened again. “Low, wait, please listen –!” cried Michelle as she came rushing through. As she bumped into Owl and Clemens, though, her face stiffened and she cast her gaze down before turning around and leaving again without another word, looking rather like she’d bitten into a lemon. It seemed like she and Low were chasing each other around.

“… Well?” asked Owl after a moment.

“Hm?”

“Did you hear anything worthwhile in the engine room?” Either Owl’s ire toward Clemens had been dampened by Low’s own wrath, or he’d simply remembered that this wasn’t the time for squabbling, because he had clearly switched his focus back to the case at hand.

“None of the engineers were behaving oddly during the time of the crime,” replied Clemens. “They were all apparently at their posts. They would have known if anyone was missing – they are the beating heart of the train, so to speak.”

Owl whipped out his notebook and started taking diligent notes. “What about the rest of the crew?”

“No one stood out. The cooks and stewards were all working their shifts. I also spoke to the conductor, but he was chiefly concerned with the politician privately on board tonight and said he didn’t recall much besides that. Remember that bizarre missing persons case? He was frantically running around in circles even though he was checking the manual – he didn’t strike me as a very capable sort.”

“The conductor….” The detective’s hand stopped on the page. “What kind of person is this conductor, anyway?”

“‘What kind,’ you say… didn’t you go to the conductor��s compartment earlier to get a list of the passengers, though?”

“I did, but I didn’t actually meet him. I got the list from a steward instead.”

“Is that so?” hummed Clemens. “Well, I wouldn’t call him a particularly remarkable man – he was utterly normal. I would say he’s around thirty or so, wears glasses.”

“How tall, roughly?”

“Average for a man, I would say. In fact, I would place him around your height.”

“Around mine….” Owl gave that a little thought, then noted that down as well. “Thanks Clemens, that helps,” he said, shoving the notebook back in his pocket.

“I’m honored to have been of assistance.”

Clemens pressed a hand to his chest and gave a cheerful nod, but Owl’s gaze had once more turned ice cold. “But I will have you buy my silence,” he informed Clemens, his tone brooking no argument.

■■■■■■■■■■

“Now it’s your guys’ turn for questioning.”

Onto C-1 in the second-class carriage to speak to Elnora and Ellie. The cabin was set up the same way as Owl and Clemens’, with two sofa beds lined up facing each other. Elnora and Ellie were each perched on one bed. The former was sulkily glaring at Owl, who had taken up a position standing by the door. “You really are suspecting us,” she accused. “That’s just awful! Ellie, you get mad, too! That jerk Owl thinks that a couple of absolute cuties like us are suspects in a murder.”

“… Mad…?” Ellie didn’t seem to really get it, but she took a page from Elnora’s book anyway and jutted her lip out in a pout, her cheeks puffing up.

Elnora pressed a hand to her pounding heart at the sight of Ellie doing her best. “See, Owl! Ellie’s mad, too! Look at her! So cute! So precious! Like a little angel!”

“It probably doesn’t help your case looking cute when you’re trying to be mad,” Owl pointed out. He poked at her cheeks, deflating them like a balloon with a single touch. Ellie’s expression fell. “Being mad… makes me tired…” she whispered, crestfallen. Her eyes turned up to Owl as she continued, “Is it bad that I’m bad at being mad?”

“Well, it wouldn’t be bad to get good at it,” Owl replied, patting her head.

“So what did you want to know?” asked Elnora. “Just so you know, I wouldn’t do something so stupid as killing someone. I couldn’t go shopping if the police caught me.”

“I suppose, yeah” agreed Owl. “Killing someone is a foolish act that robs you of your freedom, and you’re clever, so you wouldn’t do something like that. What I want to ask is whether you saw or heard anyone or anything strange during the time of the murder.”

“Strange? I’m not really sure. Ellie was wandering all over the train around that time having the time of her life.”

“You really don’t remember anything at all?”

“I remember Ellie being adorable frolicking around like that!”

“Besides that.”

“Besides that? What else would be worth remembering besides that? It’s not like I can remember every little thing that happened.” Despite her dismissive words, Elnora tried to think back for a moment, humming under her breath. Presently, she said, “Well, now that I think about it, there was a minute where I lost track of Ellie.”

“You lost track?” Owl repeated incredulously.

“Right, we were passing through the dining car and I got curious about the dinner course so I started reading through the menu and Ellie kept on going without me. I was super surprised! She went all the way through first-class and into the deluxe car!”

Owl’s eyebrows furrowed. “That means that Ellie can be placed on the scene at the time of the crime, you realize?” he growled. “What if she’d run into the murderer? And after I left her in your care because you said you wanted to play….”

“Geez, don’t get so upset,” Elnora sighed. “I’m sorry I lost sight of her, but it was really only for a little while. Five minutes, tops! When I realized she was gone… right, the conductor was just passing by so I asked him if he’d seen a little girl anywhere, and he said he’d seen her around the first-class car and I went right after her.”

Owl stooped down to meet Ellie’s eyes. “Did you get separated from Elnora?” he asked.

Ellie ducked her head. “I’m sorry…” she murmured, despondent. “But… I thought someone was calling me.”

“Calling you?”

“Mm-hmm.”

“Who was?”

“… Um.”

The girl’s vocabulary was still small, so she didn’t have the words to explain herself. Her hands waved vaguely in front of her chest, vexed by her own inability. Owl tried to prompt her along. “Did you meet someone there?”

Ellie nodded. “I saw someone with a blue hat,” she answered.

“A blue hat…” Owl mused. “Probably the conductor Elnora spoke to. What did you two talk about?”

But Ellie just shook her head at that.

“He wasn’t the talkative type, so maybe he just didn’t want to go out of his way to talk to her,” replied Elnora in Ellie’s stead. “He was real gloomy – didn’t say a word to any of the passengers he walked past. Oh, right, I forgot, and he was carrying a sofa cover, it had the same pattern as the ones in the lounge.”

Owl blinked. “Gloomy? That’s not what Clemens said. He said he was an ‘utterly normal’ guy in glasses. And he spoke with Michelle in the lounge, so it’s not like he was ignoring all the passengers, right?”

“I don’t remember him wearing glasses,” said Elnora.

“Huh?”

“… Hm?” Now Elnora blinked. “Hold on a minute, or was he? I was in a hurry, so I wasn’t looking all that closely at his face. Now that I think of it, his face was kind of vague….”

“‘Vague?’ What do you mean, ‘vague?’” Owl leaned forward.

Elnora’s face twisted into a displeased scowl as she thought back. “Hmm~~, what was it? He had his cap pulled down low, so I was more interested in his clothes than his face. He had a slim figure, but his clothes were huge on him – I thought he might be wearing the wrong size or something.”

“You’ve got a pretty unreliable memory, don’t you?”

“Rude. Hold on, I’m remembering it now. Hmm… it’s just so hazyyy…” Elnora groaned.

While Elnora mumbled to herself, Ellie quietly raised her hand. Owl’s eyes slid back to her, wondering if she’d remembered something. “Yes, Ellie? What is it?”

Ellie gave a single big nod. “I saw it, too,” she said. “The hazy thing.”

“The hazy thing? The conductor’s face, you mean?”

“Nuh-uh, the hazy thing that was in front of the room….”

“In front of the room?” repeated Owl, vaguely confused.

Ellie nodded again. “Around the room where the case happened… around the ceiling, it was all hazy and wavy… that’s what I saw.” As she spoke, she raised her hands up with her palms facing the ceiling and wiggled her fingers around. “… It was really, really hot,” she added.

Her waving fingers started to draw something in midair… something that looked eerily similar to the chemical formulas Owl wrote.

■■■■■■■■■■

“Hey, Owl, why don’t you take a break?”

Back to the deluxe carriage. Owl had returned to Johnny’s suite, to the site of the murder. Clemens stood before the door.

“I’m fine,” mumbled Owl. He vaguely pointed in the direction of A-2 without tearing his eyes away from the ceiling he’d been staring holes into for the past several minutes. “You can go rest, though. I’m sure you’ll be welcomed with open arms over there, don’t you think?”

“I’m surprised that you’re the type to hold a grudge,” Clemens said in the sort of nonchalant tone used when the grudge-worthy incident in question had involved some entirely different third party. “Do you plan on staying up all night?”

“If I can’t wrap this case up by then, then yes,” replied Owl. “Sorry, but I don’t have time to rest. We’ll reach the station by morning.”

“You can leave the rest up to the police when we get there, can’t you?”

“If that happens, then we’re going to end up in a world of trouble for throwing their name around and investigating without their say-so.”

“… ‘We,’ meaning I’m also going to be involved?”

“Did it sound like that to you?” Owl glanced at Clemens out of the corner of his eye. In his eyes, at least, Clemens was absolutely his accomplice.

“… Well, I suppose this is preferable to tedium.”

“Is that so? Thanks.”

“This trip is truly exhausting,” Clemens said as he stepped out to Owl’s side. “I’m still a suspect, though, aren’t I? Is it all right for me to be helping you?”

“No problem. My gilet proves your alibi.”

“… Your gilet?”

“The scorch marks, specifically. The five holes you patched up.”

“And what about them?”

“I noticed those holes myself earlier.”

Clemens side-eyed Owl. “If you knew they were there, why didn’t you say anything sooner? Don’t tell me you were planning on meeting with your client with holes in your clothes.”

“It’s because I didn’t say anything that I can confirm your alibi,” Owl replied. “While I was asleep, you were mending the holes. That’s an indisputable fact. It’s also an indisputable fact that the kind of work you did takes time – I know because every time this happened in the past, the maid would get on my case about it. Fixing five holes would’ve taken you over an hour, I’m guessing, so you couldn’t possibly have committed the crime. Congrats.”

Clemens’ eyebrow twitched. “… You knew that from the start, and you were still treating me like a suspect?”

Owl’s silence spoke volumes.

“You’re in for a sermon later,” said Clemens, sounding so similar to Byron that Owl had to avert his gaze. The detective proceeded further into a room at a brisk pace while the priest called after him, “So what are you looking for? Another bloodstain?”

“No, no need for that anymore.” Owl removed his monocle, wiped the lens on the hem of his gilet, replaced it, and returned his gaze to the ceiling after quickly scanning the room. “I’m looking for the ‘hazy thing.’”

