#yes though he’s a salmon elephant

[third-king-of-salmonids]

you sound like an elephant /pos

I DO NOT KNOW WHAT THAT IS CAN I EAT IT?

[raincitygirl76]

We need to talk about the Bambi situation. Specifically, Wilhelm shooting Bambi. It was raised recently in a different post that Wilhelm has no apparent hobbies, hence fic writers latching onto the frog stuff. But I suspect there are hobbies.

We see from the shooting range scenes that Wilhelm knows how to handle a gun. He’s not especially brillant at clay pigeon shooting, but he’s clearly not a beginner, either. And in 2.06, he threatens August with the shotgun, but keeps his finger BEHIND the trigger at all times. The only time his finger is on the trigger is when he fires into the air.

I suspect the Swedish upper classes like to hunt, shoot, and fish just like the British upper classes. And someone, maybe Erik, Ludvig, or a gamekeeper, drilled into Wilhelm as a child how to handle a gun without accidentally shooting anyone with it.

As far as I know (although I don’t know much about it), fox hunting is an exclusively British pastime. Or was, since I think it’s banned now. But all other types of “country sports” seem to be mostly Europe wide. There’s lots of forest in Sweden: I suspect salmon fishing, game bird shooting, and deer stalking are probably big things for people who can afford it. I don’t mind about the salmon or the game birds, but I cringe at the thought of poor Bambi. I suspect Wilhelm was not brought up to cringe at poor Bambi, though.

A quick google search confirmed that yes, the real life Swedish royal family shoot deer.

And there are lots of other animals you can legally hunt in Sweden. Including moose, which are enormous.

Pulling back to the macro-European level, in 2012 there was a huge fuss when King Juan Carlos of Spain (since abdicated in favour of his son, partly because of this scandal) broke his hip while secretly on an elephant hunting safari in Botswana. Not a photo safari, a safari where the elephants die. Massive ructions, since nobody knew where he was, and it looked really bad when Spain’s economy was still reeling from the worldwide financial collapse of 2008.

It had already been known than Juan Carlos liked to fish, hunt, and shoot. And ordinary Spaniards were generally OK with that. They were significantly less OK with their king shooting an adorable endangered species while on a lavish top-secret trip to another continent.

Because evidently the Spanish royal family or their courtiers realized the king couldn’t be perceived as massacring elephants for fun. But rather than saying, “No, your majesty, it’s bad PR to go to Botswana and shoot Babar,” they apparently said instead, “Your maiesty, please don’t get CAUGHT shooting Babar.”

But when he broke his hip and had to be airlifted out, the secret stopped being a secret and became a scandal. Shades of Kristina of Sweden there. “Do whatever stupid shit you want, just don’t ever get caught by anyone who hasn’t already signed an NDA.”

I sincerely hope Wilhelm wouldn’t want to shoot Babar. I’m already cringing at the idea of him shooting Bambi. It’s only the longstanding connection of the upper classes with blood sports that forces me to realize it’s a distinct possibility.

I don’t much like the large land mammal idea myself. I have much less emotional attachment to pheasants and geese, so will make it my personal headcanon that Wilhelm is accustomed to shooting clay pigeons and game birds. But his nanny let him watch Bambi at a formative age.

Whenever Wilhelm was subsequently taken deer-stalking as a slightly older child, he devolved into hysterics at the idea of ANYBODY shooting the poor deer. And eventually his family gave up trying to toughen him up on the subject. Especially because him making a ruckus kept scaring off the damn deer and ruining their sport. That’s my headcanon, and I’m sticking to it. It’s probably false, but I’m happy with it.

I don’t have a problem with hunting provided it’s not an endangered species, the rules are followed, and it’s not just trophy-hunting. If the meat gets eaten, then it’s useful. If don’t want to hunt myself, but I’m not against it.

But I watched Bambi at a formative age, and the thought of a character I love getting Bambi in his sights, pulling the trigger, and killing Bambi makes me freak out. Even though I realize my headcanon about Wilhelm being too squeamish to shoot Bambi is most likely bullshit, and he probably has killed deer.

Edited to add:

@sflow-er confirms in replies that hunting is a very big thing in the Nordics. Although it’s not just an upper class thing, plenty of working class people hunt too. They just probably don’t hire an expert tracker (like the one in the People article who gets paid to help the real Swedish royal family hunt deer). Note also that in Marcus’s Instagram feed, it shows he hunts.

Consistent with Canada. Plenty of working class Canadians hunt. Mostly (but not all) people who either live in rural areas now or grew up in rural areas. But Canada also has the very expensive guided hunting expeditions available for people with more money than sense. Which sounds like the guy in the first article linked above, who has been leading the real Swedish royal family on guided hunts for 30 years.

[marlynnofmany]

Human at Work

When our ship landed to deliver the overdue shipment of weird little space goats, I admit I was surprised when I saw what their owners looked like. “Big,” I’d been told. “Polite,” as well. Even “Very careful about where they step.” But no one had told me to expect pink elephants.

I almost stopped in my tracks as I exited the ship, only jumping forward again when a shipmate’s bug leg prodded my shoulder blade. I stepped quickly and did my best to stare without slowing up to the proceedings.

Our small crew was bringing the cages out onto a landing pad raised off the ground, level with the average head height of the gigantic life forms whose home planet this was. They strolled by on business of their own, each with six legs and trunks in pairs: top and bottom. Their tails looked prehensile too. But the most striking part was the color: as bright pink as any flamingo, with flappy ears that faded to a more salmon-orange with yellow edges. All they needed was polka dots to look like the most absurd hallucination this side of the Milky Way.

“Hello, esteemed client!” announced our captain as he led the procession toward the pink face waiting at the edge of the platform. Captain Pockap was, I’d learned, the nephew of the captain of our sister ship, and somewhat new at this. I hoped he was waving his green tentacles at the right alien.

This elephant was pretty noteworthy, actually. Its eyes had the white haze of cataract sufferers on Earth. And as we approached, it moved its ears down to show a hat of some sort— Wait. No.

It that a human on its head?? I thought as I walked. What the heck?

It was. While Captain Pockap greeted the alien that still hadn’t spoken, I took in the sight of the muscley blonde guy perched on a saddle that was clearly custom-made for this scenario. He was wearing weird little booties and had one foot raised, like he was ready to tap out a message on the alien’s head.

“And hello to you too!” Pockap concluded with a wave up at the human.

The pink behemoth finally spoke. “Kindly do not distract my seeing-eye human,” it said in a deep voice. “He is working.”

Pockap gave many flowery apologies, which the alien ignored in favor of enquiring about the state of its cargo.

“The animals are in perfectly good health,” Pockap said. “Though they did give us some trouble. I’m afraid I’ll have to insist—”

His demands for additional money were interrupted by urgent hisses from several crewmates who knew better, and (thankfully) by the arrival of another giant pink elephant.

The two aliens spoke in rumbles almost too low to hear. The crewmates yelled at the captain in whispers. I stood awkwardly to the side, a newcomer without much stake in any of this.

“Hey,” called a different voice. “Quick question.” It was the human guy, waving me over while his employer (owner?) was busy with conversation.

I trotted to the edge of the platform, careful not to lean too far. No railing. “Yes?”

“Is there one ship like that, or two?” he asked, pointing over my shoulder at the lemon-looking thing we’d come in.

“Oh! Two,” I told him. “The other one looks just like it. Parked over thataway.” I pointed off to where Kamm’s ship was picking up a new courier job. The two were nearly the exact same model on the outside, though only one had corridors tall enough for me to stand comfortably.

“Thank you,” the guy said in clear relief. “I wasn’t sure I was describing it right. Glad I directed her to the right one.”

“Yeah, you got it!” I said. I made to move back toward the crew, but he had one more thing to say.

“If you’re looking for a change in careers, there’s plenty of demand for sight assistance here,” the guy said. “We work in shifts, and the pay is good.”

“Oh, uh, thanks! I’ll keep that in mind.” This wasn’t the type of career I was aiming for, but it certainly was memorable. I wondered if there was a foot-tap code.

The second elephant said its goodbyes and moved off, leaving the seeing-eye human to snap to attention and catch his employer up to speed with the surroundings. No one had moved much except for me. I sidled back to where I was supposed to be.

Wiser minds had prevailed, thankfully. Pockap didn’t press for extra fees, and the blind pink elephant who owned the goats didn’t say anything about his conversational misstep. I was quietly shaking my head about how strange my life had gotten when Pockap got involved in moving the cages onto the waiting cart, and he bumped the controls that let all of the goats out.

They immediately bounded across the platform in a wave of gleeful orange tentacle-fur, kicking up their heels and knocking each other over. Their scrambling was only matched by the ship’s crew going for the nets to catch them again.

I chased after two of the little troublemakers who broke away from the herd to make a mad dash toward the alien elephant at the edge of the platform. I could see the human tapping urgently at the giant head, but not soon enough. One of the goats skidded to a stop while the other sprang across empty space to land beside him.

He caught it. Just leaned forward in his harness and snatched it up like a wayward puppy. The one that had stayed on the platform was already scampering back toward the ship.

“Good catch!” I called. “Hey, are they poisonous?” No one had been able to say for sure, and it seemed like an important detail right now.

“Only if you’re allergic to bees!” the human said as he bundled the wriggling creature into his shirt. Anemone-tendril fur smacked his face.

“Thanks, good to know!” I said. “Let me grab a cage to put that one in.” I darted off while the blind elephant asked what was happening with more patience than the situation deserved.

Thankfully for all involved, our ship was the only one on the platform, and the door was shut. Those frisky goatlings had nowhere to go but around in circles. Not that they minded running in circles, of course, but it was only a matter of time before the crew managed to grab them one way or another. Mostly with nets. Sometimes with hands — or the equivalent — and sometimes with trash cans or whatever else was convenient. I hauled a single-occupancy cage over to the edge and got permission to climb onboard the giant alien’s head in order to retrieve the little critter that was trying to kick free.

I almost lost it over the edge. Almost. But the client didn’t need to know that. I got it in the cage and put the cage back on the cart with the rest, and that was all the mattered. The animals were none the worse for their adventure.

Pockap was allergic to bees, though.

“You finish up here,” he wheezed to the yellow Heatseeker who was already ushering him back toward the ship with exasperation on her lizardy face.

She spoke into her communicator to the crewmembers still on the ship. “Need a medical scan for the captain. Toxins and allergens. Quickly, please. He’s — okay yes, Zhee is carrying him in now.”

The gaudy purple Mesmer had scooped up the captain like an octopus that needed to be tossed back into the sea. It looked like an awkward motion with his praying mantis arms, but then, everything looked awkward to me and my human hands.

“Our sincere apologies,” said the new acting captain, coming to join me at the edge of the platform where she could address the client. “In all honesty, that spokesperson is not suited to this job. I hope his incompetence hasn’t caused you undue distress.”

It hadn’t. The large alien was more amused than anything, and willing enough to finish the transaction. Moments later, payment had been transferred and the animals were in a transport car, off to be someone else’s problem. I looked around to make absolutely sure that there were no sneaky little orange faces hiding somewhere. All clear.

“Farewell,” rumbled the elephant. “Safe travels.” It turned away from the platform slowly, leaving plenty of time for the human on its head to scan for tripping hazards and give the all clear. “Home, Jeeves.”

I held in a burst of laughter. Jeeves? That can’t be his real name. Did the first person to be a seeing-eye human suggest that as a job title? Amazing.

A cutesy little peeping noise told me the acting captain was doing her people’s version of a sharp whistle for my attention.

“Sorry, coming,” I said. Everyone else was heading for the ship, and I brought up the rear.

“Considering a job change?” she asked with a flick of her tail.

“No thank you,” I said. “A noble cause, I’m sure, but it doesn’t speak to me. I’d rather stay with you folks.”

“Good,” she told me, walking faster. “You’ll be useful to have on hand when we tell Pockap that we’re voting him out of the captain’s chair.”

