#well I think i would need to have them metaphorically sniff each other through the door first

[lunadivino]

What I would give to put Alisaie and Trish in a room together

[untilteddocument]

After-Action Archive Caves of Qud - The Cradle and the Grave

Welcome again, one and all, to the After-Action Archive! If the previous hors d'oeuvre was to your liking, here's the...salad? It's not the main course yet. Soup? Like restaurants do appetizers first, and then they do soup and/or salad, and then the main course, right? I don't know, whatever, this metaphor is breaking down fast.

ANYWAY here's Part Two of my journey through the Tomb of the Eaters! Even abridged as this recap is, there's a lot of ground to cover, physically and otherwise. With that in mind, we've miles to go before we sleep.

After the rubble-strewn entry hall, I and my team made for a side hallway and the pit at the end of it, leading to the first "real" section of the Tomb: the Folk Catacombs.

I feel the weight of centuries here, the base of a vast monument to death. There is a heavy, hushed feel in the air, not holy but not mundane either. The wet scrapes of oozes picking at the bones, conservators loosing the quiet whines of their servomotors, the low chanting of the death pilgrims in prayer to whichever sultan they revere, even the deliberate rustling of cloth as the graverobbers sneak among the piles of rubble and oddments. I sniff, amused, at the realization that even here, in this dead place, this death place, there is some semblance of the exchanges and tangles of life.

I hear the chime of the Bell of Rest, and wonder at the necessity of its effect. Isn't everything with the Mark of Death on it supposed to be...dead? Perhaps it's a deterrent for graverobbers, those seeking to cheat the system. That would make some sense, though why it doesn't just strike everything dead to make sure and have it all swept up by conservators is a question...I probably shouldn't be asking, since that oversight is what's giving me a chance here.

As we pass even more walls of bones, I take the time to examine some, wondering at the shapes. Most look like many of us, not even just the True Kin. A few don't look even remotely similar. And what did that matter, anyway? Did an inch here, an angle there, matter at all? We live, we drink, we die. I entertain a wild dream of the Putus Templar crumbling under that knowledge, that kinship.

I shake myself awake from it, for the only knowledge the Templar own is dogma and the only kinship they feel is for humiliation drugged to sleep with violence. We will find no salvation from them in logic. They would deny the mountain in the same breath as naming it their enemy.

We pass more walls, and I find myself wondering at what the eyes that would have been set in those sockets drank in, what those hands held, what words passed the holes of their ears. This world was not always choked in salt. Did they greet each other with "live and drink"? Was water so plentiful they saw no need to hoard every dram?

I find myself thinking of the outside. They say the ruins in the jungles are of unfathomably vast Eater settlements. My mind aches attempting to imagine. Each of these, living in some great canopy of metal and stone, knowing nothing of the world that would grow in their absence, perhaps each wondering in their quiet moments the same as I am right now.

My musings are broken by a mechanical cry for help.

I look to its source and see a painted turret being engulfed by a gelatinous cupola, its cameras turned unmistakably to me. While initially confused, I leap to action anyway, the ooze falling in the space of a few attacks. After some cursory cleaning, I take a look at the one I had saved.

I remember Zothom's recounting, and I realize that this must be the entrance to the mopango's home, and this is Vivira. I put my tinkering skills to work with some quick repairs and greet em.

I mention where I heard of this place from, and...

I have a feeling I know why ey's offering me sympathies, but...

Well, ey're definitely a turret, because those were some shots fired.

Related to self-realization, though, I asked em if, being that ey're of the mopango, ey had a credo.

Having been warned beforehand about asking the meaning, I ponder it myself in silence.

There is an obvious meaning in eir specific context. Ey is a turret, created to be a tool of order and death, and yet here ey is, growing and learning more among these literally-underground philosophers. Form needeth not follow function. Body need not be being.

That can be applied elsewhere as well. Appearances do not govern reality. The seeming of prosperity can hide want. An inviting cave can be a mouth. A fearsome beast can be a frightened whelp hoping to chase away a threat. That threat can be a simple passer-by, unconcerned with all but a distant destination.

Much to ponder.

I thank Vivira and resolve to meet Agyra, of whom ey spoke. It doesn't take long; ey happens to be in just the next room.

My conversation with em proves informative and interesting, as Vivira posited. After introductions, I decide to ask about eir people.

...I feel awkward and silly as soon as I ask, but my mouth beats my brain to the punch.

I'm glad my curiosity was received well, and it heartens me to know that the adage of "it takes a village to raise a child" holds true here as well. Speaking of, I wonder at their leadership structure.

I agree on its sensibility, and I am warmed by Agyra's joy. On to brass tacks, though.

I suppose that means I'm truly lucky. Aside from my given task, the treasure I seek is mostly in the form of knowledge, and what Agyra proceeds to describe will, I discover, prove most intriguing.

Of course, before I forget, and before departing Agyra's company, I have some more information to glean.

Dardi will be happy, I'm sure. As for the credo...it certainly suits em, in the obvious interpretation. As one so happy to share knowledge, truly the worst scenario is one who questions in ill faith, or with ill intent. Such questions are not aimed to learn, but to harm, rendering the whole exchange toxic.

I continue to ponder other possible interpretations of the credo on my way to find Lebah, who despite eir secluded place is easy enough to find.

Lebah is reticent, as Agyra mentioned. I introduce myself and privately resolve to take up little of eir time and peace.

Huh. Wondrous and profane, indeed?

Careful questioning reveals this k-Goninon to be an elder ooze, much like the gelatinous cupolas that populate this place, compounding the danger of their floor-eating fluids with sheer size and appetite. On the plus side, oozes are not specifically hostile to me, but I may have to confront it regardless, if it decides hunger is more urgent.

More importantly, that description of the device...what prison could Lebah mean? The Tomb certainly could be seen as one, but something tells me this isn't a simple key for a simple door. These children...despite the importance of my task, I find myself wanting to know more.

Speaking of knowing, I ask Lebah for eir credo.

Heh...I hide my laughter, lest it be mistaken for mockery. That credo, if my interpretation is valid, has much relevance in the now. The Girsh rising again, the Putus Templar marching as they will, an unprecedented signal from on high...I don't think I could put it better myself.

Thus heartened, I continue my journey.

[ssplague]

Alpha Bakugou & his late blooming Omega girlfriend 🌬🥀

PART TWO

Honorable mentions: @jazzylove @bakugoismisunderstood @koreylive

Okay since so many of you seemed to really enjoy this “Just thinking about”, I’m turning it into a short story. I’m thinking it will have four parts all together (including the original post). So I know I’d said that I’d give you a nice big dose of Scumbag Suki this update, buuuut that was before I knew this was going to take off like it did 🙈 The next one is entirely his POV so you’ll get your fill then!

Part 3

🌌✨🌠

“Suki, did you really have to be that harsh towards Izuku when we left the playground earlier? I know you dislike him now but….”

You trail off as you get settled on the plush, blanket lined floor of the small tent you and Bakugou had set up in your backyard. Supposedly there was going to be “A shit load of shooting stars tonight!” acording to one of your classmates. You were excited and insisted on staying up to watch, and as usual, Katsuki inserts himself into any and everything you do. Therefore; The two of you had rushed home after school, asked both your mothers and pleaded to spend the night together out in the yard. Deciding that you two were still at the age where anything other than star gazing was unlikely to happen, they allowed it.

Battery operated fairy lights were strung along the roof of the tent and a small lantern illuminated the center, giving the inside a pink and orange glow.

“Hah?! No way was I about to let stupid Deku come and ruin OUR sleep over! This is for me and you ________, no one else….just…us” a light breeze blew in through the open tent flap and treated Katsuki to be briefly overcome by your scent.

The two of you had your scent glands come in around the same time and still weren’t entirely used to it just yet. All both of you knew is that you favored each other’s scents over anyone else’s. It was kind of getting embarrassing how much you were beginning to enjoy your temperamental best friend’s spiced caramel aroma. So much so you had to make a conscious effort not to lean into him and sniff at his neck from time to time. He was subtle about it, but certainly didn’t mind bumping into or brushing up against you more often than ever to get a whiff of your intoxicating fragrance. Even getting hit with a face full just now had his brain feeling sluggish as beads of sweat began forming along his hairline.

A voice inside his head started incessantly growling “touch her, touch her TOUCH HER”. Under the guise of getting comfortable he shifted his leg to rest up against yours and his mind quieted instantly.

“I….I know that Kat…I wouldn’t have invited him anyway!” Your face began to redden as you brazenly blurted out; “I like when it’s just you and I, we always have the most fun”.

He instantly perked up at hearing that, but he couldn’t help but ask; “So you like me better than him? You think I’m BETTER than him?”. Leaning into you as he waited for you to answer his question, eyes narrowed.

“You know I do! Besides….” You couldn’t help yourself as you leaned towards him and inhaled deeply “You smell so much better than him too!”.

Oh hell now you’d done it ________, you unknowingly opened the metaphoric Pandora’s box.

He didn’t speak right away, just smirked back at you and enjoyed the devious expression on your face. After another minute spent invading one another’s personal space you were first to snap out of it quickly muttering; “M’sorry Suki I..I dunno what happened I shouldn’t have got in your face like that!”. You sat back up and moved your leg so it was no longer touching his. Unable to comprehend the sudden feeling of sadness at the loss of contact, or attribute it to the fact that you were no longer touching him. Katsuki frowned immediately and scooted back against you, “S’okay princess…s’not like it’s a big deal”. His use of the familiar nickname only succeeding to fluster you further.

The next few moments were spent in silence.

Surprisingly, It was you that eventually broke it asking; “Suki do you know…d’you know what mates are?”. You immediately began to play with the cheap desk telescope you’d brought out to avoid looking at him, your heart was beating a lot faster now. The startled look on his face would have informed you that your question caught him off gaurd; Surely you hadn’t just had the same thought he did?! Well either that or you could read minds….that wasn’t very likely, thank god.

“Ah well my mom told me it’s when two people decide that they want to always be together and get sad if they are ever apart…so they live together….and then other stuff happens that damn brats don’t need to know just yet” he finished lamely, confused as to why he felt so strange reciting his mother’s words exactly as she’d originally said them.

“I get sad when we have to go inside our houses at night and stop playing together” you said, the depressed tone of voice sounded like it was happening right then. “Me too…I wish we lived together cause then you’d always be with me” he confessed shooting you a nervous glance. Your eyes lit up and you beamed at him when the idea suddenly struck; “We have to become mates now Katsuki, we have to!”. You got up on your knees and began frantically shuffling things around the tiny tent. “If we’re mates then our parents can’t tell us we have to stop playing and separate at night! We’ll always be able to stay together!” Your sporadic movement and sudden outburst immediately infected your companion with the same frantic energy, albeit nervous, but excited all the same as he stared at you with wide eyes.

“You’re right _________! That’s a great idea”

“I know!”

“So uh..umm how uh…how do we do that?”

You stop smoothing the blankets out to stare at Katsuki, “You don’t know how?”.

“No” he admits glumly.

You can’t hold back the distressed whimper that escapes you and Katsuki is immediately at your side trying to console you “Hey princess it’s alright-“. “NO!” you exclaim “We need to do this to stay together forever!”.

Then you remembered something; “I see my mom and dad do this every morning”. You roll up the sleeve of your jacket and bring your wrist up, simulating the motion of rubbing it across the scent gland on your neck. Katsuki nods his head in understanding; “Oh yeah, mine do the same thing! Let’s do that!”. He lays back and stretches his neck out, “You do me first and then I’ll do you kay?”.

“Kay”

You nod and smile down at him, shuffling towards his head and bringing your wrist up to his neck. You hold your breath as your skin makes contact with his and start lightly rubbing over his scent gland a few times.

“S-Shit” he says softly, squirming slightly.

“What?! Did I hurt you??!” You ask.

Fear immediately replacing excitement and distracting you from reprimanding him for uttering a curse word as you usually would.

“N-No it didn’t hurt…please d-do it again”

You do, continuing thoughtlessly as you become enthralled by his peaceful expression and relaxed as he starts purring.

“Your turn”

You take his spot laying down on the fluffy blanket strewn floor, shivering with anticipation and the slight chill in the night air. His touch warms you from the inside out and you gasp at the sudden sensation. Relaxing once more, you look up at him through heavily lidded eyes and return the smile he’s giving you.

Neither one of you has any idea that this situation is going to come with serious consequences.

Eventually you remember the whole reason you two had decided to camp out in the first place; “The shooting stars!” You cry sitting up and narrowly avoiding head butting the blonde boy above you. “Hey!” He snarls. You stand and open the window flap in the tents ceiling, just as you do you see the first “star” shoot across the sky. “Woah! Quick make a wish make a wish kat!”.

He won’t admit it…but he does, and so do you.

As more stars shoot across the sky the two of you lay together; Happily curled up in the blankets, snuggling up together. Occasionally one of you brings your wrist up and begins to rub the others neck lazily, while continuing to watch the dazzling light show taking place above you. Both of you end up falling asleep long before it’s over. The sound of Katsuki’s continuous purring, lulling you into the most comfortable sleep possible.

Well that, and how his natural warmth just seemed to consume you….

Warmth…so warm at times it could get uncomfortable.

Like right now…too close…too hot

Your eyes snap open and you take in your surroundings; This is your dorm room, you’re at school right now, safe. Your clothes and sheets are soaked through with sweat. Not just sweat apparently; After waking up more you realize your lower body feels disgustingly sticky. Then a tingling sensation begins at the tip of your toes, rapidly spreading up your legs until it reaches the special place between them. Then it’s like a literal fucking furnace has exploded down there! Not to mention the heavyweight that has now come to rest in your lower stomach as it begins to cramp.

“Ow! ow! Ow!”

You try to feel around the bed for your phone, you could call one of your friends to come help you.Friends….that’s right they all left for the weekend! Wait not all of them left, Katsuki! He’s still here! That’s right, you were supposed to go over to his room, last night? Is it already morning? Fuck who knows.

You start to cry when you can’t feel your phone nearby on the bed, you don’t wanna look for it.

You don’t wanna be alone either though….Your scared. His room is just down the hall it’s not too far away, maybe if you just take it slow you’ll make it. You force yourself to get up, not even caring that all you have on is a tiny pair of sleep shorts and a sports bra.

You bend down to grab your slides out from beneath the bed and slip them on your feet before moving forward.

One foot in front of the other.

Your hunched over, one arm wrapped around your stomach and sweat freely dribbling down your face, coating your chest, sliding down the valley between your breasts.

Jesus, I must look like fucking shit right now.

As you make it into the hallway and start your journey all you can think about is how badly you want to see Katsuki. He always makes everything better somehow; That smile he wears just for you makes your heart sing normally. Right now you just let out a pained keen at the thought. Your inner omega has always been quiet enough to ignore in the past, but now she’s practically screeching like a fucking banshee inside of your head.

Just one word, over & over & over again:

Alpha

Alpha!

ALPHAAA!!!

With each screech your primal urges and instincts had began overwhelming you. Eventually reaching a point where the lines between the two began to blur. Making you feel more like a wounded beast that’s gone absolutely feral, while slowly dragging yourself down the hallway.

Once you get about halfway down you start to smell the familiar scent that you’ve become so fond of. Only it’s so much stronger and….muskier? It’s intoxicating, and so potent, you need more! Somehow your legs are moving quicker thanks to this new desperation manIfesting. Once you finally reach his door you have to stop yourself from breaking it down; Frantically pounding on it instead, and now you’ve started crying, salivating, and you’re just a goddamn walking train wreck… Somehow you don’t care, your appearance doesn’t matter, you just need HIM right now.

When the door opens you stumble inside.

The sound of his voice quieting your shrieking omega as soon as it reaches your ears;

“Finally decided to show up? Was waiting all fuckin’ night for you and…hey what’s wrong? Oh shit…fuck”.

Fuck is very right.

[misssquidtracy]

Noble Intentions (Part 2).

My slightly belated ongoing contribution to Gordo’s FabFiveFeb week. Apparently, this is now going to be a 3 chapter doohickey of sorts. My boi has made it quite clear that any plans I had about length matter very little here.  

All credit for FabFiveFeb goes to the amazing @gumnut-logic 💚

Prompt: You did what?

Warnings: Mild strong language.

Genre: Humour.

Characters: Gordon, Scott, Virgil, John, Alan. Heavy on the Gordon.

-x-

Two months, seventeen hours, and eleven minutes earlier…

“You did what?”

Gordon winced as the mouthful of water Scott had been storing in his cheeks was spat clean across the table.

“What?” the aquanaut challenged, indignation creeping into his voice as he reached across Alan for another spoonful of sweet potato mash, “They were looking for models and I signed us up. It’s for a good cause!”

“A nude calendar?” John quacked, his eyebrows shooting up to his hairline, “Gordon, we’re a professional rescue organisation. We have a public image to maintain!”

“Not to mention better things to be doing with our time,” Virgil grumbled, scraping the last of his peas onto his fork, “What if an emergency call were to come through while we were…ahem…mid-pose?”

A scowl infected Gordon’s face as he metaphorically searched for a metaphorical shovel to metaphorically dig himself out of the metaphorical hole he was metaphorically digging, “I didn’t sign us up for all twelve months. Just our birth months.”

Another mouthful of water was ejected across the table, eliciting a gasp of disgust from John when he discovered that he was sat in the splash zone.

“You signed Alan up as well?” Scott all but squealed, “He’s a minor, Gordon!”

“Okay, okay,” the aquanaut sighed, wincing at the volume of his eldest brother’s voice, “I’ll take his place and do two sittings for both February and March. Problem solved.”

Disbelieving stares were exchanged across the table as Gordon polished off his dinner and traipsed to the sink to refill his glass.

“You’re off your onion!” Scott snapped, striding after the aquanaut and lobbing his plate in the dishwasher with more force than was necessary, “Well, we’re not going. You’ll have to go back on whatever promises you’ve made and cancel everything. And don’t think that order excludes you. International Rescue has a professional behaviour framework that we’re duty-bound to follow, and pasting our naked assess across couches and bales of hay doesn’t feature in it anywhere.”

Water was sloshed across the counter as Gordon rinsed his glass out and tried to contain his frustration. Typical Scott, always so hung up on appearances. He hadn’t even bothered to ask what the calendar was in aid of.

“We’ll send over a generous donation instead,” Scott placated, as if somehow reading Gordon’s mind, “Is it someone we’ve worked with before?”

“Children of Colombia,” Gordon replied, “They operate out of Bogotá and channel all their money into educational programmes and residential homes instead of advertising. That’s why I signed us up. I thought our ‘famous’ faces might help them a bit in that department.”

Moved by his younger brother’s kind hearted gesture, John opened his mouth to ask for more details, only to have his questioning tongue silenced by a glare from Scott.

If there was one thing that always made the eldest Tracy’s emotional kayak run aground, it was guilt.

“Well, they’ll have to make do with a fat-ass cheque instead,” Scott muttered, kicking the dishwasher shut and needlessly throwing a tea towel into the sink, “You can hate me all you want, but I wasn’t the one who made the rules. One day of disappointment isn’t worth us losing all of our credibility, plus our rapid response service would be redundant if all five of us were there at the same time. Nope, you’re going to have to tell them no, Gordon. And if I catch wind of you honouring the agreement beyond the aforementioned fat-ass cheque, I’ll suspend you from active duty for a week. Capisce?”

Without giving the aquanaut a chance to reply, Scott retrieved a banana from the fruit bowl and marched off in the direction of the lounge, his expression reminiscent of a pissed off camel.

“You saw that, right?” Gordon demanded, waiting until Scott was a safe distance away before stabbing a finger accusingly in the direction he’d walked off in, “I was minding my business, and he threatened to ground me! This is all because he knows I’d pull the whole thing off way better than he would.”

Both Virgil and John were smart enough to neither confirm nor deny their younger brother’s claim to nude fame. Alan had questions, oh so many questions, but was thankfully prioritising a text on his phone over his desire to seek answers.

“I’m telling you now,” Gordon continued, abandoning his glass and stomping off towards the pool, “If Poseidon appears before me and asks me to make a blood sacrifice, he’s gone. Gone, I say.”

-x-

“Hello?”

“Gabriela!” Gordon tried to keep his tone as upbeat as possible, “How are things?”

“Mr Tracy!” came the delighted response, “What a lovely surprise! I have some excellent news. We officially sold out of tickets for the International Rescue Calendar Class three days ago and, as a result of popular demand, will now be selling the resultant paintings off at a silent auction to raise money for a tutoring programme aimed at local women fleeing domestic abuse. Our forecasts show that we’re set to exceed our original target by almost eight five percent, and it’s all thanks to you!”

Great.

Lovely.

Wonderful.

Magnifique.

“Yeah, about that,” Gordon began, his tone hesitant, “You see the thing is, I now can’t make it. Something’s popped up and I’m kind of needed here. I’m so sorry.”

There was a sharp intake of breath on the other end of the phone, “Okay…well, that’s not ideal. I won’t lie. But I’m sure we’ll be able to make do with four out of five. Which reminds me, do any of your colleagues have any dietary requirements or allergies that my team should be aware of?”

“Sorry, I wasn’t very clear,” Gordon clenched his fist as guilt began to gnaw at his insides, “What I meant to say is that none of us can come anymore. I’m afraid I was impulsive and signed us up before consulting with the rest of my team. I’m so sorry. We will of course compensate you for the losses you’ll incur in the form of a donation, plus an extra twenty five percent on top for the inconvenience caused.”

A silence that somehow managed to hurt Gordon’s ears descended over the line, punctuated by the odd stifled sniff.

“B-But I can certainly send a substitute over in our place,” the aquanaut gabbled, cursing the lack of a link between his brain and mouth, “He’s not an emergency responder per se, but he’s an integral member of the team and the one responsible for designing the Thunderbirds.”

The line crackled to life again as Gordon’s offer refreshed Gabriela’s composure, “Really? Oh, yes please. It’ll be a disappointment to everyone who’s already bought a ticket, but I suppose we haven’t technically misled them so long as there’s at least one representative from International Rescue there.”

“Perfect!” Gordon chirped, setting an immediate course for the hangers, “I’ll keep you posted. In the meantime, don’t cancel anything. See you on Friday!”

Of all the brothers, Gordon liked to think of himself as the most strategic when it came to picking his battles. He’d grown up watching Scott, Virgil and John jockeying for position, and had then had Alan to sharpen his own claws on. All in all, being the fourth born wasn’t as bad as it sounded. He’d been exposed to both subservience and dominance in equal measures, and was acutely aware of how far he could push each of his siblings before they tipped into Bitch Fit Canyon.

Alan was a cinch so long as no references were made to his height.

John was manageable if bagels were in the immediate vicinity.

Virgil could be tamed with tears of remorse, fake or genuine.

As for Scott…well, what he didn’t know couldn’t hurt him.

TBC.

[longinglook]

I may or may not have spent my entire Sunday binge watching all of I told sunset about you and Gaya sa pelikula and now I have so many thoughts and feelings that I need to write about them so here we go! Under a read more (if tumblr allows me to) because it’s 2k words hehe

First of all, I knew next to nothing about both shows before starting them. I had seen a couple of gifs here and there, but really had no idea what I was in for.

I started with I told sunset about you, which has 3 episodes out of 5 out. All I knew is that it was going to be beautiful and possibly sad, and it was. Everything about this show is so high quality, from the audio to the dialogue to the locations to the acting, just wow. The production is better than a lot of movies I’ve seen, and every technical aspect is perfect. I am really loving the plot so far as well, I find the childhood friendship to stubborn rivalry to grown up friendship again very relatable. I think it’s a very common experience for a lot of non straight folks to develop an extremely close bond with a same sex friend when you’re too young to realize what you’re actually feeling for them until you’re a lot older and suddely the jealousy and possessivenes all make sense.

I love the recurring themes sprinkled throughout the episodes, starting from the chinese vocabulary that expresses the core thoughts of the two main characters: rival, intimacy, secret, male protagonist, as promised. They could easily be the episode titles, or the names of imaginary sections the show could be divided into. It’s a great way to integrate metaphors and deeper meaning into the plot.

That’s how most of the communication goes in this show, deep emotions are never conveyed through words because words are scary and loud and they can’t be taken back once they’re out there. The plot advances though stares and gestures and touch and gorgeous shots of the landscape. The pace is slow with hour-long episodes that could each be a movie of their own. This worried me a bit before starting, and I have to admit that at times I struggled to stay focused, especially during scenes that set the mood but don’t do much plot-wise. This is just a personal preference, though, and in no way I see it as a flaw. 

The dancing around each other the main characters do, sometimes literal, is frustrating but it determines an emotional build up that’s just starting to reach its peak. This is one of those shows that has me screaming if only they talked to each other, but the silences and unspoken words are so well directed and acted that it works. I struggle a lot with keeping in mind that they’re still in high school, they’re very young and I can’t expect them to act rationally just yet. 

I was really worried about Teh possibly going the insufferable Theory-of-love-khai way, and I am still not 100% sold on him. When he started helping Oh-aew again it felt like he was just doing it to make himself feel better about the whole thing. It was frustrating to see him so possessive and jealous while also so deeply in denial about his own feelings, to the point where he had me rooting for Bas instead. He was getting better, but then he fled at the end of episode 3 and now I have no clue what’s going to happen next. About this, I really have no idea if they’re going for a happy ending or a sad one. I’m really hoping it will be good, because so far there has been barely any emotional payoff for all the repressed longing and misunderstanding the show has put us through.

I do like their dynamic a lot though, I have a weak spot for childhood friends reconnecting and an ever weaker spot for informal mentor/mentee relationships. Oh-aew asking Teh to tutor him until he passes the admission exam was an almost exact mirror of Yuri on ice Yuri begging Victor to be his coach until he retires and I loved that a lot.

Now on to the one issue I have with this show: it feels too much like an art film. It reminds me of Moonlight and Call me by your name, in the way that I wasn’t able to connect with those movies because they are too perfect. They are so beautiful and carefully crafted that I can’t fully immerse myself in them. There’s a filter that stops me from relating to the characters and constantly reminds me that this is not reality. It’s pretty, it’s extremely well done, but it feels like art. It has some quirks, some scenes that feel too artificial. One scene in particular, the one where Teh buries his head in the paper Oh-aew wrote with his coconut scented pen to sniff it, which is a direct parallel to Call me by your name, bothered me in particular. Just as it felt over-the-top and purposefully weird in the movie, so it feels in the show. It’s a way of showcasing how a confused teen deals with attraction he barely understands, it’s raw and animalistic in a way, but it’s so quirky that all it accomplishes is to remind me that I’m watching an lgbt show. It makes me wonder if a scene like this would make sense in a straight relationship because here it seems to highlight how different and primal his attraction is. If I had to pinpoint it, I’d say that I have a problem with media showcasing queerness though peculiar, purposefully awkward scenes like these instead of normal kissing and cuddling.

Overall, I can’t wait to see how this show ends and I still think it’s one of the best bls to air in 2020, if not ever. It’s refreshing to see something with a big budget used well! So far my rating is 8/10, which I know is a lot lower than what everyone else seems to think but it’s still very much subject to change! Just hoping they won’t pull a Make our days count, but I doubt they’ll go there.

And now Gaya sa pelikula. Wow. Again, I knew next to nothing about this show before watching, and I was coming from a 3 hour I told sunset about you binge watch, so the bar was pretty high.

And boy, did this show deliver. I was blown away by the depth and the humor of it. It feels like the writers had fun taking all sorts of common tropes and stereotypes just to show everyone how well they can be evolved and made complex. Two strangers who somehow find themselves sharing an apartment sounds like the start of so many fanfictions out there, but it’s so well executed and interesting that you don’t even stop to think about how weak the premises for their meeting are. It doesn’t matter and it’s not even that far-fetched, either. The sister and the neighbor are also two characters that start off as extra stereotyped, but in just a few scenes they unveil an incredible depth and backstory. It blew me away.

Each character is so realistic. Everything they do and say makes sense, they all have their reasons and their past and they react accordingly, it’s so coherent. It’s impressive how everything takes place inside the house and you barely realize it because things happen and the plot moves anyways, and the way information about external events and people is conveyed is so seamless that you don’t even notice it. In only 7 episodes (so far) they have managed to give everyone a complex background and personality through the use of objects and small details and wow don’t get me started on the music.

The soundtrack is SO GOOD. I never really pay attention to music in shows but it plays a very important role here in my opinion and, well, it’s exactly the kind of music I like listening to and ahhh I just spent 4 hours playing the first kiss song on loop so I might be biased. Right from the start in episode 1, when Karl gives in to Vlad’s music and starts dancing to it, it’s established that it’s an important element to the mood of each scene. I love how the dancing I talked about for I told sunset about you comes back here, but while I saw it as a hesitant dancing around each other there, here it’s the opposite, it’s freeing and it’s about accepting yourself. And the end of episode 6 highlights this, with the beautiful quote “You are entitled to a love that lets you dance without fear and shame.” It made me cry a looooot.