Clemens also turned his gaze upward, but there was nothing there. “The ‘hazy thing’ Ellie was talking about? What on Earth could it be?” he wondered.

“Not sure. That’s why I’m looking into it.” Owl clambered up onto a chair, and from there the desk, bringing his face closer to the wood paneling above. “I thought that maybe it was alchemy.”

“Ah, your field of expertise. Yes, I suppose you would be familiar with haziness yourself, given your tendency to turn your room into a burning hell,” chuckled Clemens.

“Yeah, that’s a phenomenon called a ‘heat haze,’ where differing air densities get mixed together and light refracts through the space and makes it look all warped. It happens in my experiments a lot since I use a lot of heat, and heated air has a different density than regular outside air. So in this case….”

“Heat-based alchemy was also used in here?”

“… I thought so too, at first.” Owl shook his head and gave a discouraged gesture upward. “But it looks like I was wrong. There isn’t a hint of alchemy here.”

“Say what you will, but are ‘hints of alchemy’ something a person can even recognize?” Clemens certainly couldn’t, if his befuddled expression was any indication.

“To be more accurate, there are no traces of any alchemy I can see.” Owl tapped his monocle. “This has a special lens called a ‘fairy cornea’ in the glass. A certain state alchemist created it by studying a Demon’s power.”

“You mean to tell me that if you look through that lens you can analyze alchemical formulas?”

Owl huffed. “If something like that existed every alchemist in the world would retire, though that would be interesting if I could. There are several alchemical systems and there’s just no way I could study them all that easily. All this does is detect residual traces of alchemy… or rather, scraps of formulas left behind. Just being able to see them is plenty useful as it is, though.”

“So, even with that fancy ‘All-chemical Seeing Eye’ or yours, you didn’t find any evidence of alchemy being used,” Clemens summed up.

“Don’t give it a weird name,” grumbled Owl. “But yeah, basically. Wasn’t what I was expecting.” He hopped down from the desk, sending a cascade of envelopes fluttering to the floor in the process.

“Won’t someone get mad at your for disturbing the crime scene like this?” Clemens sighed.

“They won’t find out if we put them back,” Owl replied, bending down the pick them up.

“You’re awfully brash.” Even as appalled as he was by Owl’s uncaring demeanor, Clemens still helped pick up the envelopes that had landed by his feet. As he gathered them up, though, his eyes happened to register the words scrawled on them, and he froze. “… The Black Rose Disease.”

“What?” Owl’s head shot up. “Did you say the Black Rose Disease?”

“That’s what these say.” Clemens held up the envelopes. “These are death certificates meant to be submitted to the church. All of these people have the Black Rose Disease.”

“Let me see.” Owl snatched an envelope from Clemens and tore the seal. Inside was a bundle of medical charts inscribed with the patient’s name and photo, detailing the horrific illness. The very last page in the stack had the word “deceased.” “… These weren’t here the last time I checked in here,” murmured Owl.

“You must have overlooked them. There are a lot of documents here, after all.”

“There’s no way –” He kept leafing through the documents, his expression slowly hardening. A frustrated growl was building in his throat. “… A lot of these patients are young.”

Clemens patted his shoulder comfortingly. “We’ll need further research if we’re to save every patient,” he said, knowing full well what kind of research Owl conducted.

All of the patients listed in these certificates were in their teens and twenties. Owl’s teeth dug into his lip. This was the ugly truth of the matter, laid bare before his eyes. The Black Rose Disease had claimed the lives of many a child.

While Owl was engrossed, Clemens turned back to the desk. “Was Johnny a doctor specializing in the Black Rose Disease…?” He picked up a few other documents left scattered across the surface and scanned through them, head tilted. “This is… a register of names from an orphanage? Infection… planned? Collection amount…? These numbers – what does this mean?”

Owl’s voice suddenly rose. “Clemens! Look at this!”

“Hm?”

“This photo!” He shoved a death certificate at Clemens.

Clemens looked it over. His eyebrows rose. “Well, now, how peculiar – a death certificate for a living person. Perhaps it’s someone else?”

“No, there’s no doubt. It’s him.”

“But the last name is different.”

“It’s the same person. That means this guy is…!” Owl gasped. “The knife… the conductor… these death certificates….”

“Owl?”

But Owl was completely lost in his thoughts. He began pacing the room, mumbling to himself. “Could that person be an alchemist? No, it can’t be them. Then, maybe they had an accomplice…?” He completed two full circuits of the suite before he glanced up. “If I were the accomplice –” and here he pointed at Clemens “—and if you were the culprit –”

“Me?” Clemens pointed to himself as well.

“Right, if you were the culprit, and if I were to help you escape….” Owl grabbed Clemens’ arm and pulled him to the exit. However, he paused in front of the door before they made it out. “No, that wouldn’t work,” he mumbled. “We’d stand out too much. You’d just killed a man, your clothes were probably drenched in blood.”

“For the record, I will remind you that I am not the culprit.”

“I know. Shut up a sec. I’m the accomplice right now.”

Clemens’ mouth pressed into a perfectly straight displeased line, but he didn’t speak.

Owl didn’t notice. He was lost in his own head, simulating the actions of the supposed accomplice. How would he save the culprit? How did he hide the body, how did he create an alibi for the culprit? “The culprit had to change clothes… so the body… was put somewhere else…. They couldn’t through the body out the window on a moving train… so at least… maybe hide it in a different room….”

“But there’s no blood in the hallway,” Clemens interjected, his momentary bout of silence over. “They couldn’t transport the body without leaving traces of blood behind.”

“Right, the hallway’s clean. So how?” Owl glanced around the suite. “They couldn’t hide a body in a cramped room like this.” He once again checked all the places a person could feasibly store something, including under the bed and in the closet, but as before, there was no body to be found.

“It’s interesting that this room doesn’t have a counter,” hummed Clemens as he watched Owl rush about. “Considering the room next door does.”

Owl paused as Clemens’ words sunk in. “… Wait, the room next door has a counter?”

“Yes, a wooden one by the window with a storage space underneath. I saw it when I was dragged in there earlier.”

“Why would there be a storage space like that there but not here?” Owl wondered. “You would think that all of the same-class cabins would be laid out the same way, right?”

“Who knows?” Clemens shrugged. “I’m not a designer, so I wouldn’t know. But the layout between these two rooms is fairly different. There was no desk table in the other room – it had a chest dresser instead. And there was a mirror, certainly made for ladies… ah, right, and the closet had a mirror installed, too.”

“… Made for ladies…?” Owl’s gaze slid over to the closet. “No… it’s not cramped!” he realized. He suddenly dashed out of the room and compared A-1 and A-2 from the corridor. “These are the deluxe suites. There’s no way they’d be so small!” he shouted. He then burst back into A-1, grabbed Clemens by the arm again, and pulled him out into the hall. “Okay, you’re up.”

“Huh?”

“Ask Mrs. Marie.”

“Why?”

“If you got in once, you can do it again.” He dragged Clemens over to stand in front of A-2 and shoved him up to the door. “Go on, give it a knock.”

Clemens was naturally reluctant to follow this particular order. “You do it,” he shot back. “She would love to eat you up as well. You have my approval.”

“You’re really going to make a minor jump into a spider’s web? Some priest you are.”

“I am a clergyman who has taken a pure, solemn oath.”

“That’s a barefaced lie. Just hurry up, I want to see inside her room.”

*****

The two quarreled for a moment in front of the door on who should go in. However, it was a third-party who settled the matter.

“I don’t particularly mind taking you both at the same time, you know?” The door clicked open and Marie appeared. Wearing only a negligee, she reclined against the door seductively, giggles leaking from her lips as she glanced back and forth between the pair, a demon spider beholding her prey. “Let me see,” she purred, “I think I’ll start with the little cherry boy.”

“Uh?”

“Experienced gentlemen are nice, but I like innocent boys, too.” Marie’s hand clamped on Owl’s arm and she yanked him into her room.

“Wait – I…!”

“Don’t worry, I’ll be gentle.”

She’d dragged him into her web and slammed the door shut before Clemens could even think to save him, leaving the priest standing in a blank stupor staring at the door. From inside he could hear some banging and crashing, but after a moment it faded away, leaving the air as still and silent as the grave.

“… Owl. You were truly a one-of-a-kind human being.” Clemens closed his eyes before the silent room. He could at least pray for a noble death for him… but after a few moments, the door opened again. Clemens unconsciously stood at the ready, but surprisingly it was Owl who appeared in the entryway. “Oh, that was quick,” commented the priest, utterly nonchalant.

*****

Owl glared at Clemens, hissing reproachfully, “Why didn’t you come save me…?”

“I thought this would be good experience for you.”

“I don’t need or want the experience of being eaten by a demon spider! I’m leaving!” Owl stormed out of the room, fuming. As soon as he reached the end of the carriage, though, he stopped, turned around, and came striding back.

“That’s right, your room is the other way. Good on you for noticing.”

“Shut up!” hissed the detective as he brushed past.

“Hey, are you really leaving? Didn’t you want to see inside her room?” called Clemens. He peered through the open doorway to find Marie passed out on top of her bed. Somehow, Owl had put her to sleep.

Owl turned back and yelled, “If you’re talking about the trick, I already figured it out!”

“Congratulations. I guess being caught in her web paid off. So, what was the trick?”

“‘Stitching.’”

“… Stitching? As in, invisible mending?”

“Exactly!”

“What do you mean?” Clemens’ eyes fell to Owl’s gilet, utterly lost.

original written by Nagaya Kawaji here

#kotonoha project #am I being overly cautious with the cws? maybe #will I stop? most likely not

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curiousconch · 4 years ago

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Chase You / Chase Me (Pt. 1)

Part 1: Burning on the Edge of Something Beautiful

Catch up here: Series Masterlist

Chapter Summary: Alex finds herself personally affected by the Rothswell case and Gabe attempts to find out why.

Book/Pairing: Choices - Laws of Attraction / Gabe Ricci x MC (Alex Keating)

Words: 1.8k+

Rating/Warnings: Mature (16+) / implied sexual content, alcohol consumption

Disclaimer: Most of the characters as well as some dialogues belong to Pixelberry. I am merely borrowing them.