“Oh my,” I managed. And I thought today was already as eventful as it was going to get.

~~~

(More backstory for the book. I’ve already got the next bit planned out!)

[oumakokichi]

What are the differences between the original and localization?

Hmm, that’s a very simple question with a pretty lengthy answer! I did answer some similar questions in the past, but that was a long time ago, much closer to when the localization was first released. There are probably a lot of people whose main experience with the game has only been with the localization, and who don’t really know or remember those differences anymore.

For that reason, I’m going to go into kind of a “masterlist” of things that were changed in the localization in this post. This will be very long, but I really want to explain the whole story behind the localization and its differences from the original to people who might only be hearing about this for the first time. I’m going to cover full spoilers for the game obviously, so be careful when reading!

Also, please feel free to share this post around, as I think it contains a lot of information that might be interesting to people who’ve only experienced the localization!

Before I really get into it though, I want to stipulate that the differences I’m covering in this post are mostly going to be things that I believe could’ve been handled or translated better, not every single line that was changed verbatim in the game. This is because a localization’s purpose is incredibly different from a literal translation.

Where a literal translation seeks to keep as much of the original authorial intent as possible and has the leeway to explain various Japanese terms and cultural specifics to the readers in footnotes or a glossary, a localization is usually much more targeted towards a specific target audience, usually one more unfamiliar with Japanese culture or terminology. As a result, some things in a localization are occasionally changed to make them more understandable to a western audience.

So, for example, I’m not going to fault the localization for changing Monosuke’s extremely heavy Kansai accent in Japanese to a New York accent in the English dub. It’s much easier for western players to immediately grasp that, “hey, this guy has a very specific regional accent that the other characters don’t,” and it works really well as a rough equivalent. Similarly, localization changes like changing a line here or there about the sport of sumo to be about the Jets and the Patriots also helps get the point across to players quickly and easily without having to explain an unfamiliar sport to western players in-depth before they can get the joke.

That being said… there were some liberties taken with ndrv3’s translation which I don’t believe fulfill the point of a localization, and which changed certain deliveries or even perceptions about the characters in a way that I just don’t agree with.

Let me explain first how the localization team actually worked, to people who might be unfamiliar with the process. Ndrv3 had four separate translators working on the localization. When NISA first announced that the game was being localized, these four translators introduced themselves on reddit in an AMA, where they also mentioned that they were by and large dividing up the 16 main characters between themselves, with each translator specifically assigned to four characters.

Having more translators working on a game might sound like a good idea in theory, but it’s often not. The more translators assigned to a game, the harder it is to provide a consistent translation. Translation is messy work: often there are multiple ways to translate the same sentence, or even the same word between two different languages. If a translation has multiple translators, that means they need to be communicating constantly with one another and referencing each other’s work all the time in order to avoid mistranslations: it’s difficult work, but not impossible.

However… this didn’t happen with ndrv3’s translation team. It’s pretty clear they did not reference each other’s work or communicate very well, and the translation suffers for it. I’m not just guessing here, either; it’s a fact that various parts of the game have lines completely ruined by not looking at the context, or words translated two different ways almost back-to-back. I’ll provide specific examples of this later.

Many of the translators also picked which characters they wanted to translate on the basis of which were their favorites—which, again, isn’t a bad thing in and of itself, but which does raise the risk of letting character bias influence your work. No work is inherently without bias; all translators have to look at their own biases and still attempt to translate fairly regardless. But because translators were assigned four characters each, this meant that while they might be really enthusiastic about translating for one character in particular, they were less enthusiastic for others. These biases do reflect in the work, and I will provide further examples as I make my list.

This system of delegation also leaves more questions than it answers. It becomes impossible to tell who translated certain parts of the game, particularly in areas where the narrator is unclear. For example, did Saihara’s translator translate Ouma’s motive video, as Saihara is the one watching it in chapter 6? Or did Ouma’s translator do it, since it’s his motive video? Who translated the parts we see at the beginning of certain chapters, where characters from the outside world make occasional comments? It’s really unclear, and I’m not even sure if the translators divvied up these parts amongst themselves or if only one person was supposed to handle them.

To put it simply, there were quite a lot of complications and worrying factors about the way the translation was divided by the team, and the communication (or lack thereof) between said translators. It’s impossible to really discuss the main problems that ndrv3’s localization has without making it clear why those problems happened, and I hope I’ve explained it well here.

With that out of the way, I’m finally going to cover the biggest differences between the original game and the localization, and why many of these changes were such a problem.

1.)    Gonta’s Entire Character

To this day, I still feel like this is probably the most egregious change of the entire localization. Gonta does not talk like a caveman in Japanese. He does not even have a particularly limited vocabularly. He talks like a fairly normal, very polite high school boy, and the only stipulation is that he’s not very familiar with electronics or technology due to his backstory of “growing up in the woods away from humans.”

Gonta does refer to himself in the third-person in Japanese, but I need to stress this: this is a perfectly normal thing to do in Japanese. Many people do it all the time, and it has no bearing on a person’s intelligence or ability to speak. In fact, both Tenko and Angie also refer to themselves in the third-person in the Japanese version of the game, yet mysteriously use first-person pronouns in the localization.

I wouldn’t be so opposed to this change if it weren’t for the fact that Gonta’s entire character arc revolves around being so much smarter than people (even himself!) give him credit for. He constantly downplays his own abilities and contributions to the group despite being fairly knowledgeable, not only about entomology but also about nature and astronomy. He has a fairly good understanding of spatial reasoning and is one of the first people to guess how Toujou’s trick with the rope and tire worked in chapter 2.

Chapter 4 of ndrv3 is so incredibly painful because it makes it clear that while Gonta was, absolutely, manipulated by Ouma into picking up the flashback light, he nonetheless made the decision to kill Miu of his own accord. He was even willing to try and kill everyone else by misleading them in the trial, because he thought it was more merciful than letting them see the outside world for themselves. These were choices that he made, confirmed when we see Gonta’s AI at the end of the trial speak for himself and acknowledge that yes, he really did think the outside world was worth killing people over.

Gonta is supposed to be somewhat naïve and trusting, not stupid. He believes himself to be an idiot, and other characters often talk down to him or don’t take him seriously, but at the end of the day he’s a human being just like the rest of them, and far, far smarter and more capable of making his own decisions than anyone thought him capable of.

Translating all of his speech to “caveman” or “Tarzan speech” really downplays his ability to make decisions for himself, and I think it’s a big part of why I’ve seen considerably more western fans insist that he didn’t know what he was doing than Japanese fans. I love Gonta quite a lot, but I can’t get over the localization essentially changing his character to make him seem more stupid, instead of translating what was actually there in order to more accurately reflect his character.

2.)    Added Some Slurs, Removed Others

It’s time to address the elephant in the room for people who don’t know: Momota is considerably homophobic and transphobic in the original Japanese version of the game. In chapter 2, he uses the word “okama” to refer to Korekiyo in an extremely derogatory fashion. This word has a history of both homophobic and transphobic sentiment in Japan, as it’s often used against flamboyant gay men and trans women, who are sadly and unfortunately conflated as being “the same thing” most of the time. To put it simply, the word has the equivalent of the weight of the t-slur and the f-slur in English rolled into one.

This isn’t the only instance of Momota being homophobic, sadly. In the salmon mode version of the game, should you choose the “let’s undress” option in the gym while with Momota, he has yet another line where he says, “You don’t swing that way, do you!?” to Saihara, using his most terrified and disgusted-looking sprite. This suggests to me that, yes, the homophobia was a deliberate choice in the Japanese version of the game, as Momota consistently reacts this way to even the idea of another guy showing romantic interest in him.

The English version more or less kept the salmon mode comment, but removed the use of the slur in chapter 2 entirely. Which I have… mixed feelings about. On the one hand, I am an LGBT person myself. I don’t want to read slurs if I can help it. On the other hand, I really don’t think the slur was removed out of consideration to the LGBT community so much as Momota’s translator really wanted to downplay any lines that could make his character come across in a more negative light.

This is backed up by the fact that both Miu and Ouma’s translators added slurs to the game that weren’t present in the original Japanese. Where Miu only ever refers to Gonta as “baka” (idiot) or occasionally, “ahou” (a slightly ruder word that still more or less equates to “moron”), her translator decided to add multiple instances of her using the r-slur to refer to Gonta specifically, and on one occasion, even the word “Mongoloid,” a deeply offensive and outdated term. Ouma’s translator similarly took lines where he was already speaking harshly of Miu and added multiple instances of words like “bitch” or “whore.”

To me, this suggests that the translators were completely free to choose how harsh or how likable they wanted their characters to come across. Momota’s translator omitting just the slur could maybe pass for a nice gesture, so people don’t have to read it and be uncomfortable—except, that’s not the only thing that was omitted. Instances of Momota being blatantly misogynistic or rude were also toned down to the point of covering up most of his flaws entirely. His use of “memeshii” against Hoshi (a word which means “cowardly” in Japanese with specifically feminine connotations, like the word “sissy” in English) is simply changed to “weak,” and when he calls Saihara’s trauma “kudaranai” (literally “worthless” or “bullshit”), this is changed to “trivial” in the localization.

Momota’s translator even went so far as to omit a line entirely from the chapter 2 trial, which I touched on in an earlier post. In the original version of the game, Ouma asks Momota dumbfounded if he’s really stupid enough to trust Maki without any proof and if he plans on risking everyone else’s lives in the trial if he turns out to be wrong. And Momota replies saying yes, absolutely, he’s totally willing to bet everyone’s lives on nothing more than a hunch because he thinks he’s going to be right no matter what.

This is a character flaw. It’s a huge, running theme with Momota’s character, and it’s brought up again in chapter 4 deliberately when Momota really does almost kill everyone in the trial because he refuses to believe that Ouma isn’t the culprit. But the localization simply omits it, leaving Momota to seem considerably less hard-headed and reckless in the English version of the game. If anyone wants proof that this line exists, it is still very much there in the Japanese dialogue, but it has no translation whatsoever. This goes beyond “translation decisions I don’t agree with”; omitting an entire line for a character simply because you want other people to like them more is just bad translation, period.

3.)    Angie’s Religion

In the original Japanese version of the game, neither Angie’s god nor her religion have any specific names. She refers to her god simply as “god” in the general sense, and clearly changes aspects of their persona and appearance based on who she’s trying to convince to join her cult. Everything about her is pretty clearly fictionalized, from her island to the religious practices her cult does.

Kodaka’s writing with regard to Angie is already a huge mess. It feeds into a lot of harmful stereotypes about “crazy, exotic brown women” and “bloodthirsty savages,” but at the very least it never correlated with a specific religion or location in the original version of the game.

This all changed when Angie’s translator, for whatever reason, decided to make Angie be Polynesian specifically and appropriate from the real religion of real indigenous peoples native to Polynesia. That’s right: Atua is a real god that has very real significance to tons of indigenous peoples.

In my opinion, this decision was incredibly disrespectful. It spreads incredible misinformation about a god that is still very much a part of tons of real-life people’s religion, and associates it with cults? Blood rituals? Human sacrifices? It’s a terrible localization decision that wasn’t necessary whatsoever and to be quite frank, it’s racist and insensitive.

As I said, the original game never exactly had the peak of “good writing decisions” when it came to Angie; there are still harmful stereotypes with her character, and she deserved to be written so much better. But associating her with a real group of indigenous people and equating a real god to some fictional deity that’s mostly treated as either a scary cult-ish boogeyman or the punchline to a joke is just… bad.

4.)    Ouma’s Motive Video

Some of the decisions taken with Ouma’s translation are… interesting, to say the least. In many ways, he feels like a completely different character between the two versions of the game. This is due not only to the translation, but also the voice direction and casting.

A lot of his lines are tweaked or changed entirely to make his character seem much louder, less serious, and less sincere than the original version of the game. Obviously, Ouma lies, a lot. That’s sort of the whole point of is character. But what I mean is that even lines in the original version of the game, where it was clear he was being truthful via softer delivery, trailing off the end of his sentences, and seeming overall hesitant about whether to divulge certain information or not are literally changed in the localization to him pretty much yelling at the top of his lungs, complete with tons of exclamation points on lines that originally ended with a question mark or ellipses.

Tonally, he just feels very different as a character. The “sowwy” speak, lines like “oopsie poopsie, I’m such a ditz!”—all of these things are taken to such ridiculous extremes that it feels a little hard to take him seriously. Even in the post-trial for chapter 4 when Ouma starts playing the villain after Gonta’s death, a moment which should have been completely serious and intense, the mood is kind of completely killed when the line is changed from him calling everyone a bunch of idiots to him calling everyone…. “stupidheads.” These changes don’t really seem thematically appropriate to me, but overall, they’re not damning.

What is damning, however, is the fact that Ouma’s motive video is completely mistranslated and provides a very poor picture of what his motivations and ideals were like. I still remember being shocked when I played the localization for the first time and discovered that they completely omitted a line stating that Ouma and DICE have a very specific taboo against murder.

Literally, this is one of the very first lines in the entire video. The Japanese version of the game makes it explicitly clear that DICE were forbidden to kill people, and that abiding by this rule was extremely important to them. By contrast, the localization simply makes a nod about him doing “petty nonviolent crimes and pranks,” without ever once mentioning anything at all about rules or taboos.

This feels especially egregious in the localization considering Saihara later uses Ouma’s motive video as evidence in the chapter 6 trial and states there that Ouma and DICE “had a rule against killing people,” despite the game… never actually telling you that. It not only skews the perception of Ouma’s character at a crucial moment, it also just straight-up lies to localization players and expects them to make leaps in logic without actually providing the facts. So it winds up sort of feeling like Saihara is just pulling these assumptions out of his ass more than anything else.

I actually still have my original translation of Ouma’s motive video here, if anyone would like to compare. Again, translation is a tricky line of work, and obviously not all translators are going to agree with one another. But I consider omitting lines entirely to be one of the worst things you can do in a translation, particularly in a mystery game where people are expected to solve said mysteries based on the information and facts provided to them.

5.)    Inconsistencies and Lack of Context

As I mentioned earlier, there are many instances of lines being completely mistranslated, or translated two different ways by multiple translators, or addressed to the wrong character. This is, as I stated, due to the way the translation work was divided by four separate people who appear to have not communicated with each other or cross-referenced each other’s work.

One of the clearest examples of this that I can think of off the top of my head is in chapter 3, where Ouma mentions “doing a little research” on the Caged Child ritual, and Maki in the very next line repeats him by saying… “study?”