I think the development of their relationship is masterfully done. It doesn’t happen too quickly nor too slowly. Karl goes through some needed shocks that act as his wake up call. When I’m watching bl shows I care the most about them feeling real and relatable. I don’t want to feel like they were written by a straight person trying to guess what it’s like to be gay. Now I didn’t look anything up about the Gaya sa pelikula writers, but I’d be very surprised if they were straight. I can relate to both Karl and Vlad for different aspects of their stories and their worries and thoughts. There was one part in particular that hit so close that I had to take a few breaks because it hurt too much. I am a lesbian, I’ve had relationship with a girl that lasted over a year, I am out to some friends but not all. I never came out to my parents, who are both very open minded and friends with a lot of gay people and would love me just as much if I told them, and yet I can’t. It’s not just that, I am terrified by the idea of them already knowing or being able to guess. When Karl freaked out over his uncle guessing, it hit me so hard because I’ve felt the same way so many times.

Episode 7 was amazing. I hate badly written drama the most, and 99% of shows can’t come up with any good reason for drama but they have to put it in there anyways and it sucks. This was the complete opposite, I adored it and I say this as a lover of fluff. It feels right, I think it’s an issue that would come up between two people like them. They are both right and the only thing that could happen there is what actually went down. I definitely think things will be fixed by the end and I am looking forward to it, but I am very glad this issue was included because it’s so important and so true to many lgbt people’s lives.

Another aspect I absolutely adored are the multiple references to lgbt theory and language, and Vlad has some of the best lines I’ve ever heard coming from a bl. When he tells Karl not to be afraid of the word, when he explains that “you don’t look gay” isn’t a compliment, when he scolds his sister for not acknowledging the things she used to say to him by covering them up with her ally act, those are all such important and educative moments that I hope everyone listens to. I love that Vlad is not correcting some ignorant bad guy, but it’s his accepting and loving friends and family that make the mistakes, because sometimes being supportive your own way isn’t enough if you’re not actively learning from the ones you want to support.

This is a 10/10 for me right now. I can’t find anything I don’t like about it. It never feels boring, it never feels overdone, it never feels cheap or unoriginal. It went straight to the top of my favorite bls.

And now I can’t help but compare the two a bit, because yes they are two different shows but right now the relationships they portray have reached the same point: there has been a climax and now the one who is more confused about his sexuality is panicking and taking a step back. It’s a coincidence that I watched both shows on the same day when their last aired episodes end in such a similar way, but it really leads me to compare the two. I don’t want to put them one against each other or say which one did it better because that’s not the point of this, they are both two amazing and important shows who are excelling in what they’re doing. 

Gaya sa pelikula is down to earth, it’s explicit and it’s straight to the point in explaining what’s going on inside each character’s head. It feels like watching real people deal with real struggles. I told sunset about you is a lot more subtle and quiet, and since we don’t really have a clear insight in the characters’ heads sometimes it’s hard to completely understand what’s going on with them. It’s a completely different way of narrating, and while Gaya sa pelikula makes me feel like I’m a part of the events, I told sunset about you feels like I’m just spectating from an outside perspective. They are different choices, but one of them ends up feeling a lot more emotional to me than the other.

To wrap it up, I highly recommend both shows and I can’t wait to see how they’ll end! They are both among the best shows of the year, both free of all those annoyingly stereotyped characters and plot points that most bls tend to overuse.

[forasecondtherewedwon]

The Neighbour Never Rings Twice

Fandom: WandaVision Pairing: Wanda Maximoff/Vision Rating: T Word Count: 1633

Summary: Instead of Pietro at the door, it's Agnes, offering Wanda and Vision a little friendly marital advice after overhearing their fight. Ignoring her husband's reservations, Wanda lets Agnes in. She's only here to help.

Believe me, Wanda thinks, because she needs it right now, Vision’s faith in her.

If he can just trust her, they’ll be able to face whatever’s at the door together. Whoever. Whoever’s at the door. What an odd slip. If she lets her fingers tremble and her steps falter, will he see it then? That this isn’t her? That she didn’t orchestrate an easy out from their argument? Wanda isn’t able to show any vulnerability though, not with uncertainty ahead of her and her suspicious husband at her back. His expression of betrayal is the second-worst thing she’s seen on his face since they moved here.

“Wanda…” he says warningly, and she glances back at him as her hand lands on the doorknob.

A twist and a jerk and the door opens; Wanda shuts her eyes tight for a moment, gathering herself. Vision’s pain is on the inside of her eyelids, the pressure of her love for him squeezing her chest. With a sharp inhalation, she turns to greet their guest with a smile.

“Hey there, you two,” Agnes says in a tone bright with both enthusiasm and chastisement.

“Agnes,” Wanda says.

Their neighbour pushes inside without exactly being invited, like she always does. What’s different is the way she’s dressed. Last time she came through their front door, it was in full aerobics gear, for crying out loud! Now, she’s in a skirt and a blazer with sturdily padded shoulders, carrying a leather attaché case.

“Wanda,” Vision requests quietly, “perhaps you could tell Agnes that this really isn’t a good time.”

“Oh, I know all about that,” Agnes insists with a laugh. She tosses Wanda a wink and heads for their couch. “I could hear you lovebirds shrieking at each other over the sound of Ralph running the lawn mower through my favourite flower bed! Major bummer! Anyway,” she says, taking a seat. “That’s why I’m here.”

Wanda frowns and circles tentatively around to stand across from Agnes.

“You’re here because…?”

“Because it sounds like what you kids need is a marriage counsellor!”

Vision’s contained his aggravation behind his manners as well and as seemingly-easily as he conceals his real self behind a human exterior. Wanda’s heart tugs, not wanting him to hide, but she won’t push right now as he walks over to her.

“Always showing up with just what we require,” he says under his breath, for her ears only. That’s ridiculous. An offer of assistance isn’t the same as a doghouse.

Wanda accepts the chair he gestures for her to take, stung when the one he pulls up for himself is several feet away.

“Are you qualified to do this, Agnes?” Vision inquires at regular volume. “Forgive me, I was under the impression that you were a housewife.”

Agnes’s mouth falls open in pretend shock and she shoots Wanda a brief conspiratorial look, like they’re on the same page and her husband hasn’t even opened the book. But the intimacy she’s shared with Agnes since they arrived here, the way their neighbour kindly took Wanda under her wing and introduced her to life in the suburbs of Westview… it doesn’t comfort Wanda now. She’d rather be in sync with Viz.

“What’s with the fifties ’tude, dude? Ever heard of a little thing called the Equal Rights movement? Might wanna crack a book with all that time you spend at the library!”

She scrunches her nose up and laughs, then, abruptly businesslike, she swings her case onto her lap and extracts a pad of paper and a pen. Lifting her head, she peers earnestly at Wanda and Vision in turn. All Wanda wants to do is reach out and take her husband’s hand, but the space between them just feels too far. Maybe Agnes can help.

“What’s the trouble, girlfriend?” she asks, addressing Wanda first.

“It’s just a minor… tiff,” she decides, clasping her hands in her lap and meeting Agnes’s eye. “Stress at work, the boys growing up so fast. Right, Viz?”

She chances a sideways glance and Vision’s staring back at her with a look that’s too hard to take. Wanda watches her hands in her lap instead.

“Quite. Our sons are flying through their childhood, and work, well, with the advent of email, there’s a great deal to keep up with. Things are changing so quickly that it’s difficult to remember where we began.”

Now, Wanda can feel his gaze on her. Her smile’s holding as she looks only at Agnes, but her eyes burn to cry. She blinks rapidly and pretends it’s the fault of an eyelash irritating her eye.

“I have good news for both of you,” Agnes informs them. “Here it is: every couple goes through this.”

“I’m not sure about that,” Vision mutters.

Wanda ignores him, latching on to their neighbour/counsellor’s words of reassurance.

“They do, I promise! Particularly after kids come on the scene. Kids can change your sense of identity as a couple. Would you say that’s what you’re experiencing?” Agnes prompts, pen hovering over paper.

“I know exactly who we are,” Wanda says firmly.

“I would have to disagree,” is Vision’s response. “In fact, it’s feeling more and more like a personal crisis, as though my wife has left me alone in this, and it’s not only our marriage that I can’t seem to settle into but my own skin! Metaphorically.”

Wanda feels her heart racing after her husband’s rush of words.

“Yes, let it out!” Agnes encourages. “It’s healthy to vent!”

“To be frank with you, Agnes, I would prefer to discuss this with Wanda.”

“You are.”

“Only Wanda.”

“That isn’t what Wanda wants right now,” Agnes tells him. “She thinks it would be more constructive for me to mediate.”

I never said that, Wanda thinks, confusion dimming her smile.

“Of course.” Vision laughs humourlessly and Wanda turns her head to stare at him. That sound is not her Viz. “You know, I think she loves having you here. I think she prefers your presence over mine.”

“That is not true,” Wanda snaps, gripping the arms of her chair.

“And yet who arrives time after time? Agnes with a house for Sparky. Agnes to rock our children when they cry. Why don’t you trust me to take care of our family?” he demands, voice choked.

“BECAUSE YOU WERE GONE!”

Tears stream down her cheeks and red light seeps from between her fingers. With a flash, the matter composing the chair beneath her is redistributed. The chair vanishes. Wanda drops to the ground, arms wrapped around herself as she cries. Vision crouches beside her, gently pulling her face to his chest.

“What do you mean?” he asks, insistent even as he cradles her close. “I’m here, Wanda. I’m always here. I never leave.”

“But you want to,” she wails.

“With you, my love. With you and the boys. Let’s leave this place behind, what do you say?”

“Leave Westview?” It’s Agnes’s voice. Wanda almost forgot she was here. “Why would you want to do that? It’s the cutest little suburb in New Jersey!”

Wanda sniffs and looks up at her.

“Yes,” Vision tells their neighbour, “it’s certainly something. It just isn’t the right place for us.”

“Sure it is! Don’t you feel at home here? Don’t you feel like you’ve made this your home?”

Her eyes are locked on Wanda’s as she says this. It’s hard to judge whether Agnes is trying to push the idea on Wanda or is just waiting for her cue, like she said when she came over to help with the babies.

“Yes,” Wanda agrees thickly, because she has. She has made this their home.

“So you wanna stay, don’t you?” Agnes asks sweetly.

“My wife is perfectly capable of making up her own mind,” Vision interjects.

“I know. And she and I are of the same mind about this, aren’t we, hun?”

She looks encouragingly to Wanda and Wanda feels the sudden tension in her husband’s arms. It’s Agnes’s word choice, too close to Vision’s earlier criticism.

“I have a question for you,” Vision says to their neighbour, who laughs lightly in response.

“That’s not really how marriage counselling works.”

“What compelled you to come here?”

“I told you. I heard—”

“Yes, you heard the children cry, and you heard the dog bark, and you heard Wanda and I argue, but that does not explain why you are always prepared.”

“Lifelong Girl Guide!” Agnes chuckles.

“What is your purpose here?”

“Ease up, kid. I’m just being neighbourly.”

“I know you’re doing your very best to make it appear that way, but if you’re acting under Wanda’s direction, I must ask you to resist it.”

“What on earth do you...?”

“No,” Wanda says. She grasps her husband’s arm. “Viz, no. Not this again. I’m not controlling her. Believe me. Believe me.”

“And if you are not,” Vision goes on, undeterred, “then I suggest you prepare yourself for what will happen should you continue to interfere in our lives.”

Agnes laughs, but it’s not friendly. The noise is baffled, insulted. Not strongly, but Wanda can sense those things just beneath the veneer of politeness. She knows from experience.

“Did you lose your mind?” Agnes demands.

“Did you kill our dog?” Vision counters.

Wanda gasps. Their neighbour looks at Vision in silence for several seconds, then packs up her things and makes for the front door.

“Looks like I better bounce,” she says, regaining some of her cheer. “Hope you two works things out! I’m rooting for you kids!”

When she hesitates on the threshold, Vision gets to his feet, positioning himself between Agnes and Wanda. The door shuts. Stricken, Wanda reaches out and rests her hand on the back of her husband’s leg, just to feel him there. But she can’t. She just feels numb.

[lo-55]

Shattered Chains of Fate Ch. 17

Delicious Fried Garbage

 When Ichigo barges into the shop without so much as a by-your-leave Urahara is in one of the backrooms, working on a janky looking computer. Ichigo had seen some fucked up attempts at electronics before, during his time travel escapades, but this was another level entirely. He actually looked like it had an eye sticking out of the wires snaking around it.

 Ichigo stares at him. When Urahara looks up it takes him a second to get his smile properly in place and his fan in hand.      That    mask is getting a bit old.

 “Ichigo! To what do I owe the pleasure? And you’ve brought friends?”

 It’s true. Medusa and Achilles had met them outside the school when he and Shinji had gone marching about. Cu was investigating the ley lines around the town. Waver hadn’t been wrong, there was something weird going on with them, and he was the only decent mage amongst their group. The other three of them were fighters, plain and simple.

 “This one,” Ichigo grabs Hirako by his tie and hanks himself forwards for Urahara to see. “Is your fault. So we’re using your basement.”

 “That’s a rude way to ask,” Urahara huffed at him. Ichigo pins him with a glare.

 “I’m not asking,” he said frankly. Ichigo drags Hirako past Urahara and his horror computer to the trap door he knows is in the room just beyond. Hirako hops after him, but he still manages to look nonchalant about it.

 Ichigo tosses him down the ladder, abandons his body in the safety of the ground above, and hops after him, with his servants in tow. All three of them land as gracefully as Hirako did, with Ichigo now in his dark shihakusho. A few moments later Urahara drops down after them as well. He held his hat to his head to keep it from flying off.

 While Medusa and Achilles found a couple of rocks to lounge on and watch from Ichigo and Hirako make their way away from them so they don’t get caught in the crossfires. Not that it would matter for Achilles. His shield was almost as good as Mash’s.

 “Okay,” Ichigo runs his fingers through his hair and gathers half of it into a pony tail at the back of his head, so it’s out of his way. ‘      How do you wanna do this, Nieve?’    

 Medusa looks at him with a frown. ‘      Who…?’  

     ‘Just don’t go fightin’ me okay? It won’t be so different from other fights. We’ll just be closer this time.’  

 Ichigo winces at the wide-eyed look Achilles and Medusa were giving him. He’d forgotten to tell them about his new ‘friends’. Whoops.

 Ichigo eyes Hirako warily. He touches his forehead, the way Hirako had before. He thinks of Nieve. He thinks of the driving force behind his blows. Desperation and vicious need. He thinks of the sting in his chest and the shadows. Phantom hands pushing his body to get out of the way. Protection. Survival. The steel of a sword in his hand.

 Ichigo claws across his face in a move that feels almost natural.

 For one dizzying second the whole world warps and twists. Everything is sharper and clearer. He tastes the energy in the air. Snakes and chains. Armor and blood. Shadows and thread.

 Ichigo didn’t know you could taste a kaleidoscope, but that’s what Hirako’s soul reminds him of.

 “      Huh.”  

 Ichigo blinks at Hirako. There’s something pointy just up over Ichigo’s sight. Horns? Is he some kind of bull?

     I should summon Asterios next,    he mused.      We can match.  

 Ichigo lifts Zangetsu up to block a blow from Hirako. Their blades sing with the sound of battle. Ichigo can feel Zangetsu’s laughter in his soul, and his own smile is hidden from view by the mask on his face. It’s smooth bone.

 Ichigo pushes him back harshly. He ends up throwing Hirako further away than he’d expected. It’s not just his senses that are heightened. His strength was increased too, and when he launched himself after Hirako he realized his speed was to.

 He realized it because he almost smashed face first into a boulder trying to get around Hirako and hit him from the back. Fortunately the rock broke before his new horns and he was able to skid around and swing at Hirako again.

 They felt like one. Him and Zangetsu, together. Sword and weilder. It was more than a metaphorical ‘the sword is an extension of your arm’. Zangetsu really was an extension of himself. Longer reach, harder hits, faster moves and dirty tricks.

 They wanted to      win.  

 Hirako fired a kido spell at him and Ichigo sliced through it with his Getsuga Tenshou, one the gauged a crater into the earth beneath them. Ichigo shot himself after the attack and swung hard at Hirako from above. He caught Zangetsu at the crossguard of his own katana, but he wasn’t expecting it when Ichigo came in from the right with a sharp, short blade he’d kept tucked in his sleeve.

 It gleamed white and blue, to Zangetsu’s black. Or Nieve’s black. He was going to have to figure that out eventually.

 Hirako is forced into a retreat, with Ichigo hot on his heels. He dons his pharoah mask, and the tides turn equal. Each hit it hard enough to send shock waves through Ichigo’s arms, and with each hit and near scratch does Ichigo grow stronger and faster.

 He feels perfectly balanced for the first time in a long time.

 A blade in each hand, and a mask on his face. He almost laughs before the clarity of the world snaps around him. He lurches and manages to knock Hirako’s guard aside with Zangetsu before he comes in with the shorter blade again.

 “Stop!” Hirako shouts suddenly.

 Ichigo freezes, his eyes wide.

 Something gives way. The mask cracks and evaporates in the time it takes him to blink.

 It takes Ichigo’s strength with it. He collapses on the ground, his chest heaving and his legs feeling like jelly.

 “What… the… fuck…?” he asks between frantically gulping air.

     ‘Ran outta steam, partner.’  

 Fuck. So he had a time table for this power? Damn it.

 He looks up to see Hirako pulling his mask off and letting it dissolve into thin air. There’s somethin unreadable in his eyes.

 “Ya actually stopped.”

 Ichigo grunts up at him with a scowl.

 “Ya weren’t outta control. If ya were, ya woulda kept goin’ till I was dead. Or you were. ”

 Ichigo snorts at him. “You aren’t that…. Annoying, Hirako.”

 “Some might disagree,” he crouches in front of Ichigo. “I still wanna know somethin’. How’d ya manage to do all that on yer own? You lasted a whole minute and a half. Where were ya trainin’? And with who?”

 “Nowhere and with no one,” Ichigo grouses at him. He’s exhausted, but with a slow breath he starts to calm enough that he can function again. “I’ve never done that before.”

 “What?! Then why’ve ya been insistin’ ya don’t need help?”

 “Because I don’t! I talked it over with Zangetsu and we’re fine.”

 “Ya just… talked,” Hirako says slowly. He looks at Ichigo like he’s grown a second head.

 “Is there a fucking echo in here? Yeah, I talked. Why?”

 “Because that’s impossible!” Hirako reached to grab Ichigo by his shoulders but froze when he flinched back instinctively. He frowned. “I’m not gonna hit ya. We’re done fightin’ for now.”

 “I know,” Ichigo scowls at him. In the time it took the words to get out Achilles had crossed the ground between them and landed at his side, a flicker of green lightning around his heels.

 “That’s enough,” he said firmly. It was strange to hear from the normally laid back servant. Achilles arm wraps around Ichigo’s shoulders and lifts him carefully off the ground. Once, Ichigo would have shoved him off and insisted he could stand by his own merit. But Achilles was with him for the hardest fights of his life. Camelot, Babylonia, Solomon. They stormed the hanging gardens together.

 He lets Achilles support his weight and stand him on his own two feet. He’ll be fine in a bit, once he’s eaten and maybe caught a cat nap.

 “We’ll be taking him home, now,” Achilles says firmly. He shoots at look at Medusa, who’s left Urahara to travel over to them. This Medusa is a Lancer, not a rider, or she might have kept speed with him.

 Or not.

 Achilles is in a league of his own, as Ichigo well knows. A rank servants are like that. They’re also incurably insane.

 “Now hold on. I got questions for Ichigo-”

 Hirako’s reach for Ichigo is cut short by a sudden lashing of chains between the pair of them. Hirako is just fast enough to keep himself from loosing a hand to them. Ichigo shoot a look at Medusa over his shoulder.

 “Was that necessary?” he asks dryly. She sniffs at him.

 “You’ve just used a substantial amount of energy. You should be resting, not dealing with fools who think you a liar or malcontents who hide the truth.”

 Her last comment is accompanied by a glare over her shoulder towards Urahara, who is watching them with shadowed eyes. They’re sharp in that darkness, and all too aware. Ichigo can see him piecing things together.

 “Rider,” he says, “Let’s go already. We have things to do.”

 Achilles agrees, and Medusa lets her chains slither back into her hair before following after them. Her boots click with each step.

 Ichigo had decided, a long time ago, that Achilles’ name would be spoken aloud only in private. He had too well known a weakness to be exploited. Everyone knew who he was, everyone knew about his tendon.

 Medusa was a bit less well known, and she didn’t rely wholly on her eyes either. As long as they stayed vigilant of mirrors and shields, everything would be fine.

 The pair escorts him up the ladder while the two supernatural beings watch.

 Ichigo really needs to stop hanging out with dead people.

 There’s a car sitting outside the shop when they get out. It’s a bright orange Nissan Note, and Cu is sitting in the front seat.

 “...Did he get a rider classification while I wasn’t looking?” Ichigo asks wearily.

 “Nope,” Medusa says with far too much cheer. Ichigo takes the front seat, while Cu and Medusa slide into the back and Achilles slides into the drivers seat.

 Ichigo buckles in quickly. He does not like the gleam in Achilles eyes when he grips the wheel and turns the key.

 *

 Ichigo watched the fog curl unnaturally outside the window.

 Even though he’d heard London called the city of fog before, seeing it up close and personal was another thing entirely. Mash and Mordred were upstairs, doing something with their new guest. Mordred had said there was something she wanted to discuss with Mash, as ‘fellow knights’, and whisked her away to one of the rooms Jekyll kept, along with a new companion.  

 He had a comfortable house, spacious and wealthy, but Jekyll himself was a fairly practical man. Most of the house was dedicated to his work. Lab equipment, mostly, but books lined almost every spare surface. Novels, non fiction, history.

 Ichigo still needed to stop fighting sometimes. To recharge his batteries, even if he was only supporting Mash, he coudln’t power through this singularity the way he had before. This was a more delicate operation, with more mystery around it than Ichigo could stomach.

 He liked knowing who he was fighting, thanks.

 In their down town, of which they had far too much and far too little, Ichigo had taken to picking through Jekyll’s books.

 He’d read Shakespeare a’plenty, and a few works by Lord Byron, but here Jekyll had books Ichigo had never even heard of. For all he knew a hundred and a half years in the future they wouldn't even exist anymore.

 He did know that when he got back he was going to try to find a copy of the Mill on the Floss. And he was going to have to see if Jekyll had any copies of Thomas A Kempis, so he could make more sense of all of it.

 He was puzzling over Maggie’s spiritual upheaval when a scuff on the floor had him looking up and over.

 Jekyll did that on purpose, Ichigo found. He had made the mistake of sneaking up on Ichigo once, and ended up with a black eye for his troubles that was still fading. In his hands was something that smelled suspiciously like tea. It steamed faintly across the rim of the cup.

 “Jekyll,” Ichigo greeted. The doctor offered him a smile and came closer. Ichigo slid a scrap of paper between his pages and set it aside so he could accept the cut when it was handed to him.

 Ichigo had never considered himself an academic, and compared to Mash and Jekyll he definitely wasn’t, but he was starting to enjoy the more mundane aspects of living. Who knew he would ever miss high school?

 “Hello. I thought you could use something to drink.”

 Ichigo dropped his legs off the side of window box he’d claimed as his own in one of the downstairs sitting rooms.

 “Sit down?” Ichigo offered.

 Jekyll hesitated before he did so. He sat right at the edge, like he was ready to spring himself away at the first sight of trouble. He’s been jumpy for a while now, and Mordred’s not wrong. He’s often very pale.

 “If you want me to.”

 Ichigo took a long drink of the tea and made a sound of surprise. He looked at Jekyll, who offered him a half smile.

 “I found green tea on a supply run,” he said, almost sheepishly. “Mash told me that you’re from the east.”

 “It’s good,” Ichigo told him. “ I just wasn’t expecting it… Thank you. Really.”

 Jekyll smiled at him a bit wider. “Your welcome.”

 “What’s it like normally?” Ichigo asked abruptly, nodding towards the window.

 Jekyll followed his gaze to the roiling mist outside. The demonic fog was dangerous to most people. Jekyll always had a dark look on his face whenever he got off the radio. More and more people were dropping off, people he’d managed to get in contact with despite everything that was happening. People he knew, and some he didn’t.

 Earlier they’d gone to try to help his friend, Victor. They’d come home with a young girl who was ‘frankenstein’s monster’. Which was not what they were going to call her under any circumstances. Ichigo would fist fight anyone who suggested otherwise.

 “It is still foggy, most mornings. Sometimes it burns off by afternoon. On the worst days, you can’t see the other side of the road. It got worse with the industrialization. Sometimes it’s so bad the fog is more yellow than white, and it’s almost as dangerous as it is now*.

 “That’s…. Kinda horrifying.”

 “Maybe. But it’s still home.”

 Ichigo rested his forehead on the glass, letting the coolness sink into his skin.

 “...When I was a kid I would walk along the riverbanks where my mom died. I can see ghosts, and I kept looking for her. Like she would just appear. But she never did. Sometimes it got foggy in the morning. I thought I’d see her, but it was always just mist.”

 “I’m sorry,” Jekyll said sincerely. “I didn’t know.”

 “It’s fine. It’s been a long time,” he said at last. Not long enough, and it’s not fine.

 Jekyll touched his leg and offered him a slight squeeze before his hand retracted. He didn’t flee, like he originally looked like he would. Instead he sat back and asked Ichigo about his book while the pair of them sat together.

 Mist rolled by, and eyes watched them from across the road, peering out through the cloying mists.

 * *

 “What the actual fuck are you doing?” Ichigo asks when they finally stop, third in line behind red lights and bright menu signs. The smell of fries is unmistakable.

 “You need to eat,” Achilles says like its obvious. Which it is, they can all see how tired he is, and they know him enough to know that some food with get him a better mood. “You’re a straight bitch when you’re hungry.”

 “I don’t think you’d know straight if it smacked you in the ass.”

 “If you’re smacking my ass, you’re definitely not straight- ow!”

 Achilles rubs his arm and actually pouts at Ichigo, who looks smug. Time was he’d have broken his hand hitting his Rider that hard.

 “Why are we at a MgRonalds?” Ichigo asks impatiently.

 “It’s delicious,” Achilles says sagely.

 “It's fried garbage.”

 “It’s      delicious    fried garbage.”

 “I’m not winning this fight, am I?” Ichigo asks, trying desperately to hide the fondness in his voice. Medusa snorts at him from the back seat.

 “Not a chance, Master.”

 “Call me by my name!”

 He’s ignored, as he knew he would be. “How do you even know that you like this stuff? There’s no grail to shove knowledge into your thick skull.”

 “No, but we learned quite a bit with you and Mash, and we’re still connected to you as well. So we know enough to navigate this time, I think.” Cu says from his place next to Medusa.

 “You know that doesn’t make a lot of sense, right?” Ichigo frowns minutely. Then again, there were lots of things that don’t make a lot of sense, that he himself can’t make real sense of.

 Ichigo rubs his fingers across his command seals. They were familiar, the same ones he’d had at Chaldea, but they weren’t in Chaldeas anymore. He’d thought that command spells were distributed by grails themselves, or the FATE system in his case. But apparently that wasn’t the case, or he wouldn’t have these three. Right?

 Achilles elbows Ichigo when they get up to the window. A young man in a red visor that matches his eyes smiles out at them.

 “Hi there,” he said brightly. “Will that be cash or credit?”

 “Here,” Ichigo fishes out his card and passes it over Achilles to the man.

 He glances over the man shoulder when a young girl in pigtails goes flying behind him, followed by the sound of something falling down. The mans smile grows a bit tenser.

 “M-Maou! The fryer-!”

 “Excuse me,” he waves at them and turns away. “Chi, what did you-?”

 The commotion is cut off when the window slides shut with a click.

 Ichigo looks at the other three and can’t help cracking a grin.

 “Sometimes I’m glad I don’t have a day job.”

 “The lives of normal people are not for any of us,” Achilles says with a nod.

 “Okay, whatever you say mr. I-wanna-go-out-in-a-blaze-of-glory.”

 “I don’t regret that decision, and you know it!”

 He knows. Achilles has only few true regrets from his glorious life. One of them is the reason he always hesitates to fight a woman. The other is related to Hektor, who Ichigo had never had the pleasure of summoning himself. For the best, he figures.

 They sit for a few minutes before the girl with the pig tails pops up at the window and hands them their bag with a few frantic apologies that Achilles waves off with a gentle smile.

 “No harm done. Have a good day.”

 Ichigo grips his door like a lifeline when they roar out of the parking lot. There must be magic involved for them not to get pulled over by the cops on the way back to the house. Even though the drive only takes a few minutes at Achilles speed Ichigo still manages to wolf down three burgers in just as man minutes.