Wednesday Evening at McGraw Byrne

Back from a day in the courts, Gabe stepped out of the elevator and into the halls of McGraw Byrne. Eager to finish the day's work, he passed by the break room where he unwittingly heard something that made him instantly halt.

"Did you see how clammed up Keating became when you asked her that question?" Gabe heard Vanderweil's deep voice.

"Actually, I sensed something irked her during the ride back. Seems like I did strike a chord," a serious female voice replied, which Gabe presumed was Sinclair's.

He made the assumption that the line of conversation was about their visit to the Rothswell's mansion. Earlier that day, the law firm's major client Philip Rothswell, demanded that they see to the whole Lydia and Joey situation. So Gabe and Sadie instructed the associates to go see the young heiress, trying to give the firm more time to create a more solid strategy than playing family counselor.

When they were placating Rothswell, he noticed how Alex fidgeted in her chair as she listened to their client. The way her body pulled up every defensive stance in the book full with meaning.

Seems that what he just overheard confirmed his suspicions. Something was bothering Alex Keating. And like all things Alex, it piqued at his curiosity.

It irked him that he did, more than he was willing to admit. Seems like even as trivial as office gossip, as long as its about her, Gabe is guaranteed to take notice.

Hastening his strides, he continued on to his plush new office, the setting sun coloring the wood furnishings with a hue of orange. He tossed his briefcase on the khaki couch, his leather soles padding on the clean white carpet. Loosening his tie, he crossed the room towards his desk. He took off his coat, hanging it on the rack nearby and turned to face the glass walls which offered a much better view of the concrete jungle below.

His mind whirred as he rationalized with himself as to why he was so invested with Alex. He initially chalked it up as a familiar, primal response to her... attractiveness. Yet as he watched her emerge from every pressure test and challenge he and Sadie gave her, he can't help but root for her.

It's not just that. After a long time, Gabe wanted to be near someone. He wanted to hear what bothers them, their goals, even their history. A level of interest he never exhibited to his usual carnal pursuits.

She stirred up something sleeping within him, something he willed never to return.

Consumed by the thoughts of her, Gabe finds himself glancing at his Rolex and hatching a guise to know what made the mighty Alex Keating got so worked up about.

Sometime later, uptown New York

"Alex... Have you ever had someone like Joey mess with your head? It's not about smart or stupid," Gigi had asked.

Alex poked her fork at the piece of chocolate soufflé as her mind whirled back to the ride back to the office.

"I'm not buying you any more of that Riesling if you wouldn't even bother being a worthy companion," Gabe teased, before downing another glass of scotch across her.

Her head immediately perked up, breaking free from her introspection. Alex forced a smile in response.

"As if another glass would make a dent in your indomitable fortune," she leaned back, trying to hide her thoughts under the façade of her sarcasm, rolling her eyes at him for added effect.

The two find themselves in a swanky New York restaurant, its upscale interior design worthy of the five star Yelp rating. The sleek tables and gray scandinavian chairs made Alex grateful that her wine red dress fit among the crowd. With a private booth overlooking the city lights and the delicious gourmet food served, she did not regret accepting Gabe's dinner invitation to meet a client.

Her mind decided that more work and Gabe's company was a great way to distract herself from the nagging of her memories, and it didn't hurt that the senior partner was easy on the eyes.

And when the supposed big shot canceled at the last minute, Alex completely saw it as a win.

"Something bothers you." Gabe suddenly articulated, breaking her from her contemplations.

Alex's brow arched in reply, as Gabe stated it like a fact, not as a question.

Crossing her legs under the table, she folded her arms across her chest.

"And why does that concern my pretend-boyfriend, hm?" she interjected, hoping to evade his interrogation.

"You're not the only astute one in this booth," Gabe let his eyes trail across her defensive stance the second time today.

Throughout the course of their meal, the heat between them simmered as well as the flow of their usual banter. Their chemistry was palpable, convincing even the waiter of the restaurant. The cocky man was certainly redefining the phrase hot and cold for Alex. He quickly and easily shut down her attempts to flirt, pulling back when the temperature between them reached a boiling point.

But Alex was more surprised, pleasantly so, when Gabe briefly opened up about his past and the vague explanation of why he's still not settled down.

She sensed the current trajectory of their conversation was what Gabe planned to have all along.

But now, as she swirled the remaining expensive liquid in her glass, trying to decide whether to put her guards up or to just give in, she couldn't deny the uncharacteristic softness in his gaze. It was magnetizing, making Alex want to fold and drop her pretentions.

She watched him as he seemed to eagerly anticipate for her retort, a half smile lingering on that pretty mouth of his.

Alex knew he won't push her if she didn't want to, yet a part of her wanted to share the heaviness that weighed on her shoulder since meeting Lydia Rothswell. Of how much the teenager reminded her of her old, naïve self.

She's been trying to rack her brain for a reasonable explanation for her growing desire to introduce herself to Gabe more than she'd allowed the string of men that she had trysts with. Despite her continuous self-denial, her gut is telling her that Gabe wasn't like any other she crossed paths with.

Making up her mind, she decided to let the door open. Maybe just a little.

She sipped her wine beckoning some needed courage, wishing that she ordered something stronger.

Taking a deep breath, she began, her eyes fixed on the view behind him.

"Since you were wondering, my otherwise impeccable track record is stained by one mistake," she paused, finally turning her gaze to Gabe's waiting eyes.

"Like Lydia, I trusted the wrong person," she continued. "I... risked everything and got nothing."

Gabe's mouth twitched ever so slightly, sensing a fluttering in him because of Alex's candor. There was no trace of the witty comebacks he'd grown to see in her, only vulnerability.

And somehow, he adored her more.

He watched her as she bit her thumbnail, an action greatly contradicting the fiery personality she projected in front of everyone else.

Alex gritted her teeth as she fought back the overwhelming emotions as she stopped herself from revealing more than she's prepared to. Not yet, not tonight, she thought.

"But I woke up from that nightmare, solemnly swearing to myself that I wouldn't repeat the same wrong decision that almost railroaded my whole future," she concluded, determined not to expose herself any further.

A hush fell between them.

Alex raised her head to meet the eyes of the man that made her walls crack, expecting to find intrigue. Instead, she found a subtle look of understanding.

It's as if it was telling her that he knew. He knew every pain and every hurt that she wanted to just forget and bury inside a box, never to be opened again.

Just because for him, pain was a familiar companion. That like her, he too, has been through hell and back.

And while she relished under his attention, her breath slowed, letting herself be trapped within the depths of those reassuring brown eyes. Alex thought nothing can make her drop down her guard, but Gabe's next actions proved that there's still more he can do to break down her walls.

Without thinking, Gabe reached for her hand and took it in his, skimming his own thumb on her knuckles in an attempt to comfort her. He smiled warmly at her, expressing a gentleness that she never thought he was capable of.

It made Alex's heart skip a beat.

Even Gabe seemed to slowly enter the same daze, unable to veer away from Alex's unguarded view. Any remnants of his resistance, leaving him. He found himself leaning in, lured by the heady scent of her perfume - a mix of coffee, vanilla and jasmine. An unexpected combination that enticed him more to her.

For a few moments, their world stood still, as if they were on the edge of discovering something that all their lives they subconsciously sought.

Something more than any flirtation or any pursuit for lustful pleasure. Something more...

"More drinks, Gabe?" a familiar voice broke them from the temporary oasis that they pulled themselves in.

All of a sudden, they were sucked back to the reality of their actual surroundings. The noise of other patrons of the restaurant, the soft ambience of the lights overhead, and the fact that he was her current boss, and that she was under his professional supervision.

Gabe turned to James, their waiter, and refused the offer nonchalantly, and instead asked for their check.

"We should head back to the salt mines, the stack of work on my desk probably hasn't gotten any smaller since we left," Gabe casually said, erasing any trace of what just happened between them. Alex silently agreed, following his queue by checking her phone for emails.

The trip to the lobby was wordless, as well as the wait for their ride. Up until Gabe opened the door of the town car, not following Alex inside.

"Aren't you coming?" Alex inquired, briefly confused.

He cleared his throat, his expression stoic before he answered her. "I think its best if we part ways here. I wasn't kidding about needing to head back to the office," he paused, a look of contemplation in his eyes before it softly shifted to that of sincerity.

"You, on the other hand, should go home and get some rest. Partner's orders."

Alex couldn't help but smile. "Whatever you say, Gabe."

"Careful, Alex. I just might hold you to that promise one of these days," Gabe replied, the usual playfulness evident in his tone.

And with that, the door closed and the car pulled away.

But as Gabe watched the vehicle fade out of his sight, his phone pinged for an email. Glancing down at his screen, he saw the name of the sender, prompting him to open it in haste.

The message contained a single statement: "I found what you asked me to look for." An attachment was included.

When he opened the file, he saw a picture of a younger version of the woman he just parted from.

And a look of recognition passed over his face.

Author's Notes: This is getting a little canon divergent, though I'm just expanding their dinner conversation and using the intimate setting provided in the original book.

Tags: @adiehardfan @pixelnutrookie @starryjieun @fucking-random1 @choicesficwriterscreations

Thank you for reading! Let me know if you want to be tagged or removed on succeeding installments. If not, please reblog or comment, I'd really appreciate it!

#choices laws of attraction #choices fanfiction #choices loa #choices loa fanfiction #choices laws of attraction fanfiction #gabe ricci #gabe ricci x mc #choices fic writers creations #fics of the week

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snek-snacc-ficc · 4 years ago

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Fare and Unfairness

Summary: As the embodiment of Greed, Janus is no stranger to doing whatever he pleases to satisfy his desires. A craving for delicious food is one such desire with an especially simple remedy, that just so happens to come with the added bonus of visiting Patton.