On their own, removed from any context, these would both potentially be correct translations. However, it’s very clear that the translators just didn’t care to look at the context, or communicate with each other and share their work. The fact that characters aren’t even quoting each other properly in lines that are back-to-back is a pretty big oversight, and something that should have been accounted for knowing that four separate people were going to be translating various different characters.

This lack of context causes other, even more hilarious and blatantly wrong mistranslations. At the start of the chapter 3 trial, there is a line where Momota mentions that he couldn’t perform a thorough investigation on his own “because Monokuma disrupted him.” In the original, Ouma responds and tells Momota that he’s just using Monokuma as an excuse to cover for his own flaws. However, what we actually got in the localization was… this.

I don’t even have words for how badly this line was butchered (though I could make several hilarious jokes about Monokuma “over-compensating”). Presumably, this happened because Ouma’s translator saw Ouma’s line without any of the lines before it or the context of what Momota was saying, had no clue who Ouma was actually supposed to be talking to, and just ad-libbed it however they could, even though it literally makes no sense and doesn’t even fit into the conversation.

There are other similar instances of this, too. For example, did you know that the scene after Saihara faints in chapter 2, just before he wakes up in Gonta’s lab, is actually supposed to have Ouma talking to him? The narrator is unnamed, but there are several lines just before Saihara wakes up where Ouma tells him “come on, you can’t die on me yet!” and keeps prodding him and poking him to wake up. This is never explicitly told to you from the text… but it becomes pretty obvious when you look at the context and see that a huge CG of Ouma looking over Saihara as he starts to wake up is the very next part of the scene.

In the localization, however, Saihara’s translator pretty clearly had no idea what was happening or who was supposed to be talking to him, because they translated those lines as Saihara talking to himself, even though the manner of speech and phrasing is clearly supposed to be Ouma instead.

I could go on and on listing other examples: Tsumugi makes a joke in the original about Miu being able to dish out dirty jokes but not being very good at hearing them herself, but it’s changed in the localization to Tsumugi saying “I’m not so good with that kind of stuff,” and a line where Momota protests against Maki choking Ouma because she’ll kill him if she keeps going is instead changed to him saying “you’ll get killed if you don’t stop!” In my opinion, the fact that this is a consistent problem throughout the whole game shows that the translators weren’t really communicating or working together at any point, and that it wasn’t simply a one-time mistake here or there.

6.)    Edited CGs and Plot Points

I have made an entirely separate post about this in the past, but at this point I don’t think anyone actually knows anymore: the localization actually edited in-game CGs and made some of them completely different from the Japanese version of the game. I’m not accusing them of “censorship” or anything like that, I mean quite literally that they altered and edited specific CGs to try and fix certain problems with them and only ended up making them worse in the process.

In chapter 5, Momota gets shot in the arm by Maki’s crossbow when trying to defend Ouma, and Ouma gets shot in the back shortly afterward when attempting to make a run for the Exisals. These injuries are relevant to how they died, but they’re not actually very visible in the CGs of Ouma and Momota shown later in the chapter 5 trial.

There are a whole bunch of inconsistencies with the CGs in chapter 5 in general: Momota gives Ouma his jacket to lie on under the press, but is magically still wearing it when he emerges from the Exisal himself at the end of the trial (I like to think he snuck back into the dorms Solid Snake style to get a new one from his room before joining the trial), the cap to the antidote is still on the bottle when Ouma pretends to drink it in front of Maki and Momota, etc. None of these things really deter from the plot though, and so I would say they’re fairly unimportant.

However, for some reason, NISA decided that “fixing” at least some of the CGs in the chapter 5 trial was necessary. They did this by adding bloodstains to Momota’s arm while he’s under the press, to better show his injury from the crossbow…. and in doing so, for some completely inexplicable reason, they changed the entire position of his arm. Here’s what I mean for comparison:

This is how Momota’s arm looked in the original CG from chapter 5, shown when the camcorder is provided as evidence that it’s “Ouma” under the press.

And this is how the localization edited it to look. I can understand and even sympathize with adding the bloodstains, but… changing the entire arm itself? Moving it to be sticking out from under the press? To put it nicely, this change doesn’t make any sense and actually makes it harder to understand Ouma and Momota’s plan.

The whole trick behind their plan was that nothing was supposed to stick out from under the press, other than Momota’s jacket. They waited until the instant when the press completely covered every part of Momota’s body, arms and all, and then performed the switch to mislead people. But the edited version of the CG in the localization just has Momota’s arm sticking completely out, hanging over the side, meaning it would’ve been impossible for the press to hide every part of it and the whole switch feels… well, stupid and impossibly easy to see through in the localized version.

Again, this shows a total disregard for presenting the facts as they actually appear and actually makes things more difficult for English players of the game, because they’re not being given accurate information. I really don’t understand why these changes were necessary, or why the bloodstains couldn’t have just been added without moving Momota’s entire arm.

7.)    In Conclusion

This has gotten extremely long (nearly 10 pages), so I want to wrap things up. I want to specify that my intention with this masterlist isn’t to insult or badmouth the translators who worked on this game. I’m sure they worked very hard, and I have no idea what time or budget constraints they were facing as they did so.

Being a translator is not easy, and typically translators are not very well-paid or recognized for their work. I have the utmost respect for other translators, and I know perfectly well just how difficult and taxing it can be.

I am making this list because these are simply changes which were very different from the original version of the game, and which I believe could have been handled better. Personally, I disagree with many of the choices the localization made, but that does not mean that they didn’t do a fantastic job in other places. I absolutely love whichever translator was responsible for coming up with catchphrases and nicknames throughout the game: little localization decisions like “cospox,” “flashback light,” “Insect Meet n’ Greet,” and “cosplaycat criminal” were all strokes of genius that I highly admire.

I only want to stress that the Japanese version of the game is very different. Making changes to the way a character is presented or portrayed means influencing how people are going to react to said character. Skewing the information and facts presented in trials in the game means changing people’s experience of the game, and giving them less facts to go off of. Equating fictional gods to real-life ones can cause real harm and influence perception of real indigenous peoples. These are all facts that need to be accounted for before deciding whether a certain change is necessary or not, in my opinion.

If you’ve read this far, thank you! Again, feel free to share this post around if you’d like, since this is probably the most comprehensively I’ve ever covered this topic.

[pixeldolly]

Walden BACC #533

Hayden: “Who’s a pretty kitty and a good kitty? Yes you are!”

Tess: “Cymorial must like you; usually, he is quite skittish around people other than me.”

Hayden: “Being accepted by the cat - feels like a rite of passage.”

Tess smiled affectionately as she prepared the salmon for Hayden’s dinner.

Hayden: “Hey, can I have some of that juice?”

Tess: “Juice?”

Hayden: “Yeah, the red stuff in the pitcher over there, on the counter.”

Tess: “Oh! That’s not juice! That’s a, um, tonic for my condition!”

Tess had had to tell Hayden something to justify her peculiarities. The “rare medical condition” which made her highly sensitive to sunlight and heavily restricted her diet had appeased Hayden’s curiosity for the moment, but it wouldn’t hold up forever. They had also never spent the night together - Tess had always shied away from the idea and Hayden had respected her boundaries, but the longer they were a couple, the more difficult it would become to ignore the proverbial elephant in the room.

Tess: “Dinner will be ready shortly!”

Hayden: “All right, I’ll just use the bathroom real quick.”

I’m going to ask her tonight, Hayden thought giddily as she walked away, letting her legs carry her without thinking about it. Her heart fluttered in her chest and he stomach clenched anxiously, but she was happy, happier than she’d ever been.

Before she registered her mistake, Hayden opened the door in front of her;  it wasn’t the bathroom she suddenly found herself in though, it was the room next to it. She froze in the doorway, speechless.

Unnerved by the silence but unable to tear her attention away from her cooking, Tess called out over her shoulder:

Tess: “Hayden? Are you all right in there?” 

[dreamsmp-au-ideas]

Dream tripping anon with theater au brain rot 4: why Techno’s a bore

When techno was young, like 5 to 8, he won a pig mask (Halloween mask not sickness mask) at an arcade and it was the coolest thing ever to him at time. He wore it basically everywhere and hated when he had to take it off. Phil tried to get him to take it off when the family had to go to the store or something, but he would get really fussy, so phil just stop trying to get him to take the mask off. Techno grew out of wanting to wear it all the time, but to remember those days, Wilbur always wrote techno’s character as a pig.

Phil was looking though some old family photos, when he found one of a 13 year old Wilbur kissing a live salmon. It was for a dare from when they went on fishing by the river. Tommy was bored so he played truth or dare with his older brothers. Wilbur learned that day not to choose dare when it was Tommy to ask and had to take one of the salmon they had and kiss it. Techno took the photo. Phil showed it to Wilbur who, at the time, was having trouble figuring out who should be fundy’s mom. He was out of ideas so he just said that was his wife.

The some of the kids in the theater club are in other clubs as well. Dream is in track (because speedrunning), Bad and Skeppy are in the baking club together (muffins), Techno is the captain of fencing club (he’s good at pvp), Quackity is in the debate club (lawyer) and occasionally tutors for spanish, Ranboo is in the Comedy club (John Mulaney) , George and Fundy are in the coding club (we all know why) and Wilbur is in the student body council (idk it seemed like something he’d join).

During the l’manberg arc, Wilbur once convince the majority of the students in the theater to baby talk to Fundy for a day, telling them it’s for improv (Nikki, Phil and Techno were the only ones who didn’t join in). Fundy was pissed. This was one of the interactions that happened:

(I’m not good at writing baby talk)

Fundy:*struggling to get his l’manberg revolution coat off (they were doing a rehearsal with costumes)*

Wilbur: “Aw, is the wittle fox child having twouble with getting his cute wittle cwayon coat off?”

Fundy: “Wilbur shut the f*ck up”

Eret: “Wilbur I think one of the lights isn’t working right, it keeps flickering” *turns to fundy* “and I think someone owne needs a wittle nap”

Fundy: “not you too Eret”

Wilbur: *to eret* “talk to Mr. Sleepy Minecraft (Phil, yes this is the last name I came up with) about that” *looking at fundy* “and I think your wight about thawt, Fundy gets weally fussy without his nappy”

Fundy: “Wil, I swear to god!”

*wilbur hugs fundy, moving him back-and-forth while humming a lullaby*

*Fundy screams*



Speaking of Fundy’s coat, They ordered 4 l’manberg coats instead of 5, so they had to use a crayon colored coat from when Wilbur performed Hamilton for a talent show in Sophomore year. They choose having Tommy and Fundy rock, paper, scissors and who ever lost wore the crayon coat. Fundy lost. All his lines about the crayon coat were improv.

The theater did a gift exchange game where you can either choose a gift or steal (white elephant or dirty Santa is what it’s called). Dream put a baby toy as a gift on the table and Tommy got it. The whole game he just begged the person who was up to steal from him, but no one did. So while Techno got sugar cookies and Wilbur got party poppers, he was stuck with a dumb elephant toy for a baby to chew on.

Schlatt was told to make up his last words before he died. To torture Quackity, he was going to say flatty patty. But he keep it a secret by saying “I’lol return” and “Screw you”. Quackity was pissed when he heard Schlatt say flatty patty on stage.

Also I was thinking about the characters ages:

Tommy, Tubbo and Ranboo are freshmen.

Karl, Fundy and Quackity are sophomores

Skeppy, Nikki, Puffy, Eret and HBomb are juniors

Wilbur, Techno, Dream, George, Sapnap, Bad and Schlatt are seniors.

That’s all I have right now. I’m not sure about the other’s ages though.

Anon this is perfect. Oh my god this is perfect. I have no words. It’s already so well structured and I love everything on this ask. Holy shit.

[kisses-for-cas]

Summary: When a witch hunt forces the Winchesters to go undercover in a suburban neighborhood, Dean finds himself fighting with his upcoming feelings for a certain angel. To be more precise: the angel, who currently pretends to be married to his brother Sam.

Ships: Dean/Castiel

Word Count: 8,200

Read on AO3

Tammy has lived in this neighborhood for almost 30 years – she raised her kids around here and now is enjoying her well-deserved retirement with her husband Harold. And if she knows one thing for certain, then it’s this: there’s something wrong with the new neighbors. It’s not because they are gay, Tammy tells herself. She believes herself to be quite open-minded, one of her nieces is actually a lesbian. It’s something else, but she can’t quite put her finger on it yet.

The men moved in today, only a few days after the last tenants died in a horrible and tragic accident involving the lawnmower and a malfunctioning electric wire. Tammy doesn’t like to admit it, but she always knew those two didn’t fit the neighborhood. Sarah brought it up several times at Sunday Brunch, and as it turned out, the entire neighborhood held a grudge against the deceased couple. At least the house still looked well enough to get sold almost immediately again.

It’s hard to catch glimpses of the movers, but she catches a few sights as she stretches out of her bedroom window. One of them has dark hair and is wearing a tan trenchcoat, the other one seems to be taller and is coated in a flannel shirt. Not really the type to be moving into this street, but they might turn out to be nice. She tries to keep an open mind, she tells herself, even though she doesn’t understand how somebody could possibly move while wearing a trenchcoat.

Shortly after dinner, the doorbell rings, and Tammy almost jumps forward to get it. Sarah told her she’d call once she had a proper talk with the new neighbors, but the phone’s been quiet so far. But to her surprise, it’s not her friend in front of the door, but two handsome men holding a basket with muffins.

“Hello, you must be Mrs. Philipps. We’re the Winchesters,” the taller of both says, as he holds his hand out. Tammy shakes them politely, as she smiles at them.

“Tammy is fine, and my husband Harold is probably already asleep in his lounge seat,” she jokes as she shakes their hands. The man in the trenchcoat seems a bit more reserved, but he still gives her a small smile when she looks at him.

“Nice to meet you, Tammy,” the other man says again. “I’m Sam, and this is my husband Cas.”

5 days earlier

“Lawnmower accident?” Dean laughs, as he re-reads the headline again. “Well, if this isn’t our kind of thing, I really don’t know what is.”

“Exactly what I thought,” Sam replies, turning his laptop back to himself. “Apparently there were several deaths within the last 10 years in this neighborhood, and all of them were classified as accidents.”

“All over the area? So less likely a spirit, and more like –“

“Witches?” Sam finishes his brother’s sentence. “Probably, the victims weren’t exactly popular in the area. One of them had a kid, but the couple wasn’t married. Another person wanted to move in with her wife, but she died before she could. Seems like they are most likely targeting people, who don’t fit the community.”

Witches and conservative suburbs sure aren’t Dean’s favorite things in the world, that much is sure. But if people are in danger, there’s no way he’d let them down. Especially, if he might get to kill some fundamentalist witch.

“Huh, so what we’re thinking? I’d say go undercover, but brothers usually don’t go buying some white picket fence house in a conservative neighborhood,” the older Winchester proposes, while settling back in his seat. He remembers how they tried to infiltrate that neighborhood so many years ago and how the salespeople kept mistaking them for a couple.

“I thought Eileen and I could maybe do it, but her leg isn’t healing as we hoped,” Sam thinks out loud, wincing at the thought of his injured girlfriend. The recent werewolf hunt was tougher than expected and left Eileen’s leg badly hurt. Cas tried his best to heal her, but she was still struggling.

“Maybe one of us could team up with Mom?” Dean suggests but cringes once the words leave his mouth. “Urgh, never mind. I’m not very strong on the Oedipus thing.”

“What about me?” Cas chimes in, all eyes turning to him. Dean didn’t even realize the angel entered the room. “Since we are not related, it might be less awkward to pretend a relationship.”

Dean is left more or less speechless, as he babbles incoherent words. He likes Cas very much; they are best friends for a reason. But pretending to be in a relationship? Heaven and Hell have been teasing them for years about their “profound bond”, so they might even get away with it. But Dean’s stomach twists uncomfortably at the mere thought of calling Cas a pet name or holding his hand in public.