 He’s gonna have to practice using his hollow powers, or else he’s going to end up feeling hollow every time after. It’ll make him far too vulnerable for his own comfort, even if he is surrounded by his servants when it happens.

 He trusts them implicitly, but he’s begun to rely on his own power, not just theirs. Having a sword of his own has changed him.

 Medusa helps him out of the car when they finally reach the house, and lets him go once their in the living room. Ichigo falls onto the couch with a long sigh.

 Achilles wasn’t wrong. Food did him some good.

 The couch dips and a weight lands on his lap when the aforementioned Rider crosses his legs across Ichigo’s and hands him the rest of the burgers. Cu takes up the last space on the couch, on Ichigo’s right, and Medusa sets herself up in the chair across the room from the three of them.

 “Thanks,” he says at last. “For pulling me out of there. I was really getting irritated.”

 “He wasn’t being fair,” Achilles says with a frown, “Don’t these people know to just go with your flow yet?”

 Ichigo snorts. “Not yet. I’ll bully them more another time. As much as I would like to just hang out with you guys, they do know things that I don’t. And soon enough, I’m going after Aizen.”

 “Are we?”

 We.

 “Mhmm. I still have my promise to him. I don’t know how to restore memories from a timeline that doesn’t exist anymore, but I can at least prove to him that we used to be friends. I just have to figure out how to get to him. Urahara could get me to Seireitei, he might know a way to where the hollows live too. Now that he doesn’t think I’m losing my mind or whatever.”

 “Your life never is dull,” Cu teases him, tugging his long orange hair. Ichigo rolls his eyes fondly at him.

 “As if you’re one to talk. You’ve been fighting since you were a child.”

 “You were just a boy when we met in Fuyuki,” Cu points out. “Older than me, admittedly, but still young.”

 “I was practically grown up!”

 “That’s not a good thing,” Medusa scowls at him from across the room. “You should mourn your lost childhood. Not celebrate it. Mad man.”

 Ichigo falls silent and looks elsewhere. He can’t even really disagree with her. It’s one of the things he’s most angry at his father for. He’d let Ichigo grow up too fast, he’d never tried to explain what happened and he barely supported him, so lost was Isshin in his own grief. He was always better with the girls, but even Yuzu and Karin are more grown up than they should be for girls of their age.

 He’ll deal with that later. His food is getting cold.

 * * *

 Once Ichigo is out the door, Shinji turns to Urahara.

 “So. That went well.”

 “I thought you said he was having trouble with his hollow. Not that he was about to turn everything on its ear.”

 “I didn’t know,” Urahara defended, snapping his fan shut and pacing away from Shinji. “Yoruichi said that it almost took over during his fight with Kyoraku. She said she had to knock him out to get him out of the situation, before things got really bad. The mask was half formed and he was healing from a cut on his shoulder.”

 “Well he didn’t need our help after all. And now he’s pissed, and I’ve got questions for ‘im,” Shinji crossed his arms over his chest. “Like how the      hell    he managed to just have a conversation with a fuckin’ hollow!”  

 “You think I don’t want to know the answers too?” Urahara frowned at him from over his shoulder. “This could be a turning point. If he went about it a different way that opens so many more possibilities. But now he’s being puppy guarded by those strange friends of his.”

 “Yeah,” Shinji frowns. “Who are they? What are they? They sure as shit ain’t human.”

 “I’m not sure. I think it has something to do with Ichigo being a mage, but he’s not a very forthcoming boy when it comes to mage craft. Some rule that says he has to kill you if he tells you.”

 “That’s one’a the weirdest things about ‘im. Since when can someone be a mage and a shinigami?”

 “I’m beginning to think that impossible things follow Ichigo around like a shadow. Do you know what he said when he was going to save Rukia? That he didn’t need to bring his friends because he would make some there. And you know what he did?”

 “He turned half the officers of the 13 on their own superiors. Ya said somethin’ about that earlier.”

 “Yes. He’s a very unusual boy.”

 Kisuke flicked his fan back open and looks down at the pale paper. “I’ve made many mistakes with him, Shinji. He shouldn’t trust me. He shouldn’t even talk to me, at this point, but this was the first place he brought you for this little fight.”

 “Weird guy,” Shinji says idly. He’s never seen Kisuke so out of sorts, all over a not-so-human boy who’s rapidly turning the world over on its heels. Shinji can’t tell if he’s afraid or excited about what going to happen in the future.

 “Tomorrow, after school, I’m gonna try to bring Ichigo around to meet the others. I wanna see what Hiyori makes of ‘im.”

 “You mean besides a punching bag?”

 Shinji snickers at the image. “I’m not sure I’d put my money on our girl in that case.”

 * * * *

 Ichigo wakes up in Avalon again.

 He’d in Merlin’s lap, his cheek resting on the mages fine robes. He blinks a few times and finds he’s not alone. Again, two spirits sit across from him, but the charged energy of secrets is gone, leaving shoulders loose and muscles relaxed. Be it Neive or Zangetsu, they’ve both calmed considerably.

 “What’s going on?” Ichigo asks, slowly sitting up. Merlin lets him go willingly.

 It’s Zangetsu who starts talking, which is interesting since the last time they were here Ichigo practically had to pull his teeth out to get him to open up.

 “Why am I still here?”

 “...huh?”

 “You woke up last time. I thought I would have disappeared when you knew I wasn’t your real Zanpakutou. Why am I still here?”

 “Because you’re still mine?” Ichigo honestly isn’t sure why they’re even having this conversation. “He’s my zanpakuto and you’re my quincy power. I’m not very good at the bow so you’re stuck being a sword. Deal with it.”

 Zangetsu gapes at him like a fish while Neive howls with laughter.

 “Although,” Ichigo adds. “I need a better way to distinguish the two of you. He’s already Neive, but if he’s actually Zangetsu you can’t be just Zangetsu anymore. So… Tensa. Like the Bankai.”

 “Like the one you barely even use?” Neive asks dryly while he wipes a tear from his eye.

 “Hey! I was totally ready to use it to save Rukia! But nothing else has really happened since then! Even Hirako was just interested in the mask.”

 “Besides, isn’t it always better to keep a card in your back pocket? Now the only people who know about our Bankai, or what it was before now, is Yoruichi and Renji. And probably Urahara, by extension.”

 “Then you will call me that?” Zangetsu -Tensa- asks.

 Ichigo nods with finality. “Tensa and Neive. Both parts of me. Both parts of Zangetsu.”

 “You know,” Tensa begins, “Now that you’re going to be training your quincy powers, your fighting style may change further.”

 “I would think so,” Ichigo says flatly. “But what exactly were you thinking?”

 Tensa taps his fingers along his thigh. “It might not work in the human world, but the next time we’re in Seireitei I’ll let you know.”

 “Fair enough,” Ichigo nods at him, before he finally turns to Merlin.

 “Don’t you have better things to do than drag me into your garden every night?” he jokes, even though he quietly appreciates it. He much prefers Avalon to fire and death and decay.

 Merlin sniffs at him. “Unappreciative cur. I should banish you.”

 “That’s the most bullshit old english thing you’ve ever said!” Ichigo shouts and tackles him into a cloud of flowers. Neive laughs loudly behind them while the pair of mages, one grand and one poor, tussle in a bouquet.

 * * * * *

 There’s a magic book breaking into buildings and killing people. There’s a famous author who looks like a child trying to solve the problem.

 They can’t beat the book, because it’s not physically able to be beaten in the state it’s in. Or something. Ichigo’s not sure he understands what he was talking about, but the end result is that he gives the book a name.

 Alice.

 And all of a sudden the book is not a book, but a little girl clutching a tome of fairy tales to her chest. Her hair is white and her eyes are pink, and she’s absolutely tiny.

 Ichigo grabs Mash by the should hard to keep her from going in fighting.

 “No!” he snaps, dragging her back a step.

 Mash’s brows furrow. “Master, this is the tome that was attacking people…”

 “I know but…” he can’t let her hurt a kid. Besides. “Anderson said she wasn’t trying to kill anyone. She was looking for a master so she could take a human form. And I mean, I’m right here.”

 Ichigo steps towards the girl, past Mash’s safety and the protection that might be provided by Anderson. He walks slowly, with his hands up so he won’t scare her.

 Even if she could probably kill him, he doesn't want to frighten the girl.

 “Hey there,” he says quietly. “I’m Ichigo Kurosaki. It’s nice to meet you Alice. Are you feeling better, now that you’ve got your own two hands?”

 He waits for her hesitant nod.

 “Would you like to come with us?” he asks. “You were looking for a master, right? Well I’m afraid I’m the only one in the city.”

 He offers her his hand.

 Slowly, so slowly, she places her own tiny hand in Ichigo’s larger, calloused one.

 Ichigo picks her up gently into his arms, the fight forgotten. She hadn’t killed any of the people she’d attacked, which helps him justify this beyond him having a soft heart. He just can’t stand the idea of hurting a little girl. Or any little kid. He wants to protect Anderson too, even if he is a bit of an arrogant brat.

 “Man, I hope Jekyll has a couple more rooms free,” Ichigo muses with a grin. Mash shakes her head at him.

 “Master really does collect any strays he sees,” she says halfheartedly. “I’m sure Dr. Jekyll will find a place for everyone.”

 “Good thing he’s not the type to yell.” The other personality though…

 Well. Ichigo could handle Hyde if it came to it.

 * * * * *

[soundsaboutrighttumblr]

ramking fic: gimme the Tee

 Read on AO3

                     Summary:            

Some dialogues that need to happen. Set after Cool Boy, won't probably make much sense without it. After a leisurely breakfast, probably.

Knock knock who's there?

                 Notes:    

I am a tiny, tiny bit sorry about that terrible title. Not enough to not keep it though.

The knock on the door startles King out of his favorite routine. Three urgent raps of knuckles against wood, and some crumbs of soil spilled onto the floor.

He’s been deep into a contented buzz of mindless concentration, murmuring playful nothings and letting his hands and senses do the work, completing his round of checking up on his plants after breakfast. He tends to get a tiny bit lost in it, maybe. Especially when he feels as light as he does today.

When the knock is repeated, although with some hesitance, King brushes his hands off on his pants, and goes to answer.

Finding himself face to face with Tee's raised eyebrows.

“Hello and good morning, most esteemed project assistant!”

There’s a cupholder with two steaming hot drinks in his hand, and a laptop clutched under his other arm. King’s eyes barely have time to narrow.

“Soooo, about our talking over the school paper’s blog article? On our reforestation charity project? And you helping me choose pictures and edit some paragraphs, would now be a good time? I thought it would be quicker in person.”

King’s eyes definitely do narrow then: “Our what? I didn’t know there was an OUR-anything?”

“Oh, I… texted you? Did you not see? Is now not good? I was on my way to the shops, so I thought I’d take a chance.”

King opens his mouth to say something, but his attention is drawn to  the click of a door, and then Ram appears out of the bedroom, one headphone already in ear:

“I’ll be back with the dogs around three, text me if I should pick up any- P’Tee.” He stops short. King’s heartbeat stumbles and quickens.

Because. Oh.

There is that comical moment of them all blinking at each other. In silence. The one that's more than just the absence of sounds.

Then something well-meaning inside King decides that this is rather ridiculous, and he brushes over it, as light in tone as he dares:

“Okay, Ai’Ning, see you later then.”

Ram turns big eyes on him, wide and a tad anxious: Will you be alright?

And it makes King want to laugh somehow, but also? His throat and chest feel kind of tight.

He manages a smile, possibly even a confident and soothing one.

Ram looks at Tee once again, who wiggles the fingers of the arm holding the laptop in an awkward wave.

Ram nods and slips out of the door next to Tee. Maybe King imagines it but his leaving steps do sound rather hurried.

King heaves a sigh, only partly for show:

“Well, dearest friend Tee, do come on in then.”

---

Tee sets the drinks on the counter and King waits. Ignores the slow waves of panic that want to take hold, berating himself because what is there to fear? This is Tee.

Tee, who sets up the tablet, turning it on and tapping on the display. But he is biting his lips continuously; so King just waits for it.

“So. You two live together? “

There. No denying it now, really. But why does it feel like he’s supposed to guard secrets that are not only his own?

“He needed a place to stay.” No going wrong with a part of the truth though, is there? Still. The knot at the base of his tongue feels thicker, letting through less air.

Because how official are they? And is Ram out? And why the heck didn’t they talk about this?

Tee’s voice cuts in casual but curious: “I thought he had his own room, over with…”

“It’s family stuff. He needed a place to stay.”

“Okay!” Tee raises hands in an apologetic way and King thinks the echo of his own tone in his ear does ring rather uncharacteristically clipped.

The article draft is pulled onto the sceen, and King starts skimming over the lines of text, not really absorbing much.

“So… you guys are okay?”

It takes King aback.

“Why wouldn’t we be?”

“Well, there have been some tensions the last night at camp after our drinking game, and I just wondered…” King feels Tee’s eyes on him from the side. Then Tee coughs.

“Also there have been some ‘incident reports’ about late night yelling from an undiscerned tent…”

Heat shoots up to King’s neck and Tee throws up his hands: “Without too many specifics, of course."

King takes a moment to soak in his shame.

“Yeah, we are okay. Sorry about that.”

“Okay then.”

“Okay.”

Tee’s eyes still stay on the profile of King’s face, so he taps onto the screen, directing Tee’s attention there:

“I wouldn’t use that picture here, have you seen the ones P’Thara sent? There are some among them that fit better, I am sure he’ll let you use them.”

“Oh. I see, I’ll ask him!” For the moment, Tee complies.

King takes a breath and forces his concentration on the text written, clicking the editor to remove some typos.

“So, Ram is bringing his dogs here? I thought you said some time that you didn’t like dogs?”

King deflates. His thoughts feel like they’re in knots: “It’s not like I don’t like them, they just make me feel uneasy.”

“But you let them stay in your apartment?”

“Once you get to know them it’s easier to get used to them…”

“Still…”

“What’s your point?” King’s tone might be a tiny bit overly nonchalant again. And Tee might be throwing up consoling hands once more:

“No point, really, no point at all.”

“Do you wanna do this or not?”

It annoys King that he still sounds so defensive.

“Yes! Okay, okay, no more questions.”

It annoys him even more how Tee’s voice sounds like he is suppressing laughter.

---

When Ram comes back, the dogs are a white grey whirl around his feet, still excited from their walk. They do look at King, tails wagging carefully, but Ram keeps them close to him on their leashes for now. They sniff around and sneeze at some plants, and they sure are the adorable sort, King thinks, all puffy and fluffy and… safely over there.

Ram looks at him. “You okay?”

King decides he might mean the Tee situation earlier, rather than the dogs now. Or maybe both.

He makes a gesture with his hand, from where he is sitting on the couch, tablet on his lap.

“Yes. It went fine, we sent out the finished article, he’ll link us once it’s published.”

Ram’ eyes linger for a moment, then he nods and goes to settle the dogs with food.

Once they are happily crunching and slobbering on dog dinner in their room, Ram washes his hands at the kitchen sink and comes over, and for a moment just stays, stands next to King. King looks up to him and smiles. Ram sits down.

King gets lost in his eyes, drawn in easy and so naturally, until Ram suddenly speaks:

“Duen was there. He asked… He’s planning another short get away trip over the break and he was asking if I… and you would want to join them?”

King can’t help his mind springing up questions in a million different directions at once.  

“Why would he be asking that?” He realizes how it possibly sounds, but he is genuinely curious. “I mean, I get the you, but why the you and me?

Ram shrugs but there is a tiny something in his eyes: “I guess, Bohn… well, we have been spending time together. You and me, I mean ”

“Does Duen know?”  It’s slipped over his lips before he can reign it in. He doesn’t want this to sound like an interrogation.

Ram looks directly at him. Though he might be squinting a bit: “About?”

King feels strangely flustered under that look: “About us, or about you…?“

“Me?”

“That you like…”

“That I am gay?”

Ram sounds settled in that. So much so that the fascination over it pulls King out of his own head for a moment.

Ram shrugs: “He might. I never explicitly told him. But then, I never told him I am not, you know.”

King nods. He’s not sure he does know though. There are already countless more questions on his mind, but he remembers earlier with Tee, and so he decides on this one:

“So, you and me… we just tell our friends?”

More narrowed eyes: “We don’t?”

“Don’t look at me like that, Ning, I am asking because I genuinely want to know! I am asking so that I know. You’re not some secret-“, some secret affair his mind supplies in an echo, and he realizes why it might rub Ram wrong, so he hurries on with all the sincerity he can muster:

“It’s just that I think I am rather private about that stuff?”

“I am, too.”

It feels like a strange impasse, and it’s not like they are arguing, but King is at a loss for words for a moment.

He’s usually really good at this, but here and now he’s finding once more that it is a wholly different thing, trying to embrace and dissolve a tension when you are a party involved and invested.

But Ram stays, in that way that he just does. And it feels like they take in and let out the same breath. King finds he can let himself lean his own shoulder against Ram’s without hesitation or inhibition.

He sighs: “I think most of them are already convinced we are a couple.”

Ram’s voice is softly matter-of-fact. “Well, we are.”

King plays along through a smile: “Well. When you put it like that.”

His fingers pick a piece of dried leaf from the cuff of Ram’s sweater; touching his wrist.

“So, when they ask… I can tell them that you are my boyfriend?”

Ram turns his head to King, and it’s a long, studying look.

“Yes.  Can I?”

There’s a flutter in King’s stomach, and he’s not quite sure if it’s a flare of nerves or metaphorical butterflies; maybe both.

“Yes.”

Ram nods and smiles.

The corners of King’s lips tick up before he can stop it:

“Will I have to go through some trials like Bohn, too? You know, to be allowed to date you?”

Ram’s face is dead-pan. “No.”

Then one eyebrow arches: “That’s it? Were you honestly afraid of that?”

King sinks deeper into the backrest, flustered. “No. It’s not… no. I wasn’t afraid. It’s just new to me, is all.”

Ram scoots a little bit lower on the couch, too, until he’s at eye level with King, leaning his forehead against King’s, so that King can feel him nod.

“New to me, too.”

---

Later in bed, when they are lying face to face, King finds once more that looking at Ram until his lids grow heavy is the most potent source of peace, without the feeling of wonder and awe ever lessening.

“So who else knows? Your family? Ruj?”

Ram half-shrugs, half-yawns: “I think he might.”

He shifts and puts his arm up and King follows the invitation and presses his lips to Ram’s naked shoulder, before resting his head there.

“He asked me once if I liked any girl.”

King grins: “And you just stared at him?”

Ram nods, moves his head against the pillow.

“He then asked if I liked any boy.”

“And again, you just stared?”

Another nod.

“So, he probably knows.”

“Yep. He probably does.”

King smiles and watches his own fingers trace the tattoo on Ram’s chest.

“How long have you known?”

It takes a moment for Ram to think about it, and King waits.

“Early on. Around 10, 11? Took more time to understand it, though.”

“Huh.”

“You?”

King blinks. “I think… I am learning, that I take time with people… have to get to know them, before attraction takes hold? I mean, I’ve always understood as a concept that guys can be fascinating and beautiful to me, too, I just assumed that’s what every open-minded person’s brain operated like?”

He knows Ram has raised his brow before he looks up to confirm. It’s not really judging, but then again, it totally is.

King laughs: “But, that’s not attraction, I guess.” He puts his lips against the skin where Ram’s shoulder meets his chest once more: “So yeah, you… kind of hit me hard.”

It’s the same with Ram’s smile; King just knows it is there, doesn’t even have to look up to check. He feels it.

“God, I am kind of terrified to have Kamfah find out.”

Ram tenses beneath King, and he has to hold back a giggle.

He starts drawing soothing circles into Ram’s skin again, and amends:

“A bit excited though, too. But mostly terrified. We’ll be invited to lunch every weekend.”

The both stare up at the ceiling imagining for a moment.

King breaks first:

“You think we can keep it a secret in front of her for a bit longer?”

There’s a snort that might be a laugh, as Ram pulls King close:

“We can try.”

                             Notes:  

always want to hear what you think! <3

sorry this took forever... I got distracted buying plants and making little plant terrariums, me, who never even really owned plants, now my apartment is a tiny jungle. Oh, who to blame? Does anyone come to mind? PS: I am loving it

[britishchick09]

sherlock s2 ep 3 livewatch

it’s time for the sherlock s2 finale! i’ve been keeping lockie alive for as long as possible, but I can’t stall any longer. let’s fall into the reichenbach!

here it is:

the last masterpiece ep! :D

it begins with rain! *beatles ‘rain’ plays*

john’s back with the therapist from study in pink! :o

does this take place after the fall and the rest of the ep is a flashback?

it’s been 18 months!

john called tv ���telly’:)

OMG HE’S CHOKING UP NO POOR BBY :’(

he called sherlock ‘my best friend’ IN THE SADDEST VOICE IN THE WORLD :’(

john: “sherlock holmes... is dead.” or is he? ;)

BAM INTRO!

guy: “falls of the reichenbach...” you dodged a credit roll with that one! ;)

sherlock: “diamond cufflinks. all my cufflinks have buttons.” john: “he means ‘thank you’. ...just say it.” awww what a parent :)

sherlock isn’t one for thanks and publicity!

the iconic hat! :D

EVERYONE WANTS HIM TO PUT THE HAT ON

he reluctantly put the hat on:)

the transitions from a scene to a newspaper is so cool! :D

john’s tabloid nickname is BACHELOR OMGGGGGG

john: “what do they mean by that?” oh you know what that means buddy ;)

CONFIRMED BACHELOR OMGGG VICTORIAN GAYYYYY!!!!!!!!!! (or in his case bi)

john: “we need to be more careful-“ johnlockers: “NO!!!!!”

sherlock is criticizing the hat lol :D

john called it the ‘sherlock holmes hat’ eyyyyy!!!!! ;D

john’s voice has a hint of deep love it ;)

there’s so many people touring at the castle! :o

this sneaky guy has this on his phone and i’m guessing that’s what all apps in the uk look like lol

OMG HE HACKED INTO THE SYSTEM

is it moiarty?

lestrade said ‘bloody ‘ell!’ and it was so british of him :D

he’s dancing to the background music YEP IT’S MOI ALRIGHT

YEET

OMG MOIARTY YOU DRAMA QUEEN

also is this an abominable bride reference? :o

john’s text notif sound sounds apple WHY

he has a windows laptop and an apple phone how chaotic

the smiley face!!!! :o

ooh cool american song playing in the background! :o

john: “ready?” sherlock: “yes” *PRESS CHATTER* how would anyone be ready for that?

sherlock wants to be himself but john’s like ‘no smartass’ LET HIM BE A SMARTHOLE JOHN

it’s the bbc! :D

OMFG A FAN FOLLOWED SHERLOCK INTO THE RESTROOM WTF

i bet johnlockers have actually done this because they were craaazyyyy back then...

THE FAN WANTS HIM TO SIGN HIS SHIRT WTFFFFF

sherlock knows she’s not a fan lol :D

wait is someone peeing in the background wtf

fan: “you and john watson, platonic, have you there as well!” mofftiss totally based this girl off of real johnlockers!!!!

can they please leave the bathroom I SWEAR SOMEONE IS PEEING BACK THERE IT’S SO AWKWARD

sherlock: “you... repel... me.” YAS!!! :D

HOLD UP what if this is mofftiss’ way of saying they don’t like johnlockers :o

now lockie’s in court bor-ing!

moiarty is a spider great metaphor sherlock! :D

judge: “how long-“ sherlock “not a good question.” lol :D

sherlock and moiarty knew each other for 5 minutes lol

who ate the wafer

SHUT UP WIG MAN LET SHERLOCK SHOW OFF

aaand he kicked them out

john: “you’re doing The Look again.” omg so married ♥

he finds The Face annoying lol MARRIEEEED

epic wallpaper! :D

OMG MOIARTY WAS CHEWING GUM DURING THE CRIME AND THE COURT THING DORK

and he looked at john... ;)

moiarty’s out and sherlock beeps john away,,,

he be making tea WITH HIS VIOLIN PLAYING YYYAAAASSSS!!!!!!!!!

omg there’s a shadow...

AN A CREAK

I KNEW IT WAS MOIARTY!!!!!!

sherlock lets him sit down wowza kind to a criminal! :o

moiarty: “every fairytale needs a good old-fashioned villain ;)” omg HE KNOWS HE’S A STORY CHARACTER AHHHH :o

moiarty to sherlock: “you need me.” no he needs john THANK YOU VERY MUCH

moiarty thinks sherlock’s boring SHUT UP FUNNY MEAN MAN >:(

moiarty: “that’s the problem... the final problem.” eyyyy roll s4 credits! :D

moiarty: “i didn’t tell you... but did you listeeeennnn?” lol sing-songy moiarty is funny :D

he’s doing the hand thing ♥

moiarty: “i own secrecy” who do you think you are bish brother

MOIARTY CALLED SHERLOCK ‘HONEY’ :o

WHY IS MOIARTY SAYING ‘DADDY’

THE FALL HE SAID THE FALLLLLLLL

sherlock: “i never liked riddles.” *maddie hatter rages in the distance*

he’s having a row with the machine again ;)

also that’s literally my dad with his card lol :D

ooh antiques roadshow! :D

john’s meeting mycroft why

OMG HE WAS TAKEN HOSTAGE

it’s just mycroft’s way of saying hello?

what happened in 1972

mycroft’s giving john an unrelated case... s1 finale flashback!

john’s loooong groan lol :D

sherlock is moiarty’s ‘only rival’... >:)

awww john fed some crumbs to birds :)

another unrelated case and lestrade is at the flat! :o

lestrade called lockie ‘a celebrity’ awww :)

SHERLOCK DON’T YELL AT THE CRYING LADY :(

oh he wanted her to ‘speak quickly’ ok

not ok but thaaat’s lockie!

it be moi...

sherlock SNIFF

sherlock: “brilliant, anderson?” anderson: “really?” sherlock: “brilliant impression of an idiot.” OHHHHH!!!!!!! :D

sherlock 2 NOW

john: “don’t do the smiling thing. kidnapped children..?” oh he always does the smiling thing! ;)

molly was going on a lunch date but sherlock said she’ll go with him and her little ‘what?’ is so cute! :D

sherlock’s like ‘look at all the fricks i give’ :D

aaand he left her!

sherlock: “the chemical footprints will lead us to moiarty!” all roads lead to rome, and all the footprints there lead to moiarty ;)

SHERLOCK CALLED MOLLY ‘JOHN’ OMG :D

b r i c k   d u s t

molly: “you’re like my dad. he’s dead- no, sorry-” lol :D

oh no molly’s telling a sad dad story :(

i can kind of see why people ship sherlock and molly they’re nice together :)

BUT JOHNLOCK IS BEST SHIP

although molly’s super awkward she’s so cute! :D

SHERLOCK GOT THE FAIRYTALE REFERENCE AFTER I DID YAS!!!!! :D

lestrade: “brick dust!” b r i c k  d u s t

he’s the google in 360 website! :D

they burst through the kidnapper’s door and it was like ‘someBODY once told me’! :D

omg mercury chocolate wrappers! :o

sherlock: “the more they ate, the faster they died... neat!” ...neat? :o

they found the kidnapped kids! :D

lestrade doesn’t want lockie to be himself awww :(

THE KIDNAPPED GIRL SCREAMED AT SHERLOCK NO :(

lestrade to sherlock: “i feel like screaming when you walk in!” ooh noice ;)

the jerk lady said sherlock was ‘unbelievable’ coolio she’s a bit nice! :D

MOIARTY HACKED THE TAXI TV OMG :o

also there are tvs in taxis OMG :o

lestrade called sherlock and john ‘csi baker street’ lol :D

moiarty’s connecting sherlock to sir bostalot hmm... ;)

hmmm....

sherlock: “what was that on the tv?” cabbie: “no charge...” *drives away* OHHHH

OMG SHERLOCK ALMOST GOT HIT BY A DAR

OMFG WAS HE ALMOST SHOT WTF WAS THAT

john to the rescue!!! :D

the guy was shot not lockie coolio

sherlock uses a mac WHYYY :(

sherlock: “dust is eloquent” mrs. hudson in a whisper: “what’s he on about???” lol :D

lockie vlogs! :D

sherlock: “this is a game, lestrade, one i’m not willing to play.” so the game is not on, then?

john: “i know you for real.” sherlock: “100%” awww :)

john: “no one could fake being suck an annoying dick all the time.” OHHHH!!!!! :D

guy: “yer a bloody idiot, lestrade!” and yer a bloody brit aren’t ya?

mrs. hudson said ‘ooh hoo’ just like oaken! :D

OMG fairytale!!!!

lestrade and the lady knocked on the door and mrs. hudson’s like ‘don’t barge in like that!’ :D

OMG THEY’RE ARRESTING LOCKIE

WHY IS THE LADY THINKING LOCKIE DID IT HE DIDN’T!!!!!

awww sherlock and john were arrested together so romantic just girly things ♥

OMG GUN SHOT????

they’re running omg!!!!!

sherlock: “take my hand!” FRICK YES

john: “people will definitely talk!” FRICK YAAAAS!!!!!!!

just two bfs running around in handcuffs ♥

they need to coordinate while getting up the stairs... easy enough for them! ;)

THEY JUMPED IN FRONT OF A VAN JUST CRIMEY THINGS ♥

i thought the van thing was part of the drunk ep in s3 but it’s cool that-

GUN SHOTS????

they let go! :o

OMG IT’S THE CREEPY FAN!!!!

moiarty: “they didn’t have any ground coffee so i just got-” *SUSPENSE CHORD* out of context that’s hilarious :D

moiarty’s richard!!! :o

wait he’s a hired actor the frick???