Pairings: Moceit, implied Intrulogical

Words: 2,010

Janus didn't have a problem taking what he wanted when he wanted it. It was a given being the physical incarnation of Greed. But, sometimes, the sheer effort of having to maneuver his way to his prize was more than he was willing to give. Perhaps it was just another example of his self-serving ways, wanting to hoard everything including his own time. If asked outright he'd jokingly suggest that he suffered the same issue that afflicted Logan, the only one of them who represented two Sins, and that a part of Sloth still remained with him from the time when all seven Sins were the same being. In truth, it simply mattered little to him how he obtained what he desired as long as he obtained it at all. If someone was going to hand him what he wanted on a silver platter he was in no place to complain. Which is why he found himself in the kitchen of Patton's earthly residence when he was hit with a particularly strong craving for lavish wines and rich food, not wanting to bother with wasting hours searching for a human with enough skill to make it for him.

"Hmm," Patton looked thoughtfully at both bottles in his hands. "Would you prefer Bordeaux or Rioja?"

Janus eyed the dishware set hanging atop the wall above the sink with a much too admiring look. "Whatever you think is best, my dear," he said, waving offhandedly. "Is that design made of real gold?"

"What?" Patton asked, glancing up to where Janus's gaze laid. "Oh, yes! More for show than anything, but it sure is pretty."

"Indeed." Janus slowly trailed his eyes away and back to Patton.

Patton didn’t react to his guest looking like he was plotting to rob him blind, much more enthralled with choosing a wine. He observed both bottles for another moment, before shrugging and setting both on the dining table. "Well no harm in splurging a bit, why not both?" he chirped, reaching to the counter for a wine glass for each of them.

Janus chuckled lightly. "Always such a generous host. I'm surprised the Angels haven't made an exception and taken you as one of their own."

Patton huffed, giving the corkscrew a firm twist. "You would think, wouldn't you? Out of all the things in humanity to make a Sin, the Heavens choose a harmless little thing like Gluttony."

"Oh?" Janus quirked an eyebrow. "Is that a hint of bitterness I hear from such a seemingly sweet-heart? Do you think yourself Holier than the rest of us?"

"Of course not!" Patton insisted. "Frankly, I think all of their rules are foolish in some way. But out of all the things to punish, why a little self-indulgence?" He went for the Spanish wine first, pouring a glass for Janus and then one for himself. He took his own seat at the opposite end of the table and gave a snap of his fingers. In an instant the table was filled with trays of food. A beautiful, dripping prime rib sat at the center, surrounded by sides of creamy mashed potatoes and gravy, Yorkshire pudding, garlic-parsnip purée, and an assortment of vegetables prepared in nearly every way imaginable, from roasted to slathered in butter and sauteed with bacon.

Janus nearly moaned at the feast in front of them, the heavenly smells wafting through the air further confirming in his mind Patton's skills to be far more angelic than infernal. He took the time to fold his cloth napkin in his lap, and not hesitating a second longer on filling his plate.

"Continue Dear," he said, spooning out a healthy portion of truffled brussel sprouts. "I don't think I've ever heard anything akin to frustration from you until now and I'm curious to hear more. What brought all this on?"

"It's nothing much, I suppose," Patton said as he began to carve into the meat. "It's just I had a run-in with that Emile a few weeks ago and I swear it sets me off everytime I see them. You know they-"

Janus almost choked, wearing a rare expression of genuine concern he'd never dare let anyone but Patton see. "I wouldn't call an encounter with a Head Angel 'nothing much!' They didn't try anything with you, did they?"

"No, no, nothing happened," Patton said quickly to quench his fears, "I heard their lot has been trying to keep the peace with our bunch. They don't want to cause any other-worldly problems when they can hardly handle this new plague on Earth, or whatever the humans are calling it."

Janus's face melted back into relaxation.

The corners of Patton's mouth twitched upward at the subtle display. Notes of true affection from Janus were few and far between, so much so he doubted anyone but him ever picked up on them, but he cherished those moments where the other let bits of his heart slip through the cracks of his usual facade.

"Anyway," he continued, "They looked like they had an apprentice with them. Remy, I think his name was. I'd never seen him before and mistook him for just another human in the park with his true form covered."

Janus clicked his tongue. "Consciousness Darling, you have to work on it."

“I was getting to that,” Patton said indignantly. “It just so happens I had gotten my hands on a box of these lovely gourmet chocolates I was dying to try and got a little...distracted.”

Janus brought a forkful of mushroom risotto to his lips, barely holding back a smile. “Ah, I see. Completely understandable.”

“And you know what,” Patton said, ignoring the sarcastic quip, “I hadn’t even set out that day to tempt anyone. I thought: Why not leave the humans alone, just this once? They create plenty of Sin on their own, no help from me necessary.” He poured himself another glass of wine, the passion in his voice a testament to how much the alcohol was already starting to affect him. “So when I spot this kid looking around everywhere all disoriented I decided to offer him a chocolate. One, single, completely innocent chocolate, just to perk him up a little cause he looked like he needed it. And right when I go up to him, Emile swoops in from out of nowhere and knocks the box right out of my hands, telling me to stop trying to tempt their pure apprentice like I do the humans.”

Janus gave a sound of acknowledgment. “And how exactly did this specific incident set you off down this ‘Gluttony shouldn’t be sinful’ path?”

“It’s the principle of it Janus! To think that they view such a minor indulgence as a bad thing. And then they hold the humans to the same standard. They have such short, insignificant little lives, and they waste it on concepts like ‘moderation,’ and ‘dieting,’ hoping it’ll be enough to please those stuck-ups. Humans, more than anyone, should be able to soak up every last bit of pleasure from their cuisine while they can. Why, if I were a human, I’d eat whatever I wanted whenever I wanted it.”

By the time the tirade was over Janus had cleared his plate. He polished off the last bit of his wine and released a satisfied sigh. “You already do that Dear,” he said, taking on a soft, sympathetic tone. “And it’s no use lamenting the sorrows Heaven inflicts on humanity; Just be grateful we can nudge them towards their own pleasure once in a while.”

“I guess so.” Patton sulked while finishing his own meal and snapping the table clean.

“Funny,” Janus teased in an attempt to get Patton’s mind on something else, “I wouldn’t have thought you the type to forget dessert.”

As expected, his energy brightened up at the mention. “You’re right, I never asked you what you wanted. Any preferences?”

Janus thought through various options, drumming his fingers on the table. “I was rather partial to that lava cake we had in France.”

No sooner had the words left his mouth than a dessert plate with the cake appeared in front of him.

“Toppings?” Patton asked, already doctoring up his own cake with whipped cream and berries.

“Just powdered sugar, thank you.”

A silver shaker popped up next to his plate. He took it, sifting only a small sprinkle overtop before cutting into the miniature cake. It was even more moist than he remembered, and the center of molten chocolate oozing out was the perfect viscosity. It only took one bite for him to conclude that even the five-star Parisian restaurant they had visited didn’t hold a candle to the food Patton could create on a whim.

“Have you heard from any of the other’s lately?” He asked, eager to get the ball rolling for a bit of after-dinner gossip (his personal favorite topic of conversation).

Patton shook his head. “I haven’t had the chance to. Aside from you, I’ve only seen Virgil recently, and that was months ago.”

A delighted, devilish smirk blossomed on Janus’s face. “So I take it you haven’t heard about the...hard time Logan has had as of late.”

“No, is he okay?” Patton asked, voice laced with worry, “What happened?”

“He’s just fine,” Janus said, reveling in the anticipation, “Let’s just say that it appears there’s a reason he’s so fond of the color blue.”

He recounted the entire story Roman had told him about Logan’s budding temptation towards Lust, much to Patton’s shock and amusement.

“I never would have expected those two,” Patton said, getting up and waving away their dishes once they were finished, “But I’m happy for them. It sounds like they’re enjoying themselves.”

Janus hummed in agreement, stretching as he too stood up. “The food was wonderful as always Darling, thank you,” he said, leaning over to give Patton a gentle peck on the cheek.

His face, already flushed from the wine, turned a shade darker. “Leaving so soon?”

“You know the drill,” Janus replied, “Temptations to be made, Angels to corrupt, humans to swindle. Perhaps if I’m feeling especially virtuous I’ll borrow you a gift from somewhere in return for the lovely meal.”

Patton, who had been sinking into the other’s touch, suddenly jerked back. “That reminds me,” he said, “Wait just a second.” He snapped once and a gift bag filled with glittery tissue paper materialized in his hand. “Here.”

Confused, Janus peeled away the top layers of the tissue paper, peeking inside. Everything was sealed up tightly in bubble wrap, but through the translucent covering he could make out a familiar design. He looked up above the sink where the gold accented dish set from earlier had hung, the wall now dotted only with semi-visible outlines of where it had once been.

Patton giggled at his surprise. “You aren’t nearly as sly as you think you are,” he said. “And I don’t care whether I eat off of solid diamond or a paper plate as long as the food is good, so they’re really no use to me.” He winked. “Besides, I think I actually quite enjoy feeding your desires.”

There was a beat where Janus simply stared stunned and silent at Patton, who, in turn, looked to him with all the tenderness in the world.

Janus moved with his free hand, rushing forward to cup Patton's face and connecting their lips in a deep kiss.

“Every single being in Heaven is an idiot for not making you one of their own,” Janus whispered when they had just barely parted.

“Maybe not,” Patton said lightly, “Maybe they have incredible foresight. In any existence I would have ended up Falling for you anyway.”

Janus pulled them in for another kiss, pushing his previous priorities to the back of his mind. He was Greed after all, it was only natural for him to go after his desires. And if what he wanted was right in front of him for the taking then he certainly wasn’t going to refuse the offer.

---

Thank you so much for reading, I hope you enjoyed it! If you're interested in this AU I do plan on creating a collection of one-shots for it, so be sure to be on the lookout for those.

Here's just a couple quick notes on the writing itself that I thought might be confusing:

-Fare, as written in the title, refers to food.

-The "Sins" in this AU were once combined into a single physical being. However, as humanity grew in size it became increasingly harder for one being to manage the responsibilities for all seven Sins at once. The internal conflict caused a split to occur, with individual vessels being created for each Sin. The only exception is Logan, who represents both Wrath and Envy. The two Sins compliment each other well, so it's easy for them to work in tandem as one. A similar occurrence happened with Pride and Lust (Roman and Remus) at first, but ultimately fell apart later on.

-The color blue, referenced in the short mention of Logan near the end, is often attributed as the color of lust.