“Uh-Uh, no way I’m getting fake-married to Cas!” Dean protests once he finds the ability to speak again. His reaction was apparently a bit harsh, judging by the looks both Cas and Sam give him.

“Okay…,” Sam sighs, drawing the word out in a long breath. It sounds like he wants to say more but instead turns to face the angel. “Castiel, would you like to pretend-marry me?”

Dean can feel a blush creep up his neck, as he stares at his brother. It’s the reasonable thing to do, but it just feels wrong. Nobody ever questioned their status as friends, and Dean can’t even picture the both of them acting in love. When he thought his stomach felt bad before, he’s now actually feeling sick.

He’s close to suggesting a fake relationship with their mom again when Cas simply nods to answer Sam’s question. “Of course, Sam. I mean, I do.”

The two share a hinted smile as if they are both part of a joke Dean doesn’t get. The sick feeling still doesn’t leave him, as he stands up from his seat. He must have eaten something wrong today, that’s the only logical explanation.

“Well, Mazel Tov to you guys then,” Dean mutters, more to himself than to the other men. They don’t even look at him when he leaves the room behind.

———————————————————————————————–

“I still think this is a stupid idea,” Dean protests, as he puts the meatloaf in the oven. Somewhere behind him, he knows Cas is preparing the salad and Sam is busy fluffing some pillows on the couch.

“We need to connect with all the neighbors, and a housewarming party is the easiest way to do so,” Sam replies annoyed. He and Cas introduced themselves to everyone in the neighborhood, but nobody seemed guilty so far. Cas tried his best to “sniff the witch out” but only found some kitchen herbs in the local gardens and a loud laugh from Dean, when he explained his plan to search for witch-like smells. So far, they had no clue who the responsible party could be.

“Dearest, could you make space in the hallway closet for the coats?” Sam calls out to Cas, and Dean almost burns his hand at the stove. He had a few days to adjust to the idea of Sam and Cas pretending a relationship, but the term of endearment still surprises the hunter.  

“What’s next? You’re gonna kiss goodbye on the porch when Cas drives to work?” Dean snaps at his brother, who seems confused by the sudden anger.

“If the situation needs it, sure…,” Sam replies, but Dean interrupts him before he can continue.

“What the hell, Sammy? Dearest? What kind of weird pet name is that even supposed to be?”

“The one Sam and I agreed to,” Cas replies drily. The look in his blue eyes leaves no space for any further discussion. “This act is completely planned out, and we can’t risk our standing because you are having trouble adjusting, Dean.”

Just as Dean wants to argue again, they are interrupted by the sound of the doorbell. They can only hope nobody heard their yelling, the last thing they need is unnecessary gossip from the neighbors. Cas and Sam waltz towards the front door, while Dean stays a few steps behind them.

“Hello Tammy, Harold. Welcome to our humble home,” Sam greets the guests, as the couple enters their hallway. Cas takes their jackets from them, hanging them in the biggest coat closet Dean’s ever seen. Well, at least the house got some perks. Before he can think more about the architectural features of the house, his brother calls for him.

“This is my brother Dean,” Sam introduces him, and Dean tries his best to give a fake smile and nod politely at the boring stories the neighbors tell him. This is going to be a long evening…

—————————————————————————————-

“Well Ladies, let’s begin Sunday Brunch,” Irene happily pronounces, as she raises her mimosa in the air. The other women do the same, cheering each other. It’s the first Sunday Brunch after the Winchesters moved to the area, leaving more than enough gossip material for the group.

“They seem nice enough, but I heard Sam is unemployed. He just sits around all day at home and waits for his Cassiel to come back home!” Jennifer complains with a deep sigh. It’s no secret she isn’t the biggest fan of the new couple, but even she can’t deny the quality of the served meatloaf at the housewarming.

“His name is Cassiel, dear,” Beth replies, eying the salmon pieces hungrily. “They said Sam’s working in IT and can do it from home. Clearly, an excuse, if you ask me.”

The gossip continues happily: Tammy found out they only have one toothbrush. Irene asked about Cas’s job, and apparently, he’s working in a nearby library. And all of them agree, their marriage is weird. Whenever Sam touched his husband, it felt unnatural, and they didn’t kiss once the whole evening.

“We need to address the elephant in the room,” Sarah sighs, and the group’s attention draws over to her. She’s been quiet so far, which means her news are far bigger than everyone else’s: “The brother.”

“If I were only twenty years younger…,” Beth starts, earning a peal of laughter from the women around her. “He’s very handsome, that’s true.”

“Yes, and I think Castiel would agree with you there,” Sarah speaks, before taking a long sip from her teacup. The reaction is immediate, as all the women start talking at once. The Winchester barely lived a week in the neighborhood, but they already produced the best gossip they had in a while.

“Do you think they are having an affair?” Tammy asks shocked. Of course, she had felt the tension between the family members, but she blamed it on the stress of moving. But now that Sarah suggested it, it seems like a possible explanation.

“We can’t be sure yet, but I bet something is going on. Dean surely looked rather unhappy every time he saw Sam touching his hubby. And Cas got some serious heart-eyes for his brother-in-law.”

“Besides,” Irene steps in “their marriage just seems – off? There’s more sex happening in the way Cas looks at Dean than in his marriage bed with Sam”

“Irene!” The shocked gasp from the elder women makes the other guests laugh, as they refill their mimosas.

“Oh, poor Sam,” Tammy sighs, fiddling with her wedding ring. Being cheated on must be awful on its own, but having your husband fool around with your own brother? That’s a new level of tastelessness.“

“Anyways, have you seen Mrs. Ericson’s new haircut? Just awful…”

——————————————————————————————

Dean excuses himself early from the housewarming party, not knowing how much more of the charade he could have handled. He expected to get some blackmailing material for his brother, it was supposed to be a funny sight after all. What he didn’t expect was the burning sensation on his inside, as he regarded the play right in front of him.

He’s still mad about the whole thing, and how caught up both of them were. It’s one thing to hold hands and present in the couple in front of others. But Sam calling Cas by a pet name in private? That’s just unprofessional, even Dean knows that. And then Sam told him, he would even kiss Cas if the situation needs it…What the hell was that even supposed to mean? Nobody is going to force them to kiss, the party guests are all far too old to play “spin the bottle” anymore.

Would Cas even kiss back, if Sam initiated a kiss? The angel doesn’t seem the type for physical affection; hell, he only lost his virginity a few years ago! The image of Cas pressing Meg against the wall, kissing her passionately, popped back up in Dean’s mind. And then the image changed to Cas and Sam in the same manner…God, Dean’s gonna have to swallow some holy water to get rid of that mental image.

Carefully, he watched the way his brother and his friend interacted, and the sight made him feel uneasy. He thought it was a stupid idea for them to fake a relationship because it would just be weird. But now that he was watching the way Cas’s hand rested on Sam’s lower back, Dean realized it’s something entirely else: he’s jealous. It’s not a feeling he knows very well; after all, none of his relationships ever lasted long. But as he watched Cas laugh at one of Sam’s stories, their sides pressed together – it’s setting something inside of Dean loose.

If he hadn’t acted like a child, he might have been the one standing beside Cas at that moment. He would have been the one holding his hand, laughing at his jokes, and maybe even pressing soft kisses on Castiel’s cheek. Nobody would even question their act, he’s sure of that. And then his mind kept wandering, back to the memory of Cas showing off his kissing skills. Except now it wasn’t Meg, but himself getting pinned against the wall.

Dean’s not stupid; he knows he likes men the same way he likes women. It’s been a long journey to finally find self-acceptance, but he’s finally contempt with it. That doesn’t mean he’s going to buy pride stickers and tell everyone around him he’s bi. No, it’s his secret and he’s the only one who needs to know about it.

He also knows Cas’s vessel is very attractive. But those two things – his attraction to men and his profound bond with Cas – were never something he considered might be related. But thinking about Cas kissing him – it’s something Dean never knew he wanted that much. When the sight of the happy couple got too much for him to bear, Dean excused himself to get a drink. Only then he remembered they are actually on a job, and he’s supposed to be on the watch out for possible bad guys.

And he’s totally going to do that.

Once he had a proper drink.

——————————————————————————————

“Please tell me your stupid charade is at least getting you somewhere,” Dean groans, once Cas is settled in his seat across from him. They decided to meet up in a close diner to discuss their next steps, while Sam is hacking the public security cameras from their house. Dean refuses to call it their “home”, hating the implication it’s setting.

“There are a few people we can surely rule out,” Cas replies, stirring some sugar into the coffee mug Dean pressed into his hands. “On my drive yesterday, the energetic waves were much stronger at the end of the street.”

“Great, so what’s next? You and Sammy going to play house for some more weeks, until we finally got our suspect?”

Dean can only hope the hunt will be over rather sooner than later. He barely slept the night after the housewarming party, his mind racing with thoughts. Not even liquor helped to drown them out and the night left him feeling not only exhausted but more upset than ever.

Castiel releases an annoyed groan. “Can you just…you’re undermining this plan at every given opportunity, and Sam and I are getting worried you might risk the entire thing.”

“I just want,” Dean starts, the words twisting in his throat. He knows exactly what he wants, ever since seeing Cas and Sam casually holding hands and snuggling on the couch. But at the same time, he knows it’s something he can’t have. Angels aren’t supposed to have emotions, he knows that. But when he catches Castiel’s blue eyes carefully watching him, Dean can’t help but feel a spark of hope.

“Do you ever think things could be, you know, different between you and me? Maybe we could be…more…or…”

“Dean,” Cas replies, his name sounding almost like a prayer from his lips. “Are you saying…”

“Well, hello you handsome fellas,” a sudden voice snaps them back to reality and when they look at its owner, Beth is smiling at them. “I thought it was you, so I just had to pop in and say hello.”

“Hello then,” Dean grumpily answers, his eyes focused on the table before him. Of all possible times, Beth had to disrupt them just now. He remembers the way those nosy neighbors had eyed him at the housewarming party, and how it made him uneasy. But then again, he only had eyes for Cas that evening.

“Aren’t you supposed to be at work, Cas?” Beth asks, an obnoxious tone hidden under her sweetly sick smile. Right, Dean remembers, they told everyone Cas works at the library. Good enough of an excuse to spend their time there.

“Uhhh – Lunch break,” Castiel answers stiffly, his eyes shortly glancing over to Dean. The hunter seems to have grown smaller by the second, as he fiddles with the menu.

“Well, tell Sam I said hi,” she comments cheerfully, as she finally leaves them alone again. Silence falls over the table, only disturbed by the noise of the diner around them. Dean can feel Castiel’s watchful eyes on him, but he’s not ready to face them yet. He might not believe in fate or destiny, but the disturbance came just at the right time. A few seconds more and he might have destroyed the best friendship he had his entire life.

“Dean…,” Cas finally breaks the silence, but Dean interrupts him before he can speak more.

“Just forget it, Cas…Let’s focus back on the case.”

They don’t pay any attention to Beth, who silently snaps a picture of them from the outside. It feels like the ultimate proof those two are actually having an affair; why else would they meet up in a diner during Castiel’s work hours? She can’t help but grin, as she sends the picture to her friends.

TO: BRUNCH LADIES

“Look who’s having dinner instead of working….”

——————————————————————————————

“It’s Jennifer,” Cas says, once the image of Dean flashes over the laptop screen. After several neighbors pointed out how attached Dean seems to be to his brother, they decided to stick to virtual conversations for the moment.

“You sure?” Dean asks as he watches his brother and his best friend sit on their couch. He should be glad to once have an entire motel room for himself, but for some strange reason, he misses his family. Okay, he knows exactly why: he hates not knowing what’s happening between his brother and Cas. Sammy isn’t interested in Cas that way, he knows that. But the thought of them holding hands is enough to get Dean bothered.

“Absolutely,” Sam replies. “She was already one of our suspects due to some lucky incidents in the last few years, but when I was at her house, I clearly saw some witch supplies.”

“Her magic doesn’t seem too powerful, destroying her supplies and her altar should be enough to stop her,” Cas adds up, and Dean nods along.

“She’s working from home, right?” Dean asks while trying to remember everything about the suspect. Jennifer didn’t talk to him a lot; she was more of a loner. Apparently, her husband died a few years ago and left her enough money to start her own jewelry company. “How are we going to get her out of the house long enough to take care of the situation?”

“We could throw another party. Maybe celebrate a birthday or a wedding anniversary. And you and Mom could handle the house in the meantime,” Sam suggests.

“She didn’t stay long at the housewarming,” Cas throws in. “We need some more time, there might be warding at her house – maybe we could try a distraction, so she stays longer?”

“You could fake-break-up your fake marriage,” Dean huffs under his breath, knowing already they won’t agree to it. If their plan fails, the entire cover-up story would be blown up. There’s a bottle of beer in Dean’s hands and he takes a deep gulp from it. It may not be noon yet, but he stopped caring about that years ago.

Cas answers once Dean finished drinking. “No, that’s hardly enough to draw her attention.”

“We could call Jack, maybe he can help out. He could be your unknown son from a secret affair,” Dean jokes next. It sounds almost like a cheap plotline from Dr. Sexy – except Dr. Sexy’s secret son actually appeared in season 3 and needed an organ transplant, which could only be donated by his father. While Dean tries to remember how the episode ended, Sam and Cas nod in agreement.

“I’ll call Jack right away,” Cas speaks, his phone already halfway pressed to his ear. A second later, the angel disappears from the couch, leaving only Sam in his view. The younger Winchester seems to wait for Castiel to leave the room before he addresses his brother again.

“Dean, promise me you won’t act up,” Sam tries to reason. “We can’t risk the entire thing because you are getting jealous.”

“Jealous? Don’t be ridiculous, Sammy,” the older Winchester mumbles, trying his best to not sound petty. “Scout’s honor, I’ll be on my best behavior.”

——————————————————————————————-

Dean’s promise lasts around 20 minutes, which is already longer than he honestly would have expected. He and Mary will enter Jennifer’s house at 1800 sharp, leaving them with just enough time to trash her little altar and the supplies. Jack is going to start with his distraction around 10 minutes earlier, giving Dean enough time to slip out quietly. It’s all planned to the minute, which of course means, it’s destined to fall apart.

They invited their neighbors under the premise of Castiel’s birthday, even though the angel technically doesn’t even have a birthday. It doesn’t matter anyway, since Sam promised some BBQ and apparently that’s enough to motivate everyone to show up. Dean watches the spectacle from a distance, occasionally sipping his cold beer. He planned to handle the grill, but some bored husband hushed him away to deal with it instead.

Cas looks beautiful, Dean notices as he watches his best friend talking to his guests. He’s wearing a light blue dress shirt and a pair of dark jeans, and Dean makes a mental note to thank his brother for finally getting Cas out of his usual outfit. Then he remembers it means Sam took Cas shopping at some point, and Dean’s gratitude turns sour in his mouth.

“How long have you two been married?” one of the ladies asks Cas, and Dean tries his best to hide a snickering laugh.

“Too damn long,” Dean jokes under his breath, but loud enough for several heads to turn in his direction. Maybe he had a beer too much, but watching Sam and Cas acting in love isn’t a thing he can handle sober.

“Two years,” Cas replies shortly, shooting angry glances at Dean. A second later, he mumbles to his guests again. “May you excuse me for a moment?”

Dean steps back, ready to hide from Castiel’s anger, but it doesn’t work. Barely a moment later, Cas is already in front of him. His hand closes tightly around Dean’s arm, keeping him from turning away.

“What’s the matter with you, Dean? You’re acting like a child,” Cas hisses when he catches him in the hallway. It’s enough to make Dean angry again, as he pulls his arm away from Castiel’s tight grip.

“The matter with me?” he shoots back. “This is honestly so ridiculous, you’re acting so…”

A middle-aged man bumps into them, and Dean stops talking immediately. There are far too many people around and if he says anything about the case, it could ruin their entire plan. The guests are spread all over the house, leaving no place to talk in private. Well, almost no place…

“We need to talk,” Dean whispers, before dragging the angel into the coat closet. Some curious eyes seem to follow them, but Dean shuts the door before anyone else can spot them. The closet is surprisingly spacious, but the walls seem to suffocate him. There’s a bit of light coming in through the shutters, and he can see the concern written all over Cas’s face.  

“What’s going on? Ever since Sam and I began working this case, you’ve been acting weird,” Cas presses on and Dean knows it’s finally time to come clean about his feelings. He doesn’t want to lose Castiel’s friendship, but he can’t keep lying anymore.