THE FRICK ARE THEY ACTING??????

just because it’s in print doesn’t mean it’s real...

ok technically moiarty’s an actor BUT THAT BE KNOCKING DOWN THE 4TH WALL

an actor playing a person playing an actor... wild actorception! :o

moiarty: “i’m the storyteller! it’s on dvd...” but is it on blu-ray? ;)

sherlock: “stop it STOP IT NOW!!!!” yoda seagulls...

fan: “i can read you and you... repel... me...” DON’T USE HIS LINE BOI

sherlock: “there’s only one way to complete his game...” is it on? ;)

OMG he’s admitting his feelings to molly AND HE NEEDS HER awwww!!!! :D

the sherlolly fans loved that i bet! :D

john to mycroft: “you and him go out for coffee? you and jim?” sarah z be like ‘YAS!’ :D

OMG WAIT DID MYCROFT WORK WITH MOIARTY????

mycroft tells john to tell moiarty ‘i’m sorry’ and john just gives this ‘please’ wheeze lol :D

julie albright bouncing her basketball against her bedroom wall in ‘meet julie’ (colorized)

oh CRAP

lockie’s fidgeting with the ball awwww :)

OMG MRS. HUDSON WAS SHOT THE FRICK????????

john: “she’s DYING.... you MACHINE!!!!!!” YEAH LOCKIE YOU BISH

john: “friends protect people!” true that!

THE FRICK WHY IS BEE GEEZ PLAYING

this is the music video lol :D

omg are moiarty and lockie gonna have a dance battle like in despicable me 3 lol :D

moiarty: “our final problem... stayin’ aliiiive!!!!!” HE SO PLANNED THAT

there’s about 28 minutes left will the battle take that long?

oh he turned the song off :/

aw man moiarty has to play with the ordinary people :/

MOIARTY SAID ‘atta boyyyy’ TO SHERLOCK WHYYYYYY

ooh sherlock’s doing binary code with his fingers! :D

moiarty: “first one to sherlock is a sissy” oh SHUT UP

moiarty: “there is no key DOOFUS!!!!” WOAH MAN CALM THE FRICK DOWN

“look at ALLLLL THE FRICKS I GIVE SHERLOCK!!!!”

moiarty: “nice you chose a tall building! great way to do it!” sherlock: “do- do- do what?” oh you know what lockie :(

moiarty: “i read it in the paper so it must be true!” no!!!!

john’s here for mrs. hudson!!!! :D

she seems fine tho?

moiarty: “for me? pleeeeeaaaseee?????” OMG THAT ‘PLEASE’ WAS SO HIGH LOLOLOL!!!!!!!

toss him sherlock TOSS HIM!!!!!

moiarty’s little ‘woah woah woah!’ tho :D

aww sherlock has only 3 friends :(

moiarty about sherlock kermiting: “you gotta admit that’s sexier” WUT

NOOOOOOOOO

sherlock’s breath is so shaky :(

he said ‘privacy’ like ‘pri-va-cee’ why

he’s gonna call john!!!!!

awww smile!!!! :D

he knows that this is fake right?

moiarty’s like ‘WHAT?? WHAT DID I MISS????” BOI CALM DOWWwwwwnnnn

sherlock to moiarty: “i am you. prepared to do anything.” save that line for john plz

sherlock is ‘on the side of the angels’ awww :)

moiarty said sherlock’s not ordinary RIGHT HE’S A SPECIAL SUNSHINE ANGEL

moiarty: “you’re meee!!!!!” NOT WHAT I MEANT

they’re holding hands and standing close NOOOOO

HOLY FRICK SHERLOCK JUS SHOT MOIARTY IN THE MOUTH THE FRICK THE FRACK???????

he’s not really dead right or is that just a theory

sherlock’s like ‘oh god what have i done’ SAME WHAT DID YOU DO

it sounds like the thx theme!

oh no

i know it’s not a legitimate kermiting sewerside but DON’T FREAKING DO IT

HE’S CALLING JOHN OH FRICK

HE WANTS JOHN TO SEE HIM FALL THE FRICKKKKK

sherlock: “look up, i’m on the rooftop.” ♫ up on the rooftop, click click click, HERE COMES SAD OL’ KERMIT CLAUS ♫

CRAP

sherlock: “i can’t come down so we’ll have to do it like this.” it was only a kiss :(

an apology????

‘IT’S ALL TRUE’ THE FRICK????

is this just for moiarty’s game?

sherlock sounds like he’s gonna cry NOOOOO :(((((

john: “shut up, shut up, shut up.” SAME WTF ARE YOU SAYING LOCKIE???

sherlock: “no one could be that clever. you could.” OMGGGGG

FIRST WINSTON & JULIA AND NOW SHERLOCK & JOHN WHYYYYY

sherlock sniffled omg :’(

he researched john to impress him OH MY HEART!!!!!

it’s not a trick sherlock is legit amazing!!!!!!!!

sherlock wants john to ‘keep his eyes fixed’ NOOOOOOOO

if sherlock knows this is fake he’s doing a pretty good job at it BUT WHY JUST TO PLEASE MOIARTY OR ESCAPE THE SPOTLIGHT OR WHAT

sherlock: “goodbye john.” NO

NO

NO

OH GOD THERE WAS A CRACK

if sherlock’s alive THEM HOW WAS THERE A CRACK

WAIT JOHN JUST FELL THE FRICK IS GOING ON????

john: “i’m a doctor, he’s my friend!” yes you are AND YES YOU FREAKING ARE

it’s fake he’s not really dead OH HOW I WISH I COULD TELL YOU THAT JOHNNY :(

OMG NO :’(

THE SAD VIOLIN I CAN’T

everything is slow NOOOOO

i can’t believe mofftiss made the fans wait 2 YEARS TO FIND OUT WHAT HAPPENED NEXT i know there was ‘many happy returns’ in 2013 BUT HOW DID THE FANS SURVIVE THAT LONG WITH THAT ENDING????

it’s raining now perfect

gun????

therapist: “he didn’t say it. say it now.” john: “sorry, i can’t.” he said ‘i love you’ :(

awww john and mrs. hudson! :’(

omg she’s crying no!!!! :(

john to sherlock’s grave: “you were the best man and the most human i’ve ever known.” awww :’)

john: “one more miracle for me, sherlock. don’t. be. dead.” miricale granted my friend ;)

OMG WHAT HE WAS STANDING THERE THE WHOLE TIME WITH JOHN SUFFERING LIKE THAT THE FRICK?????

that’s the end of s2! that was a much better finale than s1 and it’s definitely the best ep of the series so far. there’s a lot of exciting turns AND WHAT EVEN IS THE ENDING??? you knocked it out of the park mofftiss! i can’t wait to see what s3 has in store besides mary, drunk times and the wedding!

and to quote the blog... ‘#sherlocklives #johnwatsonlives’ ♥

[warriorsides]

Chapter 2

Notes: I'm super sorry this illustration has no background or shading... It had already been too long without a chapter and I didn't have time to do a background with school and other things in my life. I also have an allegiance list of all the characters in the Clans and their designs. I may add to the roster and change some things up! If you click on the characters, you'll be able to see their refs. This is also posted on Archive of Our Own! 

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Thomas stood on the fence again, his gaze set on the forest.

The sun had reached its peak in the sky. 

“Thomas!” The brown and white patched cat had called out when he arrived back to his housefolk’s den. “You’re back! Thought you’d never return.”

Thomas looked up to meet his friend’s gaze. “I met some wild cats.” He said, admittedly. 

“What?” The cat jumped down, and closely examined his friend. “Did you get into a fight? You don’t look hurt. What happened?” They interrogated.

“They just warned me to stay off their territory,” Thomas explained, pushing Joan away with his tail. “Then they asked me to join their Clan.”

Joan looked unconvinced. “Why would they do that?”

Thomas shrugged. “Not sure. I guess they needed extra paws.” 

“Well, I wouldn’t trust ‘em.” Joan declared. “Wild cats ain’t friendly.”

Thomas wanted to protest, but he knew better than to argue with Joan. He watched the cat give a small wave before scurrying off into the night. 

“But… I do trust them.” Thomas said to himself. He looked behind him, as if imaging Joan coming along to object. But they didn’t come. “Sorry, Joan.” He said, before turning back to the forest. “I’ve made up my mind. I’m going to join them.”

Thomas leaped off the fence post, once again journeying into the forest. 

The forest felt so much more alive now then the night before. The sounds of bird calls filled the air and the sun filled the forest with light. A gentle wind rustled the leaves of the trees as light danced around the branches. It was beautifully overwhelming compared to his old backyard. This was freedom.

“I see you’ve made your choice.” 

Thomas spun around, happy to know that he recognised this cat. “Sootflower!” He greeted. Another cat stood beside them, and he stiffened.

The cat nodded. “I’ll be taking you to ThunderClan camp. This is Thicketbranch, one of ThunderClan’s greatest warriors.”

The tom nodded his head to Thomas. “It is a pleasure to meet you.” 

Sootflower beckoned then with their tail. “Let’s be off. I’m sure the Clan will be excited to see a new apprentice around camp- one that isn’t as loud as Tigerpaw.” They mused.

Thomas chuckled politely, and followed the two warriors as they navigated through the thick forest back to their camp.

The two warriors were fast, which Thomas expected from two fully grown cats. But he found himself tripping over his paws just to keep up, and his paw pads were growing sore. He didn’t bother them with asking for a break though, almost imagining Thicketbranch barking at him for such a kittypet-like request. 

They wove through winding trees, over fallen trees, and got their paws tainted with mud. They had found themselves faced with a gully that was too wide to jump over and that reeked with foul-smelling and murky looking water. The two Clan cats barely hesitated for a moment before dipping their paws into the water and wading through. Thomas dipped a paw in, as if to test the waters, and slowly followed. He was determined to not complain about the terrain, but the water that had seeped into his belly fur was undeniably uncomfortable. 

Sootflower and Thicketbranch had paused just on the other side. Thomas quickly caught up, fearful that they might leave him behind if he was too slow. He took a moment to breathe, finding his chest burning. 

I should probably exercise more… Thomas thought, watching the two warriors step onto a rock that rested on the edge of a small hollow as he desperately tried to catch his breath. 

“We are very close to our camp now,” meowed Sootflower.

Thomas expected to see a sign of life by now- moving leaves, a flash of fur among the bushes below, but he couldn’t see anything except the same undergrowth that covered the rest of the forest floor.

“Use your nose. You must be able to scent it.” Thicketbranch hissed impatiently. 

Thomas felt his pelt prickle with embarrassment, and he closed his eyes to concentrate on sniffing. Thicketbranch was correct. The scents were different from the cats he was used to. The smell was strong, which indicated that there were many cats.

“I can smell cats!” Thomas exclaimed.

Sootflower looked to Thicketbranch with an amused expression, but Thicketbranch’s expression barely changed. 

“If you are accepted into the Clan, you will learn to recognise each cat-scent by name.” Sootflower meowed. “Follow me.” They led the way down the boulders to the bottom of the hollow. They pushed their way through a thorn tunnel and Thomas followed quickly after, with Thicketbranch trailing close behind.

Thomas found that beyond the thorn tunnel, a clearing had opened up. The ground at the center was bare, hard earth. This camp must have been here for many generations. The clearing was lit by sunshine and he could smell the droplets of fresh morning dew. 

Thomas felt awe-struck by the amount of cats in the camp. Some sat alone, but others huddled in groups, sharing food or purring as they groomed eachother.

“Just after sunhigh, when the day is hottest, it is a time for sharing tongues.” Thicketbranch explained.

“Sharing tongues?” Thomas said, confused. Were these cats actually licking eachother’s tongues, or was that a metaphor for something else?

“Clan cats groom eachother while sharing the news of the day.” Sootflower cut in. “We call it sharing tongues. It lets the Clan members bond together.”

Thomas had noticed that now, the cats had redirected their attention to him. He shouldn’t be so surprised- they must have smelled his foreign scent and sensed danger. But their eyes held only curiosity for him rather than hostility. Was it because of his collar? Or maybe had they softened because Sootflower stood next to him. 

Anxiety clawed at him, and he looked around the hollow. It was shielded by large rock walls, which were topped with brambles and bushes. Trees also surrounded the hollow on either side.

“Over there,” Thicketbranch flicked his tail towards a thick bramble bush, “is the nursery, where the kits are cared for.” 

Thomas’ ears flicked towards the bushes. He couldn’t see through the bushes, which were re-enforced with thick roots, but he could hear the small mews of kittens. As he stared at the bush, a cat slipped out from under a small gap in the front. That must be one of the mothers, Thomas thought.

The she-cat had patchy, dark brown fur and long legs. A dark black tom approached her and nodded, entering the nursery in her stead. Thomas wondered if he was a father visiting his kits.

“All queens share the role of caring for the kits.” Sootflower said. “Echohawk and Ripplestorm are our queens here in ThunderClan. All cats serve the Clan. Loyalty to the Clan is the first law in our warrior code. You must learn it quickly if you are going to become a ThunderClan warrior.”

“Sweetstar is coming.” Thicketbranch said, his ears raising as he lifted his chin to sniff the air. 

Thomas raised his chin, too, and felt encouraged that he could recognise the dark brown tabby tom’s scent a moment before she appeared from the rocks above.

The leader jumped down the rocks as if it was second nature, and Thomas felt a sudden wave of anxiety crash over him as he imagined him doing that. He’d surely fall- and it’d probably be fatal, from that height. 

“He actually came.” Sweetstar said, surprised. 

Thomas was unsure if he should be offended by that.

Sootflower chuckled. “Thicketbranch thought he wouldn’t, either. ‘A kittypet- in the Clan?’” They mocked, nudging the tom forward. 

Sweetstar flicked his tail dismissively, turning instead to Thicketbranch. “What do you think of him?” He asked.

Thicketbranch peered at Thomas for a second. “He can keep up.” He said. “He hesitated once or twice, but it’s only natural.” 

Sweetstar nodded. “So it’s agreed?”

The two warriors nodded.

“Then I’ll announce his arrival to the Clan,” Sweetstar said, weaving through the cats. He climbed up on the rock that had the pile of fresh-kill at the base, and his voice thundered throughout the clearing. “Let all those old enough to catch their own prey join here beneath the Highledge for a Clan meeting.” 

Thomas stood still, not knowing what to do. While Thicketbranch and Sootflower stood still, many cats found their way at the base of the Highledge, all looking up at their leader expectantly. 

Through the sea of pelts, Thomas could see Tigerpaw’s dark red pelt. Beside him was a cream tabby she-cat with white paws. Another cat, a golden shaded tom, sat to his left. 

When the cats had stopped moving, Sweetstar spoke. “ThunderClan needs more warriors,” He began. “It has been decided that we will take another outsider to train as an apprentice.” Thomas could hear muttering erupt within the Clan, but Sweetstar lashed his tail and cut them off."He may be an outsider but he is willing, and strong enough."

“The other Clans will think we’re weak if we take in another outsider…” A grey and white she-cat muttered.

Sweetstar ignored the warrior and addressed his Clan. “Thicketbranch and Sootflower agree that this young cat should train with ThunderClan.” 

Thomas looked up to Thicketbranch. He wondered if the tom even liked him, or if he had just said that because he wanted to get on Sweetstar’s good side. He looked away, only to find that most of the Clan’s eyes had fallen on him. His fur prickled with embarrassment, and he wondered if it was too late to turn tail and go back to his housefolk. To ball up in his bed felt like a much better idea than being here right now.

“Where is he from?”

“Is he a spy from ShadowClan?”

“He doesn’t smell like any other Clan.”

The grey and white she-cat from before’s voice rose above them all.

“Look at his collar!” She shrieked. “He’s a kittypet! We need wildborn cats in our Clan- not soft twoleg toys.”

Sootflower leaned over to Thomas. “That’s Rowanheather. She can smell your fear- they all can. You need to prove that your fear won’t hold you back.”

But what if it will? He wondered silently. And how do I prove that I’m not just a kittypet?

“Your collar is just proof that you’re nothing more than a Twoleg pet.” She said. “That bell will cause all sorts of noise and drive out the prey in our territory.”

Some cats murmured in agreement, while others hissed at the she-cat’s statements. Rowanheather began to approach, her ego inflating.

“And it’ll alert other Clans that we’re coming, even if your stench doesn’t.” 

Thomas took a breath, and stood up. The she-cat was only slightly larger than him, leading him to believe that she wasn't much older than him. 

Her stance lowered, and her claws unsheathed. Thomas stared at the claws that shimmered in the sunlight, and he shook his head. He didn’t want to fight her.

Raising a paw, he hooked it behind his collar, squeezing it between his neck and the strap. He unsheathed his claws, and pushed it away from him. His claws tore on the material, and there was a loud snap. With that, the collar had fallen off and sat on the ground. 

He had only ever felt what it was like without a collar once, when he was very young. But he realised how free he felt. The wind blew in his fur, and he could actually feel it on his neck. He breathed in fresh air, having a revelation. 

Being wild wasn’t about where you were born, or who’s kin you were. It was about being free. And he had never felt more free in his life.

“You wont fight?” Rowanheather said at last. “Pathetic. A real warrior will fight to the death if she has to.” She leapt towards Thomas, he claws unsheathed.

Before Thomas could duck or scramble away, a flash of dark grey fur shielded him. 

Thicketbranch had leaped in front of him. He had protected him. 

Thomas’ nose stung with the realisation that a new scent was in the air. One that smelled cold and tangy. It was blood. 

“Are you happy? You got your bloodshed for the day.” Thicketbranch said in a low hiss.

“Thicketbranch, I’m-,”

“Don’t talk to me. Not right now.”

Rowanheather shut her muzzle, and retreated back into the crowd. 

Thicketbranch turned around, and Thomas could see clearly now that he had a large scar across his muzzle. But Thomas could tell that his pain came more from the action of Rowanheather’s attack rather than the wound. 

“Enough.” Sweetstar called from the Highledge. “A real warrior does not seek bloodshed for no benefit. A real warrior finds another solution instead of causing unnecessary fights. Thomas has shown that he is willing to join the Clan by removing his Twoleg collar- but he has also shown that he is more than capable of having the true heart of a warrior.”

Many cats that had had their doubts before were now murmuring in agreement. Thomas found Tigerpaw’s gaze, and he seemed excited. 

“From this day forward, until he has earned his warrior name, he will be known as-”

“Wait!” A voice called.

Thomas had wanted to protest the name change as well, but he guessed someone else had gotten to it first. 

“What is it, Brightpool?” Sweetstar flicked his tail impatiently. “Have you had a vision?”

Thomas’ gaze followed back to the cream tabby by Tigerpaw’s side, who he now knew was named Brightpool/

The she-cat hesitated, “No.” She said at last. “But I have a feeling. A strong one.”

“What is your feeling?” Sweetstar asked. 

“...He doesn’t belong here.”

[bigskydreaming]

thehollowprince said: And I also stand by the opinion that they could have just done a solo run of the O5 X-Men starting a new timeline with the information they got from the future.

thehollowprince said: Its not like Marvel doesn’t constantly do AUs and retcons

OMG Josh you have no idea how bad I wanted this. They could’ve done SO MUCH with that concept. Letting the 05 keep their foreknowledge and the world they could have created with that?

They could’ve averted the initial Krakoan mission and saved Darwin, Gabe, Petra and Sway in the first place. They could have all been X-Men from their Day One, Scott and Alex would have actually gotten to KNOW their brother and Gabe quite possibly would never have gone full Dark Side despite the writers apparently now seeming obsessed with the idea there’s just something innately bad within Gabe that’s always destined to bear fruit at some point, ugh, whatever, like who do you think you are, Kant?

They could’ve recruited the Giant Size X-Men lineup earlier, and saved John Proudstar, who side by side with his brother Jamie, are a force to be reckoned with. 

They could have convinced Pietro and Wanda to join them instead of the Avengers and been like no but seriously that way lies nothing but shitty storylines and bad decisions that will be blamed on you by your teammates despite the fact that any and all of the bad decisions that were ACTUALLY yours could have been averted if any of your teammates were capable of functioning as an actual support system. Come join us. We have actual support systems, except for the times when we don’t, but we recruited Deadpool to break the fourth wall and he and Logan are currently cutting through the ranks of every writer who would write as hating and fighting each other instead of being a loving fucking family goddammit.

Jean could have faced the Phoenix head-on when the time for that came, using her knowledge of the future not to fear an inevitable death, but rather to know she had nothing TO fear, that the power to not control this force, but just be ONE with it, with no NEED to control it or be controlled by it, a symbiotic union, two beings in harmony deciding on courses of action together. The Phoenix’s innate powers and prerogative of rebirth and destruction tempered by Jean’s mercy, aimed and focused by Jean’s reason, the double-edged sword that is fire capable of warming homes or destroying them completely combined with Jean’s conscience guiding it to use its power for the former rather than the latter.

They could have stopped the Legacy Virus from getting out and killing millions as well as spared us from migraines induced by an AIDS metaphor so shitty at being a metaphor most people forget it was literally written to be an AIDS metaphor.

The body swap would never have happened and Kwannon could have joined the X-Men as a full member from the time she was introduced, rather than dragged along in the wake of Betsy’s tangled storylines for a couple decades.

They could have stopped Fitzroy from killing the Hellions. Hell, if they train Illyana early enough and have her mentored by Wanda who is perfectly fucking competent when left to her own devices, then like, maybe they can even take a jaunt to the future to save Fitzroy from dying in the first place and being resurrected with no soul. Not gonna lie, ever since then I’ve kinda been seriously interested in what the hell would a hero version of Trevor freaking Fitzroy even BE like, y’know? Call it morbid fascination, but like. I kinda want it, guys. LOL.

Add to that note, they could have taken another jaunt to the future and rescued Rachel from being made into a Hound by Ahab. Through the power of some convoluted plot tangle I just made up for convenience, Scott still ends up in a relationship with Maddy briefly, in one of those self-fulfilling prophecy type things where he went into it with the full intention of just averting the future and saving Maddy from her fate as the Goblyn Queen, but somehow ended up in a love triangle with a very alive Jean and Maddy who is fully informed of Sinister’s shenanigans and quite displeased with that asshole, and look, I don’t know how all of this goes exactly, but let’s cut to the chase, my only real endgame with this is making sure that Nate’s born properly, saved from Apocalypse and the techno-virus by the combined efforts of Scott, Maddy and Jean as well as Uncles Warren, Bobby and Hank, and Jean calls up the Phoenix through some psychic bond or whatever and is like hey girl, can I hit you up for a loan real quick? Got some losers that need toasting. 

And in this AU the Phoenix totally has her back, and one brief cosmic power-up and gratuitous Sailor Moon transformation later, Jean glows and intones some epic one-liners with appropriate gravitas, and then just punts both Apocalypse and Sinister to the far side of the universe, never to be seen or heard from again. They like, hit a black hole on the way there I guess. It was very sad. Violin strings may commence with the requiem. Okay that’s enough, they can stop now.

So then through the plot contrivances of fuck you, I said so, Scott and Maddy ultimately part amicably and Scott and Jean get back together and the three of them civilly co-parent both baby Nate and Rachel, as Maddy keeps the healing powers she gained as Anodine and stays with the X-Men for her own reasons.

The telepaths are all better trained by the expertise Jean gained in her powers while in the future, so the next time the Shadow King comes bumming around looking to cause chaos, Betsy, Emma and Jean just look at each other and laugh and say nuh-uh before psychically squishing him into a marble.

Warren never becomes Archangel. Onslaught isn’t a thing. They make nice with Magneto and say okay you may have a couple points, let’s discuss. Bishop arrives in the past for reasons totally unrelated to his original story, has no traitor to seek out among the X-Men, and thus he and Gambit end up besties in complete defiance of that stupid fucking story and because I just think they’re neat together. Yes I said neat. Gambit and Bishop are just neat. Deal with it. 

Bishop still hates that Fitzroy guy though, he’s like, I don’t even know what it is about that guy, he just rubs me the wrong way, even though Fitzroy is not evil here and has always done good with his powers, which are channeled through a device Forge made him that lets him just absorb life force from a wide range around him, spread out and diluted enough that its like, the grass feels weird for a second, like whoa what even was that, and then its over. Actually, y’know what, scratch that. Fitzroy’s powers are stupid and unnecessary the way they are now anyway, so fuck it, this Fitzroy doesn’t need life force or whatever, he’s just a dude who makes time portals. He’s like Illyana with green hair and that ugly goatee. Hey I said this Fitzroy was non-evil, not that he was perfect.

Bobby’s out and proud since he was sixteen, and with actual competence and proficiency with his powers, which make him a Literal Unkillable Gay Icon, he’s an inspiration to LGBTQ+ teens everywhere and inspires other gay, bi and trans heroes to come out. He’s a big brother figure to all the baby gays that later join the X-Men, like, Rictor comes to him for advice back during the time equivalent to early X-Factor, when Rictor’s a trying-too-hard sixteen year old who thought college age Bobby was like the coolest, which is valid, because X-Factor Bobby was like A+ Bobby characterization and deserves more reads. 

So Rictor comes out earlier as well, and by the time they even meet Shatterstar, instead of a slow burn friends to roommates to lovers scenario, Rictor takes one look at the love of his life and wastes no time coming out swinging with an absolutely terrible pick up line. Look, I said his big brother figure Bobby was out and proud in this AU, not that he magically had a better sense of humor. Some things just don’t change, y’know? Luckily, Shatterstar is a weirdo, and thus he finds terrible pick-up lines charming. At least when its Rictor saying them. They walk off for a first date, already practically hand in hand, voices fading into the distance as Rictor asks “By the way, have you met Dazzler yet? According to Bobby, apparently she’s your mom. That Longshot dude with the mullet over there is your dad I guess. We should go say hi.”

Hank gets an assistant hand-picked by the rest of the original X-Men, and who has one job and one job only. To follow him around and observe all his experiments, and he has veto power over experiments that People With IQs As High As Yours Should Know Better But I Guess You’ve Got Reed Richards Syndrome.

Hank’s like, “Hmm, if I built a time machine I could go back to the Jurassic Period and observe whether my theory of - “

Hank’s assistant: “Veto.”

“Damn. Okay I was also thinking of making a deep space communicator that can reach into the farthest reaches of space beyond any known civilization and just say hi, y’know? See if anyone’s out there.”

“Veto.”

“If I combine these genetically modified antibodies here with this strain of of DNA from - “

“Veto.”

“Well Forge built this device that does this to mutant powers but I think I can make it do - “

“Veto.”

“These nanobots I - “

“VETO,”

“Honestly, at this point I think you’re just saying that just because you like saying it.”

“Dr. McCoy, I promise you, I’m really, really not.”

Logan finds out about his future clan of stabby children, and seeks them out. He rescues Daken from Romulus, somebody stabs that loser with the immortal-killing sword, I don’t even care who, and after a few tense months of Logan trying too hard, he and Daken eventually bond over how hockey just isn’t violent enough. If you’re going to make a sport all about hitting each other, just really go for it or don’t even bother, y’know? Logan claps him on the shoulder and sniffs. That’s my boy. Then they find and rescue Laura and Gabby and take a road trip to Earth 1610 to pick up Jimmy. They have a house on campus, and new students walking by it are used to hearing loud growling and even howls. They were assured during orientation that that’s nothing to worry about, it just means the House of Snikt are watching a game and are rooting for opposing sides. 

Emma’s recruited practically the day they get back. She’s only just started at the Hellfire Club and has only done a tiny bit of Evil when Warren schedules an appointment with her, and then he, Scott and Jean make a better pitch than Shaw and his ilk could ever match. They’ve been to the future. Come join with us and we’ll give you an all access pass to memories detailing exactly what’s going to happen in these particular areas and many more. All you have to do is ask. Oh and also please don’t seduce any married teammates. Its bad form. To be honest, I don’t think it’ll be an issue because Deadpool assures us Morrison has been taken care of, and don’t worry if that makes no sense to you, its a head-scratcher for us to. Just roll with it. 