#sanders sides #cartoon therapy #moceit #Janus Sanders #patton sanders #intrulogical #Greed!Janus #gluttony!patton

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1quastion-isitgrank · 4 years ago

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share this forever endeavor with you

wow this was down to the wire, but i finished my short fic for @jonmartinweek day 8! (title from “forever endeavor” by the altogether)

***

They got lucky. Three years later, and not a day goes by that that thought doesn’t cross Jon’s mind. To end up Somewhere Else, and not only that but to end up in a place where the powers hadn’t made a home for themselves on the edges of reality— it was more than they deserved. Well, more than he deserved. But against all odds, they were here. The first year had been tough— wounds, both mental and physical, needed to begin to heal, and the reality of trying to build a life for oneself in a world where you didn’t technically exist was an incredibly stressful and painstaking process. But again, they got lucky, and eventually they got everything straightened out. Martin began working at a local cafe, and Jon got a position teaching English at a nearby secondary school. They had jobs, a flat that they shared, even a cat— a tiny black kitten they had named Sable. Life wasn’t perfect, but it was good. They were happy.

However, that doesn’t stop Jon from waking up early one summer morning with a pit in his stomach, exactly three years since they had arrived in this place. Most days he can keep it out of his head— a combination of therapy and time doing wonders for his mind. Today was the exception, a twisted, corrupted anniversary. Three years to the day he had set unknowable horrors loose on other worlds, had looked a heartbroken Martin in the eye as he realized Jon had broken his promise, had taken them both away from the world they knew, forever. Most days he doesn’t feel the guilt, anymore, recognizing the truth: powers unknowing and uncaring had manipulated him in unimaginable ways, using him for their own will, their own desire for power. Today, though, it washes over him like a wave, twisting his stomach into knots and making it feel like he can’t breathe properly. He rolled over, hoping to find some comfort in Martin’s arms, but his boyfriend was gone. Not surprising for this time of day— Martin works a lot of early mornings— but his presence is especially missed today. Jon took a deep breath, exhaling slowly, willing the three year old memories to leave his brain.

A clatter from the kitchen startled him, but was a welcome distraction nonetheless. Martin always fed Sable before he left for work in the morning, but that didn’t stop her from trying to climb into and onto places she wasn’t supposed to be as soon as she thought she was alone. Jon sat up, reaching over to his dresser and grabbing a t-shirt, which he promptly pulled on. His hair had gotten long again over the past three years, and he quickly twisted it up into a bun before heading for the kitchen. As he turned the corner, he mentally prepared himself for whatever disaster Sable might have caused. He never had it in him to scold her for it, but he would have to clean it up. And yet, when he entered the kitchen there was no sign of the mischievous kitten. Instead, there was a flustered-looking Martin, kneeling on the floor and attempting to rearrange what appeared to be about half of their pots and pans so that he could fit them back into the cabinet. A bowl of pancake batter sat on the countertop, along with a pan that Martin had presumably had to pull out from underneath many others, causing the chaos that now spread out before him. Jon chuckled, about to make a clever comment (before kneeling down to help his boyfriend, of course), when he spotted something else on the counter that made his breath catch in his throat. It was small, but unmistakable, dark blue velvet and rounded edges. A ring box.

Of course, it was then that Martin looked up and saw Jon. “Christ, Jon,” he said, visibly startled. “I thought you were still asleep— I was gonna make breakfast for you, and—” A look of panic crossed his face, clearly remembering what sat on the countertop. He jumped to his feet, attempting to be inconspicuous as he glanced back at the counter and moved so that he was blocking Jon’s view of the box.

Jon couldn’t help the grin that spread across his face. He was the luckiest man in the world. “That’s alright, Martin. I’m up now, I can help.” He stepped over the pots and pans littering the floor, bringing himself nearly chest to chest with Martin. “Here,” he said, reaching past him towards the counter. He was only planning on grabbing the pan, just to mess with Martin a little bit, but a hand darted out to stop him.

“No!” Martin nearly shouted. “I mean— erm, it’s fine. I can— I can finish up, I wanted to bring you breakfast in bed, just— just go back to sleep for a little bit, okay?”

“Acting awfully suspicious, aren’t we?” Jon asked, smirking. “Are you… hiding something from me, Martin Blackwood?”

“What?” Martin sounded nervous. “What— why would you think that?”

“Oh, no reason,” Jon said lightly. He stepped back, turning around as though he was about to leave. “Don’t worry about it, I’ll go back to bed.” For just a moment, he turned back to face Martin. “You can just, uh, give me a ring, when breakfast is ready.”

“I can— oh!” Martin deflated slightly, looking rather defeated, yet he couldn’t seem to help the laugh that escaped him. “Fuck, Jon. I wanted to surprise you.”

“Sorry,” Jon smiled apologetically, “It was just sitting right there, and I—”

“No, no, it’s alright,” Martin said, still chuckling. “C’mere.”

Martin took Jon’s hand and led him out of the kitchen. He sat him down at their dining table before getting down on one knee in front of him.

“I’m still going to ask you properly,” he declared.

Jon nodded, his smile now in real danger of becoming a permanent fixture on his face.

“Right. Okay,” Martin said, almost to himself. Then, he pulled out the ring box, looking up at Jon. “So. I know how today can be for you. I know it’s hard, remembering everything that happened, and I know that there isn’t really any “fixing” it. But I thought, maybe, we could make today a different anniversary, too. Have some good memories along with the painful ones. Because, yeah, these past three years have been difficult, but I’ve also been happier than I’ve ever been, Jon, and it’s because of you. Whatever happened to us in the past, my life is better because you’re a part of it, and whatever the future holds, I know I want you by my side. You are the love of my life, Jonathan Sims. Will you marry me?”

Jon nodded again, more frantically this time, fighting the tears threatening to spill from his eyes. “Yes. Of course, of course I will, I love you, Martin, I love you so much.” He slid out of the chair, sinking down to the floor so he could kiss Martin, wrap his arms around him, hold him tight.

They got lucky, ending up in a world where they could be free. Jon still wakes up once a year to memories of horrors that feel all too real. They both still have nightmares. Some nights they lie awake in bed, holding each other, neither saying a word but both knowing exactly the sort of thoughts that are running through the other’s mind. They also go on dates. Picnics, walks in the park, even the occasional theatre production. They cook meals together, creating everything from five star gourmet meals to charred piles of disaster. And, a couple months after Martin’s proposal, they finally exchange vows, and they definitely don’t cry. (They both cry.) It’s not always easy, but there’s still joy to be found, and find it they do. And whatever hardships come, they know they’ll always face them together.

#jonmartinweek2021 #the magnus archives #jonmartin #jon sims #martin blackwood #welcome to: the sappiest thing i've ever written #brought to you by: i should definitely have spent tonight doing hw but instead i wrote this #also if you've read chapter 3 of my only completed multichapter aziraphale/crowley fic and you notice any similarities..... no you didn't <3 #listen i'm a sucker for proposals not going as planned but still being sweet anyway what can i say

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fafulous · 5 years ago

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Take Me Home (3/5)

Andy Barber x Reader (Post!Defending Jacob)

Summary: After the unfortunate events of the trial and after, a depressed Andy Barber decides to call it quits and start a mundane life far away from Newton. He decides it is best to have a fresh start away from prying eyes and alone, but he never thought his caring neighbor (and her son) would change all of that.

Themes: MAJOR D.J. SPOILERS ((The series is following the BOOK ENDING and not Show)), Sad and soft Andy Barber, Single Mother Reader. Cursing.

A/N: Thank you all for reading this! I’m really not so good at nsfw stuff. Bear with me xD

SERIES MASTERLIST

Warnings: NSFW lil smutty.

–

Andrew Stephen Barber is a good man.

He not only asks you out for a date, but also asks your son’s permission to take you out on a date.

But before that you had a conversation with your little one while he was playing with his toys. “Hey Niko, can mommy talk to you?”

Niko fiddled with his toys, whispering to them that he needs to talk to his mother dearest.

“What is it mommy?”

You lifted him and placed him on your lap, kissing his forehead. “Mommy needs to tell you something, and you need to tell me if you’re okay with it.”

“Owkay,” he buries his face in your chest.

“Peaches, will you be okay if I hang out with Andy more than he normally does?”

“But you fwiends with Wandi.”

“Yeah Peaches I know,” you hesitated for you didn’t know if it was wise to have such a delicate conversation with this little brain you love so much, “But I think mommy like Andy more than a friend now.”

“Woh like pwincess and pwince?” he asked you, his face brightening.

You hugged him tighter laughing at his comparison, “Yeah peaches. Like them.”

“But what about papa?”

It was hard to explain, even though Niko knew his mother and father aren’t together. You patiently explained him, pausing in between whenever he didn’t understand.

“…Papa hit me peaches. Papa doesn’t like me, but papa loves you okay, you must know that. You still have to visit papa okay?”

He began to cry again and hugged into your shoulders, realising that the whole ‘papa hitting momma’ triggered his memories that he never liked in the first place, “Me don’t like papa! P-papa hit you! Papa give you booboo in your face mommy!”

“Hey buddy don’t cry.”

Your head turned to Andy; glad he made a visit at the right time. He quickly whispered that the door was unlocked, and he took Nikolai from your grasp. “I got this momma bear,” he whispered.

He snuggled and cuddled Nikolai just to calm him down, walking up and down the house. He didn’t bother about the fact that the child’s tears and snots were staining his blue shirt.

“Hey buddy. Don’t cry what happened?”

“Papa hit mommy. Papa hit mommy-”

Andy cradled him now, trying to distract him with his soothing voice. “Your papa isn’t here buddy. No one’s going to hurt mommy okay? I promise I won’t let anything happen to mommy okay?”

“Y-you won’t h-hit m-mommy Wandi?”

Andy froze for a little bit, wondering where this was coming from, but then you popped in with a teary eye gently telling him that they had a conversation about you asking him out.

“Of course, not buddy. I will never hit Mommy, it’s a promise. I like your mommy okay buddy?”

“Yeah, Mommy say she likes you too.”

“Will you be okay if I’m with mommy?” He asked the little baby, wiping his tears with his hands.

“You pinkie pwomise you won’t hit her?”