“I wish it were me,” Dean rushes before he can chicken out again. “Instead of Sam. I wish it were me you’re married to. And I know it’s all fake, and you’re just pretending, but it’s driving me insane. Watching him hold you and call you those cheesy pet names. Because - because it’s something I want to do with you…not pretending, but for real.”

Once Dean starts speaking, the words don’t seem to stop rushing from his mouth. Cas just regards him with those hauntingly blue eyes, his head tilted in a way that always makes Dean’s heart melt. When all is said, Dean feels like the air was punched out of his lungs, as he awaits his friend’s answer.

“Why didn’t you ever tell me?”

“Because I was too stupid to realize it for the longest time. And then I just didn’t know how to say it,” Dean admits. He came close to confessing in the diner, but Beth interrupted them and afterward, Dean felt ashamed and stupid.

“Dean,” Cas whispers. “I want those things too.”

There’s the beginning of a bright smile on Castiel’s face, and Dean swears his heart skips a beat when the words finally dawn on him. Before Dean can overthink the situation, he presses closer to the angel and is relieved when Cas is doing the same. And then their faces meet in the middle. Kissing Cas is the easiest thing in the world, it turns out. Whatever Dean was so afraid of, is right forgotten once their lips slot together.

It starts out innocent and gentle, just like the way relationships start. But then Cas opens his mouth a little bit, letting Dean lick inside and,  oh  – now things are getting heated. Dean presses even closer to Cas, their chests flushing together and their arms holding each other close. Somewhere, Cas’s back hits a wall and Dean pins him against it. The moan that falls from Cas’s lips is almost obscene while motivating Dean only further.

It’s perfect, and amazing, and breathtaking – until the closet door opens and they stumble onto the floor. Tammy’s surprised gasp draws everyone’s attention over to the couple, still entangled on top of each other on the floor. Everyone’s, even Sam’s.

“What the hell do you two think you are doing?” he yells loud enough to attract the entire house to the hallway, where they are watching them closely. Dean and Cas are still on the floor, slowly stumbling back to their feet.

“Sammy, I can explain…,” Dean starts, but now Sam turns his attention to Cas. He steps closer to them, his pointed finger slapping against Castiel’s chest.

“You’ve been screwing my brother?!” he yells, before locking eyes with Dean. “And you! Is this why Fernando broke up with me?”

Dean is taken aback for a second. Who the hell is Fernando? It’s only then when Dean remembers their lesser-used codewords. He can still recall how he wrote it down in his own leatherbound journal:  Fernando – just play along.

“This got nothing to do with Fernando, this is about me and Cas!” Dean replies with an angry voice, before taking Castiel’s palm into his own hands. Cas gives him a quick squeeze, and Dean decides to have at least a little fun with the situation.

“I finally understand now, why I was so against your marriage. Because you two don’t belong together! Your whole marriage is a scam! You act all perfectly happy when in reality, you’re not even sleeping in the same bed anymore.”

Dean can hear the people around them gasp a little. He wouldn’t be surprised if one of the elder people would end up with a heart attack due to all the fake drama being uncovered right now. Besides him, Cas draws in a deep breath, before speaking to his (fake) husband.  

“It’s true, Sam. I’ve been having feelings for your brother for a while now, but I never knew how to address them.”

Sam just looks at them with the biggest puppy eyes Dean’s ever seen. His time in drama club surely played out. “Are you two in love?”

Dean takes a deep breath, looking over to the familiar blue eyes, and the truth slips easily over his tongue.

“I think I love Cas more than I’ve ever loved myself.”

The look on Castiel’s face is everything and without even words, Dean knows he feels the exact same about him. The room is quiet around them, and from the corner of his eye, Dean spots Jennifer amongst the watchers. At least their little distraction worked well enough for her to stay.

“As your brother, I wish you all the happiness in the world,” Sam speaks, his eyes fixed in the distance. When Dean turns his head, he spots their mother coming in through the entrance door, breathing heavily but otherwise seems okay. She gives them both a small nod, signaling them she took care of the altar.

The crowd seems satisfied for the moment, and Dean is about to lead Cas out of the house when a voice stops them midway. It’s Jack, who is shouting loud enough for everyone to hear: “Sam, I am your secret son!”

The drama is enough to make at least one elder lady faint.

——————————————————————————————-

Dean and Cas depart soon enough, leaving Sam to deal with the rest of the concerned neighbors. Everybody seems to be too caught up in the drama to notice their quiet leave. They end up back in the diner, this time holding hands on the table. Surprisingly, everything feels the same and yet, completely different than before. Dean can’t put it in words, but for the first time in years, he knows he’s truly happy.

It takes a bit of time for Sam to finally text him, saying his guests finally left them alone and they can come back to talk about their next steps. When the Impala roars down the road, Dean can feel the eyes of every household staring at them. They are probably wondering why he would be back so soon enough, but Dean doesn’t care. He just holds Cas’ hand on the way to the house, fully knowing he won the grand prize.

Jack and Mary greet them happily, and even Sam can’t hide his grin as he approaches his brother. “Well, if it isn’t the homewrecker himself.”

“Come on, I bet several of your neighbors would have consoled you all night long, if you had asked them,” Dean shoots back, throwing a wink at Sam. He remembers the way one of the ladies had clung to Sam’s arm, trying her best to cheer him up about his failed marriage.

They all settle in the living room: Cas and Dean on the couch, Mary and Sam seated in each of the armchairs, and Jack sitting cross-legged on the floor. It may not be much, but it’s their own little screwed-up family. While Sam gets them beers from the fridge, Dean considers putting his arm around Cas. They haven’t had time to label their relationship yet, but they’re both too old to play games. So, Dean decides to go with his gut and wraps his arm around Castiel’s shoulder. The returned smile lets him know it was a good decision.

“Sorry for the way I acted earlier, it was just for show,” Sam says when he passes the beer over to the couple. “I’m actually glad you two finally figured things out.”

“Me too,” Mary chimes in with a laugh. “Even though I was patiently waiting for your back-up at the house.”

“Bet you still did an amazing job without me,” Dean returns, an honest smile on his lips. He holds his beer towards her, and she clinks it with her own.

Sam fills them in with the details of the last hours, and how he watched Jennifer leave her home in a panicked state. She packed a few bags, before driving away with screeching tires. Well, another case successfully solved. They talk for hours while laughing about stories and eating the leftovers from the party.

“Damn, I could really use some sleep now,” Dean yawns, stretching his arms. A short glance at the clock lets him know it’s almost 2 am and they gotta hit the road early the next day.

“How about you two head to the motel, and Jack and Mom stay here?” Sam proposes. When Dean checks on Jack, the kid is curled up in his seat, snoring quietly. No way they’re going to move him somewhere else, so this plan might be for the best.

“You just want me to stay, so your neighbors see this pretty lady leave your house tomorrow,” Mary jokes, earning some quiet hollering from her elder son and a laugh from Castiel.

“Guess we’re heading back to the motel,” Dean finally decides, before clumsily standing up from the couch. If it weren’t for the awful neighbors, this place might actually be nice. The furniture for one thing is comfortable enough. And the closet sure gave him a few ideas what to do with Cas in the future. He takes a few steps towards the door until he notices something is missing. “Cas, you coming?”

“You want me to come along?” Cas asks, and Dean just nods.

“Of course, would be weird to stay with your husband now that you scored the hotter brother,” Dean replies, pressing a gentle kiss on Castiel’s cheek. He never knew angels could blush, but it’s a sight he will never get enough of.

“We’ll pick you up tomorrow at nine, better be dressed!” Sam shouts after them when Dean is already halfway out of the door.

“You’re such a buzzkill, Sammy. No wonder your husband left you”

“I’m just glad you’re finally out of the closet,” Sam shoots back with a grin. Dean already knows it’s a joke he’ll hear a thousand times in the upcoming years, but when he looks over at Cas, it sure is a price worth paying.

The drive to the motel is rather short, and soon enough, Dean unlocks the door to his room. Luckily, he had booked a room with a king-size bed. He rarely had a room for himself during hunts, so he had decided to enjoy that. Cas closes the door behind them, while Dean strips out of his flannel and his jeans. He’s still wearing a shirt and his boxers, but compared to a fully dressed Castiel, he almost looks naked.

When Dean comes near him, the angel wraps his arms around his torso and pulls him even closer. Once again, their lips meet in a kiss, growing more heated by the second. It’s with a sigh that Dean slowly pulls away again.

“Maybe we should take it slow, honey. How about we just cuddle tonight?” Dean murmurs, pressing gentle kisses along his jaw. The exhaustion of the day lies heavily on Dean’s bones, and all he wants to do is cuddle into bed, his lover beside him.

“Honey?” Cas asks with a raised eyebrow, and Dean feels himself blushing yet again.

“It’s just – every time I see a bee or something, I have to think about you,” he admits. “Remember how you collected honey yourself? Or when you showed up covered in bees?”

Cas smiles at the memory. “Of course, I remember, but why would you bring that up now?”

“It’s just a term of endearment, a pet name. I can stop if you want”

Dean was never a big fan of pet names. He usually called his partners by their names, not some silly phrase. But then again, he was the one who turned  Castiel  to  Cas,  so maybe the angel has always been the exception for him.

“No, I like it,” Cas decides, before pressing another quick peck onto Dean’s lips. “And I am fully contempt with cuddling you.”

After some discussion about clothing choices, Cas also strips down to his underwear. Cuddling in jeans and a dress shirt would have been awful, and Dean luckily managed to convince the angel of it. The bed is more than big enough for the both of them, as they lie facing each other in the dark.

“We should make you a proper Winchester someday,” Dean mutters, gently kissing Cas’s knuckles. He isn’t thinking about marriage, not yet at least. Most marriages he’s seen over the years ended in death: his parents, Bobby and his wife Karen, Ellen and her husband…The list goes on and on, including those couples they couldn’t save during their hunts. When he saw his own father stricken with grief for his lost wife, part of Dean swore he’d never marry. But then again, Dean never would have believed he’d ever live past the age of 30. It’s with a smile upon his lips that he finally falls asleep.

All his life, he expected monsters in every dark corner, and more than enough times Dean was proven right. He’s been long enough in the business to smell danger from miles away, Dean believes. Which is why he’s surprised to wake up to the sound of Castiel shouting his name.

When he opens his eyes, all he sees is purple. The room seems to be painted in the color, reflecting on every surface possible. And in the middle of it all stands Jessica, glaring at them with violet and angry eyes.

“You! You really thought destroying my altar was enough to stop me?”

Dean’s hand finds its way under his pillow but returns empty-handed. He must have forgotten to place it there, too caught up with his lover. And when he looks around, he can spot his faithful gun sitting on top of a dresser, which is inconveniently placed behind the wrathful witch in the room. Cas is already standing beside the bed, and the sight of a half-dressed angel ready to fight would be hilarious if it weren’t for the mortal danger they’re in.

“You’re an abomination,” Jessica yells again. “Dirty and sinful, and…”

The angel blade hits her right in the chest. Her purple eyes glance downwards, where the blood comes rushing out of her body. Apparently, she was so caught up in looking dangerous, she actually forgot to ward herself. And with Castiel’s heavenly aim, that could only end deadly for her. Jessica sinks to her knees; the purple flashes of lightning slowly disappearing from the room. It’s only then when Dean decides to approach her. Blood is running down her mouth, but she’s still alive, watching the hunter carefully as he kneels down in front of her.

“I’ve had a voice like you in my head my entire life, whispering awful things about myself,” Dean tells her, keeping eye contact as he pulls the angel blade out of her bleeding chest. “But now, that I’m finally happy, do you know what happens to this voice?”

Jessica doesn’t answer, and he doesn’t need her to.

He would have slit her throat either way. 

———————————————————————————————

“Welcome to Sunday Brunch, Agnes,” Sarah announces, as the women settle down at her dinner table. It’s been a while since they had another brunch, but it was long-awaited. Today, a new face sits at the table with them.

“So sad Jennifer decided to move away, but we are glad we got you in the neighborhood now.”

“Thanks for having me,” Agnes replies with a shy smile, as she glances around at the other women. “It’s wonderful to have such nice and caring neighbors, my old neighborhood was so scandalous…”

“Scandalous?” Irene laughs, shaking her head in disbelief. “Oh dear, you ain’t seen nothing yet!”

“Are you referring to the Winchester?” Tammy replies while stirring her tea. It’s been weeks since those men came and went, but it’s still everyone’s favorite topic of discussion.

“Don’t be silly, of course I mean the Winchesters!”

Beth releases a deep sigh. “I’ve heard they did it right in Dean’s fancy car after the party.”

“No, they threw Sam out of the house and then had sex in the bed Sam used to sleep in. How tasteless of them,” Sarah corrects her immediately.

“That can’t be.” It’s Tammy’s turn to speak now. “I saw him the next day with a blonde woman in front of the house”

“Guess he got over it quickly then,” some other woman giggles. “Have you seen the kid too? Sam can’t have been older than maybe 25 when he was born”

Agnes just smiles quietly, as she listens to the stories. She may not know the Winchesters, but they sure are entertaining as heck.

———————————————————————————————

Castiel becomes a Winchester on a sunny day in July.

It’s been months since the case that started their relationship, and they never spared another thought to those nosy neighbors. Dean suspects the rumors they started that night, but he couldn’t care less. Once the town disappeared from the Impala’s rearview mirror, none of them ever spared another thought to the neighborhood. Dean and Castiel couldn’t be happier, and that’s all that matters to them.

Jody invited all of them to her cabin at Lake Alvin, just outside of Sioux Falls. They are celebrating Claire’s graduation from college, and Dean couldn’t be prouder of the kid. He talks Cas into buying her the cheesiest greeting card they can find, paired with the most beautiful gun in the entire bunker. It’s got engravings all over and Dean even finds somebody who puts “C.N.” onto the side of it. He would rather have Claire live a normal life, but he knows it’s not going to happen.

It appears like everybody in the hunter community got the invitation: Sam and Eileen, Mary, Donna, the Banes twins, even Garth and Bess together with their kids. It’s not often hunters get to celebrate something, so everybody immediately jumped the opportunity. It’s a beautiful day, and at some point, Dean finds himself standing next to Claire.

“So, when you gonna put a ring on it?” she asks, nodding over to Castiel, who is chasing his little namesake all over the lawn in a playful game. Dean’s heart swells at the thought of this man being his husband. They hunt less and less these days, especially since Sam decided to move in with Eileen. It’s still a secret, but he and Cas recently bought a house in the same street as them. It might finally be time to leave the hunting life behind.

“There’s no rush,” Dean simply answers, trying his best not to settle on the thought. If he’d ever marry someone, it probably would be Cas. His eyes are still fixed on the laughing figure when Claire continues speaking.

“Whatever, old man. But if you ever want to tie the knot, just call me,” she says, shrugging with her shoulder. When Dean looks at her with a raised eyebrow, she continues. “I’m actually a licensed officiant, not that it would matter for you two anyways. Could marry you just like that –“

She snaps her fingers, before taking a gulp of her soda. Dean looks over to Cas again, his thoughts running in his head. What if…? The idea seems insane to him, but Claire seems to catch his thoughts. A smile breaks over her face: “Go ahead, dude. Just ask him.”

“Don’t want to steal your thunder, kid.”

“There would be no thunder without you,” she confesses, and Dean can’t help but pull her into a tight hug. He never expected to have kids, but he loves Claire just like his own blood. Her first weeks in college were rough, he remembers. But every time she came close to quitting, she’d call Dean. At this point, she’s just as much his kid as Jack, and he couldn’t be prouder of the people they’ve become.

When they step apart, Claire pulls a necklace from her neck. Two golden rings are connected on it, and Dean immediately knows who they belonged to.

“Here, this one should fit,” she says and presses the larger ring into his shaking hands. Dean mutters an honest thanks, smacking a gentle kiss on her forehead, before sprinting over the lawn.

“Hey Cas, can we talk for a moment?”

“You’re not dragging me into a closet again, are you?” Castiel laughs, but willingly follows his boyfriend a few feet away from the crowd.

“If I remember correctly, you rather enjoyed that…,” Dean counters with a grin, before kissing the angel gently. Cas is still smiling against his lips, and Dean pulls away with a deep breath.

“I have an idea…well, actually Claire had the idea, but I think it’s kinda awesome. And since everyone we love is already here, it would just be such a good opportunity and…”

“Dean,” Cas simply says, putting a stop to Dean’s blabbering.

“Will you marry me? Tonight? I know, you actually deserve a much better proposal and a wedding that doesn’t take place in flannel, but I love you so very very much”