Nate ages normally here so its not like he ends up besties with forty year old Wade, but the latter having his own plot-contrived knowledge of the future because He’s Just Like That, decides that he won’t be denied at least SOME kind of bond with The Bestie That Wasn’t. He becomes Nate’s official babysitter. Well, not official, seeing as how Scott, Jean and Maddy don’t hire him and are very clear that their son is not to be left alone with this man at any time, he is a terrible influence and he keeps giving our kid guns. But then Wade just shows up anytime they’re out because he just has a sixth sense for Making Trouble, and he terrifies away whatever babysitter’s there and greets the returning and exasperated parents with a cheery wave. 

“I know what you’re going to say, but don’t worry, we didn’t do anything dangerous or against the law. All we did today was I taught him to make bombs, but we were very careful, we wore safety goggles and really, they were very little bombs. Not even anything atomic. I honestly don’t think any of them could have even blown up this whole house, and I’ve been meaning to say, I’m not impressed with the structural integrity of this place. Couldn’t you have picked something with a sturdier foundation? Its like you don’t even expect random space mercenaries to attack your place out of the blue every other month. Have any of you even read a single issue of your own comics?”

Scott’s jaw twitches Ominously. Wade starts gathering up his things. Jean rubs her forehead wearily.

“Wade, what do you even think ‘dangerous’ means?”

Wade pauses and cocks his head. Gives it a solid twenty seconds of thought. Then he shrugs. 

“I don’t know actually. Don’t think I’ve ever really thought about it. I always figured it was just one of those things people just say. Like, ‘oh, it looks like rain today,’ even if they’re not a forecaster and have no real meteorological credentials to speak of. ‘Oh, this mission will be dangerous,’ and I don’t even have to use up all my ammo and I only get shot twice. Y’know?”

“Leave,” Scott says. More like intones. House shakes a little bit but that might just be Wade’s imagination. Its very active.

“Leaving!” He says hastily. He jumps through the closed window and then teleports away amid the falling shower of broken glass. Why didn’t he do that while he was still inside the room? No one knows. Not even Wade knows. Why did the chicken cross the road? Who the fuck cares, now is it Original Recipe or Crispy?

Scott, Jean and Maddy search the house while Nate angelically claims they won’t find anything, Wade doesn’t even bring him cool stuff anymore cuz he knows you’ll just take it.

Maddy finds a high-tech laser space gun under a floorboard in the closet. She holds it up with one eyebrow raised pointedly. Scott and Jean flank her and their own eyebrows raise in solidarity. Well Jean’s does. Scott’s probably does but its hard to tell sometimes. Depends on what glasses or visor he’s wearing.

“That was already there,” Nate tries. Most powerful telepath and telekinetic in the world, but the kid can’t lie for shit. There’s not much point in trying when one of your moms is the freaking Phoenix, and that’s a skill that takes practice he just doesn’t have. 

The three sets of parental eyebrows make a V, judgingly.

“One month of no video games or TV?” Okay, so terrible liar but quick on his feet. At least he knows when he’s beat and jumps straight to trying to shape his own punishment proactively.

“Two months. And no flying lessons either,” Jean says. “And don’t pout at me, young man. You know the rules. No weapons inside the house unless your grandpa Corsair is visitng and we’re too tired to fight him on keeping knives under his pillow. This is a Do As We Say, Not As We Do house. Deal with it. Now, this is going with the others and you can have it back when you’re eighteen.”

It would have been three months, but Jean and Maddy caught a telepathic sniff from Scott. He’s just so proud of his kid thinking so tactically. He’s growing up so fast. Both women mentally roll their eyes. Why is he like this.

“I don’t see what the big deal is anyway,” Nate sulks. “Its just a stupid laser gun. I mean, Uncle Gabe blew up our last house with his brain.” 

“Yes and it was an accident and he feels absolutely terrible about that which is why we’re not going to bring it up when he and Armando come visit this weekend, right?”

“You can have my full compliance for two weeks off my sentence.”

“Or we can have your full compliance or two weeks will be added to your sentence,” Maddy says.

“You guys suck,” declares the ten year old vessel of near unlimited psychic might. He goes to his room, stomping all the way up the stairs so his grievances can be heard even by the House of Snikt next door. Course, they’ve already been listening to the whole thing with their enhanced hearing. There was nothing good on TV. Jimmy made popcorn and chewed with his mouth open just to piss off Daken. 

‘The second Father leaves the room, I am going to stab you in such a slow healing place you’ll still be bleeding at bed time.’ Daken mouths at his little brother from another universe. Jimmy scrunches his face in confusion. 

‘What?’ He mouths back. He’s terrible at reading lips. Or anything that isn’t skateboarding, really. And yet Father’s so happy that ‘at least one of my kids is content with stupid normal stuff and doesn’t go around drawing cover fire just because a mission is going so well its boring and they haven’t even gotten to pop their claws out yet.’

“That’s only because you’ve coddled him. He’s barely ever even been shot at. Just the one time on vacation in Majipoor and he wasn’t even the target, the assassin was aiming for me. If you would just let me take him on a proper outing to gain some real experience - “

“Not gonna happen.” Logan shuts that down real quick.

“Really Father, just look at him. He has zero situational awareness. I’ve been glaring a hole in the back of his head for a full minute now and he has no idea. That could just as easily be an actual laser scope, you know. He’s a disgrace to the whole family.”

“Daken, we’ve been over this,” Logan says firmly. “You have your sisters to bond with over gratuitous violence. Leave your brother alone. I don’t want anyone traumatizing him until trauma finds him all on its own. It’ll happen sooner or later, he’s as much a part of this family as anyone and that means its as good as done already, so there’s no need to hurry it along. If later on he decides he’s got a taste for it, you can take him on all the outings to get shot at that you want. But he’s gotta figure it out for himself first, and he doesn’t need his big brother being the one who introduces him to all that. He idolizes you, you know.”

Daken scoffs. He can’t even get the brat to chew with his mouth closed.

“He cut his hair from that style he liked so much, just because you hated it so much,” Logan says obliviously. Daken nods like he’s conceding the argument and hastens from the room while he can still keep his mouth shut. It won’t benefit anyone at this point to tell their father that Jimmy really only cut his hair because Daken told him he would set it on fire if he didn’t. 

Ugh, families are the worst. Don’t even get him started on Laura stealing some of his clothes to wear without asking. And then has the gall to yell back at him when he yells “Silk! Its the finest cut of silk! Does that mean nothing to you?” at her.

“Oh get over it. Its not like I asked for killer robots to interrupt my date.”

“Of course they were going to interrupt your date with that Julian boy. I keep telling you, he’s a magnet for trouble. I can tell. I’m one too, remember?”

“Fine, whatever, you’re right and I should just expect every date with Julian from now until the end of time to end with fire and disaster.”

“Well now you’re being melodramatic. There’s no way that boy makes it past twenty five. He doesn’t even have a healing factor.”

“Why do you hate him so much anyway? If you’d just give him a chance - “

“What are you talking about? I give him a chance every single time he’s here and I don’t kill him.”

“Ugh, I can’t even talk to you when you’re like this. You always do this, you just decide on something and then you commit to that like the fate of the world depends on you standing firm on what’s usually a completely arbitrary decision in the first place!”

Daken sniffs. “I can assure you, there’s absolutely nothing arbitrary about my disdain for the Keller boy.”

“His name is Julian,” Laura enunciates with a glare.

“I don’t care,” Daken enunciates with an expression of lofty superiority.

“You two are so dumb,” Gabby says from the end of the hallway. They both turn identical glares on her. They’d noticed her arrive several minutes ago but they weren’t about to be distracted from their battle of wills. “Laura, you know Daken isn’t actually going to kill Julian. He doesn’t do that anymore except for really bad people sometimes and he just talks about stabbing people or killing them cuz he thinks he’s funny and then he gets all pissy because nobody ever gets that he doesn’t really mean it. He doesn’t even hate Julian and he used to be fine with him before he started dating you, its just he doesn’t think he’s good enough for you.”

Daken frowns at the petite would-be peacemaker. Meddlesome toddler. “What are you even babbling about? None of that is remotely true.”

Gabby rolls her eyes up at her brother from her much lower height. She taps the side of her nose with emphasis. “You do know we all have the same abilities to smell and analyze scents as you do, right? And you know everything you can tell from peoples’ scent, right? Of course I’m right, I can smell it as clear as anything and so can Jimmy and Dad and we actually all know this and talk about it all the time, and its why Dad never actually gets mad at you for talking about killing people because he can smell you’re saying it just cuz you’re used to saying it but really you’re too marshmallowy on the inside now to do half the stuff you claim you’re gonna do. Hate to break it to you bro, but you’re a closet softie and you’ve been made. The nose doesn’t lie. Only reason Laura doesn’t know it is because you piss her off like its your favorite hobby and its probably impossible for her to smell anything beyond her own scent of Royally Pissed Off.”

Ugh. Meddlesome insightful toddler. Who asked for her intervention anyway? Daken crosses his arms in a way that’s decidedly aloof and not at all sulking.

Laura’s staring at their sister assessingly. “That’s really what you think is going on? And Jimmy and Dad think so too? You’re not just saying all that?”

Gabby bats her eyes up at them. “Would I lie to you?”

“Yes,” Laura says without missing a beat.

“Without a shadow of a doubt,” Daken says dryly, right on her heels.

“For the sake of a candy bar,” Laura adds, because that really did happen.

“Or just boredom, because god forbid you pick up another hobby that isn’t just Chaos.”

“This from the guy who only has fun when there’s blood and bullets flying about,” Gabby fires back from a position of petite petulance.

Daken smirks down at her. “Didn’t you just say I don’t really mean it when I say all of that?”

Gabby narrows her eyes. “Touché. My own words thrown back at me. I am undone.”

“Yes, well - “

Daken’s cut off as Jimmy chooses that moment to walk past them down the hallway to the bathroom. He’s laughing and shaking his head.

“You guys are both so dumb. She plays you like this all the time, and you never see it.”

“Silence, mortal!” Gabby thunders at their brother menacingly. The effect is somewhat diminished by the fact that she can’t hit a baritone note to save her life.

“No, I’m interested in hearing what he has to say,” Daken says coolly. “For once. This is a moment without precedent and one unlikely to occur again, so let’s explore it a bit.”

Jimmy sighs and shakes his head without ever losing that amused smirk. “Had to tack on that last part, didn’t you. Just couldn’t help yourself.”

“I am a faithful student of the Truth,” Daken says, matching his brother smirk for smirk.

“The point, Jimmy?” Laura prods aggressively before that can erupt into a wholly separate thing she wants no part of.

“Oh, right.” He shrugs nonchalantly. “Its kinda her thing with you two when you get like this. You pick a fight with Laura, Laura gets pissed off and succumbs to the family curse of Tunnel Vision at the Worst Possible Time, and you both go back and forth endlessly and like you have all the time in the world for your stupid tete a tete, because on account of you both being practically unkillable and immortal, you kinda do and you know it. And then whenever she gets bored of listening to you two, Gabby swoops in and draws both of your attention until you’re both so focused on being annoyed with her you don’t even realize you’re actually side by side agreeing with each other, and she keeps it up just long enough til she’s sure she can just say she’s bored now and just leave the room, leaving you both annoyed and frustrated by a fight you can’t even claim to have won because she really just kinda...left, in the middle of it, and you’re so focused on that, you’ve totally forgotten to be pissed at each other. And by the time you do remember, like, the moment has passed and peace has been returned to the kingdom. Or at least as peaceful as this place ever gets.”

Daken stares at his mistake of a brother in the hopes that if he stalled long enough, his senses would arrive at a different conclusion. But nope. Scents don’t lie, unlike baby sis, apparently. He’s telling the truth. And Daken really does not....care for that conclusion.

Gabby stamps her foot and glares up at their brother.

“You are such a tattletale. I am providing a service, by keeping this family free of these two constantly at each others throats, and how is that service repaid? With betrayal! I hate you, you’re dead to me. Never speak to me again or at least not until I’ve stopped being mad at you, but that could be like ten years or something, I don’t even know right now.”

She draws up to her full height and squares her shoulders as she thunders this Mighty Mouse style at the still laughing Jimmy. Then, seeing she’d yet to make a dent in his armor of amusement and he was failing to take her pronouncement seriously, she punctuated her declaration by spitting on their brother’s shoe. Daken’s eyebrows shoot up again, this time in amusement of his own. Gabby then spins around on her heel and stalks off down the hallway, muttering more dire threats under her breath as she goes, the sound of them nonetheless carrying clearly to three siblings with enhanced hearing of their own. And apparently, little sis could be quite creative. Who knew she’d been hiding such talent?

Jimmy barely even notices; he’s still staring down at his shoe.

“Dude, you spit on me! That’s so not cool.”

“Some things need to be expressed so strongly, mere words will not suffice,” Daken says loftily, savoring a slightly renewed sense of superiority.

One quickly dashed, of course, because apparently he just can’t have anything.

“Bold words from the seventy year old who needed the sixteen year old to clue him in he’s being regularly manipulated by the twelve year old,” Jimmy fires back. As a return volley, its obnoxiously effective, and Daken’s still grinding his teeth and searching for an adequate rejoinder as Jimmy just grins even wider and then strolls off down the hallway as well. Whistling either an absolutely hideous song or else proof that he’s absolutely hideous at whistling. Tough call. With him it could be either.

Daken and Laura both stare after him in silence as he rounds the corner and disappears, leaving only the lingering scent of smugness in his wake. Daken hates the scent of smugness. It has a particularly....cloying feel to it. Well not his of course. But everyone else’s, especially little brothers? Acrid is the only word adequate for that.

“Sometimes I really do want to stab him. Just a little bit. And I’m not even lying,” Daken says. Laura just nods, her own nose scrunched up in distaste as well.

“Honestly? Me too.”

Brother and sister enjoy the rare moment of solidarity.

“You know what’s really bugging me?” Laura says suddenly, still staring off down the hallway. Daken turns an inquiring eye on her, prompting elucidation. She frowns.

“Where the hell did he learn a phrase like tete a tete? I mean. Its Jimmy.”

Daken does know what she means, and frowns as the nagging awareness of that leaps from his sister to himself like memetic chain lightning.

“And he used it correctly. That’s....unexpected.”

“Sometimes I wonder if maybe he’s not as completely airheaded as he pretends, and the fact that he’s got everyone so convinced of that actually means he’s running circles around the rest of us,” Laura says. She shrugs. “Of course, then I have to question everything and who has that kind of time and also the very idea of genius mastermind Jimmy disturbs me on a deeply visceral level. So then I just. Stop doing that.”

Daken nods and sighs. “Sometimes, that’s all you can do.”

“Okay, this is annoying. I kinda still want to fight, but now fighting with you feels kinda anticlimactic. Ugh, siblings are the worst,” Laura declares with a glower. “They ruin everything.”

“On that, we can agree. With allowances for temporary occasions of some of them being bearable,” Daken says. “Some.”

“That’s the nicest thing you’ve never said to me, big brother,” Laura says lightly. Daken swiftly scowls but she holds up a hand to forestall any rebuttal. “Sorry, don’t mean to ruin the moment. I’m thinking about how else we can put all that frustrated energy to good use. Wanna go pick a fight with the Summers’ kids?”

A slow smile spreads across Daken’s face. “Well now. Finally, a family outing I can get behind. I believe that’s precisely what we need right now. Care to lead the way?”

He still hates her boyfriend, of course, but he supposes he can let that be. 

For now, at least.

[the-headbop-wraith]

2_27 What Matters Most

There was never anything good on the motel channels.  They had HBO, if you could decode static; Animal Channel (Mystery snorted in disgust?); shopping networks and cheap crap; news, news, and yes, more news stations – he didn’t want to watch the news.

He left the channel on the Infomercials.  The lady in her finely manicured nails was showing off the stupid floor cleaner and mop, with whatever ugly green lacy head they were trying to push off on people like his step-mom.  It was background sound, he absorbed the vibrations but not the words, not the message.  He could’ve made it out to be something metaphorical, the mop brush and the techniques to utilize it by, all presented by a ditzy red head with too bright red lipstick.  Like his old mom, so straight and narrow and always aimed in the wrong direction, getting mad at the wrong people; only good when she listened, but she never listened enough.

He looked over at the clock for what must have been the eightieth time in two minutes; he was getting restless and hungry.

“Where are they?” Dimitri asked aloud.  The dog near the pillows on the bed raised his head and looked at him. After a moment, Mystery put his head back down between his paws and gave a long dog sigh.  “You miss them too?”  Mystery twitched one ear in response and flattened them back.  After a while, Mystery gave his bandaged paw some attention, pulling the loose bandage back over the rich chocolaty fur of his toes.  Dimitri lay down on the bed and reached out to the dogs neck, and that seemed to ease the mutt.  “I know they wouldn’t leave without you,” he said.

Mystery closed his eyes and relaxed for a bit longer.

Two hours later, Dimitri was hurriedly shutting the motels door behind him. He checked to make sure he had the card key in his pocket, and nudged Mystery away with his leg.  Mystery had followed him out, but the dogs sole purpose seemed to be to get in his way. “C’mon, I just wanna take a look around. It’ll be all right.”  Truth was, Dimitri was worried.  Despite Mystery’s company, he was afraid the Mystery Skulls had left.

Like always, when they dropped him off the day before they left him with a walkie-talkie in case he needed to get in touch with them.  The batteries were dead, and that only fueled his paranoia that maybe they knew or sabotaged the communicator on purpose.  Before they left he was assured they were only going to run a few ‘errands,’ and not be long about it.  By errands, Dimitri presumed they were going to snoop around the town.  That was fine by him, he didn’t want to be a part of that.  

Well, now it was late-late in the afternoon, the time difficult to discern exactly even if you were from this region.  The sky was bright but the clouds remained thick and gray, the air had a brisk glow within the air.  His breath misted and hung around his flushed cheeks as he exhaled.  The thin layer of frost from the night before remained preserved in thin patches along the sidewalk beside the rooms, and the road had greasy gray streaks from earlier traffic.

Mystery followed Dimitri, tugging at his calf and nipping at his ankles. It was obnoxious, and a few times the dogs sharp snipped at his skin.

“Cut it out Mystery!” Dimitri hissed, and stamped his foot.  Mystery stepped back and pulled his head high, the expression behind his spectacles was quizzical and annoyed?  “I mean it.  A few seconds, then back to the room.”  Of course, Dimitri was lying.  If Mystery Skulls did take off, then he was gone too.  Where he would go was a good question, but he’d figure it out soon enough.

Mystery was dodging around his legs, trying to cut him off as he moved out of the sheltered corridor that separated the two sides of the motel.  A small patch of ice had formed from a puddle of water that refroze in the shadows, and salt was scattered around in a thin layer.  Mystery separated from Dimitri to give the mess a sniff, and kept trotting beyond the corner.

A sudden truck swooped by through the parking lot, startling Dimitri. He fell to his knees grabbing Mystery and tugged him close in case the dog decided to lunge out.  That was all he needed, to get their dog run over by some jerk head.  When the truck was long gone, out on the highway with the other airheads, Dimitri released Mystery and moved to his feet.  Mystery was still insistent to slow him down, but Dimitri was steadfast and determined to make rounds of the area.

He found the van parked at the back of the motel, where a tall row of trees grew on the edge of some wild lot full of weeds and rubbish.  Frost dusted along the sides of the gray bark of the trees branches and the side of the trunks, a crystalline white glittered in sparse coat over the dry grass.  It was kind of fitting, he thought.  He realized he was smiling at the van, and attributed it to his relief that the group had not abandoned him and the dog.  What would he do with a dog anyway?  He couldn’t keep Mystery.

An eerie stillness hung over the van as he moved closer.  Mystery was religious now in his efforts to haul Dimitri away from the inert and silent beast of a vehicle, but Dimitri was more persistent.  He did fear though that the dogs rough play would rip his jeans.

“I swear, Mystery,” he snarled at the dog, and pushed him away.  Mystery took a few steps sideways, aware of Dimitri’s agitation.  “Aren’t you hungry?  Don’t you want food?  Food, Mystery.  Food?” The dog just stares at him.  It was kind of creepy.  Sighing, Dimitri returned to his scrutiny of the van.  He couldn’t place that sensation.  The vehicle, with its big ugly scrap on its sides, the logo, the odd skull.

That old creepy house at the end of that street.  The one he and his friends (used to) dare each other to sneak into.  The home sat abandoned for years, since the beginning of time.  The lawn overgrown, creatures thrived in the tall grass and beneath the broken, warped steps that clung to the porch, shattered windows boarded up. They’d go there at night and stare at the front, and swear they could hear voices from inside, people shrieking, chainsaw murders perpetually conducted behind the faded wood walls. All stories of course.  They’d dare each other to go up to the porch and touch the steps.  Sometimes, one of them was bold enough to dash up to the door and slap it, then race back to the others out of breath and laughing; congratulations were had over the brief spark of insanity.  None of them ever spent more than thirty seconds in the shadow of that home, not even in broad daylight.  The place was creepy.  

He got the same vibe from the van.

Suddenly Dimitri was frightened to approach it.  What if… what if they were dead?  What if during the night, someone had happened upon them and brutally murdered them all, blood everywhere, body parts… No.  Don’t think like that!  That’s morbid.  They didn’t deserve that.

He swallowed and moved closer to the imposing vehicle.  The air seemed much colder in the shadows of the tall woods; icy, sharp, a physical veil tightening over his throat.  He took a breath and coughed at the harsh bite.  “Hey,” he said, and knocked on the back door, timidly. He knocks echoed in a dreary, hollow way through the metal.  “Hello? You guys all right in there?”

Silence.  Impenetrable, terrible, cruel silence.

“Guys?”  He jerked back when a loud creak came from within, and a door was flung open.  His blood ran cold, and he took a step back.

“Dim’tri?”  Vivi said, through a yawn.  She fumbled to put her glasses on as she slipped out to sit on the vans bumper. For the icy weather her attire had been adjusted appropriately, her skirt now draped over dark blue puffy pants. That couldn’t have been the only difference, but Vivi liked the cold.  “What’re doin’ up?”  Before he has the chance to speak, Vivi’s face contorts and she springs off the bumper and slams the door shut behind her.  “What’re you doing here?” she asked again, her voice edged with alarm.

“Listen, I’m sorry,” he began.  “It was getting late, and I was getting hungry.  I mean worried….  Okay, I was hungry, really.”

Vivi brought a hand up to her face and rubbed at her eyes.  “I’m so sorry.  What time is it?”

“Late?”  Dimitri perks when he hears a noisy snore.  “S’that Lewis?”

Vivi shook her head, and something in her expression felt pained. Dimitri could feel it, and it unsettled him.  “Maybe you should head back to your room,” she said.  “It’s cold and damp and… we’ll pick you up some food.  What d’you feel like eating?”

Dimitri watched as Mystery pads by the blue clad girl and sniffed around the sides of the van, the bumper.  “A big burger sounds good, and fries and…. We’re you out all night?  You look awful.”

“Thank you,” Vivi said, with a smile.  “We found some new data we’re going to check on, it shouldn’t take long.” She turned and examined over the back door a bit, shook her head, then climbed onto the back bumper. “Arthur.  Art!” A horse yelp came from the roof of the van, and Dimitri winced when a loud thud came.

“Viv-vi!  You gave me a heart attack!”  Arthur’s voice cut off, and Dimitri could hear Vivi mutter something to him.  After the small discussion, Vivi slipped off the back from the bumper and walked around the side of the van.  “Morn’,” Arthur said, as he scooted forward and faced the parking area.  He dragged folds of blankets and a sleeping bag after him, all color coordinated. Arthur stretched as he slipped his vest on over his arms.  “You’re up early.”

“It’s like, really late,” Dimitri called up.  He tightened his arms around his sides and shivered.  Arthur just stared at him, probably not all there yet. “You feeling okay?”

Arthur put his hands to the back of his neck.  “Slept like crap.”  He lowered himself down onto the bumper, and spun around in order to roll up the bedding.  “Are you sure its late?”

Dimitri grumbled to himself as he stepped up behind Arthur.  “Yes!  How late were you out?  Did you get caught up in the blackout?”  At the last inquiry, Arthur locks up and he drops sideways off the bumper.  Mystery was just walking around the vans side, when Arthur fell on top of the oblivious hound.  Dimitri threw his hands up and caught his hair in handfuls.  “Vi!  Art just killed Mystery!”  He had never seen Vivi move so fast before.

The sleeping bag and blankets had just fallen off the back, onto the blonde and dog, as Vivi rushed over.  “Geez, they’re okay,” Vivi mumbled.  “Anything broken, Art?”  

Mystery yipped.

“Ditto,” Arthur groaned.  Vivi pulled the bright blue blanket off his face.  “I’ll survive.”  As Arthur pulled himself up, Vivi bundled up the remainder of the blankets and stepped away, but hesitated from returning to the open passenger side of the van.  “We had a very stressful night, lil dude. But we did get some new facts. Did you get a chance to tell him, Vi?” She shook her head.  Arthur coughed, and helped Mystery up onto his four legs.  “Did you manage to stay warm?”

Dimitri tilts his head.  “It wasn’t too bad.  What about you?  You were sleeping on the roof.”  When Arthur didn’t immediately answer, Dimitri glanced around.  Mystery had followed Vivi to take the bedding to the open door, he saw no one else aside from some families unloading baggage for the evening stay.

“Maybe you’re ready to go home,” Arthur suggested.  He flexed his metal arm, clenching his fingers and winced at the small whine of the gears within.  “Heh.  Maybe your father would let us—”

“Yeah.”  Arthur stuttered, and jerked his arms down to Dimitri’s curt affirmation.  The boy nodded and looked aside.  “I think… it feels like I should go home,” he murmured.

“Are you….” Arthur shook his head.  “Right, um…. He’s ready to go home?” he said, once Vivi returned.  She didn’t smile or give an enthusiastic hoot, her lips only curled up at their corners and she turned to Dimitri.  But her smile faltered.

“You’re positive?” Vivi asked.  

Dimitri nodded.  “I don’t know if I’m ready, but I don’t want to wait anymore.  I have to eventually, right?”

“You‘re right,” Vivi agreed.  “But it’s up to you, if you are ready.”  Dimitri keeps his eyes on hers as he nods.  “Okay.”  Vivi stepped up to Dimitri and spun him around by his shoulder.  “We’ll go get your things together.  Uh, Art.  Could you and Mystery get the van in order?”  She makes a gesture with her arm, and slants her mouth.

Arthur, purses his lips together and motions frantically with his arms. Near his feet sat Mystery, eyeing the random exchange as he usually did.  The last of Vivi’s hand movements were sharp and quick, then she spun around and jogged with Dimitri around the side of the motels nearest wall. Arthur’s breath misted in a thick puff as he moaned to himself.

“I feel like the rest of this days gonna be a total bust,” Arthur mumbled. “I hate the winter.”  To that Mystery only huffed.  The dog turned tail and trotted back to the open door of the van.

It wasn’t long before Vivi and Dimitri returned, Dimitri carrying his bag and Vivi his escort.  The bright hood of the van was up, and the man from the office was at the curb with jumper cords dangling over the grill, leading out to the spare battery of the road. Arthur sat in the vans cab toggling the gas pedal, until the van roared to undisputed life.  Mist fumed from the back exhaust pipe and the chassis rattled, falling into the tender purr once the gears were turning.

“Got it,” Arthur called out of the open window.  He left the van in park and rounded the front of the vehicles trembling grill.  “Thanks. Do I owe you anything?”

“No,” the office manager said, as he packed up the stiff cables.  “Just drive safe.”  He shook hands with Arthur and gave Vivi with Dimitr a cheerful wave, then tottered off with the weighted car battery.

While Arthur busied himself with the final diagnostics – checking the clamps on the vans battery, noted the lack of corrosion and the sturdiness of the cables – Dimitri shoved his bag into the van with Mystery and climbed onto the front seat.  Dimitri spun in place on the middle seat to check the vans interior.  “I hope that’s the only jump we need today,” Arthur said. Satisfied by the inspection, the mechanic slammed the hood down.  Vivi stood by, wiping her glasses with her scarf end.  “I don’t want to spend money on two new batteries.”  He raised his thick eyebrows and cringed.  Just the sentence itself was painful.

Vivi replaced her glasses and watched Dimitri through the open door.  The boy flopped back into the middle seat and hugged the duffle bag to his chest, clear confusion etched onto his face.  “I do have some books I can send off to the Tome Tomb.”

Arthur leaned over to the passenger side door and plucked up the 99, along with the stained buff rag there.  He paused and blinked, before he went ahead to squirt some of the gel onto the rag.  “No Vi, don’t.  I can call in, ask for an advance on some job—”

“Where’s Lewis?” Dimitri called.  He leaned out of the passenger door, as Vivi began helping Arthur clean off his good hand.  Dimitri recoiled from the pale faces that wretched to him, eyes troubled and lip corners turned down.  “Am…I allowed to ask?”