“Pinkie Pwomise.”

“Then wowkay.”

A few more minutes of cradling, and the little one dozed off.

Andy put him on the couch after kissing him and came up to you, embracing you in one of his cuddly hugs you always loved. You tip toed and kissed him on the cheek. “Mr. Grumpy Cat, you’re making me feel like I am too dependent on you.”

“Isn’t that a good thing Momma Bear?”

“If you say so.”

—

You knew Andy was a keeper the minute he knew Nikolai would be joining them for their first date at the park.

It so happened that little Niko didn’t like being left alone with Mr. Arthur when his two-favourite people on the planet were going to spend time with one another. He threw a tantrum like one you’ve never seen before, and alas your weak heart couldn’t see him crying for too long.

To your surprise it didn’t sound like he was feigning, but Andy was genuinely looking forward to going out with you and Nikolai at the same time. After all it was his first time he was going to literally go out with you two.

Laying a picnic spread, Andy unpacked the picnic basket. Both of you did try to sneak in a few private moments with each other but was too less. Nikolai would never leave you two alone. “I am so sorry about this Andy. I know you deserved a better first date from my end.” “Hey its completely fine momma bear. This feels just like our dinner nights, only difference is that we’re out in the warm sun with home cooked food and lemonade.”

Mostly what you and Andy could do was cuddle under the tree while you spoke about tame stuff since Nikolai ran up to you both every five minutes. He would take a sip of lemonade, a bite of the Andy’s sandwich and go up the jungle gym with a couple of his newly made kid friends.

“And here I thought you were trying to impress me Andy. Your impressing Nikolai instead of seducing me?” In fact you were drop dead impressed. He took care of your son’s needs first. What more does a single mother need?

It wasn’t also helping how Andy looked so good today. A light blue shirt with black trousers, his sleeves rolled up to show his popping veins on his arm. His muscles weren’t shy from popping through his shirt material. His hair and beard, as usual, is something you’d worship alone.

He looked like a gourmet meal.

“Oh, you want seduction?” He leaned over close, breathing hot air onto your neck while he readied his hoarse voice, “Wait till you taste my peanut butter sandwich honey.” Even though his voice went low, sending you tingly feelings all over, you knew you’d never not laugh for his silly boy jokes.

Dates with Andy soon became date nights. Andy was a gentleman when it came to your son’s involvement. Any other prospective date of yours would have ended it soon since dating you meant having your son all day around. Thanks to the help of Andy’s loyal contacts and past clients, he had managed to get Nikolai into a day-care since it was time you stopped depending on your neighbours. They were extremely kind and didn’t mind taking care of Niko too, but you had to respect their fragile age. So here you two were, on an official first date without your son. A quiet lunch in a quaint cafe right near your library. Andy picked you up, even though you argued that it was literally walk-able from your workplace. Andy and you felt the conversation going so smoothly. It only felt like any other conversation you both had during dinner every day. But only this time, both of you had little butterflies in your stomachs in the hopes of this relationship blooming into a safe cocoon. A safe place for each other. "I’m guessing the first time you saw me, I was never in your good books?” “Oh no,” you huffed taking a sip of your wine, “you were a pain in the ass. I still never get it why you were so rude to me.” Andy reached out for your hands and gave a gentle squeeze. “I’ll never forgive myself for that. You just seemed so so… good to be true. I wanted to keep distance from something that was so wholesome, especially when I used to see you and Niko in your lawn every evening you know.”

”Oh shush Andy. You’ve made Niko’s and my life too good to be true now.” With great difficulty, you let Andy pay for the first date, arguing that he was always fed by your home cooked meals and now was his turn.

“I had a good time Andy. I had such a good time. I want to spend more time with you like this.”

“We have every night ahead of us honey. We get to spend more time more now.”

“Niko has gone to his father’s place, it’s his birthday this week and he wanted Nikolai for the whole week,” your face drooped, “We have the week to ourselves. Do you wanna, you know, do something?”

“Yeah I’d love to. Say what about dinner at my place? Drop in home once work is over? I’ll cook?”

This was a little chance. He wanted to do something more intimate with you.

Once work was over, you straight away drove to his home. When Andy opened the door, you hugged Andy and took in the blissful ambience of his house.

Anyone would argue he wasn’t a bachelor. His house was so neat, better than the first time you visited his house.

Andy made a beeline to the stove and over while you removed your coat and went around the place. His house soon smelled like a warm toasty oven; vanilla candles lit on the table with a few fresh roses in a vase in between.

“How was your day honey? I really love the blouse you’re wearing.”

Such a charmer.

“Thanks bub. My day went fine you had no idea what happened…”

You dramatically narrate the events of your workplace as you plop yourself on the kitchen counter while Andy shows keen interest in your words even though he his cooking. He simmers the flames and chooses to give you his full attention now.

“…and so now Tracy doesn’t like me anymore because I am going out with you now.”

“Is that right now?” he leaned in closer, placing his arm on your sides, trapping you with his arms on either side of you.

You nodded, which was sending Andy crazy because he saw how your supple lips were being trampled by your own teeth. You looked irresistible. With your flimsy cute work blouse showing the perfect amount of cleavage and outlining the cups of your bra, he just instinctively leaned closer to you. Both of you were silent except for each other’s breaths.

But your eyes trailed lazily over him, until it landed on an uncharacteristic embroidered apron that said Kiss the Cook.

As Andy neared you, your legs wrapped around his thighs, feeling his well-toned calf muscles that he must have developed from swimming. Your voice was so breathy that you doubted if Andy could hear you. “Do we obey the words of the apron in this house?”

Andy looked down to his apron and then back at you, eyes looking at your lips, “Well I was planning for that after dinner gets over.”

“Oh Andy,” your fingernails trace his cheek, shamelessly pulling him by the chin as your lips brushed his. “But I’m so hungry…”

Andy smashed his lips on to yours, even though he wanted to be gentle. You kissed him back with all the pent-up frustration of not being able to touch a man for so long on to him. Andy kissed you just as passionately and deeply as you did. You ruffled and pulled on his hair while your tongues peaked inside one another. He tasted like a homemade meal with a splash of wine. It was the first time both of you made out. Andy Barber of the past would have instantly taken you over the counter, but his clogged mind didn’t think he deserved such gestures of pleasure. So, he never took any initiative to direct things, always seeking your direction like lost puppy. "Andy? Bub? You can touch me wherever you want,” you whispered. He pulled you closer by gripping on to your ass harshly which earned a sexy chuckle from the both of you. Andy couldn’t say how you tasted, maybe it was some flavoured chapstick that you’d always wear? But for Andy, you tasted like home, his favourite taste.

Both of you gently yet quickly ripped off each other’s clothing. Andy’s bare chest made you want to place sloppy kisses all over his body and at the same time pinch his cute pink nipples. But you reminded yourself to stay grounded.

Because Andy was being very reserved with you. He was so hesitant, you could feel it, even though he was a mind blowing kisser. He removed your top and asked you a couple of times if he could touch your breasts.

He pushed away everything and made you lie on the counter. He massaged your breasts while he shoved his tongue way down your throat. It felt so good. He felt so good. So good that you could feel your panties ruined. His hands dangerously neared your clothed core. Your fantasies of Andy bending you over the counter and fucking you like he owned you flashed for a couple of minutes. But Andy stopped his kisses the minute he smelt the burnt smell coming from the oven and stove. Andy took out the burnt pasta and the burnt chicken appetizer from his stove and oven and placed it in the open.

Two panting, half naked bodies looking at each other. “Sorry Bubba. We got um carried away with the kiss, didn’t we?”

“No way honey. That was more than just a kiss. But this is just a plate of pasta and chicken. Besides what do you think about candlelight pizza and some whiskey with your favourite Harry Potter movie?”

“Andy,” you said with your strict voice, “you have officially seduced me with that one question. It’s definitely a big yes!”

Andy plopped you off the kitchen counter with one more passionate kiss and helped you into his sweater (since you requested if you could wear one of his soft blue sweaters). Andy realised you had removed your work skirt and were tying your hair into a high bun when he finished ordering your pizza.

If Nikolai had made his living room messy and loud with his toys and fighting sounds, he would be having a perfect home right now.

Soon the pizza came. Andy didn’t let you do any kind of work. He placed the pizza box on the coffee table and lit two more freshly smelling vanilla candles in front of you. He brought his bottle of whiskey and a couple of glasses (and even wine because in case you change your mind). Before Andy sat down you realised, he was like you too with just sweaters and boxers. His hair was the same, ruffled because of the little stunt you both pulled at the counter.

“You don’t mind right?” He gestured to his attire.

“Oh, lover boy, this is a perfect night and I know it.”

Before you know it your cuddling with each other as the movie goes on, taking bites of cheese and sips of alcohol. Once the food gets over, you almost reach one third of the film, now just drinking mindlessly on wine and whiskey as both of you start to get grabby with one another.

Andy and you became tipsy, the movie soon forgotten. Cuddling soon became sweet whispers of comfort.

Sweet whispers of comfort soon became sloppy neck kisses.

Oh boy and these neck kisses ended up being another make out session.

Getting lost into each other’s kisses was something you loved with Andy. Even though you could feel his hard shaft onto your clothed dripping wet core now, both of you responsible adults knew it was too early for sex.

Both of tried to exchange a conversation that was soon forgotten. It came out as mumbled words and they were soon forgotten…

“H’honey,” he burped with the amount of alcohol he had consumed, “you’re not mad at me for not having sex, right?”

“Shhh, it’s okay Andy,” you burped back too, “Nothing wrong in saying no to sex. Consent is important. We are res-responsible adults- Andy that tickles!”

Andy rolled over on top of you on the couch and attacked your ears, peppering his lips all over your chest.

Sex was out of the cards for you lovebirds. Not sloppy wet kisses right? — Andy would do these small gestures that would always bring a gush of warmth and fuzziness inside you. His hands on the small of your back whenever you walked anywhere. The small back rubs he would give you whenever his body swallows you for a hug. His forehead kisses whenever he saw you stressing out too hard thinking about Nikolai. Your most favourite, linking your hands or pulling you towards his shoulders while going out (even in a departmental store) when any unknown young man approaches you.