Dean’s stammered words are silenced by a loving kiss. When they pull apart, Cas is smiling brighter than the sun.

“I’ve adored you ever since the moment I touched your soul in hell, of course, I’ll marry you”

The biggest smile flashes over Dean’s face, and Cas returns it just as much. A moment later, a loud shout draws their attention over to the cabin, where Claire is cheering in a way, that reminds them far too much of Dean. And when they tell everyone else, the mood just keeps going up.

It’s not a traditional wedding, but then again, their whole lives aren’t exactly normal. Jack insists on being the flower girl, even though Dean and Sam try their best to correct it to “flower-boy”. The music comes from a beaten-up boombox, which plays “November Rain” on repeat and the couple agrees not to exchange vows, deciding to wait with them until they can talk privately.

Dean’s hands shake when he slips the ring onto Castiel’s finger. It’s only now that he realizes they only got one ring, but before Dean can freak out, the angel pulls another golden band from his pocket.

“Where did you get that ring from?” Dean asks, and Cas casts a glance over to Jody, who is currently trying to stop crying. They barely knew her husband, and sometimes Dean still feels a pinch of guilt they couldn’t save him. The ring, he knows, is not only a final peace offering but an official invitation to the family. Dean shoots her a thankful smile, and she just nods in return.

“Speak now, or forever hold your peace,” Claire announces from the front, but the crowd remains luckily silent.

“We’ve been waiting for ages, no way we’re going to object now,” Sam shoots from the side, making everybody laugh. If Dean wasn’t close to bawling his eyes out, he’d probably throw a witty remark at his brother.

“Well then,” Claire says, clearly holding tears back herself. “I shall pronounce you officially hitched!”

Everyone cheers when Cas pulls Dean in a kiss, marking the beginning of a new chapter. The rest of the evening passes in a blur: they dance, they sing, Sam proposes to Eileen, Claire and Kaia finally get together, and Dean and Cas once again find themselves fooling around in a closet. But it’s perfect in every way.

Not every family contains of two parents and a bunch of kids. For them, family contains of two washed-up hunters, their time-traveling mom, a badass Irish huntress, a fallen angel, the devil’s son, and dozens of other people they got to know over the years. Bobby once told Dean, family don’t end in blood, but it doesn’t start there either.

And as Dean watches his happy and fucked-up family, his hand tightly holding onto his husband, he just knows truer words were never spoken.

[nitronarco]

Interaction: Stewing In Salt

Because fuck it might as well post pieces of my writing somewhere. I might clean up some of my old ones and post here because they are plot/relationship relevant.

Context: After chpt 4 and James slowly floating away from Azul in every type of interaction besides business, Azul decides to “be the adult” in the relationship and come off as domineering as possible in hopes of opening a discussion (well not exactly, but you know how Azul is). Because good lord James being honest about anything is rarer than a pig flying. It elevates the cycle of James avoiding him to not end up saying something harsh and Azul pushing harder. Inside he’s cracking about losing James, inside he’s more hard to read until...

It blew up. Ruggie told Azul for a few bucks the places James runs off to after work specifically to avoid him. Perhaps it was the fact LEONA of all people was allowing James off hours “sanctuary” in return for James being his other “henchmen”, or James showing with his behavior to everyone else clearly Azul can’t control his “subordinates”--thus smearing his reputation, but it blew up. OctaTrio came to Savannaclaw to get James back, and it wasn’t pretty. Azul felt even more humiliated; Leona laughed at how he can’t keep a “boyfriend”, and the event of having to chase James around the dorm became the week’s gossip.

Do you see what I’m getting at? Azul when attached, shows off his worst traits. And boy is he attached to James.

And he hates/loves it. What a rush.

If only James would not do these things in front of others.

This is after the big event.

"Hey Ruggie, entertain me for a second, please?" "Hmm?" Ruggie absentmindedly stirred a pot, enjoying the scent of steamed carrots and onions as they mixed in with the broth. Man, he's hungry. Good thing James showed up to help him pass the time, or he'd eat before it's done. He glanced to the male standing behind him to show his interest."Shoot, James, your formality is showing." "Shit, really?" James tone was heard in mock surprise. "I've been working non-stop at the tutoring center, so that explains it." Ruggie shook his head, rolling his eyes and smirking."Excuses, excuses, just tell me whats on your mind." "Okay, but when you have fished, did you ever talk to the fish?" "Pft-is this what we're talking about?" He eyed the bottles of spices before grabbing cinnamon and shaking it over the pot. "Whether I have or haven't been sadistic to the fish I've eaten?" "It's not just about you and the fish, but about every prey animal you ever encountered. Did they ever talk back? Plead for their life? Think about it Ruggie, we can make money off of this somehow." "See, your brain goes to weird places sometimes, but I love it. Before I learned animal language I couldn't understand anything except 'stay away' and "I'll stand my ground', and those were from body language, not words." He hesitated, staring at the finished broth before scooping out a plateful using a ladle, adding a garnish, and handing it to James. "Thanks, man." "Yeah, no problem. Anyway,"as Ruggie scooped out another plateful for himself, he tabbed this act of kindness to his list of returned payments, and eyed James to let him know as such. James got the hint, meeting his gaze straight on and smiling before taking a seat at the table nearby. "after getting into NRC the fish during the training camp seemed more...alive to me. The squirrels wouldn't shut up about Floyd either. I swear it feels like a hex to know more." Ruggie sat next to him, chin on hand and elbow on the table as he took a slurp of his soup. "But knowledge is power, Ruggie." James laughed."Which is how were going to get money out of those animals." "Tell me big-brain." Ruggie already let his mind wander to future piles of madol lying at his feet. James was mad, but he certainly had some logic behind his creativity. Though something nagged at the bottom of his mind... What part did Azul have in this? He and James are business partners. "Well big-brain thinks that we can dam a river and have the salmon swim upstream for any jewels they find." "What next? Asking any beacons if they need a real-estate agent?" He felt himself grin, and James grinned back."Yup, so no one can break the dam without moral dilemma." "Genius, so i'm guessing you want my animal language expertise alongside yours." "Yes." "What about Azul?" James expression changed. "What about him?" "Arent you business partners?" Ruggie squinted at him, his face inches closer than before. James was frowning, perplexed, but with the the elephant in the room addressed it changed again. A scowl. "Were not on good terms. Did you hear about Jamil?" His face relaxed, and he nodded."Course I did. You and Azul got into an argument, i'm guessing...about him? And that's why your avoiding him?" "Azul said he expected 'better' from me, and thought I wanted to kill Jamil out of pure jealousy." "But you were jealous." "But not to that extent!" James looked to Ruggie pleadingly, but then down at the soup."I felt like a child being told off by their dad through everything. It's tiring, Ruggie." Ruggie glanced away, tapping his spoon against the side of his dish. Damn, what a pair.He stopped, and glanced back to James."Does he know that?""..." James bit his lip."Does he know that, James?""...I expected him to. He always talks about how smart is.""That's dumb.""...Maybe, but if he cared, he would have tried to understand me before this point."Ruggie shrugged before pointing the spoon at James. "Fair enough...but has he tried now?""...""I've seen him confronting you a lot. Why?""He...wants to know what he did wrong.""To do what?""To make it better." James slurped some of his own soup."Then why are you still arguing with him? Fuck James, he's trying to talk to you, and you push him away!"James squeezed his spoon, his voice rising. "But what if I don't want to fix it? What if I want to leave this ambiguous relationship behind?""Then tell him that. I don't know what you want, and I feel you don't either. Look at yourself first, and then talk to him." Ruggie stood up. "My time is up. I gotta get something for Leona from town.""...Are you mad at me?""...No, just frustrated." Ruggie let out a breath he didn't realize he held. "Now come on, we can look at the rivers and figure out which one to block on the way there. Right?"                        "...Duh."

[etn-story-archive]

Enter the Nomicon - Chapter 3: Awkward is the Word of the Day

.

“H-hey Howard. Our friend Nomi came by and we wanted you to come over and, uh, try out that new online version of Grave Puncher! You said the graphics were the cheese, so Nomi wants to play with us!" In a quick and desperate attempt for Howard not to raise any questions, Randy looped an arm around Nomi's neck and pulled him closer with a large nervous grin. 

Of course, Nomi had to bite back the instinct to pull away, twist his arm behind his back and pin him to the ground like he had been taught to. He felt that they looked extremely stupid like this.

Fortunately, Howard had gotten the hint.

"Oh—yeah! I completely forgot! Heidi, I'm gonna go. Have fun cleaning the house while I bounce!"

Without waiting for her response, the three dashed out of the house in a blur while Heidi threw a tantrum.

...

"Alright Cunningham, who is this guy?"

The three slowed to a walk. Randy panted, trying to catch his breath as he replied in between inhales and exhales.

"It's...a really long...story...wait...my...room."

As they quietly walked to Randy's house, Howard stole glances at the red haired teen. He had to admit, the guy was pretty damn handsome.

Well, maybe not like Cunningham—

There he was again, thinking those strange, forbidden thoughts. He couldn't help it though. Love was a strange, morbid thing that blinded those with its sweet alluring song. And this was certainly no exception, as Howard found himself slowing just enough so he could stare at his friend's butt. When he looked up he realized he had been caught by their apparent new friend. His cheeks heated up, but the male simply looked away as if in deep thought.

There has never been a time where Randy was ever quiet. He was always chatting with Howard. He felt awkward, standing between the other boys, for some unknown reason, and it bugged Randy, so he decided to break the ice. 

"So, Nomi, do you play any instruments? I m-mean, besides the flute?"

Howard turned to the other male who gave him a dark look, which unsettled him.

"Yes. My father taught us that music was as important as education. I learned on my own how to play most of the common instruments like the piano, violin, guitar, clarinet, and even the drums. I know a few pieces of certain songs, but the instrument I play most commonly, as you would have guessed, is the flute." 

With that, the male pulled out the flute from his pocket and began to play the sweet, familiar melody. It created a calm, almost lazy atmosphere.

Howard felt an oddly natural sense of comfort.

Suddenly, Nomi stopped.

"Sorry. Got a little carried away." He muttered, but Randy stopped him.

"Nah dude, that was totally Bruce!!"

Howard simply nodded, still unsure of the stranger that walked with them. The redhead smiled before continuing to play the rest of the way to Randy's house.

...

As soon as Randy shut and locked the door to his room, he was almost literally mauled by Howard's questions.

"Okay Cunningham, who is this guy?!" The short chubby teen pointed at Nomi, who didn’t seem to care about what was going on.

"Howard, this is the Nomicon."

There was a moment of silence, before,

“WHAT?!”

"Yeah, it’s a long story. But apparently the Sorcerer is going to escape, which is why Nomi revealed his human persona to me and you. I guess it’s because he's going to fight the Sorcerer, while I take on Mcfist!" Randy had repeated the whole conversation between him and the human Nomicon in a single breath and was breathing heavily under his friend's stern look.

"Wow, you really are in deep now."

Randy groaned, flopping exhaustedly onto his bed and burying his face in his pillow. He screamed into it.

"Well, now that we're done with introducing each other, I'm going to meditate." With that, Nomi began to disappear into a smoky red mist before a book appeared where he had once been standing. 

"Whoa-ho ho! That is the cheese!" 

...

Time flew by and before the boys even realized it, the sun had gone down.

"Crud. Heidi is going to tell Mom that I’ve been out too late and get me grounded."

Randy barely heard his friend as he concentrated hard on the game in front of him. "Uh-huh. Have fun."

Howard grinned. "So, do you like ketchup and peanut butter sandwiches?" 

"Duh."

"Are you in a porno?"

"I made it."

"Are you gay?"

"WHAT THE JUICE!?"

Howard nearly fell backwards as Randy stood up still, staring at the computer screen. "That’s not fair! I punched that grave to bits!" Randy turned to see his friend staring at him. "What?"

"Nothing."

"Okay then...oh, hey dude, it's almost nine. You better go or Heidi is going to get you grounded again."

Howard face palmed.

...

As Randy came back upstairs after walking Howard to the front door, he found the Nomicon was back to his human form. He was meditating in the middle of his room.

"Hey Nomi, my mom's gonna be here any minute, so you better hide again."

The redhead opened one eye lazily. "Okay. I guess I've done enough for today." He stood and stretched, but was cut off by the sound of Randy's stomach rumbling. He raised a brow.

"You haven't eaten?"

"Nope. I usually just eat an apple or something. Maybe chips I guess. My mom doesn't have time to cook. And I don’t know how to cook." Randy simply shrugged.

"Well then, I guess I can make you something really quick."

...

Randy watched in awe as Nomi sliced and diced a few vegetables in less than ten seconds, cook rice in record time, and slice a small salmon fillets into perfect slices.

Randy realized he was preparing him a small dish of sushi.

Suddenly, a small plate was pushed to him. On top was six salmon rolls sprinkled with sesame seeds. Nomi leaned casually against the opposite side of the kitchen counter from Randy. He watched him expectantly, almost eager to see what Randy thought of his cooking.

Realizing this, he picked up a roll and popped it into his mouth.

It tasted...amazing! Delicious! Flavorful! There was an endless amount of words that Randy could use to describe the little salmon rolls, but didn't care to say them aloud as he happily stuffed them into his mouth, barely remembering to swallow and thank the redhead.

"Wow! Thanks dude! It's really good!"

Nomi gave him a small smile. He was internally jumping up and down with pride. He smirked.

"Your first lesson is to close your mouth when eating." He gestured to his open mouth. The purple haired teen rolled his eyes before doing as his teacher had said.

Suddenly the sound of the doorknob jiggling caught both of their attentions. Nomi was just about to turn back into his book form when the front door slammed open to reveal an exhausted looking Ms. Cunningham.

"Oh! I had no idea you were spending the night, er—Nomi!"

Instantly he relaxed and gave a respectful bow. "Y-yes, I am, if that isn't too much trouble."

"Oh none at all! Hey, how come Howard isn't here, Randy?"

"Uh, he had to go home. Heidi busted him." It wasn't a complete lie at the very least.

"Hm. That's too bad." Just then, her green eyes landed on the single roll that sat innocently on the plate in front of Randy. Without question, she picked it up and put it in her mouth.

"Mmm. You’re not a bad cook, Nomi,” said Ms. Cunningham. “Well, I'm going to bed. Randy, you two better not stay up later than twelve or I swear I'll skin you alive, mister!" Ms. Cunningham made her way to her room.

The two looked at each other, even Nomi being alarmed, before darting upstairs. Unbeknownst to them, the woman poked her head out of her room and smirked before going back inside.

...

"That was inhuman dude, inhuman!"

Nomi nodded with wide eyes. How could she have known that he had made those rolls? He shook his head.

"That was...inhuman."

Randy laughed as he pulled out a blanket, pillow, and a large mattress. Nomi raised a curious brow.

"Uh Randy, you do realize I don't need a bed, right? I can just make myself a book again."

"No! I mean, no, you don't have to, dude. You made me food, so I wanted to return the favor. And besides, sometimes Mom checks in on me at night. She'll grow suspicious if she doesn't see you here asleep." 

"Ah, I see."

Once again, Randy found himself searching in the sea of clothes for some comfortable pajamas for his teacher. He found a pair of shorts. He was about to continue searching for a shirt when Nomi stopped him.

"That's fine Randy. I usually sleep without a shirt."

"Oh. Okay." He handed Nomi the black pair of shorts.

...

Once again it was morning, and the powerful rays of the sun sliced through, hitting Randy's eyes. He groaned.

“I really need to get new curtains...”

He blinked and found that the extra mattress was gone, and only Nomi was left. He was sitting in the middle of his room...meditating.

A sly grin came upon Randy's face as he hopped to his feet with great stealth, marker in hand, but just as he was about to draw on him, Nomi spoke.

"Don't even think about it, Randy. Unless you want to be missing a few limbs."

Startled, Randy jumped and tossed the marker away. "What? I was just going to see if you were awake!"

"Well I am. Now let's get started on training."

Randy groaned. "Aw, come on Nomi, it's the weekend!"

"A ninja's duty is never not done just because it's the weekend, and besides, this will be fun. We're going to the woods to practice your stealth skills. Right now, you’re as stealthy as an elephant with four left feet."

"Hey! I have awesome stealth skills! I just haven't warmed up yet!"

"Alright then. Let's go to the woods and see just how ‘awesome’ your skills are."

"Fine."

...

The sweet scent of pine hit their noses the second they took a step into the small woods.

Randy dropped his gym bag, which was filled with bottles of water, a first aid kit, and his ninja mask. He reached inside, grabbing the said mask and briskly put it on, turning into the famous Norrisville High Ninja.

"Alright. So what are we doing first?"

In swift and quick movements, Nomi removed his casual clothing to reveal his ninja like suit. He pulled the strange black cape out of his gym bag and placed it on. The small green clip that rested on his chest glowed in the dim light of the forest. Randy was in awe.