Traffic was terrible.  Tourists were on the roads and didn’t know how to drive – they stopped suddenly when they made turns, struggled to climb up roads on bridges that hadn’t been salted. Amazingly there were no major wrecks, at least they never came upon any.  It was still daylight and the road wasn’t too icy since the sun had been out, except in choice areas where the rising slopes of bridges were pummeled by the faint breeze.

“Take the exit here,” Dimitri says.  He raises his hand from the top of his duffle bag and indicates a sign, and the road cutting through the grassy knolls and trees.  “That’s my school there.  Or, was.”  The school was typical.  Large fields for sports and play, the entire main campus with its classrooms entirely enclosed, the line of windows along the outer walls revealed long corridors filled with dark blues and purples.  “I don’t know if we’re on winter break.”

Vivi wanted to ask, but she feared reminding him.  If he wanted to talk about it he’d come to them, but it wouldn’t be right to ask.  “It looks perfectly average.”  She rubbed at Mystery’s shoulders, from where he lay curled mostly on her lap.  Occasionally, Mystery would lean far over to Dimitri and set his cheek on the boys elbow, and Dimitri would rub his soft ears.  They passed rows of small family style lawns, each paired to a home of wood or stone, shingle panel walls.  Most the homes looked alike, with one or three windows per front facing the street.

Dimitri shivered when Mystery leaned away.  “You turn right, and go down the next road.  Um…. stick to Cleft Street, it goes all the way down.”  Upon first glance Dimitri knew his neighborhood had changed drastically; it felt smaller, if he was to judge.  Not long ago the streets had seemed huge, vast, perfect for endless exploration at any ungodly hour of the day.  “My house will be the one with the big stupid palm tree, with a sheet wrapped around it.”

A shallow laugh jumped out of Arthur.  “A palm?  In this climate?”

“My dad had it planted.”  Truthfully, it had been Dimitri’s hidden agenda to demolish the thing.  “This is the place.”

The yards were nice, gravel and edged with green shrubbery scape, other lawns retained their fresh grass cleanly cut, a few retained the thin powder from the previous night.  Most trees that sprouted in the lawns were bare of leaves, save for the resistant oaks that refused to drop a single leaf.  Storm gutters along the roads remained cluttered with leaves from the Fall, and only a scarce rebel yard had not finished picking up the litter of brown and yellow lumps.

“We’re gonna turn around, and park across the street,” Arthur said. “In case, I dunno.  Do you still have a house key?”

Dimitri nods.  “My dad should be home,” he added.  “I’m pretty sure.”

Further down the road was one of the C driveways that cut through the front yard, and Arthur used that to make the return trip to Dimitri’s bronze wood panel home.  “No palm?” Arthur posed.  He pulled the van to a halt a few yards across from the house, and eyed the bare woodchips where undoubtedly in a long ago time, something stood tall and proud.

“Imagine that,” Dimitri scoffed.  He gripped his bag to his chest, as Arthur shut down the engine and climbed out from the driver side.  Arthur took the bag as Dimitri bullied it out, and handed it when Dimitri was settled himself on the road.  They stood staring at the other, gauging what to say and how to speak it.  “You think this is goodbye?” Dimitri asked first.

“Uh…no,” Arthur murmured.  “No. We’re still, we’re trying to find your brother.  What?” Arthur placed his fists to his hips, and tries to pose.  “You’re not in doubt, are you?”

Dimitri raised his shoulders.  “I dunno.  Is he still out there?  Or—” He jerked in place when Arthur knelt, and set his hands on Dimitri’s shoulders. Arthur looked the boy straight in the eye.

“We’re still looking,” he said.  “We’ll find something.  We’ll do what—” He stopped, and took a breath.  “You should go in a check with your dad.  Maybe he found something.  Maybe… you running off snapped him out of it.”

“Yeah.”  Dimitri nodded.  He dropped his bag and stepped forward.  Arthur let his arms sag at his sides, when Dimitri wrapped his arms around his neck. “Thanks for believing in me.” Then in a blink, Dimitri had snatched up his duffle bag and raced away, across the road.  Arthur remained on his knees staring, asphalt digging into his skins, as the boy raced across the road to the bronze home.  He heard Vivi shuffled over in her seat and lay down to look at him.

“Well….”

“Well…..” Vivi answered.  “I want to find an unoccupied home, to charge up the laptop.  But I don’t want to leave the van unguarded right now.”

Arthur stood, and reached over to Mystery perched on Vivi’s back.  “That would be kind of illegal, if you care.” Mystery gurgled as Arthur scratched his chin.  Arthur raised his eyes from the dog, and shifts his gaze onto to the makeshift curtain attached from the ceiling of the van.  He frowned, and whispered, “Vi.  You do hear that, don’t you?  That, is it a thumping?”

“The echo,” she hummed.  Arthur opened his mouth, but clamped his jaw shut and nodded.  Vivi brought her palms up to her chin, and leaned her elbows onto the soft seat.  “Yeah. It’s just Lewis.”

Leaves from the neighbor’s tree still lay scattered inside the alcove that arched over the thin porch.  Dimitri pulled himself up short when he caught his reflection in the crystal clear window of the front door.  Everything felt smaller, the walls of his home crowded at his shoulders, the leaves crackle under foot as he made the last few steps.  Slowly.  He wasn’t in any hurry.  He doubted the Mystery Skulls would wait for him to go inside and learn what he already knew.  The truth frightened him, facing it was his worst fear.  And what he would learn.

But he could be wrong.  He could have exaggerated, he could misremember.  He was what, nine?  Nine was too young to be so certain of the world.

The doorbell gave its soft warble when he jammed the little button with his thumb.  Dimitri stood back and tightened his arms around his bag.  What would his father say?  How would he react?  Anger was his least concern.  Something about being forgotten while still alive to appreciate the value of irony. Dimitri didn’t credit much irony and its theatrical values, he was too young, but he could understand the motions of loss.  Especially if he was to be the one left behind, given up on.

For a long time nothing happened, and Dimitri rang the bell again. He was about to try a third time when sounds lifted from within.  Footsteps, a voice.  

Dimitri had a sudden rush of doubt.  He took a short step back, fearful of what may be beyond the door. Who would it be and what would they say? The past month was gone, a blur in his mind.  He couldn’t remember where he was or where he had come from.  A sudden lightness buzzed in his head.  Until the door opened, and a face, a foreign strange face stared at him. Then smiled.

“Son!”  The face was muffled behind the glass.  He fumbled with the latch of the glass panel, until the handle was unlocked and the door pushed open.  “Where have you been?  I was worried about you.”

Dimitri’s eyes drooped as he stared up at his father.  The same eyes, the same glasses, the same short trimmed mustache.  “You were?” he gulped, throat dry.  He hesitated from the arm that beckoned him into the home.  The sweet scent of Hawaii scent plugins lingered in the warm air of his heated home.  So warm, almost scorching to his chilled skin.  He looked up at the man as he waited, infinite patience.  “How long have I been missing?”

His father shifts his footing and propped a leg beside the door. “What?  That doesn’t matter.  You’re home now.  Come in.”

Dimitri was still hesitant, but the heated air and the fresh familiar smells of home were encouraging.  He stepped past the man, and stepped through the tiny cluttered hall of the small foyer.

It was just as he remembered.  Pictures hung on the walls, a mirror for a vanity desk stood in an alcove to one side of the hall. At the halls end, to the right was a living room, beyond that a formal dining room and the sliding doors to his backyard.  To his left near where he stood was the staircase leading to the upper floors, the steps divided leading to two different sides of the second floor.  Below the divided steps, an archway led into the kitchen, and from there the smells of food came.  Dishes home cooked, prepared with love.  Lies. Deceit.

The door snapped shut at his back, and Dimitri winced as his father strolled by.  “I’ll tell your mom you just got in.  She has been worried sick.”

Dimitri glared the way his father went.  He didn’t feel at home, didn’t feel welcomed.  He was a cuckoo child, invading some nest that belonged to some happy, stupid boy with all his friends, all his family, in proper order.

“I’ll… be upstairs,” he managed to say, without puking.

“Come get some food,” his father called, from somewhere in the house. It didn’t sound like the kitchen, but Dimitri wasn’t paying attention.  He had already set his hand on the polished wood railing and ascended to the second floor. One side was the bathroom, a guest room, the other….

He dropped his bag at the threshold of his door.  It was still open, same as he left it that day.  He didn’t touch the door, but stepped along the upper floors rail to the other room.  

The door was shut, like he always left it.  The doorknob swiveled loose in his grip, nearly broken.  Unlocked.  He pushed the door open.  The stale scent of the room crept out, cool on his skin despite the overworked furnace of the home.  A tomb. The door swung away, creaking in its arid hinges, and Dimitri stood in the doorway looking over a room sun splashed in the last rays of the day, but dismissed by times passage.

Figurines of monsters and action toys cluttered the Chester drawers. A comic book here and there left scattered on the floor, a few items and clothing articles stuffed under the bed. The sheets half thrown from the mattress top.  Dimitri, not him but the toy, his kid brothers favorite stuffed toy beasty was missing.  He had never been able to find it.  

If there was a token of memorabilia that he was to take from the room, it would have been that.

Soft tunes crackling through the radio helped.  The sound was distracting if not enjoyable; he could listen and sing along in his head to some of the oldies on the obscure stations.  Station hoping was tricky business when long distance travel was the highlight of the job.  

Another hour gone by, the sun would be setting by five.

“He’s been in there awhile,” Arthur muttered.  The radio hummed on, but not a word was uttered for a long time. “You think he’s okay?”

Vivi gave her head a light shake.  “He hasn’t come charging out, the natives chasing, spears flying.  That’s a plus.”  Mystery took a deep breath and sighed.  He lay between Arthur and Vivi, and Vivi rubbed at his neck.  Arthur just sat scrunched up in the driver’s seat staring out onto the long shadows hiking over the gray slush and asphalt.

“I suppose,” Arthur replies.  He tugs at the wrist band on his metal arm, rotating it around one way then the other and rubs at the rough seams underneath.  He gets tired of that and leans his head back onto the headrest. “I shouldn’t have said those things to him,” he mumbled.  “Why would I do that?  I should have known better.”

Mystery leans across Vivi’s lap and takes the door handle in his teeth. He pulls the latch back, and Vivi pushes the door open.  “Watch yourself.”  Mystery gives a low grumble of reply and he hops from the open door.  Vivi left the door open and listened to the cold air whistling through the bare branches of the trees above.  She tries whistling along with them, and shut her eyes as she listened.

“He knows you were trying to help,” Vivi says.  She stops whistling and turns to Arthur.  “He just got really attached to Lewis, and… I don’t know.  He needs someone that could help him forget.”

“I know,” Arthur groused.  “I’m seventy-three point six hundredths of a downer.  Bad vibes leak off me.”  He slumped to his side as he rolled the window down and adjusted his position by sticking his legs out the window and lay his head back, enabling him to stretch out in the limited space.  Vivi scooted over so his head would rest on her lap.  Arthur glanced up at her curiously, but she only smoothed his hair down. “Spirits can taste it.  I can’t help that my life’s a long series of fuck ups. Who wants that noise—” His voice was muffled by Vivi snapping a hand over his mouth.

“Shut up,” she hissed.  “You’re not a fuck up.”

Arthur pushed her hand away.  “Say what you want.  It doesn’t change a thing.”

“It’s your attitude.  That’s what gets you into trouble, usually.”  Vivi set her arm across his forehead, and drapes her other arm up along the back of the seat.  “You have that raincloud hovering over your head, bad things will take shelter in it.”

Arthur raised his arms up.  “And I’m supposed to fix that somehow?” he muttered, and let his arms fall.  He crossed his arms over his chest and focused on his knees, at the rim of the window.  Vivi moved her arm off his forehead and began stroking his hair.  “I told you from the start.  This case was bad.  We made promises we couldn’t keep, to a hurt kid still in grade school.  We might as well have told him we could bring his puppy back from the dead.”

Vivi adjusted the little dark hairs on his forehead.  “With our equipment, I’m sure we could’ve made some kind of arrangement.”

“That’s sick, Vi.”  Arthur shut his eyes and tried not to imagine Dimitri’s face.  Did he look the same way, all those years ago?  No.  “We find his brother.  What then? I’m fearing the worse.  Dimitri, he has no faith in us, it’s a ruse.  He can’t help it, and I know where that’s coming from.” He sighed, breath fading in a thin haze as he opened his eyes.  Vivi just watched him with her somewhat sad, gentle expression that smelt of pity and understanding.  That same expression she had when he first opened his eyes.  “Can’t you… accept that not all stories have happy endings?”

“I thought you would’ve known me better by now.”  Vivi leaned over and hissed his forehead.  “Not all stories have happy endings.  But all stories should have closure.”

The bed was a frigid, solemn thing awaiting the return of its occupant, its charge; whom had walked off into the night.  Dimitri sat on the edge flipping through one of the old Steven Universe comic books his brother had picked out.  Dimitri had read through this one dozens of times, back when he couldn’t think of any other activity for the infinite amount of time lagging after him.  There were a few other comics on the floor, but this was the last one he read his brother.  It seemed kind of girly, and he was surprised his dad had bought it for him. His dad did a lot of things for his brother.

Of course, his brother was the baby, still was and always would be. Always.

A knock came from the doorway and Dimitri winced, but didn’t look up. He continued flipping the pages of the comic, as if reading each dialogue box for the first time.  It had been awhile.

“Your foods getting cold.”

How did he make everything sound so ordinary?  How dare he resume life, as if nothing had ever happened. Dimitri flipped a page.

The man entered the room and sat on the bed beside him.  He was a solid man, and Dimitri felt himself slip sideways in his seat.  “How long are you going to sulk up here?” asked the man.  Dimitri didn’t answer.  “We’ve done everything we could.”

“He’s still gone,” Dimitri mumbled.  “Not everything was done.”

“The woods go on for miles and miles,” his father reasoned.  He set an arm around Dimitri’s thin shoulders. Dimitri froze.  “A search goes out every night.”

“Did you look for me?”  The man says nothing.  “Did you even notice?”  Dimitri turns his eyes up to his father’s bemused stare.  “How long?”

His father shakes his head slowly and squint his eyes.  “Ethan.  You’ve never been gone.  Where would you—”

“What’s for dinner?” Dimitri says, quickly.  “It smells good.  Did she cook something for desert?”  He stood up and moved towards the door.  The comic Dimitri carried was set on the tall drawers beside the doorway.  “Did you already eat?”

“No,” his father said, and raised himself to follow.  The springs in the bed whine when his weight is removed. “We were waiting for you.  Let’s hurry then.”  He set his hands on Dimitri’s shoulders and patted them as he walked by, out into the hall.  Dimitri followed at a distance, until they had reached the downstairs.  “We’re here, finally!”  The voice praised into the kitchen.

Dimitri stepped back, away from the arch and the sounds a clinking dishware. He zipped up his coat and went to the front door.  The hinges groaned in the cold air as he carefully moved the door shut it behind him. He paused, waiting for his father to pursue him out onto the porch, ask him pointless questions and drag him back inside.  It was impossible to guess how this would go, or what would happen now.  He half hoped his father would open the door and scold him like always.  That didn’t happen.

He half expected the van to be gone, long gone into the sunset.  But the bright amber box of a vehicle was there, that same ugly scratch up its side, a thin line of sunbeam glinting along its upmost edge.  Dimitri crossed the street and slowed his pace, when he saw who was standing outside beside the vans walls.  At first the smoke doesn’t surprise him, until he gets closer and can smell the sharp scent.  It reminded him of the teens that hung around behind the high school, always climbing onto the roof to get away from the teachers.

“Hey,” Arthur hums, as Dimitri gets closer.  “How’d it go?”  Arthur glanced at the white stick in his fingers and took another puff.

Dimitri shrugged as he slowed his stride, and moves to stand beside Arthur. “Not much’s changed.  It’s like I never left.”  Dimitri peers up at Arthur, as he leans his back onto the cold metal siding of the wall.  Faint music vibrates through, instrumentals and synthesized voices.  “I didn’t know you smoked.”

“Hhn?” Arthur raised one eyebrow.  The blonde muttered something Dimitri didn’t catch, about intangible vapors and medicinal effects.  “I’m trying to quit.”  He took a breath from the stick and held it for a moment.

“Oh,” Dimitri answered, with a nod.  “How’s that going?”  Arthur coughed as he exhaled, and it sounded like the other had tried not to laugh, or was laughing and failed to get the act of it right.  

Eventually Arthur collected himself, he sniffled and rubbed at his eyes. “I’m just trying to clear my head.” He left the cigarette between his lips and sunk his back more into the van, his head hung as he stared at his shoes. Tunes continued to drift within the interior of the tin can, and Dimitri waited for some further sign but none came, or maybe he missed the signals.  Birds twitter in the trees, and a car chugs through one of the roads in a nearby neighborhood.

Quietly, the boy asks, “Were you crying?”

Another sound comes out of Arthur, a little whine.  “It sometimes helps,” he muttered.  He reaches over to pull at the wristband on his metal arm, and Dimitri watches him tug at the dark material.  Arthur murmurs something else, but Dimitri catches none of it.  It might’ve been an apology.

He has to look away.  Arthur is too pathetic to look at, but Dimitri can sympathize with him easily.  It’s what he liked best about the scrawny blonde. Dimitri thought that probably when he got older, if he got older, he’d be something like Arthur.  It unnerved him but he couldn’t reason that he wouldn’t. He wondered if Arthur had lost someone close to him when he was young, a younger sibling.

“My dad says, boys don’t cry.”  Dimitri reached up and rubbed at his eyes.

Arthur sniggered in his throat, and coughed.  “What does your dad know, anyway?”

The comment makes the tears come to Dimitri’s eyes, but he laughs. “He doesn’t get it.”  His voice trembles, and he can hardly bring the words together.  “I think my grandpa taught him, and now he wants to teach me.  But y’know, he’s going to fail.”  The boy takes a breath and lets it warm in his chest before he exhales, at the same time Arthur lets out a thick white fog.

The sun was beginning its slow creep beyond the tree tops and distant horizon of gray mounds, hillsides that only existed as fictional lands to the bold explorer.  Drab tones glitter with frost on the ground, light seeping its last fragments of vitality into solidified moisture, before it fades completely like a memory.  Arthur is still smoking, warmed only by the company and the inhospitable air.

“You’re a bright kid,” says the mechanic.  “Maybe too bright for your own good.”

Dimitri takes in the scent of the cigarette that Arthur consumed through huff and puff.  “My dad’s working on that.”

[forever-rogue]

Unintended Consequences - Part 4

Summary: Y/N and Ben had been best friends since the day six year old Y/N dropped her ice cream in front of Ben and he had offered her his. The rest is history. Until Ben went to Hollywood and disappeared for five years, before suddenly waltzing back into Y/N’s life with one simple request.

A/N: You. Guys. Are. The. Best. Thank you so much for all your support on this story! I hope you guys continue to enjoy it as much as I enjoy writing it! Taglists are open! Please let me know what you think, or if there are tag issues! xx

Pairing: Ben Hardy x Reader

Word Count: 4.2k

Warnings: slight language

MASTERLIST

“Stop.”

Ben’s face fell as she gently put her hands on his broad chest and pushed him a few steps back, shaking her head in a mixture of both confusion and anger. She was annoyed at him, ever so slightly, but mostly herself. She had given into him so easily, a few looks from him and she all but become putty in his hands.

Just a few minutes prior they had been arguing but just as easily she had given in to her ever desire and kissed him. And the worst part was that it had felt so right, so perfect. His lips had been the perfect combination of rough and smooth as they meshed with hers, moving in perfect harmony like they had meant to be.

“Y/N-”

“I shouldn’t have let you kiss me,” her voice was a whisper, barely audible to his ears. But he could hear loud and clear the message she was trying to get across, “this was a mistake.”

“W-why was this a mistake?” his voice had a saddened tinge to it, cracking slightly as he desperately searched her face for any sign that she was joking. He wanted there to be an ah-ha moment, but the torn expression on his face suggested otherwise, “my love, please just-”

“No,” she couldn’t let him get a word in edgewise, knowing she’d have a complete breakdown if he did. This was what she had waited for, desperately wished, even prayed for, for years; and while it felt so right, she knew it was wrong. She hadn’t kissed her best friend Benny, she’d kissed budding Hollywood star Ben, a boy she didn’t know.

“Give me one good reason for why that was a mistake,” he steeled his gaze and practically forced her to look at him. His stomach felt like it was it in a knot, as he struggled to come to terms with that fact that she might not feel the same as he had always about her. Y/N opened and closed her mouth a few times, seeking for the right words to properly explain the gravitas of the situation. 

“Because I’m in love with you,” she blurted out suddenly, and Ben’s jaw dropped at her confession, almost hitting the floor. Her hands flew to her mouth as she realized just how effortlessly the words had come out, like it hadn’t even taken a second thought.

“Y-you’re in love with me?” there was the familiar shy tone and quality she had always known him to possess. A little bit of Benny was coming through his Hollywood persona and bravado he displayed.

“I mean...I should rephrase,” she couldn’t bring herself to look at him, hiding her face in her hands as her cheeks turned a bright crimson, “I was in love with you. I loved you, Benny, since we were kids. I always thought it would end up being us together. But the day you walked away from me and never looked back changed it all. You’re not the same person anymore. I don’t love this Ben.”

“I-I’m still the same me,” he grew despondent as she stepped away from him, trying to hide the tears that were threatening to spill down her cheeks. Ben tried to grab her hand, but she pulled out of his reach, “please, Y/N, I love you too. T-the feeling’s always been mutual. Don’t just run from this. W-we can make this work. It’s you, it’s always been you.”

“There’s nothing to run from,” she sighed quietly, gnawing on her lower lip, “there is no us, there never has been and there never will be.”

“Y/N, please just listen to me-” he was ready to get on the ground and beg, but she remained so distant that it was enough to cause him to remain rooted in the spot.

“I’m going to go to bed, Ben,” she gave him a nod and turned on her heel before he could say anything else. It was still light outside, but an overwhelming sense of exhaustion set into her bones. This day, and everything it contained, was more overwhelming and tiring than she could have imagined. And that fact that she had found out that her pining for Ben had mutual was nothing short of shocking.

But it meant nothing at this point. What was done was done, and the past was just that - the past. 

She closed the door behind her, taking care to lock it, hoping he didn’t have a key for it. Looking around the large room, it was much more space than she could ever need, she felt so out of place. She felt like a pauper in a princess’ room.  Everything was brand new, sans for the few items that had been brought over from her apartment.

A picture that stood on the cubed nightstand next to the bed caught her as the last remnants of sunlight glinted off of the frame. Instantly recognizing that it wasn’t one from her own collection, she padded over to it and picked it up, tracing a finger over the ornate golden frame. 

Contained in the glass housing was a photo of her and Ben, caught mid-laugh, as he looked at her with the most adoring expression on his face. Her stomach churned and she slammed the picture face down. After thinking about it for a few more moments, she hastily scooped up the frame and threw it on the floor, smashing the glass into hundreds of tiny shards. A tinge of regret clouded her senses as she crouched down on the floor next to the mess. 

“Is everything okay in there?” Ben knocked on the door before jiggling the handle and tutting when he realized it was locked, essentially closing him off from her in a literal and metaphorical sense. Groaning, he closed his eyes as he rested his hand against on the cool wooden, “I heard something break. What happened?”

“Please just go away,” she mumbled through her hands, attempting her best to fight off the sobs that threatened to rack her body. The only think that echoed in her mind was regret, regret, regret. 

Regret for letting him go all those years and not fighting harder to get him back.

Regret for letting him back into her life after he had abandoned her.

Regret for agreeing to this silly arrangement.

Regret for confessing she had ever loved him.

“Why won’t you let me in?” Ben wasn’t quite sure the context of the question himself. But however she would let him in, into the room and back into her heart – he didn’t care her. He just wanted her.

She remained silent for a long moment, trying her best to search for an answer. Why? Well there were a million different reasons.

“Ben, I don’t want I do this right now,” her voice cracked as she looked down at the smashed picture. She began to use her bare hands to push the glassine shards into a small pile. The small bits pricked the delicate skin of her hands, threatening to draw crimson blood as she carried on her wanton attempt at cleaning up the mess, “just let me be right now.”

“I’m not moving from this spot until you talk to me,” he sighed, but before she could rebut what he had said, she heard him slide down the length of the door before he met the floor with a dull thud. She had known him for so long, he wondered why she hadn’t realized just how serious he was. 

“If you love me let me go,” her hands were filled with the fragments as she stood up and scanned the large expanse for a trashcan. Luckily, she located one in the corner of the room and dumped everything in the bin, gingerly attempting to rid her hands of all the bits. It was no use though; her hands became littered with small bits of red as blood bubbled to the surface.

Going back to the mess she had made, she retrieved the gilded frame and photograph, giving them only a quick glance before shoving them into the bin as well. Pausing, quietly as possible, Y/N found that she could still hear Ben’s ragged breathing from the other side of the door, “listen, Ben. Just leave me be, and tomorrow we can start off fresh. It’ll be like we met each other for the first time. You’re my boss, technically, and I’m your employee.”

“I don’t know if I can do that,” he pinched the bridge of his nose with his calloused fingertips, trying to comprehend why she was making this so much harder than it needed to be, “how are you supposed to let go of someone you love so deeply?”

“You can learn,” she hung her head before sitting against the door as well, mirroring his actions even though he couldn’t see her. Mulling over her next words, she closed her eyes and let out a long breath, “I’ve had to let go of people I’ve loved before...several times.”

“Y/N,” it was a meek soft sound, and he was trying to hold back his own tears. Few things in life managed to move him this much, even though he had a gentle heart. That heart had hardened a lot over the last couple of years, but he was forever soft for her. He quickly made it up in his mind that he would oblige her and do whatever she wanted - if it meant the possibility of winning her back he would do it. Tapping his lips with his finger thoughtfully he finally agreed, “okay.”

“Okay?”

“Okay.” 

“Oh fuck,” groaning at the soreness in her hands and the stiffness in her back, Y/N surveyed her still unfamiliar surroundings. She pulled herself up from her slumped over position on the floor and stretched to alleviate the stiffness in her bones. Maybe sitting in front of a door all night, listening to Ben’s even breathing, entwined with the occasional sniff, wasn’t the brightest idea in the world. She thought she might feel better after a night’s rest, but she only felt worse, having not been able to rest much at all, her mind fraught with tons of different thoughts. 

There was early morning light filtering in through the sheer curtains, a sight which normally would have cheered her up and started her day off right, but today it was a sad reminder that it was the start of a new reality. 

Going through the dresser that had been meticulously filled with her clothes. Everything had been folded and color coordinated, which annoyed her for some reason, so she dug through it, deliberately making a mess as searched for something, anything to wear.

Finally finding something suitable, she grabbed the clothes and slammed the drawer shut before trapezing to the door. Praying that Ben wouldn’t be there anymore, she slowly opened the heavy door, she stuck her head out and swept the corridor, relieved to find herself alone.

Padding silently to the bathroom that would be hers, she noticed that his bedroom door was open, but there was not a single sound echoing throughout the empty apartment. He must be gone she shrugged to herself before stepping into the spacious bathroom, shutting and locking the door. 

The bathroom was large and brand new, the surfaces practically glittering. It was all too much and she almost didn’t want to use anything. But the soft smell of all the expensive looking soaps, shampoos, and conditioners ended up winning her over and gave in, pulling a fluffy towel down from the rack. She turned on the shower, letting it get to almost scalding, as hot steam filled the space. 

Stripping off her clothes, she stepped into the shower, closing the glass behind her and admiring the beautiful tile. She could never even dream of this luxury and yet where she was in the midst of it.

The hot water felt like heaven against her skin, like it was washing away all her sins and leaving her anew, pure and innocent. Closing her eyes, she stood under the steady stream, letting the spray work out all of the kinks in her sore body.

After a few quiet minutes, the most peaceful she’d had in a while, she decided to actually wash her hair and body. Reaching for the shampoo bottle, ready to pour the lightly scented liquid into her hand to massage into her scalp, a knock came at the door. Y/N almost jumped out of her skin at the sudden intrusion, not having heard anyone else come into the apartment.

“Hello?” she chanced, wrapping her arms over her chest as if whoever was on the otherwise of the door would be able to see her. There was a moment of odd silence before whoever it was cleared their throat.

“Ms. L/N?” the voice was familiar, too familiar, and she made a sound of discontent upon realization that it was Ben. Ready to sigh and tell him off, he interrupted her, “I’m Mr. J-Hardy. Your new boss. I just wanted to let you know that I was home. I’ve brought breakfast if you’re hungry. I’m sorry I wasn’t here when you woke up. But please, take all the time you need to get ready.”