You did miss your son without doubt, but it gave so much time for you and Andy to get to know each other much more intimately, emotionally.

Andy had his own vulnerabilities. That as just as much he is moving on, he is as much depressed if he is left alone. He even opened to you how he was going and try to reach out to a psychiatrist and you encouraged him to do so if it would make him feel better

Physically, Andy and you fooled around kissing all day. He never initiated anything, but when you did, he would beg you not to stop. You were genuinely not complaining because sex isn’t everything in a relationship. He told you honestly that he wanted to know you much more before consummating with you and you understood, because you realised, he just came out of a 17-year old institution called marriage.

The idea of him moving on was a blessing for you. Now you would wait for the blessing to count… Or you would just take it in your own hands?

Just the day before Nikolai visits home, Andy asked if he could work on Nikolai’s nursery. You were more than happy to oblige.

As hard as it was to get up early on a Sunday morning, Andy made it easier since he bought you some coffee and waffles.

He began with painting the wall with Nikolai’s favourite colour blue and made sure they were done in neat strokes. You are having the time of your life for you just sat on Niko’s bed watching Andy drilling a few holes into the wall.

He was shirtless all day.

You saw how his back muscles flex as he tried to screw in wooden planks on the wall to hold any toys for him. He even made two small wooden cubbies for Niko’s toys and books. He even made sure to buy extra black paint so that we could draw a very amateur version of his Audi car that Nikolai loved. You and Andy had a good laugh at the final disfigured outcome but were happy genuinely. It was the thought that matters

He loves nothing more than a home cooked meal and so you made him lunch and dinner while he finished the last details.

You left Andy alone in Niko’s nursery while you had to wrap up the kitchen and clean it. You made sure Nikolai’s pancakes batter was in stock because he was coming home tomorrow.

When you entered the nursery, it looked so perfect. Green walls, a cute little bed for his liking and a lamp in the shape of a yellow star was placed near his bed. But just one thing or one person looked out of place.

“Andy? Why do you look so stressed?” “Nothing just- was reminded of Jacob,” he shook his head, looking at the photo frame of new-born Nikolai in your arms. “His hair looks uncannily similar to Jake’s.” You sat next to him, your hands gently squeezing his thighs in comfort. “Do you want to talk about it?” “No no, I’m fine.” He gave you a half-hearted grin, but soon smiling at you for he realised how grateful he was for you to be here at every step of processing his emotions, “Thank you momma bear.”

“No bubba, thank you for all of this.” Both of you leaned over for a quick kiss, but Andy didn’t let go. His kiss on your lips felt needy, tugging on to your lips when you let go and looked into his eyes; it wasn’t as sunken as it was when you first laid your eyes on him. You realised how bad it must be for him to be alone with his thoughts.

But at the same time, you knew he wanted more, his eyes looked like that of a needy child wanting comfort.

And you were hell-bent on giving it to him

“Hey bubba, I gotchu’ okay?” He closed his eyes when he felt your soft palms cupping his cheek; the movement of his thumbs making him blush more. You brought your lips to his, feeling his chapped his against your soft ones.

You got up from the nursery and pulled him to your room and gently closed the door to lean in for another deep kiss.

It was too addictive. Andy had to taste more. He pulled you closer and kissed back with a newfound passion. But he felt you pulling back, leaving him breathless only to see you making him sit down on the bed and you falling down on your knees. “Hey no,” he knew what you were up to, “you don’t have do this.” “But I want to Andy. I wanna take care of you.” I want to give my love to you. You convinced him to relax and pulled down his sweatpants. His black boxers didn’t help hiding his growing bulge. You nudged him to open his legs wide and began placing soft kisses up his thighs. Andy breathed out soft whimpers when you licked and grazed your teeth over his clothed bulge all the way up. His needy state made you tear up a little bit, but it was okay, you were here for him now.

You pulled him for one more kiss before pulling down his boxers. “You look so beautiful bubba,” you whispered to him, gently stroking him while you pulled him down for a peck on his lips.

Andy was mesmerised by the sight of his cock in your hands. You teasingly stroked his length and placed sloppy kisses all over, earning a loud curse from him.

“Fuck!”

“Do you like it bubba? Do you like me holding you like this?” your mischievous yet caring eyes fluttering as you kitten licked the tip of his throbbing cock. Andy threw his head back, his breathing becoming heavier.

Andy was a moaning mess and boy oh boy you weren’t even started. He then saw your pretty lips wrap around his shaft, your tongue running around his throbbing length. When you wrapped your hand around the remaining part of his cock, bobbing up and down, Andy became a mumbling mess. He gripped on to the sheets beside him, not wanting to ruin his beautiful sight in front of him.

You could taste his precum on your lips, making you wet already. You sloppily licked him again, thinking about how would his hot cum feel inside of you. Your moan into his cock made Andy shudder with a small intensity. He was close already.

Tonight was about him only.

Andy tried so hard not to close his eyes, but he failed for he lost himself in this pleasure. He finally gave up tugged on to your hair gently, eyes lidded with desire. He felt so good in your mouth.

He felt so good being with you.

As you increased the pace, you felt him buck his hips against your mouth while your fingernails gently teased his balls. Andy wanted to fall back on the bed, but he kept growling incoherently at your antics. But he wanted to see his cock getting lost in your mouth.

“H-honey, I’m gonna- oh my god!”

He finally falls back onto the bed, his hips hitting your mouth harshly once more as you felt spurts of his sweet, salty cum go down your throat. You tried to lick every last drop of him on your lips, but you had a better idea.

Andy slowly open his eyes, only to see you hovering over him, panting. You leaned in for another kiss, passionately taking in all of you while he came to senses to realise, he was tasting himself off of you.

Andy looked so beautiful, his face was flushed. A glow on his face like a boy getting laid for the first time. His eyes had that mild sparkle; you would do anything to get happiness in this man’s life now.

“You taste that bubba? That was you,” you kissed his neck and another sloppy kiss to his plump lips, “So sweet.”

“You’re a little minx momma bear” he panted too, rolling over to nuzzle in your neck, “I never knew you had it in you.”

“Neither did I, I just wanted to take care of you okay. You looked like you could use a uhm- you know-“

“An Orgasm?”

“Yeah.” Both of you giggled like teenagers while later as Andy pecked more needy kisses on your neck.

“I want to return the favour, Honey.”

Oh, you would gladly accept him jumping into you, but you weren’t cruel. The man was literally tired. “But you look so tired Andy,” you cupped his cheeks again, ruffling your hands into his hair, “My orgasm can wait.”

“B-but"

“No buts mister. You did so much work today. You help me set up Nikolai’s whole room and you never even let me help you. This was all about you okay? I can’t see you with a frown on your face Andy. I really lo-like you a lot okay?”

"You hurting me honey,” he leaned closer to whisper sweet nothings, “I really like you too and that’s why I wanna make it up to you, now.”

“Sleep next to me today?” you trailed his hands over his exposed chest.

“Say no more.” You gasped as Andy lifted you over shoulders, spanking your soft peach. He gently made you sit down on your bed and helped you change into your nightwear, which was his very same blue sweater you wore that day.

That night you realised you would never cease to make his life brighter.

You spooned Andy as you both exchanged good night kisses. He was delighted, he was in the arms of a woman who was way out of his league. He slept that night peacefully knowing that he finally has someone to take care of him now. –

The very next Monday morning, Andy and you woke up to the sound of the calling bell, realising it was Chad dropping off Nikolai before he heads off to work. Andy was gleeful as he strode towards the door, excited about what happened last night. “Yaay! Wandi!” Niko literally jumped from his father’s hand to Andy’s shoulder, hugging his mother’s new pwince tightly as ever.

“Hey buddy, glad to have you back.”

Niko then goes running into his house, to his mother by the kitchen counter. You hugged your boy and held him in your arms, unbeknownst to you the ugly conversation that was going to follow

“It’s you from the library,” Chad eyed him like a piece of meat noticing he was not wearing his shirt.

You observed from afar. He was nothing compared to Andy. Your boyfriend’s muscles had more personality that your son’s father. “Yes and you must be Chad, Y/N’s ex-husband.” “And you must be Andrew Barber. Father of the dead Jacob Barber.” “You are a fucking son of a-” You quickly put Nikolai down and asked him to go to his room. Andy wanted to throw this man over your porch and slam his head with a metal pan. But you beat him to it as he saw you holding Chad by the collar. “How dare you? Don’t you fucking DARE say a word about him, DO YOU GET IT?” Andy tried and successfully held on to you know, deeply terrified of how you were shouting.

“You’re wearing his clothes,” he snarked “You fucking any guy that lives next to you now?“

Smack!

You slapped him hard. So hard he had a red imprint on his cheek. You waited for a second for him to open his mouth as an excuse to slap his other cheek again. Andy pulled you back now, “Sweetheart it’s not worth it. It’s okay.”

“You don’t even know anything about him Y/N,” he straightened up himself. “I may be a cheater, but I am not born a murderer.”

Andy left his grip from your arms, feeling him slowly move away inside your house.

“What?”

"Did you know his father in jail? Bloody Billy Barber? For murdering a girl?”

You felt your heart feeling heavy. “N-no.”

“Oh jolly, good luck processing that! By the way, Sasha my girlfriend and I are going on a vacation for a couple of weeks so, Nikolai will not be coming- “

You weren’t listening to him because you shut the door on his face. You slowly processed what you had heard. You never pressed Andy because you respected his choice. His words.

“Is this true Andy?”

You earned a small nod from his burried face in his own hands.

How could you forget? It was one of your best nights. You never doubted him and even after hearing this, you really didnt.

You both were really drunk that night (every night of the week actually), rolling on the bed with each other naked. "I have a lot more skeletons in my closet than you think Y/N.”

“Have you cheated on anyone?”

“No”

“Have you stolen monies?”