"For one thing, we need to meditate for one hour—"

"Aw, that's so wonk, Nomicon!"

"It's necessary! You have to learn to be patient. A direct attack will only get you attacked—"

"Can you please stop using riddles? It's kind of unnecessary."

Nomi face palmed, pinching the bridge of his nose. Was this kid really that dumb? "Honestly Randy, are you seriously questioning me? I’m your teacher, you’re my student. I may be biologically your age, but that doesn't mean I’m a child like you. You have to listen to me. Now, I'm very patient, luckily for you. If not, I would have twisted you into a pretzel, or whatever it is you call it. So, without anymore interruptions, let us get on with the lesson, yes?"

“I’m not a child,” Randy muttered, before agreeing to let the lesson start.

They began to meditate. Sort of. Most of the time, Randy wouldn’t keep his mouth shut.

"Are we done yet?"

"No."

"How about now?"

"No."

"What about now?"

"No."

"Now?”

"Dammit, Randy! NO!" Nomi finally stood up. "You know what? Fine. Yes, we’re done.”

“YES!”

Nomi shook his head. “Let's begin with the warm ups."

Randy grinned. “So what are we—"

Suddenly a fist flew towards Randy. He managed to dodge it just in time. He snapped his head towards his teacher, who held a sly smirk.

"Now the real fun begins."

Randy gulped. Uh-oh. "Uh, hey Nomi, w-what are we doing?"

"Warm ups. When you successfully land a punch on me, we will begin the true lesson."

Randy's eyes widened in sudden fear as a barrage of fists came flying at him. The fists barely missed their target.  Randy tried to desperately dodge, duck, and zip past each and every one of them.

"Oof!"

Randy fell on his butt. As he got punched in the stomach, he quickly got up and jumped away, barely escaping Nomi's deadly left hook. Finally, Randy boldly ducked and threw a punch, only for it to get blocked and thrown right back at his face. "Ouch!"

He looked up to see the deep concentration written all over his teacher's face.

“I have to break that concentration!”

With renewed energy, he bobbed and weaved under and over.

"You look like you're getting tired there." Randy teased. The two kept aiming and dodging punches. "Tired!?"

For a brief second, Nomi’s concentration seemed to drop so much that the left hook that was certain to have hit Randy missed and punched the tree behind him. Their noses were so close they could feel each other's heavy breathing.

Realization hit the two as Nomi had pinned Randy against the tree. It took Nomi a second too late before suddenly Randy's fist hit him hard in the chest, knocking him off balance.

"Gah!"

Nomi fell on his butt. He stared up in surprise before it melted into a smirk. 

"Well, you caught me off guard. I guess you win. Now on with—"

"Ahaha! I got you! I just punched the ninja book! Haha! Wow!"

"That maybe true, but I did get you at least a dozen times."

Instantly, Randy's boasting ceased, and a pout replaced the victorious grin upon his face. Nomi chuckled at the quick change of demeanor on his student's face.

"Shall we begin the stealth lesson, Ninja?"

The mocking tone did not go unnoticed by Randy.

He bitterly replied, "Yes."

...

"Uh, where exactly am I?" Randy had been blindfolded.

"You see, Ninja, stealth has different aspects to it. Today we're going to practice sight and hearing. You will be blocking my attacks without knowing where I'll be coming from. After you, it will be I who will be blocking your attacks. Understood?"

"Yup."

Unknown to Randy, they were standing in a small clearing hidden and surrounded by tall pine trees. Nomi smirked as he pulled out his bamboo flute. He placed his hands on each end before pulling it, causing it to extend into a long wooden staff. Oh yes, this was going to be so Bruce.

There was a rustling sound in the bushes. A pause, then the sound rejuvenated in another area. Randy's left hand shot out, ready to block the oncoming attack, only to be hit on his right side.

"Ah!"

Suddenly, a barrage of attacks came out of nowhere. He successfully blocked some of them, but most of the time he was getting smacked around like a ragdoll.

"Gah! Okay, time out! Time out!"

"There are no time outs, Cunningham. The Sorcerer is a relentless enemy and will be hell bent on killing you. Be happy that this is just training and not an actual battle."

"I don't care! Timeout!" 

Nomi huffed as he finally ceased fire. Randy removed the blindfold.

"C'mon, I know the Sorcerer is all tough and shit, but seriously, do you have to beat me with a stick?!" He gestured to the long bamboo staff in Nomi’s hand.

"Well, what would you like me to do then? Throw rocks and boulders at your head? Because if you want—"

"NO! No way! I think I prefer the stick!" He snatched the staff from Nomi's hand. "Anyway, it's my turn!"

An entire hour passed with Randy swinging and flailing the stick at the other male. With ease, Nomi dodged each slow and exhausted swing.

"I...I almost got you that time..." Randy said, panting pathetically. "Almost..."

Finally, out of pure luck, and the fact that Nomi was getting bored, the end of the bamboo staff tapped his arm rather softly. Randy collapsed onto the forest floor with Nomi hovering over him with an amused and concerned look.

"Are you okay?" He almost felt guilty for tiring him out this much. Almost.

"Y-yeah..." Randy moaned pitifully.

Nomi sighed, almost relieved. "Well, that's enough training for one day." 

"Wait, how are you not tired!?"

"I have a lot of endurance, something you human beings don’t have. Even with the ninja suit, it doesn't mean you have the endurance to go on forever. I guess we're going to have to fix that. Tomorrow we're going jogging around the entire block. Also, I'm technically a book. I don't need all the necessities you need."

"Like going to the bathroom?" Randy got up with the help of Nomi. Nomi gave him a curious look. It was obviously a question that has been on his mind for a while.

"Yes...I don't really need to go. I can hold it for...a hundred or so years."

Randy stared at him. Nomi shrugged as he picked up the gym bag, pulling out a bottle of water and tossing it to Randy, who barely managed to catch it. Nomi pulled out one for himself and began to chug it down. He wiped his mouth and let out a small sigh.

"But, there are things I still need. Like water."

Suddenly, a small rumble was heard. Both Randy and Nomi looked down at Nomi's stomach.

"And food...I don't really need it like going to the bathroom. I can go almost an entire one hundred years without a bite to eat."

"When was the last time you ate exactly?"

"Err, 1920? Yes, somewhere along that time."

"What the juice Nomi! Yeah, no shit you're hungry! C'mon, maybe Mom's home so she can make you something to eat!"

In truth, Nomi hadn't eaten since 1816, but he felt it wasn’t important to bring it up. Nomi was, however, surprised by Randy's concern for him. After all, the past ninjas who he had revealed himself to simply shrugged it off and didn't seem to care after he said he didn't need food or any of the other necessities. That didn't seem to matter to Randy as he pulled off the ninja mask, placing it in the old gym bag along with the bottle of water.

Nomi was actually touched by Randy's kindness. 

Randy grasped Nomi's hand as they took off in a brisk jog and in less than a couple minutes they arrived back at his home.

"Crud! If my mom sees you in your ninja suit she's going to ask about it. You think you can take it off?"

But of course Randy wasn’t perfect.

Nomi rolled his eyes. “Why didn't you tell me in the forest?"

"Err, brain fart?"

"I can tell."

Sighing, Nomi dug out his casual clothes from his bag in Randy's other hand before going into some bushes to change. Randy rubbed his neck and turned away. About a minute later, Nomi came out of the large green shrubs, sporting his casual clothing and his ninja clothing in his arm. Leaves and twigs were poking out of his now messy hair. Randy stifled a laugh.

"What?"

"Your hair...” Randy said in between laughs. “...dude...your hair..."

Nomi blinked. With his free arm, he felt his hair, realizing the mess that was now in his hair. He furrowed his brow and plucked them all out of his hair. He walked past Randy, who couldn’t stop laughing.

"Oh god...I'm sorry!...Haha! Okay, okay I'll stop...” Randy snickered loudly. He was trying very hard to stop laughing, but it took a minute to get himself together again. “Okay, now I'm done." Randy wiped at a stray tear as he let out a sigh before opening the door and letting Nomi in.

As fate would have it, Randy's mom wasn't home.

"Hehe, whoops." He gave Nomi a small nervous shrug. Nomi gave him a dark look before plopping down onto a chair by the counter. His stomach growled, reminding the two why they had left the woods in the first place. Randy looked through the wooden cabinets before pulling out two Mcfist's Cup-O-Noodles. Nomi raised a brow before remembering that Mcfist owned literally everything besides the city and the people themselves in Norrisville. 

He watched with curiosity as Randy opened one cup and poured water in from the distilled water machine. When he was done, he opened the black microwave and placed the cup in the center, typed on the control pad three minutes, and closed it shut. Instantly, the microwave came to life and began cooking the noodles, rotating it. Nomi watched in silent awe, but was caught off by Randy.

"So uh, Nomi?"  

The redhead blinked and turned to Randy, who was eyeing something on his cape. It was the green ninja head shaped relic.

"Yes?" He watched as he rubbed his finger over it. He would never tell Randy, but as he rubbed the relic, Nomi felt it was soothing and strange, very strange.

"What is that thing?" He was oblivious to his teacher's emotions, never taking his eyes off the relic.

"It's my life essence. It binds me to the book and my other belongings, so when I turn into my human form I come out wearing clothes." 

Randy nearly dropped the said relic, but before he could reply back a ding was heard, interrupting their suddenly awkward conversation.

"Uh, your soup is ready." Randy pulled out the cup, which was hot. The smell of the cooked noodles filled their nostrils. He placed the cup in front of Nomi before grabbing a fork and handing it to him. 

Randy quickly went to work on his own soup, putting it into the microwave.

"Oh, careful with the soup, Nomi. It’s really hot."

Nomi could sense that Randy was slightly uncomfortable, but he didn’t say anything about it. "Thank you." He focused on the noodles, taking a hesitant bite, but soon finding that it was at least good and edible.

Silence. The two didn't say a word as Nomi silently ate his meal.

Ding!

The silence was over as the chime-like sound cut through the deep awkward silence. Randy walked over and pulled out his own noodles and began to eat it, not caring that it was burning his tongue. He paused and went to the fridge, pulling out some juice boxes, handing one to Nomi and one for himself before continuing to eat.

Nomi finally paused in his eating, swallowing before talking.

"You know, I understand why you were curious, and I apologize for not telling you in a more appropriate manner." His accent made his apology sound so formal.

"No, it’s fine."

The two looked at each other briefly before going into a fit of laughter. They were cut off by the familiar sound of the door knob jiggling slightly. Randy's mother stepped in, humming.

"Oh Randy, you won't believe it! I got promoted, and I got a raise! I'll be working less hours now too! I'm officially second-in-charge of Mcfist and Weinerman Industries! Isn't that great?" The tall woman opened her eyes and was surprised to see that Randy was not alone. "Oh, why hello again, Nomi! I think I'm going to have to make more cookies! Where's Howard, hon?"

"Uh he's at home. He got in trouble."

"Ah, I see. Heidi?"

"Yeah. And congrats on the promotion, Mom! That’s great!"

The woman smiled, blushing lightly. "Well, I don't mean to brag, but I'm just so happy! Now if you’ll excuse, me I have to finish some important paperwork. See you boys later!"

With that, she walked past them and darted into her room. 

Once again they were left alone.

...

The night came and the two sat tiredly on the couch long after Randy convinced Nomi to go to the bathroom. I mean c'mon the guy holds his bathroom for up to a hundred years the poor guy probably needs to go. 

"I'm going to call Howard to see if he's still alive. I haven't talked to him all day."

Nomi nodded as he turned his attention back to the TV. The movie was about zombies. Although Nomi thought it was a stupid idea for humans to come back to life after death, he still found the movie rather intriguing. Well, at least the characters were. Back then the tough, buff males were usually the heroes, and yet here was this movie. The hero was a scrawny male, and then there was this rather feisty female, and they were both fine on their own. They were looking for survivors, forming a large group, or family as they called it, thriving despite their slim chances of survival.

Nomi couldn't help but smile. “That's how life should be. That’s how it should always be.”

While Nomi continued to watch the movie, Randy chatted with Howard on the phone.

"So, Heidi didn't tell on you then?"

"Yeah. She said if I helped her with her stupid online show then she wouldn't say a word."

"What did she make you do exactly?"

Howard grumbled.

"I'm sorry, what?"

More grumbling.

"What?"

Another series of grumbles.

"Howard, c'mon dude, I can't—"

"I SAID SHE MADE ME WEAR A STUPID DIAPER FOR HER PARENTAL SEGMENT! GEEZ!"

By then, Randy had burst into laughter, dropping his phone before picking it back up. "Haha, okay. So can you come over, dude?"

Howard grumbled. "Yes. I'll be there in ten minutes."

Randy grinned. "Alright. Don't forget to change your diaper—"

"CUNNINGHAM!"

Randy burst into another fit of laughter as he hung up on Howard, who was yelling a loud string of swears. Nomi turned to him, having heard only fragments of the conversation.

"May I ask what is so funny?"

Randy finally calmed down enough to tell him. "Heh, Howard's sister made him wear a diaper on her online show."

"Oh, you mean that hideous creature you two call a girl?"

"Yep." Randy didn't even bother to hide the grin on his face.

After about ten minutes, Howard came in without even bothering to knock, startling the two and causing Nomi to nearly karate chop him in half. After a heated argument between Nomi and Howard, they finally sat back down onto the couch and enjoyed the rest of the movie.

"So, the book told me you got pwned in training," said Howard.

"I didn't get pwned!" Randy shot a glare at the redhead, who gave him an innocent look. "When did he tell you this!?"

"When you were in the bathroom. Dude, it took you an hour and a half to punch him? And two hours just to poke him with a stick? While he was blindfolded!"

"Hey, you try it and you tell me if it's easy!" Randy slumped in between the two with a pout on his face.

The night had carried on and soon the movie was over. Howard left, leaving Randy and Nomi asleep on the couch. 

At around ten, Randy’s mother came in the living room to wake up the boys and to tell them to go to bed. They quietly obliged.

….

It was night again. That meant tomorrow they would be going to school.

It would be Nomi's first day of school in over eight hundred years. 

Nomi sighed, staring at the ceiling. He was only a little uneasy. He knew school had changed a lot since the last time he went to one. But how much different could it be? He basically knew everything they were teaching in the school, since when he had nothing better to do, he snuck into libraries of the school and the school itself to read as many of the subjects as he could. School definitely wasn’t going to be that hard.

Nomi looked over the sleeping figure of Randy.

Nomi didn't need sleep. He could go weeks without it. Yet as he watched Randy sleep, he couldn’t help but think that it looked almost fun to sleep, or something. 

Nomi felt an odd ache in his heart. Most of the time his situation just didn’t hit him. He had been so busy being the Nomicon, being the teacher of several teenage ninjas, and nothing more, that he was too busy to even think about his life.

Sometimes Nomi wished he could have everything back. His family, his friends, his home, just everything. At times like these, Nomi wished he wasn't the Nomicon. He wished he was his normal self again, Nomi Conikos Norisu, the middle child of the famous Norisu Nine. With his five other siblings, Mei the little butterfly, his youngest sister, Ming, his clever also his youngest brother, they were the troublesome twins as his family would say. His brother Naru, who was a year younger than him, was bold and was his best friend, sister Yui, who was one year older than him, was the caring and motherly one of them all, and his eldest brother Daiku, the brave warrior and the more loved and respected of his siblings.

“And I the pathetic excuse of a brother, ninja, and Norisu.”

He recalled the events that had destroyed his family. He had been arguing with his grandparents a lot before the fire. Their parents had died, making them the Norisu seven.

Daiki had argued that Nomi wasn't fit to be a true ninja. He claimed that he was too immature, lazy, stupid...the list went on.

The scene became even clearer to Nomi. His brother, who looked like an older version of him, with the exception of his ponytail and golden eyes, arguing with their grandfather, and him tearing up and running off. Then there was the fire that had engulfed the entire village. The one that had wiped out his entire family. There was also his struggle to find the ninja suit and the original Nomicon. Then he had found his grandfather, dying, his last words a request to defeat the Sorcerer and to not put on the Ninja suit and to instead keep on the one he had on.

Back then he had not known why, but now he understood.

After the whole battle and becoming immortalized (and kept alive because his family gave a piece of their soul to bind him together), he had tried to search for his family until he was told by the surviving villagers that they had all perished. 

He had made it his mission to find a ninja to defend the new village, which later became what it is now. 

Norrisville.

Nomi blinked away the tears and soon realized it was early morning. He sat up. He was covered in a thin layer of sweat. He got up, putting away his blankets, pillow and mattress back where they belonged before going to the bathroom to shower. Randy had showed him how it worked, since he wasn't all too familiar with the modern method of bathing. He stripped himself of the pair of shorts and boxers before stepping into the shower. Instantly, the warm water made him feel refreshed.

When he was done showering, he realized he hadn't grabbed his clothes for the day. Nomi stepped into Randy’s room.