The words lingering in the air for a bit as she tried to picture out what exactly he was playing at. The conversation from last night flooded back to her and then it hit her - he was just respecting what she had asked for. A new, fresh start. They were no longer Y/N and Benny, lifelong best friends, no, now they were just Ms. L/N and her employer, Mr. Hardy.

“Okay,” the word rolled off her tongue and left a bitter taste in her mouth. Was this what she had really wanted – to play strangers and pretend like nothing had happened between them? There was a beat of still quietness before she heard his footsteps walking away, only audible for a few moments before they disappeared completely.

She held her hands up to her face, wiping away the salty tears that had slid down her face and mixed in with the hot water. The little cuts all over her hands stung, but it was almost nothing compared to the sting in her heart. It seemed like no matter what decision she made the situation ended up worse; but she was so deep in, she didn’t know how to begin to remedy the situation. Considering walking away from the whole thing, calling it quits or tapping out early, appeared to be the most practical solution.

As always though, practical and conventional had never been her strong suit, and she came to the conclusion that she would need to stick it out. The old her would never have been a quitter, Ben would never have allowed that. Besides all of that, it would be an easy gig – a life of jet setting and glamorous events, getting to sit, quite literally, the lap of luxury. 

A familiar pang of guilt settled into her stomach, but she pushed it away - a job was a job after all, and she would be performing a service of sorts. Maybe it was time in life that something nice was handed to her. She had been through a lot in the time since she’d had to face the world away and isolated from Ben, and a small light seemed to be appearing at the end of the tunnel. Taking advantage of the opportunity was nothing to be ashamed off, and plenty of other people would have eagerly jumped at the even the slightest chance to be in her position.

“This is fine,” she said aloud to herself, her voice reverberating against the tile of warm shower, almost echoing slightly. She grabbed some of the fancy looking apricot scrub and start to smear it on her body, working it circles to get rid of all the dirt and grim she thought was there, not stopping until her skin was red and shiny, “this can work. This will work. It’s just a job.”

Taking a deep breath, trying her best to keep herself calm and collected, Y/N stepped out of the bathroom and into the coolness of the long hallway. A light clanking of utensils came from the kitchen, and as she peeked to see what was going on, she spotted Ben sitting at the counter, his face hidden behind a newspaper as he absentmindedly ate his breakfast. Raking her fingers through her still damp hair, she walked over to him, focusing on the spread of food he had returned him with rather than him.

“Good morning,” there was an almost cold tone to his voice, and It felt out of character for him. Not rude per se, but the gentle persona he had always had with her. He was playing it all up, whether or not intentional, he was doing it well, ever so the actor. There was a moment of pause before he set the crinkled paper down and looked at her. There were dark circles under his eyes and his skin had an almost sallow quality to it. He extended his hand across the counter to her, a slight tremble to it, “I’m Ben.”

A small, shaky breath escaped her lips as she took his hand in her own, grasping it firmly and giving a good shake, “Y/N. It’s…nice to meet you, Ben.”

“You too,” he chanced a small smile as he set let go of her hand, somewhat reluctantly, “tell me, are you a breakfast person?”

“Never been much of a fan of breakfast,” she admitted, feigning as though he didn’t already know the exact answer, “but I had this old friend who would always bring me something in the mornings. He knew that my stomach would be in knots all day if I didn’t eat.”

“Sounds like a good friend,” there was a coy nature to his voice, and he appeared more relaxed as she pulled a plate from one of the cabinets after searching for a few moments. She surveyed the spread: jams, cheeses, toast, muesli, fresh fruit, yogurts, bacon, before piling her plate high with a little bit of everything.

“He was a good friend,” she said before moving to sit down next to him, keeping a small bit of distance between their bodies, making sure there would be no accidental brushing of limbs, “I dunno what happened to him. But it doesn’t matter, does it?”

“No,” he rested his chin in his hands, thoughtfully stroking at the tiny bit of stubble covering his jaw, “I suppose it doesn’t. Tell me, Y/N, what do you want out of this experience?”

“That is a good question, and I suppose a logical one,” she took a bite of some cheese on toast and chewed thoughtfully. What did she want out of this? Sure, it had been mostly about the money in the first place, but now she wasn’t so sure anymore. Was she just trying to prove a point – but what was that point? Or was she just in it to get her best friend back, missing the closeness and intimacy they had shared for years. All of it the little voice in her mind screamed at her. She swallowed the bite, “money. I could really use the money. I’ve…hit some rough patches recently and it helps out a lot.”

“W-what’s happened?” his sage eyes softened as he tried to figure out exactly what had happened with her. It was a weird sensation, being next to someone you used to know better than anyone else but have them be an almost complete stranger. He used to know every detail of her life inside and out, and he just concluded that he hadn’t even realized what she started doing after university.

“I lost my job not that long ago,” she admitted after a few beats of awkward silence. She wasn’t sure if she should confess everything to him in earnest or just put a façade and play the part of the fake, bubbly girlfriend. But the look in his eyes told her that he cared �� he was asking as Benny, and not anyone else, “I used to work at one of the local hospitals, as an overnight nurse. A small group of people didn’t like me there, for whatever reason, and more or less made it out that I was stealing narcotics. Which I wasn’t, but they were, and for whatever reason my boss decided to believe them over me, and they fired me on the spot. It’s been a little hard to get a job with that looming over me.”

“Y/N, I’m so sorry,” he angled himself so he was facing her, “if I would have known- “

“How would you have known?” she flicked her eyes downward to the plate in front of her, “we’ve only just met. And you’ve already presented me with an amazing job opportunity. I think you can imagine why I took it.”

“Yes,” his first clenched slightly at his side as the corners of his mouth pulled into a frown, “well, either way, I’m sorry you had to go through all of that. I hope you’ll be much more comfortable working with me. I’m not going to fire you for something you didn’t do.”

“I hope you don’t plan on firing me at all,” she almost laughed in spite of herself, but stopped once she noticed his eyes drifting to her hands, raking over all the little cuts. She coughed and pulled the sleeves of her sweater further down in a vain attempt to cover them, “I plan on doing everything in my power to make sure you’re happy and satisfied.”

“I have no doubt,” he said quietly, and a sort of comfortable silence fell over them. It was the most calm and cordial they had been since they had reunited, and for some reason it felt okay. It was no where near what they used to be like, but it was a start as they slowly became reintroduced to one another, “I have…another question. And this is just for business purposes, of course…”

“Go on,” she cocked as eyebrow as she popped a few fresh, sweet grapes into her mouth. He nodded before twiddling his thumbs nervously, “Ben?”

“A-are you currently seeing anyone?” ah, there was the question that had been lingering in his mind. She set down the fork she had been playing with before looking at him pointedly.

“No,” she swore it seemed like a weight had been lifted off of his shoulders, “I haven’t seen anyone since…my last relationship with the complete scum of the earth reached its’ conclusion.”

“What exactly happened?”

“I’d rather not talk about it,” she wasn’t ready to cross into that territory just yet. Not with him or anyone else, “that’s for another time. When we’ve gotten better acquainted.”

“I’m sorry,” he said suddenly, his cheeks turning a light pink as he tried to rebound, “it’s not my place to pry into your personal life.”

“You’re right,” she agreed, “but it’s no matter. So, tell me, boss man, what’s on the agenda for today? Anything we need to do?”

“Not today,” he said as he pulled out his phone, scrolling through his calendar that he kept meticulously updated, “nothing until tomorrow, and at the end of this week we’re leaving for LA.”

“LA!?” she almost slid out of her seat with excitement. She’d never been to the famed City of Angels before, and to say she was thrilled would be putting it lightly, “that’s amazing! I’ve been wanting to go- “

“For ages,” he finished for her, the smallest of cheeky smirks appearing on his face, “and then it’s off to New York, and a couple of other spots. I’ve got some friends I want you to meet.”

“Friends, huh?” she couldn’t hold back the sly little comment, and noticed a little flicker across his face, “w-well, I’m looking forward it.”

“It’ll be nice to get away and get a fresh start somewhere,” she finished off the fresh orange juice in her glass, before heading over to the sink to deposit everything in there. She stopped for a moment before turning to him, “please tell me you don’t have a maid for this…”

“I won’t tell you then,” he gave her a sheepish grin and she rolled her eyes.

“Okay, how about this,” she sauntered over to him, “I’ll accept your lifestyle, the one you lead now, if you’re willing to make some concessions to me.”

“Shoot.”

“No maid, no laundry service, no chefs, nothing like that,” she proposed and he tilted his head as he fought back a smile. A little bit of the girl he had always known was creeping back into her, “we live like normal people because we are normal people. This isn’t like us, Benny...we can be ourselves.  Okay?”

“Okay.” Benny. Us. He liked the sounds of those words. Those words meant she wasn’t completely done with him, and he clung onto to that little bit of feeling as tightly as he could. He would win her heart back, whatever it took.

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[weeo]

Rum is for fun and fucking

This is my (a bit late) response fic for episode 3. @peakyemergencyresponsefic

Pairing : Tommy Shelby x Alfie Solomons

Summary :  “Well, rum is for fun and fucking” said once a certain Mr Solomons.

Gif Credits : This gif doesn’t belong to me. Credits to the creator @blakelivey​

Warnings/Tags :  NSFW, Alcohol, Drunken Flirting, Drunk Sex, Bar, Smut, Biting, Fluff, Smut and Fluff, Dom/Sub Undertones, Minor Spoilers for Season 5

Notes :  Thank you so much to the lovely @tinypinetrees who still bears my attempts at writing! You have my undying love <3 

AO3 link

The front door of the Garrison slams open, and a cane clicks on the floor, accompanied by quiet grunting noises. 

He might be drunk, but Tommy doesn’t need to look up to know with absolute certainty, who has entered the pub.

“Evening, Alfie.” He says, one elbow leaning on the table as he stares at the golden liquid swirling in his glass. His fingers flutter nervously, shaking the alcohol. 

“Yeah, it is. It is, in fact.” 

“I wasn’t expecting you.” Tommy twisted his head, looking away to avoid eye contact.

“Your telegram was clear though, wasn’t it?” Alfie moves closer, standing next to Tommy’s table. 

“Unlike yours...”

“Well, I’m not fucking surprised, you have no clue how to appreciate the sublime art that is metaphor, mate.” Alfie smiles, amused by his assumption.

Tommy still hasn’t looked up at him, he’s unable to. A strange feeling floats in the air when he ends up alone in a room with Alfie. He couldn’t pinpoint exactly what was wrong, or if he could, he wouldn’t admit it. Whenever the doors clicked shut behind them, his chair would suddenly become very uncomfortable. So much so that no position was pleasant anymore. As if the creaking chair was mocking his apparent weakness. Sneering at his every move. 

It usually reaches its pitch when Alfie sits opposite of him and watches him intently. 

And today is no exception.

Tommy can’t help but squirm in the chair. His cigarette case sits nearby on the table, begging him to take one. 

“Shall you have a seat?” He snatches up the little metal case, fumbling with it to get a cigarette out, knocking a few onto the floor.

“I thought you’d never ask.” Alfie pulls the chair and sits, throwing his full weight on his cane and grunting slightly. “Metaphor is a really complex thing, mate. It draws unexpected lines between two unlike things.” He stays quiet a few seconds, as if to let Tommy process what he’s said, before continuing. “As far as I can tell, all that booze running through your veins is a great indication that the plants were indeed thirsty. I’m not much of a gardener myself, but I’m pretty sure you’re watering them with the wrong stuff, mate. Well, let’s face it, too much of a good thing drowns plants. Especially the pretty ones. Prevents them from breathing properly. And then, they suddenly start to die from the inside.” He says, stressing the last line with wide eyes and emphasizing every word with a low, quick tone. One filled with far-fetched gravity.

He leans forward slightly, seizing the champagne bottle and dragging it on the table, far enough away that Tommy couldn’t take it back. 

“I thought you said you don’t touch it...” Tommy points out, unable to say anything else as he lights his cigarette.

Alfie stares at him, plainly ignoring his previous sentence as if he didn’t hear, or judged his comment too fucking stupid to deserve an answer. And as always, in his personal way, Alfie prefers to bluntly change of subject.

“I heard that you’re now a socialist. Saviour of the people and all. Funny that.” He stops for a few seconds, waiting to see if Tommy will respond, but keeps going when he doesn’t. “Even now as a socialist, your communist friend didn’t look so happy with you when she left the bar.”

“I guess she doesn’t appreciate metaphors either. Champagne bubbles aren’t socialist enough, apparently.” Tommy says, leaning back on his chair and trying to gain back some composure as he exhales smoke smoothly from his lips. Trying to maintain a confident gaze at Alfie.

“Yeah, socialism can come and go as quick as champagne bubbles.”

Tommy sniffs, well aware that Alfie is bluntly mocking him, and honestly it’s pretty fair. 

“I have to develop different strategies to deal with politicians.” Tommy says, in an attempt to refocus the conversation on something he has control over.

“Well, it had been proven indeed, mate, that it’s harder to negotiate without a fucking grenade in his briefcase, innit?”

Tommy smirks slightly, but can’t help feeling off in the conversation. He can’t tell if it’s the alcohol clouding his mind, or that sensation Alfie causes that he can’t pinpoint the origins of. He has nothing to reply. It shouldn’t be this complicated.

The words won’t align in his head. Unable to find an answer, he downs what’s left in his glass and drops it back on the table, slightly rougher than expected. 

“You really can’t help it, mate, can you?” 

“What?”

“Licking your lips like that after drinking. You can’t keep it in your pretty little mouth, can ya?”

He licks his lips again. He can’t help it. When he’s self-conscious about a habit, his body automatically does it. It’s an odd reaction, one that’s completely out of his control. His body just can’t help itself, as if its mission on Earth is to thwart Tommy at every given occasion. His tongue flickers out again, as an awkward feeling builds below his stomach. 

As if it wasn’t already enough, he notices that his mouth is watering hard. It forces him to swallow thickly. 

The intermittent wet sounds shatter the silence, slowly growing embarrassing. But he didn’t know how to make his body stop, how to prevent his shameful desire dripping from every inch of his skin. Alfie obviously noticed how bothered he was. Sure, he did. It’s discreet, but it’s also not the first time they’ve played these types of games. But usually, Tommy’s mind is more alert to find playful answers. He knows how to play, it’s just been… some time. 

He has to say something. Anything.

“I’d like another drink.”

He can’t look Alfie in the eye. It’s the dullest thing he could have said after a provocation that blunt. But his thoughts float in a hazy cloud tonight and run together in an funny way.

He focuses his attention on crushing his cigarette, unable to look anything else.

Alfie is patiently quiet though, and waiting so long that Tommy thinks he’s made a fool of himself. Finally though, his eyebrows lift and he slowly pours champagne into the flute in front of him. 

“You want it, Tommy?” Alfie asks, staring at him, and lifting the flute in the air. 

He bends over, setting the glass on the floor, halfway between the two of them. Tommy wonders why he went to the trouble, especially given the pain that creases his face when he leans down. Other than his ordinary nature of being a fucking prick, he can’t think of anything. 

“You can have it, but you’ll have to kneel on the floor for it, mate.”

And then Tommy understood. Alfie was really playing that game, again.

Suddenly, Tommy doesn’t know what he’s doing, but he’s moving. Balancing himself with the help of the table when he stands, heading towards the glass and stumbling as he sinks to his knees. He knows he’ll have bruises there tomorrow, from how hard he fell. He knows it was brutal, but his clouded mind thankfully eases the pain for now.

Surprising as it may seem, he’s truly aware how ridiculous and pitiful he’s looking. Such, at least, is how he’s picturing himself. Alfie’s stare tells another story, making his skin burn where his eyes had ventured. 

“Go on, take a sip. Or is champagne not to your taste anymore? Now you’re too posh for that stuff, eh?”

Tommy takes the glass and sips at it, never leaving his eyes. He then licks the drops of champagne that remained on his lips.

“I would have preferred rum.” Tommy whispers defiantly, not realizing the full extent of his phrasing. 

Alfie stands abruptly and grabs Tommy’s chin in one hand. His thumb brushes over Tommy’s lower lip, parting it at the touch. 

He’s staring intently at Alfie, watching as he towers over him with his dense muscular figure. 

“Careful treacle, you’re saying dangerous things.”

Alfie slowly slithers his thumb inside Tommy’s mouth, trailing it over his tongue. His eyes fixating on what’s happening between his wet lips as he slides his thumb off it. He moistens Tommy’s lower lip first, smearing over his upper lip as his thumb moves.

“I now have to adore dangerous.” Tommy says, looking up with a cheeky look.

As Alfie slides his thumb back in his parted lips, Tommy turns his tongue languidly around it. 

Hastily lifted by his chin, Tommy is forced to his feet. He lurches slightly, but an arm tightens firmly around his waist. Champagne spills down Tommy’s right hand and sleeve, dripping down and covering him at the unexpected rough movement.

The glass follows quickly, shattering into a million little pieces in a crystal clear sound as Tommy’s arms wrap around Alfie’s neck, and before he even realizes, they’re kissing. Roughly. It’s a crash of clashing teeth, slamming foreheads and ungraceful breaths. Alfie’s hands are rubbing down his sides and trail subtly towards his bum. Grabbing him with far less finesse. 

As if he hadn’t embarrassed himself enough already, when Alfie slips his tongue in his mouth, a slight broken moan escapes him. Their tongues caress each other sweetly at first, licking and twisting together. They appreciate the smoothness of their intimacy, as if everything in the world felt in place for once. But it’s not enough for Tommy, his need for release is growing second by second. He’s craving to be touched, elsewhere. These thoughts invade him with heat and urge him to provoke some sort of reaction. 

He does the first thing that comes to mind and harshly bites Alfie’s bottom lip. 

Alfie pulls away. His words are choked in his throat, but the tornado of lust twirls again in his eyes. 

Alfie kisses him again, hot and slick, as their tongues melt together and he pushes him until Tommy’s back crashes onto the counter. Alfie’s coat is discarded along the way, as well as Tommy’s waistcoat. 

Tommy unbuttons his sleeves clumsily as Alfie tackles the middle of the shirt, still kissing sloppily.

Alfie is a man who prefers concentrating on one thing at a time, and unbuttoning a shirt is a bothersome task preventing him from savoring their kiss. Especially because what he wants right now is to trail his hands on the skin below. 

Half-way through, he loses patience and gives up, and pulls on each side of his shirt, ripping the remaining buttoned knobs off their seams.

Fucking bastard, Tommy thinks, listening as the small buttons roll noisily across the wooden floor.

“You don’t need this now anyway” Alfie remarks, pulling away from the kiss.

Alfie pauses, now impossibly obsessed by the idea of destroying Tommy’s neat little look. Wanting nothing but to wreck his posh clothes and ruin the hair he took so long to comb. And as far as he had seen, the opposite is very appealing. He’d choose this dishevelled mess of swollen lips, flushed cheeks and curls falling on his eyes, over that smug, posh little rat he feels like slapping across the face. Which, after reflection, has its merits too… in a way.

Alfie presses himself against Tommy, trapping him between his body and the counter. He pushes his thigh between Tommy’s legs, high enough to make an oppressively hot pitfall in his lover’s tight pants. 

Tommy concentrates hard to avoid doing anything humiliating again, but his mind is fuzzy and it’s hard to keep track. He has no clue, if this annoyance is due to his apparent drunkenness or that frustrating coming from below his stomach and spreading through his whole body. Both, probably.

Already half-hard from the pressure, Tommy arches his hips, grinding on Alfie's thigh. And fuck… it feels good.

Alfie watches him whimper in desperation. An amused grin decorating the corner of his lips.

“How sweet, you’re a needy little thing. Trying to fluster me, are ya?” Alfie asks, grabbing Tommy’s right wrist and dragging his flat palm over his delicious lips. 

“Well now, show me how much you want all of this. Use that nice little tongue you can’t seem to keep in that pretty mouth, alright?”

Tommy hesitates, not sure how much he’s keen on obeying tonight. He isn’t disgusted by the idea. It even sounds appealing. It’s just usually not in his nature to listen. His instincts call for the opposite. To defiantly ignore the order. Just because he can. Just because he wants to see how far he can push Alfie, before he loses it. 

They’re playing that game and he knows it. 

So, he looks at Alfie, puzzled and jaw clenched, as if he didn’t understand what he asked.

“Two seconds ago, you couldn’t keep that pretty little tongue of yours in your fucking mouth and well, now, for no fucking reasons, it magically wants to stay inside.” Fixated on his eyes, Alfie’s look is stern, as his irritation overflows, creasing in his frowning eyebrows. Alfie’s thigh loosens in a subtle punishment and Tommy chokes a frustrated whine.

It’s hard to admit, even to his own conscience, but Tommy’s cock becomes impossibly thicker at the sole idea of Alfie making him do it. Of making him do things. And a hint of it must show on his face, giving it away, because Alfie slides his other hand on the back of his lover’s head and bends it slowly forward, until Tommy can’t get any closer. 

“Use. Your. Fucking. Tongue.” Alfie commands with that sharp tone he purposely uses as a last resort, frustration echoing through his words.

This tone is generally the breaking point. The moment when Tommy gets too worked up to keep fighting his desires and can’t help himself, except to do as he’s told.

So, Tommy succumbs to Alfie’s order. He licks teasingly slowly over the palm of his captive hand. The little curls partly draping Tommy’s defiant stare, make the hot and wet trail even more exciting. 

Alfie’s grip on his wrist tightens, as a spike of arousal hits him and makes his cock twitch in his pants at the delightful sight. He leads Tommy’s hand, soaked and slick, to his neglected cock. 

Tommy shakes the grip off his wrist, shoving his hand in Alfie’s underwear without undoing his pants and encircling his fist around his cock. Alfie’s head falls backwards, and his eyes shut of pleasure as Tommy gently rubs the precome with his thumb. 

Tommy starts to stroke him with torturously restrained moves and quickly accelerates the pace when Alfie eagerly opens his pants.

“You’re doing that so beautifully sweetheart, just as if it was the only thing you do every day, all day long.” Alfie murmurs, leaning to say naughty words in his ear, pushing his thigh onto Tommy’s erection again.

Tommy bends his head forward into Alfie’s neck, strangling a loud, embarrassing groan. He brushes his lips lightly up and back along Alfie’s collar, panting on the skin as he grinds against Alfie’s thigh. Alfie can’t bear the overwhelming heat creeping over his body. He quickly unbuttons his shirt and drops it on the floor.  Tommy occasionally kisses and nibbles the skin on his path, and gently strokes Alfie’s cock with smooth movements, slowly twisting around until he reaches the tip and applying pressure in just the right spot. 

A sudden flash of pleasure arcs through Tommy as Alfie angles his thigh slightly. Tommy bites hard right above the collarbone to stop himself from moaning, clinging on him with the arm that doesn’t soothe Alfie’s cock.

Alfie growls from the back of his throat. He knows he won’t be able to last much longer like that. 

“You silly boy. Do you want to be fucked? That’s what you want, eh?” He slaps Tommy’s hand, grasping his wrist to take it off his cock.

Heat floods through Tommy’s limbs, and he hums something that sounds suspiciously like a whimper. 

“I didn’t hear that, put some effort into it.”

“Yes…”

“Yes, what ?”

“Fuck off.”

The pressure on Tommy’s cock loosens again, though he keeps thrusting into the air, looking for any kind of friction.

“Stop whining like a little girl. Just say it.”

Tommy hesitates, just to see if he can avoid what he knows is his fate. 

“Please” Tommy whispers so softly, that Alfie barely catches it. 

He isn’t entirely satisfied by this answer, but these are troubles for another time. The words were quiet, but no less delicious to hear.

Alfie turns him around suddenly, pressing closer and allowing their skin to touch. 

“You’re not as bad as I thought when it comes to finding a good metaphor. The rum thing, it was nice that one.” Alfie whispers in his ear. 

He lays his palm flat over the small of his back and pushes. 

Tommy stretches his arms on the counter in front of him, starting to bend slowly. Alfie grabs his jaw with his other hand and pushes his head against the counter. He wasn’t rough enough to hurt him, but he wasn’t gentle either.

“You, don’t move an inch.” Alfie says, releasing his jaw and pointing his finger at him, stating with absolute clarity that it’s non-negotiable.

He moves away from Tommy, grabbing his discarded coat and taking out a little bottle of oil. When he bends down to pick up the cloth, he bites down his tongue to stop himself from making any noise. His face creases in agony, his traitorous body making every line stark and pained. There aren’t many things that trouble Alfie Solomons, but being seen as an old man is something he’s not yet ready for. 

Tommy stays still, watchful and curious as Alfie moves. He’s cold. His limbs miss the heat and comforting frame of Alfie’s body.

“You have oil!?” His lips rub against the counter as he talks.

Back behind him, Alfie undoes Tommy’s trousers, tugging them down unceremoniously. Just enough to let his arching ass shows, but not sufficiently to be completely freed. He stops right under his ass to make it slightly uncomfortable when Tommy will want to spread his legs further. Picturing the bastard struggling already arousing Alfie far too much for his own good. 

“Shall I remind you that I’m a fucking sodomite, mate?” Alfie grins, as he’s splaying oil on his fingers. “If it wasn’t you tonight, I would have found someone.” 

Tommy can’t help but feel a bit disappointed to hear the truth, and he knows he shouldn’t because, what was he thinking, really? 

Alfie notices his gaze going blank and bends just above him, lying over his back.

“After meetings with you, I need to clear my head from all these distracting thoughts you put in it.” He whispers in his ear, pushing a finger in at his last words. And, holy fuck… Tommy’s breath hitches at the touch.

Alfie stays still, unmoving. And it lasts, and lasts until Tommy can’t bear the frustration and whines without even trying to hide it.

“You’re so pretty when you whine” Alfie comments, pitching his words as if they were the most normal thing in the world to say.

“I’m not… ‘whining’.” Tommy tries to argue, his usual disdain for anything that could show even the slightest hint of his lack of control.

Tommy attempts to spread his legs, looking for any way to widen them further, even poorly. But he’s restrained by the pants hanging on his thighs. It forces another whine out of him, proving Alfie’s point without trying to. 

“Yeah treacle, just like that. So pretty.” Alfie praises him, petting his sides.

Even if he has his standards and expectations, Alfie is mostly here to please, so he straightens and gets on with it, slowly sliding his finger in and out. The movements force Tommy to gasp against the counter and damn… it’s a lovely view.

“You’re such a sight, Tommy. If only you could see yourself right now…”

Tommy grips the edge of the bar next to his head, choking on his hard pants as his knuckles whiten. Alfie presses between his shoulder blades, shoving him higher onto the counter. He is already falling apart around his finger and Alfie wants to see more. He inserts a second finger inside him in one sitting. Tommy gasps even louder than the first time, probably unconscious of all the noises he’s making. One hand would already reaching to cover his mouth, if he noticed how loud he is right at this fucking instant. 

Tommy lips part, linked by a thin dribble of saliva. Frustrated by all this stillness, he starts to reach for his cock. 

Alfie tuts disapprovingly at the movement. 

“Did you hear me say you could?” Alfie asks, amused by how desperate Tommy is. “I funnily can’t recall.”

He grabs Tommy’s wrist and pins it on the counter. He grips the other in the same hand, holding Tommy down.

“I bet you’ll be more compliant like that, eh?”

Tommy swallows hard, the frustration being more and more bothersome in his tight pants. His cock aches to be touched.

He’s gasping for breath, as Alfie starts to finally move his fingers. Opening him up just the way he wants him to. Thrusting and thrusting until Tommy is embarrassingly loud, and panting so hard that he’s out of breath.

Alfie lets go of his hands and pulls on Tommy’s hair to tilt his head. Eager to see his face twisted by all the pleasure. 

Alfie moves closer to his ear, whispering, “Since you graced my ears with such exquisite noises, moaning so beautifully like the good boy you are, I want you to tell me exactly what you want.”

He adds another finger, feeling that Tommy could take it easily.

Tommy moans, looking away, lost in a storm of contentment.

“Did you hear me?” Alfie asks, shaking him. His grip tightens over his hair, roughly shoving his head as his fingers inside stop moving. 

“We’re too far away…”

“I didn’t ask you to mumble facts, but to tell me what you want, alright?” Alfie replies dryly, pulling his fingers away. 

Tommy’s shifty eyes begin to irritate him. He pulls his hair a bit harsher, making Tommy clench his jaw, and says with a strict tone, “Fucking look me in the eyes when you talk.”

Tommy huffs. He turns his gaze and dives in Alfie’s stare. 

“...I want you, face to face….. and closer.”  Tommy says quietly, forcing himself to keep eye-contact, even though the only thing he feels like doing is looking away with embarrassment.

“Fucking hell. You look even more divine when you comply so willingly, sweetie.” He praises, letting his hand that gripped his hair slide down Tommy’s neck, stroking slowly. 

Alfie pulls him up and turns him around again, kissing him hungrily and tasting the flavors they didn’t take the time to savour earlier. They both grab the others face in two hands, pressing each other even closer. Always closer. As if it wouldn’t hurt at some point. 