“No, you silly” “Have you killed anyone?” Andy giggled and said “No!“ He smacked your forehead. "Then consider that closet empty. I like you, this Andy Barber, not the Newton County’s DA. The hot swimming instructor who hates Speedos and loves backrubs.” By the time you could process this information, Andy got up and gently grabbed you by your shoulders, his watery eyes doing no job of his distress. “Andy listen to me okay. Wait-” “I wanna stay alone for a couple of days okay? I want to apologize if I feel like I’m abandoning you. I-I am not though…” “Bubba we can talk about this.” You pleaded him, cupping his cheek. “Just talk to me bubba please.” “No, I don’t think so Y/N. I can order take out okay. Don’t wait for dinner night for me. Thanks for last night. I’ll never forget it.” He places a quick kiss on your forehead only to leave in a hurry. “I still like you okay.”

You wanted to cry. You wanted to scream. You didn’t like how this was going.

You processed it. Andy’s father was a murderer, not Andy himself.

If Andy wasn’t going to process that, you would do that for him too.

You would do anything to get happiness in this man’s life now.

–

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#Andy Barber #Defending Jacob #Andy Barber x reader #Chris evans imagines #Andy Barber Imagines #Chris evans x reader #Defending Jacob Spoilers #andy barber fluff #andy barber smut #chris evans #chris evans x you #andy barber imagine #andy barber angst #defending jacob finale #jacob barbe #andrew barber

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mamawolfblood · 4 years ago

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Total drama Surprise

14 Brunch of Disgustingness

Chris: Last time on Total Drama Island… A note from a secret admirer got Gwen and Bridgette up in each other’s business. DJ accidentally knocked his boy Trent off the airplane, sending him deep into the Earth’s crust. Leshawna showed everybody how to hang on for dear life on the moose ride. Harold showed himself to be an ace flag-catcher, until he caught sight of Heather’s… unmentionables, causing him to crash his way right off the island, but not without a little canoodling time with the fair Leshawna. And now, let’s see what’s in store for our campers on this week’s episode of Total. Drama. Island!

Iris found it odd that Chef did want her help today for breakfast. Walking and sat on the dock looking at the moon. It was calm a peaceful just the gentle sound of water. "You couldn't sleep either?" Duncan said making the teen jump. He chuckled sitting behind me. His arms wrapped me into a warm embrace. His chin ontop of her head. No words needed to be spoken they just watch the sun rise.

It was something she didn't want to end but nothing lasts forever. The campers made their way to the mess hall. Before Iris could enter Duncan grabbed her arm. "Duncan what is it?" She asked looking up at him. But the carage he gathered soon turned to cold feet making him let go. "Nothing let's see what your dad has up his sleeve today." Damb so close but no big deal. The girl thought stepping inside sitting with her team.

Iris pov

My dad Was acting weird whenever someone tried to ask about food. Chef would snicker and laugh along with him. " OK seriously enough, what is wrong with the two of you?" I asked making them look at me. Its no secret I get cranky when I don't get food.

Chris: Congratulations to the remaining ten campers for reaching the halfway mark in the competition! You’ll all be on the jury for the final episode.

Geoff: We got the power! Yeah!

Chris: The two teams will become one next week. But first, all the girls will be moved to the Gopher cabin and all the guys will stay in the Bass cabin. This week’s challenge is as old as history itself. A battle of the sexes [Lindsay blows a raspberry at the guys] After everyone is settled in, I’ll announce the challenge. And then, you’ll have an uh… bite to eat.[He and Chef snicker] Ready for a little good news? This week, no one will be kicked off. [everyone cheers] It’s all for reward and it’s a good one. Okay, time to relocate. Let’s move! [He and Chef snicker]

Heather started kissing up to Bridgette. It was sickening to watch so I got up and left.

(Confessional: Bridgette)

Bridgette: I was a bit worried about being the only new girl on the team. Then I figured it can’t be that bad. I don’t buy that hype about how well guys get along and how catty girls can be.

(Confessional Off)

I was sitting outside when Bridgette walked over. "Hi Bridgette have fun in the lions den." I said before laughing.

Leshawna: Nobody’s leaving until I find out who ate my pudding pockets!

Heather: I ate them. So what?

Leshawna: Whoa! Pump the brakes a minute! You’re “so what”ing me? That’s my food. No one touches my food!

Heather: Whatever, deal with it. It serves you right for leaving your junk everywhere, especially that. That is bugging me.

Leshawna: Yeah, it’d bug me too if I didn’t have anything in the front or in the back to shake.

Heather: Yeah? Well, you’ve got so much junk in your trunk, your jeans should come with a trash compactor!

Leshawna: Ooh! You want a piece of this?

Bridgette: Uh-oh.

Heather: Bridgette! It’s so good to see you! Come in, come in! Welcome to our cabin. We’re like a big family in here.

Gwen: Big and dysfunctional.

Heather: Anything you need, just yell.

Bridgette: Thanks for the awesome welcome, Heather.

Lindsay: Welcome to the club! It’ll be so much fun! As long as you do everything Heather says. Ow!

Heather [after she laughs] : Yeah, we love joking around here at girls cabin. I made sure your bunk was next to mine–

Lindsay: Hey! That’s my bed. Ow!

Heather: So we can talk and share and really get to know each other.

Bridgette: Okay, yeah! Hey, thanks everybody, I can’t wait to get to know all of–

Heather: Okay! Plenty of time to chat later! Let’s unpack.

Lindsay: This is great! I bet we’re getting along way better than the guys.

I honestly hope things are going well. This den of vipers is about to explode. If on cue I heard this.

Bridgette: Let’s build bridges, not walls!

Heather: Take your pick.

dramatic music plays as Bridgette picks Gwen and Leshwana's side

Heather: You just dug your own grave.

Bridgette: Let’s try to get along, okay? Otherwise, the guys are going to cream us, don’t you get it? Tough room.

[Chef and Chris snicker]

Heather: Stop doing that!

Chris: Let’s just tell them… Today’s challenge is… The Brunch of Disgustingness! You’ll be getting a nine-course meal. Each member of each team must finish each dish. You will not know if the next dish is grosser than the last, not as gross, or just as gross. Just that it’ll likely be… gross.

Chef: Tell them what they’ll get if they win, Chris!

Chris: The winning team spends two days at a local five-star resort where they’ll be pampered, eat gourmet nosh, and be given antibiotics against anything they may have caught while participating in this challenge! The losing team will go hungry tonight and spend the next two days here. On Total Drama Island. With Chef.

The first round was bull testicles and the point went to the girls. Oh those boys could handle a little meatball.

Chris: The score now stands at one for the girls and zero for the guys! And now, the next course in… The Brunch of Disgustingness! You guys like pizza?

Owen: I could eat pizza any time with anything on it!

Chris: Anything? How about live grasshopper pizza with tangy jellyfish sauce and live anchovies?

Owen: I could eat pizza any time with anything on it!

Chris: How about live grasshopper pizza with tangy jellyfish sauce and live anchovies?

Ok even I thought it was gross please do let me get sick.

Leshawna couldn't eat it giving the guys a point making us tied. The girls freaked on her but honestly not a big deal. "Guys its not a big deal. We will win the next round so stop complaining.

(Confessional: Chef)

Chef: I was excited about the next dish. I made it from scratch.

(Confessional Off)

Chris: All right, who’s ready for the third course? Spaghetti! Well, actually, Earthworms covered in snail slime sauce and hairballs.

I barfed when it was placed infront of me.

(Confessional )

Iris- WHO THE FUCK THOUGHT THIS WAS A GOOD IDEA?! THIS SHIT IS FUCKING DISGUSTING!

*static *

(End of Confessionals)

The guys got another point and now I am getting aggravated.

Chris: All right everybody. Time for course number four. No nine-course meal would be complete without soup. Today’s special is French Bunyon soup with hangnail crackers.

(Confessional: Geoff)

Geoff: I think they just use stuff from Chef’s bathroom floor.

(Confessional Off)

Bridgette gasps

DJ strains to eat

Trent gags

Lindsay: I didn’t even taste it.

Chris: The girls win again![Gwen, Heather, Leshawna, and Lindsay cheer] The score’s now tied up at two.

(Confessional: Bridgette)

Bridgette: I think the girls really made a breakthrough as a team.

(Confessional Off)

The rounds continue and the barfing too. But we made it to the final round.

"Oh god I think I'm going to be sick." I said trying to hold it down but I dont think I can.

hris: Wow, it’s still tied up. We’re down to the last course in the challenge. It’s delicious dolphin wieners. Hot dogs made of dolphin.

Bridgette [after she gasps] : But dolphins are our friends!

Heather: What are you waiting for? It’s already dead. If you don’t eat it, we don’t win.

Bridgette: Ooh, I can’t! I’m a surfer! I swim with dolphins!

Heather: Eat it!

Bridgette: No! I’m not doing it. You can’t pressure me.

The hell we can't grabbing a hot dog off the plate, and then proceeded to shove it down her throat.

"I'M NOT LOSING THIS BECAUSE YOU CAN'T GROW A PAIR! THE DAMB THING IS DEAD SO SUCK IT UP AND STUFF YOU FUCKING FACE!" They all looked at me Bridgette had tears in her eyes. She coughed it all up.

DJ: I’m with you sister. I’m not eating no dolphin.

(Confessional : Chef)

Chef: I slave over a hot stove cooking dolphin. No appreciation!

(Confessional Off)

Chris: Okay, enough. We’ll solve this by having an eat-off. The one who can drink the most shot glasses of fresh, delicious blended cockroach will be the winner. This unlikely satisfying blend of eight different cockroaches is vitamin rich for your balanced lifestyle. On your mark, get set, go!

Owen and Leshwana drink the cockroaches.

Leshawna groans two times

Chris: Owen wins!

DJ, Duncan, Geoff, and Trent cheer

Leshawna groans

Heather: Leshawna, you are completely useless!

Leshawna: Oh, uh-oh, something’s coming up. [puking]

DJ pukes

Trent:pukes

Chef: Grr… [retches]

Chris retches

Duncan and Geoff Puke

The “elimination” music plays.

Chris: The guys are the big winners today. And the girls go their separate ways. Two definitive cliques have been cemented. [Heather grunts and the door rattles] For now. What shocking surprises are in store for our campers next week as they head for the big merge? Tune in on Total. Drama. Island!

#romance #original characters #oc #jealousy #fanfiction #td heather #td gwen #td chef #td trent #tdi chris #total drama #total drama leshawna #total drama island

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