Alfie moves backwards, drawing Tommy with him without stopping the kiss. They quickly cross the pub, stepping on broken glass and nearly slipping on their discarded clothes. Alfie turns them around before they reach the bench seat and shoves Tommy on it. They both kick their shoes and socks off in quick moves and Alfie pulls on Tommy’s trousers and underwear to make them glide off his legs. He takes the rest of his own clothes off before lying down over top of him. 

They’re already panting in each other’s mouths, kissing again, tongues swirling together. Both eager for more. Alfie opens the bottle of oil he took care to remove from his trousers and Tommy spreads his legs wider, arching to let Alfie in.

Alfie hums in anticipation, smearing oil on his cock.

“So nice and ready, just for me…” Alfie says, penetrating Tommy slowly. He stays there without moving, letting Tommy become accommodated. But arousal floods through every part of his body and the more time passes, the less he can restrain himself from thrusting slightly inside Tommy. He wants to fuck him until he can’t see straight ever again.

As a reference to the word that he found so hard to say earlier, Tommy stares into Alfie’s eyes and whispers distinctly, “Please.”

Fuck. He can’t resist that. His cock aches from all the pent up desire and he thrusts into Tommy gently, worshipping every noise he makes. 

Tommy pins Alfie to his chest, enclosing him with his arms and snuggling his head in his neck. Alfie tries to detach gently to catch his gaze, but Tommy hugs him tighter against him and wraps his legs around his waist. The feeling of his skin against his, drops him into a state of ecstasy, leveraging the effects of Alfie’s thrusts. 

Alfie doesn’t have the courage to try to move away again. He starts to enjoy being pressed like that, and Tommy’s moans are delightful. It would feel like denying him his orgasm to pull away. And as enjoyable as it would be, right now, the only thing he wants to see is this powerful man crumbling under his touch. This powerful man that just wants to be held. Close.

  His growls mingle with Tommy’s moans at every thrust and Alfie is quickly whipped into an excited frenzy. 

He lays a hand behind Tommy’s neck and pulls him closer against him. The feeling is nearly too much. Tommy’s breathing skips a beat and transforms in short ragged breath, inciting Alfie to pound deeper into him.

He’s so close. Alfie can feel Tommy’s muscles tensing around him and tries to gather every ounce of remaining will to hold his release back. 

“You still want to fuck into your tiny pretty fist, right?” Alfie whispers.

Tommy nods fiercely against his neck.

“Then, go on sweetheart.” 

Tommy trails his right hand down his body, releasing a bit of Alfie’s neck. He wraps his hand around his cock, grasping himself roughly, seeking his release. He’s closer with every thrust, his teeth gritting and sweat pouring down his forehead. It doesn’t take long before he’s hit by an intense wave of pleasure.

Overwhelmed by the orgasm flooding him, Tommy groans deeply as Alfie fucks him through it. He comes all over his stomach, clinging tightly to Alfie, as small whines escaping, and Alfie just needs a few thrusts more before he’s thrown into his own pleasure. 

Alfie collapses onto Tommy’s neck, panting breath puff into each other’s necks. 

Alfie raises his head. The whole place looks like a mess. Less of a mess than Tommy Shelby, who’s shuddering beneath him, it goes without saying, but still. 

He rolls on his side and snuggles against Tommy’s back, embracing his waist. He caresses his skin softly with his face. Tommy takes one of Alfie’s hands on his waist and tucks it in his own. 

Alfie usually loves to talk, but he's learned that, sometimes, it’s better to keep silent and just take the moment offered to you. Especially if one Tommy Shelby finds the courage to hold hands.

But, this doesn’t stop him thinking that all of this happened, because Tommy Shelby couldn’t keep his fucking tongue in his mouth.

[marshmallow-phd]

Lies Untold

Part of The Untamed - EXO Wolf Universe

Genre: Supernatural, Wolf Au

Pairing: Luhan x Reader

Summary: For generations, your family has been the protectors of mankind. You were considered one of the best and due to that reputation, you were sent on what could be the most important mission for the organization. Going under cover in a college to sniff out a particularly large and threatening wolf pack seemed easy enough. But when you meet one of the members, everything you’ve known since birth will be overturned and your loyalty to your family and heritage will be tested.

Part: 1 I 2 I 3 I 4 I 5 I 6 I 7 I 8 I 9 I 10 I 11 I 12 I 13 I 14 I Final

**

One step forward, two steps back.

Luhan shook his head while he fiddled with the empty cup on the table in front of him. Your own half-sipped drink still sat across from him, condensation dripping down the sides as the ice began to melt in the cream-colored liquid.

What had he said to make you run off like that? Was it his family? Did you have issues with your own? Or were you thinking about all the nomadic packs you surely came into contact with over the years?

Luhan shuddered away the thoughts of how those meetings possibly could have ended.

Seeing you on the sidewalk, just barely catching you in the corner of his eye was making him think that luck was finally siding with him. Hell, there were even small moments of smiles and laughter between you. But then it all went to crap. Why couldn’t he just get closer to you? He wanted to spend time together without you running away five minutes later. Was this how Junmyeon felt when his mate kept running away? Last Luhan checked, the mate pull was supposed to pull you together, not do the opposite.

With a heavy sigh, he pushed himself up from the booth and grabbed both of the cups and tossed them away in the trash can before shuffling out of the shop, only answering the barista’s wish of him to have a good day with a lazy wave.

He wandered around the business district for an hour or so, just killing time and wondering of what he could do differently in the future to not make you scared or uncomfortable. His mind lingered back to when he tried to reach out to you, to comfort you, but you kept your hands firmly in your lap, determined to stay away. It seemed obvious to him that you didn’t have the same burning desire to keep that electricity again. Or maybe you were just better at fighting it.

When the sun began to fall behind the horizon, Luhan figured it was time to head home. He didn’t have to work again until Friday night and hopefully he’d get a little peace and quiet down in the basement. That didn’t seem like a good idea at the moment. Maybe Sehun would want to play a game or maybe he could drag Minseok away from his mate for five minutes to kick the soccer ball around in the yard. They hadn’t done that for a long time.

Eventually, Luhan made it back to his car, sliding into the front seat with a heavy heart. When his mother told him stories about one day finding his mate, he’d always stared up at her with wide, optimistic eyes. It sounded like a fairytale, the way she worded everything. And that made sense to him. He was a creature of myth, so why shouldn’t his story of finding love be just as magical? Funny that what he got instead was some dumb, tragic retelling of Romeo and Juliet.

He just hoped they both came out of this alive.

**

“You ready for the run?”

Luhan sat up on the couch from where he was untying his shoe. An eagerness was more than apparent in Sehun’s eyes as he bounced from foot to foot off to the side of the seat.

“More than ready.”

“Then let’s go!” Sehun urged.

Hopping up from the couch, Luhan followed him while simultaneously yanking his shoes and socks off.

This was a rarity. Luhan couldn’t remember the last time they all went for a run together. It had to be before he, Kris, and Tao left. Twelve overgrown wolves running around – even in a forest this big – was too risky most of the time. Not to mention, keeping track of the more rowdy members was a bit more hassle then it was worth. But no one complained when Junmyeon suggested a pack run that morning at breakfast. Everyone was excited.  

When he passed the stairs and entered the kitchen, the room was already full of half-naked pack members itching to get going. Luhan peeled his shirt off, the eagerness now hitting him in full force.

Junmyeon counted out loud to make sure that all twelve were present. “Okay!” he yelled over the buzzing chatter. “Let’s go! And remember to stick together!”

A thundering herd scrambled through the backdoor, letting out whoops and hollers into the darkening sky above. Mei let out giggles of her own as she squirmed in Evie’s arms, wanting to join in on the fun. Kris grinned from ear to ear as he watched his daughter with pride.

“Be careful,” Evie urged quietly to the point that Luhan had to strain to eavesdrop.

Kris gave her a reassuring kiss on the lips before replying, “It’s just a run, baobei. Nothing to worry about.” He chuckled at Evie’s protesting pout. “I promise, I’ll be careful and come back to you in one piece.”

“Thank you.”

Kris gave Mei one last kiss on the top of her head. Reaching Luhan as he walked away, he patter the latter on the shoulder. “Shall we join them?”

Luhan beamed. “Let’s get out of here.”

Outside, there were already ten wolves staring intensely at the back door, irritated that the two older members were taking their sweet time. Both of them stripped out of their pants and threw them in the pile with the rest of the jeans and shorts to be fought over later. Once their two legs became four, the pack was off.

The ground was soft under his paws. Each step sunk into the dirt, leaving behind its traces in the curves of his claws. Some of the younger wolves up ahead were yelping and playfully snipping at each other, urging them to race, to see who could go farther and faster. If Sehun or Chanyeol got a little far ahead, Junmyeon would bark out an order for them to slow down. The witch’s premonition still spooked him and if everyone was going to run together then they were going to stick together.

And the alpha wondered why he was referred to as “mother” so often.

Through the break in the trees above, Luhan looked up and took in the bright full moon hanging in the sky. It lit up the forest as if it were middle of the day, outshining the poor stars around it that didn’t have the same potency. He wondered what you thought about when you looked up at the same moon. Did you think of the ridiculous legends that told of the moon’s dictatorship over their transformations? Or maybe you just took in its beauty, appreciating it for the round rock that it was, stuck in a cycle that it didn’t necessarily ask for, but was given anyway.

Luhan snorted. It was kind of a good metaphor for his life. He never asked to be born a werewolf, but he took his first transformation in stride, realizing that he couldn’t change the way he was made. A stray thought drifted through his mind, wondering if you had a similar experience with your childhood. Being trained to kill supernatural creatures isn’t exactly in every child’s curriculum at school.

Someone nudged Luhan’s shoulder and he glanced over to find Minseok had fallen back from the grouping and was now matching pace with him.

You okay? You keep staring up at the moon.

Yeah. I’m fine. It’s just pretty. Thank god their pack telepathy wasn’t omniscient. He would have been discovered the second he shifted. But the most anyone ever picked up on was emotional ques unless a direct thought was pushed out, one that was meant to be heard.

Huh, Minseok mused, looking up as well. I guess it is.

You should try appreciating it more often, Luhan teased.

Minseok rolled his large brown eyes that were still strangely human. Luhan never really got over that fact, even though by now he should be used to the contrast. Seeing it on another wolf still gave him a weird feeling, though. I do admire the sky. I just prefer not to do it while running. Usually, one looks where they’re going.

Where’s the fun in that?

But Minseok’s warning was all too true.

Up ahead, Tao and Baekhyun had started playfully shoving each other while somehow managing to keep running. However, Tao was much stronger than the white and brown wolf and rammed his shoulder a little too hard, making Baekhyun lose his footing. He rolled several times and ended up under Luhan’s own feet, who was still glancing up at the moon. Now he went down, the air getting knocked out of him as he hit the ground and rolled a few times as well. An instinctual growl rumbled in his throat when he finally came to a stop.

Crap! Sorry, Luhan! Baekhyun whined.

Luhan shook his head and simple sent an annoyed look his way. As if being a white wolf didn’t make it hard to stay clean on a run as it was, now he was really going to have to scrub in the shower to get all the dirt he was coated in off. The only saving grace was that, as one of the older ones, he got to go first once they got back to the house.

What’s going on? Junmyeon asked worriedly as he came running back. Everyone had stopped as well to check on the two of them.

It’s my fault, Junmyeon, Tao confessed, hanging head down low.

Baekhyun yelped. Nah, it’s my fault. I started it. It’s easy to forget how strong Tao can be sometimes. You know, considering it’s Tao.

Tao growled at the implication, but Kris stepped in. Just leave it, Tao.

Junmyeon let out a huff that could be interpreted as a sigh. Okay, let’s get- wait. His ears perked up, stiff with listening so hard.

Jongdae cocked his head to the side. Did you hear some-

Shush, Junmyeon ordered. Now the whole pack was straining, trying to pick up on whatever the alpha had heard. Everyone, get behind me!

They all obeyed, save for Kris, who took his place beside Junmyeon as the fellow leader. Luhan immediately went into an offensive stance, ready to strike if need be. What could be lurking in their woods at this time? It had to be something other than a lost human or Junmyeon wouldn’t have gone on the defensive so quickly.

The air filled with tension, fur visibly standing on ends. Several wolves quietly shifted their weight from foot to foot, itching to just know. The waiting, the anticipation was increasing the adrenaline in their veins. And when a wolf got too hyped up… you might want to stay out of the way once that energy was released for your own sake.

Luhan looked over at his brothers. Scanning the area, he was confident that whatever was here with them, luck – and numbers – were on their side. But at the same time, he was hoping – praying – that it wasn’t you. That it wasn’t you lurking out here in the woods with a group of hunters, looking for them. If that was the case… Luhan would have no choice. He’d have to protect you even if it meant fighting his own brothers.

Relief rolled over him once the cause of the alert was finally discovered.

A smaller pack of maybe seven diverse wolves came out of the shadows, led by a dark brown wolf that was halfway between Kris and Junmyeon in size. They approached cautiously, knowing full well this wasn’t their territory and that they were greatly out number nearly two-to-one.

While Junmyeon remained low, ready to pounce at any moment, Kris immediately relaxed, even shifting back into his human form.

“Well, long time no see, Kun,” he chuckled.

Kun? Luhan took a closer look at the other pack and mentally slapped himself. It really was them!

He followed Kris’ example and shifted back into a human. After several exchanged glances, the wolves on both sides transformed. Then the unsuspecting boys in Luhan’s pack gasped.

While six of Kun’s pack were just ordinary wolf boys, a rarity stood among them.

“You have a girl in your pack?” Baekhyun exclaimed.

“It’s not completely unheard of, asshole.”

Yup. Same old Lyn.

“Please, excuse Baekhyun, his mouth doesn’t exactly have a filter and whatever he’s thinking just comes out,” Junmyeon apologized. It was a bit comical to watch him struggled to look literally anywhere but at the naked female in front of him. In fact, all the boys were avoiding even glancing her way. If any of their mates found out they’d stared a little too long… well, who’d get to sleep on the couch and who would have to take the floor would be the least of their worries.

Except, there was one blonde avoiding any eye contact and it wasn’t out of decency for his mate.

“What are you doing here?” Kris asked, thankfully breaking the awkwardness.

Kun folded his arms across his chest, sighing. “A rumor reached our ears about a hidden hunter somewhere in the area.”

Luhan’s heart jumped up into throat.

No. No one was supposed to know. How did a rumor start circulating? A million different scenarios, all ending badly, played out in his head. If they knew who you were, Luhan had to get you out of town.

“A hunter?” Chanyeol growled, his fist tightening at his side. “Who? Who is it?”

Now Luhan’s heart sank from his throat to his stomach. It didn’t matter that you weren’t old enough to be involved in the death of Chanyeol’s parents. In his eyes, a hunter was a hunter and they all deserved to pay.

“We don’t know who it is,” Fin, Kun’s second-in-command, admitted.

Luhan’s mood immediately lifted. If they didn’t know that you were the hunter than he could protect you better. He’d keep you close and throw off any suspicion that might form around you. With Hae In as your cousin, you should already be out of the running, but any little slip could make their alarm bells start ringing.

“So, then are you guys just passing through?” he asked cautiously.

Kun shook his head. “We planning to spend the next week around town.” He turned to Kris – and affectively Junmyeon. “If that’s alright, of course.”

Scratching the back of his head, Kris nodded. “Yeah, not a problem. I, uh, I’d offer our place, but….”

“That’s alright,” Kun chuckled. “I’m sure that farmhouse you told us about is more than full with your pack. Still think you’re all crazy for having one so huge. And by the looks of it, the house has almost double the occupants.”

“What makes you say that?” Jongdae frowned.

“Please,” Kun snorted. “I’m not blind to the way you are all acting like Lyn doesn’t exist right now.” He turned to the taller alpha with a more somber gaze. “You, too, huh, Kris?”

Kris nodded proudly. “Yeah. Soon after coming back.”

“And he’s a father,” Sehun snorted, not missing the chance for a jab.

Kun’s mouth dropped. “A dad? Wow. Things certainly have changed.”

“It wasn’t planned,” Kris said quickly. Then his tune changed completely, everything about him softening as he thought of Evie and Mei. “But I’m happy.”

“That’s all that matters.”

“I think we should talk more about this hunter rumor,” Junmyeon suggested. His eyes flickered over to Lyn for a split second before he cleared his throat. “Maybe back at the farmhouse… and clothed.”

“Good idea.” Kun turned to his members and gestured out with his head. Everyone began to shift back into wolves and follow Junmyeon and Kris back to the house. It was a quick trip. The news of a hunter possibly in their midst obviously put Junmyeon on edge and pushing him to run faster, everyone else just trying to keep up.

Evie was still in the kitchen going through and organizing the fridge like she always did when the house was empty. It was the only time she could throw out old food without having to argue with one of the boys about why it was no longer any good and why they shouldn’t consume expired food. She was shuffling the trash can around in an attempt to free up a little more space before packing in more moldy fruit. At the sound of bare feet hitting the wooden floor, she looked up.

“You guys are home early,” she frowned.

Kris didn’t waste any time walking up to her and giving her a quick kissing before answering. “We, uh, ran into some old friends that need to talk to us.”

“Old friend- oh goodness!” Evie shielded her eyes the moment Kun’s pack entered the kitchen. Luhan barely caught himself in time to stifle the laugh. While they were all dressed at the moment – and Evie was used to the occasion run-in from a forgetful wolf getting back from a run – the others were still very much in the nude.

“Baobei, why don’t you go grab the clothes sitting in the front parlor that were packed for donation?” Kris suggested.

“I would be more than happy to do that.” Evie scurried out of there like she was running from a wild bear. When she came back, she held the white trash bag of old shirts and pants up in her line of sight.

“Where’s Mei?” Jongin asked sadly, taking the focus off of the awkward moment.

“She’s already down for the night,” Evie answered. “But, you know, I think I’m going to go check on her.” Dropping the bag, she ran for the staircase and disappeared into the basement. Out of the corner of his eye, Luhan caught Lyn rolling her eyes. Yeah, definitely hasn’t changed much.

“Nice catch,” Kun joked with Kris.

The latter shrugged with a wide smile as he looked towards the stairs. “I like to think so.”

Already, the others were rifling through the bag, tossing clothes at each other to make sure everyone got the right sizes. Lyn stayed back until the male members of her pack had their share. She never liked getting in the middle of their rowdiness, thinking she was a bit above that. But Luhan couldn’t judge too hard. It had to be tough, being the only female wolf in a pack of obnoxious boys.

When she reached for a black shirt that was lying on top of the pile, Tao stopped her with a hand around her wrist.

“Wear this one.” He held out a red sweatshirt Luhan was pretty sure used to be Sehun’s.

Lyn took it, whispering an awkward “thank you” before pulling it over her head and slipping into a pair of basketball shorts that Evie had insisted Kris throw out. After that little exchange, Tao slipped out the back door while Lyn rejoined her group.

“So, how did you hear about this supposed undercover hunter?” Junmyeon asked as soon as everyone was comfortable.

“An omega we were chasing away from our territory told us,” Kun replied.

“While he was laughing,” Fin added. “Chuckling like he was watching a clown get beat upside the head with a foam bat. As if we couldn’t handle one little hunter.”

“One little hunter can easily become a bigger group,” Kun warned. “Besides, if one is hiding among us, we need to be prepared, find them before they can call for reinforcements.”

“And you’re sure he wasn’t just bluffing?” Minseok questioned. “Being an omega and all?”

Kun shrugged. “I don’t know. Maybe he was. But considering how dangerous hunters can be, especially with their tactics these days, I’d rather look like an idiot and search for something that might not be there than sit back and do nothing, getting us all killed.”

“I’d rather know the truth as well,” Yixing commented.

Junmyeon nodded, taking it all in. “Alright, then. We’ll start searching around town in our spare time. Looking at wrists for their mark, checking into anyone who might be new, and following through on anything slightly suspicious. We’ll always go in at least pairs, maybe more, giving us the advantage. Kun, if you don’t mind helping out with that.”

“Not at all.”

“Thank you.” Junmyeon sighed. “And thank you for passing this information on to us. I greatly appreciate it.”

Nervousness built up in Luhan’s limbs. Looking at wrists? You’d done a pretty good job at hiding yours since that first night, but what if Hae In saw it? Did she know you had it? Would Baekhyun say something about looking out for the tattoo to Hae In? Or would he actually keep quiet in order not worry her? With that wolf, there was no way to know for certain.

There was only one conclusion. Luhan would have to stay close to you, watch over you whether you knew it or not. He couldn’t let something bad happen to you, but he also needed to know the exact reason that you were here. If you weren’t here for them, he could work with that. But if you were here to stake them out or cause any harm to the pack, that was going to be a much harder battle to win.

Especially with the additional angry wolves now in the mix.

[naferty]

Ironpanther birthday fic is back! Part 8 has finally arrived. Finally. 

~~

Shuri and Peter were crouched under a bush and watched intently as T’Challa and Mr Stark quietly talked to each other. Both felines lied on their stomachs with their paws crossed in front of them. T’Challa, Shuri noticed, was constantly flicking his tail upwards in interest. A tell she knew meant her brother appeared invested in the relationship that was building between himself and the white tiger in the span of a month. It mattered not what that relationship ended as. Her brother already showed he considered his tie with the tiger important.

As for Mr Stark. There were no visible tells that showed he returned the sentiment or the interest. No flick of his tail, no paw shuffling, no ear twitch, no casually leaning closer, not even a subtle sniff. Mr Stark was as still as a stump. He was guarded, cautious, even more so than her own brother, who had gone through lessons after lessons in order to hide any body language that would show weakness to their enemies.

Mr Stark appeared careful, even amongst allies only wishing to help. Even as her brother showed obvious signs and clear intentions. The courage to open up was nonexistent in his form. Signs of embedded wounds buried deep within his being. Perhaps a case of too often bitten, permanently shy?

Days had gone by and the injuries Mr Stark had sustained had healed over. The white of his fur finally clear and the worry of infection long gone. Now, only the emotional scarring remained. Scarring he wished to keep hidden. Through what little they could see during moments he let himself go Shuri had come to find the man was stubborn and brash and perfect for her brother, who was equally hot-headed and knew no better. But how to let him see?

They needed a hand. A little push together.

“We need ideas. I feel the song will not be enough for them. The two are too stubborn,” she said to the wolf. “They need all the help we can offer.”

Peter sniffed, “You think a song about love is not enough? I thought it’s pretty straight forward.”

“They are too proud. Neither will take the leap. We need to give them a push.”

“Right. How about… falling leaves while the song plays?”

Shuri tilted her head. “Falling leaves? For an aesthetic touch to it? Yes, that’ll work. View each other under a different light. How about the scene of the water… does Mr Stark swim?”

“I don’t know. I never actually saw him swim, but he’s a tiger, I’m sure he knows how.”

“Let’s hope so. If not, my brother can rescue him. That will surely earn him points.”

“What do you have in mind for the water part?”

“Knock them in. A swim is perfect. We’ll have to time it.”

“Oh, they’re not going to like that.”

“It’s their own fault for needing the help.”

Shuri grinned when she heard Peter snort. They would require to plan ahead if they wished to make their list come true. To time everything as perfectly as they could. To let the two adults know whatever they feel, no matter how small, is mutual.

Maybe they’ll find something more together.

“I hope none of them freeze,” Shuri had little in that regard, “we need to go and prepare. If I know my brother he will continue to visit each day. If not to chat Mr Stark up, than to check both his and your progress.”

As if by reflex at the mention of their past treatment, Peter shook his head to ruffle the fur around his neck. Perhaps to remind himself of the freedom he now possessed without the collar? She felt a pang in her chest at the thought.

What they must have gone through…

At least now they are safe and free to roam, instead of being locked in a cage as if they were mere animals. The very idea, the audacity, it sent a shiver of disgust through her.

“We can plan these events to fit his visits, but we need more suggestions. They will need the courage to admit anything and that will not occur from one.”

Peter’s tail visibly wagged. “Let’s get to planning then. I’ve got plenty of ideas. Not all of them sane, but I’m sure they’ll be fine. Mr Stark is quick on his feet.”

“So is my brother. Perhaps we can use that.”

“Brainstorm then?”

“Brainstorm,” Shuri agreed before they ran off to plan every detail they could.

Over to where both tiger and panther rested Tony’s entire body shivered. His hairs all rose as if danger was in his near future. The sense so strong he visibly shuddered and T’Challa noticed.

“Did you sense that, too?” The prince inquired, letting him know he experienced the same thing.

“Something is going to happen. We’re not going to like it.”

“I fear we’ll have no choice in the matter. We will not be able to avoid whatever we will meet in our future.”

Tony huffed. “That doesn’t sound ominous at all. Thanks.”

T’Challa gave him a toothy smile. “Would you rather I lie?”

“I’d rather steer clear of it in general. Can you make that possible?”

“I can make a lot of things, but even I cannot predict future occurrences.”

“Guess we’ll just face our fates then. Can’t be that bad, right?”

~~~

Tony would have assumed he had jinxed himself by speaking too soon, but he honestly had not expected or had been prepared for this.

Two days since the foreboding and he had braced himself for the worst. His mind had run with dozens of possibilities of what their future held. From the metaphorical rug soon being yanked from under his and Peter's paws with the true colors of the prince being revealed, to something simple as one of them having the unfortunate luck of catching a cold.

Of all those possibilities it never occurred to him that Shuri and Peter were the ones to be responsible for the whole debacle and what, exactly, the duo had planned to do.

Boy, it had never crossed his mind this was what they had planned for both him and T'Challa.

He had been lying peacefully on the ground. His fur shining better than ever under the sun. The patches where his fur had once been missing were now covered and healthy. The white of his fur glowing, showing his progress in health. While some scars would forever remain, he counted his blessings for now. T’Challa had truly kept his word and aided them, but Tony still planned to keep his guard up.

He’d been burned plenty of times.

The prince himself was lying next to him. Moderate space between them to not intrude in their personal bubbles.

They weren't chatting, surprisingly comfortable with just each other’s company. Tony was enjoying the sun’s rays as he continued to heal and T’Challa was enjoying a small break from his princely duties.

The orange petal falling from the sky was first seen by Tony. The white tiger had been basking under the rays with his head up and eyes closed when something flicked his nose. His eyes open to the sight of a beautiful long petal balancing perfectly on the tip of his nose. Confused, he lowered his snout to allow the petal to continue its path down.

Odd. Tony didn’t even know their cage had orange flowers. He eyed it confusingly.

Then another petal floated down. Then another and another. All of them trickling down and landing all around them.

“What?”

T’Challa was just as confused as him, if his twitching ears had anything to say of it.

“Is this normal?” He asked the prince. It appeared only their spot was being rained on by orange petals and nowhere else.

“It is not,” T’Challa stared at the petals as if their very presence was a threat. “These are not from the flowers of the palace, and we do not partake in showering in them in this manner.”

Well, even if they didn’t make it a habit to shower in flowers, Tony had to admit the contrast between the orange of the petals and the black of T’Challa’s coat was very beautiful. Almost worthy of a portrait to be displayed for those who appreciated the arts.  

Not that Tony would ever say it. The prince didn’t need his compliments nor would the prince want them from someone like Tony.

They both nearly jumped out of their fur when a voice echoed all around them.

“Can you feel the love tonight?...”

Up on their paws they stood to search for the source of the noise. When it was evident the noise was, in fact, a song and they listened closely to the words they were left staring at each other awkwardly.

Unable to hold the prince’s gaze, Tony turned away, grateful his fur hid the otherwise very obvious flush on his face. Needing a distraction, he searched for the source of the petals and the song combination and found them on top of a hill that overlooked their spot.

The grinning face of the princess stared down at him. Next to her, the orange petals were thrown over the edge and soon enough Peter’s own wolfish grin joined hers. They appeared very proud of themselves and were obviously the culprits.

“Really, Peter?” Tony said just as T’Challa gave a very defeated sigh and a “Shuri.”

“Hi, Mr Stark,” Peter’s tongue lolled out with his grin.

“Don’t mind us. Do continue your time together. We’re just setting the mood,” Shuri said, just as the song echoed “The world for once, in perfect harmony.”

Tony really did not like what that implied. “Thanks, but that’s really unnecessary.”

“You are welcome,” they said simultaneously before disappearing. The song did not stop.

T’Challa shuffled in place, anxious about their situation. “I apologize for her.”

“Yeah, sorry about my kid, too.”

A bouquet of flowers of different varieties and colors came crashing down before them.

“Brother, give him these!”

T’Challa groaned and lowered himself to the ground, covering his face with his paws. “Shuri.”

Tony couldn’t help the laugh that escaped him.

(Part 1) (Part 2) (Part 3) (Part 4) (Part 5) (Part 6) (Part7) (Part 8)

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