The day before, Randy had washed his clothes for him in the washing machine and had left them neatly folded by his dresser. Nomi felt slightly self conscious, walking around in Randy’s room naked. At least he had thought to grab a towel so he had something to cover himself with.

The purple-haired teen was still asleep. Nomi eyed the alarm clock next to the computer. It read 6:59 AM.

"Oh shit."

[wildroseofarran]

Nice to Meet You || Gralloway, Abel, & Guildias

MJ: Just another quiet March midnight. Not surprised in the least that Peter left his window open. Just as he used to. Did he ever change? The Ravnos was less than graceful crawling through the small space and spilling onto the dining room floor.

He'd missed his usual intrusions. They'd been on his mind since crossing the state line days ago. The quaint little house on his mind talking to Callum, and Abel, and now giving his greetings to Midas. He'd missed this place.

Pete: Midas had been napping before sensing the new presence. He sat alert on top of his tree, ears perked for the tiniest sound.

But it wasn't a tiny sound. It was a big one. A familiar one.

He sniffed at the hand that reached out to him and, deeming the guest acceptable, positioned his head for pets.

His owner was nowhere in the immediate area, but an open back door indicated he was somewhere in the yard.

MJ: "Hey, lil king. Remember me? Tell me what I missed, hmm?" One more scritch, positioning himself for eye contact, open to any and all the little creature had to say. Actually seeing Peter could wait. Best to go forward with something.

Pete: 'I remember you. I've heard your name but haven't seen your face. Your scent is on the bed.'

MJ: "On the bed, huh? He don't clean his sheets?"

Pete: 'On the bed. Only his scent is in the bed.'

MJ: "Show me?"

Pete: Midas treated himself to a full, luxurious stretch before leaping down from his perch and leading the vampire up the stairs.

MJ would be able to see small changes to the house. Fresh paint, new plants, some new photos. Stickers on one of the bedroom doors signaled the presence of a child at some point.

The door to Pete's bedroom had been pulled even with the frame but not shut completely, allowing Midas to nudge it open.

What he'd meant would be plainly obvious:

Blue glass roses sat on Pete's beside table, and in the middle of the pillows on the bed, a stuffed pink elephant.

MJ: MJ paused in the doorway, still absorbing the short journey to the bedroom, only to be met with nostalgia, and a twinge of painful memory. Not so discomforting. Not as it used to be. Not with this new blended soul. There was now a fondness to that pink elephant. What a day that had been.

"I see what you mean now." He tapped at the foot of the bed, invitation to his host before doing a flop onto the mattress.

Pete: Midas jumped up, making himself comfortable not on the bed, but on MJ's abdomen.

'Your scent on the bed. His scent in the bed.'

MJ: "And now your scent on me. How 'bout that?"

Pete: Midas watched the vampire intently. 'Did you come for sadness?'

MJ: "Did I come for what?"

Pete: 'Did you come to make him sad?'

MJ: "Is that all I do?"

Pete: 'He's been too sad for too long. It was all he knew for a time.'

MJ: "You're a very mature kitten."

Pete: 'Cats are wise.'

MJ: "So ya know you're a cat."

Pete: 'That's what he says.'

MJ: "He says that ya know you're a cat?"

Pete: ‘He says cats are wise.’

MJ: "I'd say you're more sentient than most. What's your secret?"

Pete: 'He talks to me.'

MJ: "That's all it takes, huh?" How about some scritches under the chin?

Pete: Midas closed his eyes and purred.

MJ: "When was the last time ya had a big juicy piece of fish? Hmm? Ya deserve some."

Pete: "I don't know. A very long time."

Really it had only been a couple of weeks, but time meant nothing to a cat.

MJ: "Let's go get ya some, then."

MJ sat up and tapped at his shoulder. "Ya get t'go for a ride."

Pete: Midas climbed onto the vampire's shoulder and perched himself like a parrot with ease. He'd done this before.

'Where are we going?'

MJ: "T'the kitchen. We're gonna sneak ya some food."

Pete: 'He'll be able to scent you. He'll know you're here.'

MJ: "Oh yeah? His nose that good now?"

Pete: 'Bears have a strong sense of smell.'

MJ: "He a good bear?"

Pete: 'He guards the river and plants roses on the bank.'

MJ: "I've seen those," he said, a kind of faraway whimsy in his tone.

The fridge was opened for inspection. He made no effort to be quiet.

Pete: 'They have magic. He plants them for you.'

The fridge showed signs of being recently stocked. The containers were full and some had yet to be opened. The produce was fresh, as were the leftovers.

'My food is in the place with the red top.'

MJ: "I get conflicting answers. Can you see color?"

Pete: 'Yes, though not as much as a human.'

MJ: "Are you a familiar?"

Pete: 'I don't have magic.'

MJ: He had his suspicions. He'd never heard an animal speak so eloquently. Most rats had the translatable vocabulary of a child. He wondered if that was because they had been wild. Miss Swiss had been special. Oh well.

"Here, some salmon."

Pete: Midas chirped in approval. However eloquent, he was still a cat.

Meanwhile, outside, Pete had abruptly stopped in the middle of his prayers and was facing his house, frozen in place.

Hearing any sort of movement coming from inside would've been alarming on its own, but he could detect a hint of something--someone--in the breeze that was making his heart thunder in his chest.

Slowly, he stood.

MJ: The salmon was cut into strips on the cutting board. Some things didn't change. He still knew his way around the kitchen like the back of his hand. A single slice was then cut into cubes. A tiny portion given to his shoulder guest. He was aware of Peter's scent, aware this would come to a head, but calm just the same.

Pete: Pete didn't entirely know what he was going to find as he stepped inside. Would MJ just be sitting there? Would he be poking around? Would he be angry? Would the other man be there?

....No. None of those.

MJ was standing in his kitchen chopping--was that salmon?--for his cat.

"....MJ?"

MJ: A hundred comebacks. Jokes, greetings, offhanded remarks. A smile, a stutter, a loss of all senses. Anything, something. What MJ managed was staring. Staring, and allowing Midas to lick his fingers. He must have been the odd sight.

"I stole your fish," was what he landed on.

Pete: It was a night for the unexpected and Pete's mind was completely blank.

"Yes you did. Midas talk you into it?"

MJ: "Think I talked him into it."

Pete: "I doubt he needed much talking. He loves salmon."

Pete dared to step closer. The last time he'd seen MJ was in a dream. He'd woken with his arms aching from how much he longed to hold his vampire. Now here he was, feeding salmon to his cat.

"Is this another dream?"

MJ: "Are you awake?" Another cube of salmon for Midas. A parting gift before placing him on the floor.

Pete: "Pretty sure."

Midas rubbed against Pete's leg on his way back to his tree. It was time for a nap.

MJ: "Then you're not dreamin'." MJ looked to the salmon and back. "What was this supposed t'be?"

Pete: "Oh, uh...I'm not really sure. I didn't have a specific plan for it." Just like he didn't have a specific plan for this situation.

MJ: "No idea? Guess it's...sashimi now."

Pete: "Guess so," he said with a small smile. "How've you been?"

MJ: "I've been shitty, then kinda okay, then just been, then shitty, then better. You?"

Pete: "Sounds like a hell of a rollercoaster. I've just...been. Couple of bumps, but I think I'm no worse for wear."

MJ: "Kay, then." What to do now?

Pete: Pete took a deep breath. "I found a suit of armor."

MJ: For some reason, tension returned to his shoulders.

"Yeah? From where?"

Pete: "Theater department at the community college. And I found a white horse."

MJ: "Say what now?"

Pete: "Friend of a coworker of Ryan's. My brother-in-law."

MJ: "Ya got someone?"

Pete: "Yeah, the guy--Jacob--owns a dude ranch and he said he would let me borrow it in exchange for free beer."

MJ: "I... got no clue what we're talkin' 'bout now."

Pete: "I promised that I would do everything I could to win you back, starting with putting on a suit of armor and riding up on a white horse."

MJ: "And ya just said you're with someone n'somethin' about a theater. Look... I dunno what I expected comin' here, but we... we gotta talk plainly."

Pete: Pete's brow furrowed. "I--what? I'm not with anyone. Jacob is Ryan's coworker's friend who's letting me borrow his horse."

MJ: "Peter, ya got this... idea in your head or somethin' and I got no clue how ya have it anymore."

Pete: "You--you don't remember the dream?"

MJ: "Somewhat, but a lot of shit happened after."

Pete: "Stuff that's changed how you felt...?" Pete's voice had gotten progressively quieter and more deflated with each passing moment.

MJ: "I don't get what you're hangin' on to. What made any of this -"

Better restart. He hauled himself onto the counter. Arms on his knees.

"She's gone. MJ's gone."

Pete: "I'm hanging on to you. I'm hanging on to the love I have for you." The small bubble of hope that had lived in his chest since the night he'd had that dream threatened to burst. It had felt so real. MJ had felt so real. But maybe it had only felt real--been real--for him. Maybe--

Pete stilled. Stared. ".....What? What do you mean MJ's gone? You're MJ. I'm looking at you. Aren't I?"

MJ: "Sort of but no. That answer only works in this reality, I think? The one where two things become one thing. Then it's just a sort of but no."

Pete: It was only by the grace of knowing Guildias that any of that made sense.

"So you--you melded. She's gone because she's not her anymore, she's part of you now."

MJ: "You're good at this. Seasoned pro. S'like ya got some druid friend or somethin'." A small smile.

Pete: Pete returned the smile, but there was no denying the knot that had formed in his stomach. He would've given anything to be able to tear that horrible woman away from the man he loved, or better, to have gone back in time and stopped the soul eating from happening in the first place.

"How much of you is you?"

MJ: "That's what everyone asks me. That means so much, don't it? Is there a percentage you're lookin' for of the old guy?"

Pete: "We all change all the time. I'm not the same old guy, and even without having melded you wouldn't be either." He shrugged. "I just wanna know if there's any part of the you I know still in there somewhere."

MJ: "I wouldn't be here if there wasn't somethin'. I wanna know ya, who ya are like new. S'half of why I came from Cali."

Pete: "You really wanna get to know me again?"

MJ: "D'ya wanna know me?"

Pete: Pete nodded. "Yeah, I do."

MJ: "I wanna ask why."

Pete: "Earlier you asked what I was hanging on to, and I said I was hanging on to you. I am, MJ. I love you. I miss you. Not a day goes by that I don't think of you. I promised you in a dream that I would do whatever it took to make up for all the hurt I've caused you, to win you back, and even if you don't remember that dream like I do, I intend to keep that promise. I want to get to know you again. I want you to get to know me again."

MJ: "Look, I feel like..." No. He shook his head and tried again. "We gotta start from a place that ain't love. I dunno how else t'explain I'm not MJ...like...that, anymore. I don't feel the same 'bout shit. Like... I left. I left like shit. I wanted t'be by myself. I wanted t'deal with what happened in my own way. I came back after ya did shit with someone else. That's..." He shrugged. "It is what it is."

Pete: Pete fell into thoughtful silence. MJ was right, of course. He'd melded with Victoria; he wasn't the same person anymore. Not all of the same person anymore. He had her perspective now too. Her personality, her thought process, her gut feelings. As much as he looked the same and sounded the same, this was a different person standing in front of him, and he was kind of a different person to MJ too.

They had to start from a place that wasn't love.

After a few moments, Pete stuck his hand out. Not to hold, but to shake. "Hi. I'm Peter and I'm a werebear. Most people call me Pete. I speak French, do gladiator training, and I really love cats."

MJ: MJ waited and watched, quietly. He waited for Peter to say no; that he couldn't believe anything had changed. Some romantic gesture... but there was his hand. And he took it. And he smiled.

"I think I like Peter more, but that opens the door t'ya callin' me Mayhew. I'm a vampire. I do things like take your watch while talkin' t'ya."

Peter's watch was spun around his finger. "I really love rats."

Pete: He shook MJ's hand, looking momentarily stunned to see his watch on MJ's finger before laughing. So much better than a snake on the bar.

"It's nice to meet you, Mayhew. You can call me Peter. But I'd prefer calling you MJ. That fluffy spoiled boy over there is my son. He likes salmon and looking out the window. You've won his undying affection."

MJ: Better than he expected. He should have given Peter more credit. He smiled, offering back the watch.

"Think fluffers would eat my rats?"

Pete: Back it went on his wrist. "Nah. He got used to seeing rats and mice when we lived in France, he doesn't mind them. Now crickets? He will hunt a cricket to the ends of the earth."

MJ: "People eatin' rats still?"

Pete: "Just snails," he chuckled. "Rats and mice are just a part of farm life, fighting like hell to get into grain stores."

MJ: "Just doin' their thing. Them n'roaches'll be here 'til the end of time."

Pete: "Probably, yeah. Safe from the apocalypse and safe from Midas. Do you have a little pet rat right now?"

MJ: "I got one in Cali. Gonna get another for the road."

Pete: "There's a new pet shop in town. They have all sorts of little animals. Ferrets, lizards, mice, rats."

MJ: "They open late?"

Pete: "Later than most places around here."

MJ: "Ya wantin' somethin' else?"

Pete: "Yeah, but not for me. Been wanting to get a pet for Luke."

MJ: "Get him a... mouse."

Pete: “They have such short little lives. He’s in a bad way, I’d hate for him to lose someone else he loves.”

MJ: "Then get him a bird. A parrot."

Pete: “Huh. That’s not a bad idea. They live like sixty years, don’t they?”

MJ: "Gotta put em in your will. My aunt had one. Outlived her."

Pete: "Our nephew can inherit his. Or our niece."

MJ: "Now you're thinkin'."

Pete: "Parrot it is. He can teach it lawyer speak."

MJ: "N'I'll teach it t'cuss."

Pete: "Perfect. This is gonna be such a well-spoken parrot."

MJ: "'Twenty t'life, fucker!'" he laughed.

Pete: Pete laughed and shook his head. "I'm excited for this bird and I don't even know what kind I'm getting him."

MJ: "He still in the city?"

Pete: "For now, yeah. There's a good chance he'll be moving back here."

MJ: "What the hell for?"

Pete: “He’s had a rough couple years. Living alone has taken a toll.”

MJ: "Think it'd be the other way around."

Pete: “He was fine living in Raleigh until his boyfriend died. That changed things.”

MJ: "They livin' together?"

Pete: Pete shook his head. "No, boyfriend was living here. But I think the fact that they never found his body or any real answers is messing with his head. He never got any closure." He had yet to determine if the haunting counted as closure.

MJ: He thought of Kenna, and what she would want in that circumstance.

"He gonna be livin' here?"

Pete: “Either here or with our parents. Maybe with his best friend. She was the boyfriend’s sister and she’s been having a rough time too.”

MJ: "That's the thing 'bout death. Only fucks with the ones still livin'."

Pete: “Yeah,” he sighed. “I hope being back here helps. At the very least he won’t have to come home to an empty condo.”

MJ: "I guess. If that helps."

Pete: "It won't magically solve everything but it's a good start." Kind of like this situation with them, he supposed.

MJ: Well, enough about a brother he barley knew or even saw.

"What d'ya wanna do now?"

Pete: "Wanna take Midas for a walk with me?"

MJ: "He's a cat."

Pete: "Yep. A leash trained cat who likes to go on walks."

MJ: "You're a weird one, Peter."

Pete: He smiled. "It's been said before. So what do you say?"

MJ: "I know I'm an animal lover n'all, but that's... yeah. No," he laughed.

Pete: Pete chuckled and looked over at Midas, who was busy grooming himself. "If you hadn't given him salmon he'd probably be very offended. Wanna go for a walk with just me?"

MJ: "Ya not bothered by a night walk?"

Pete: "I'm a Fera. The night and I are good friends."

MJ: "Get your keys, then."

Pete: "All right. Here, floof." He arranged the salmon in Midas' dish and grabbed him from his tree. "Dinner. Don't do anything weird while we're gone and don't think you're getting the good life tomorrow."

Now for keys and his jacket.

MJ: "Good life is only once a week," he nodded, totally serious but absolutely not. This all felt... surreal, and he wondered if Peter felt the same.

Pete: It was enough to make Pete chuckle. He was in the exact same boat as MJ; this all felt like another dream. He was getting ready to go on a walk with a newly melded vampire he'd once dated and had just agreed to get to know again. What could be more surreal?

"Okay," he said once they were outside. "Left or right?"

MJ: "Ummm..." MJ twisted his finger, as though the decision was too difficult, he squeezed his eyes shut.

"Which way has the dive bar? That ugly buildin' with the black door?"

Pete: "O'Charlie's? This way." He led them to the left. "You're in for a real treat. Dwight talked Charlie into steam cleaning the carpet last month."

MJ: A gasp. "But smelly floor is half of what makes a dive bar a dive bar!"

Pete: "Give it a week or two, it'll be right back where it was. The tables are still vaguely sticky I'm told."

MJ: "That's comfortin'." At least to MJ, now and before.

Pete: "Charlie is his same old self. Lately the conspiracy mood has been MK Ultra."

MJ: "S'been what now?"

Pete: "MK Ultra. Basically, back in the 50s and 60s the CIA was pumping people full of LSD to study mind control. And unlike most things, this one isn't in Charlie's head. It was declassified."

MJ: "Is anything surprisin' anymore? Anything after the Spanish Inquisition?"

Pete: "Not really, but sometimes something comes along that throws you for a loop."

MJ: "I think I'm done with surprises."

Pete: "You're preaching to the choir. I'll be good if I don't have to deal with another surprise again in my life."

MJ: "Well, I mean, bein' a bear... bad surprise?"

Pete: "Jury's still out on whether the end result is bad, but the process sure was."

MJ: "Does it hurt? Changin'?"

Pete: "Less so now. The first time was horrible. I was sick for days and days leading up to the full moon."

MJ: "D'ya feel everything? D'ya remember how it feels?"

Pete: Pete nodded. "Yep. It's--feeling your bones and body parts move around and reform is the weirdest damn feeling. Painful too but the pain doesn't last."

MJ: "My teeth itch. That is a thing, n'it happens all the time."

Pete: "Oh, man." He tried to imagine the sensation and made a face. "Does it drive you crazy?"

MJ: "When I'm already hungry, yeah. Goes from a mild annoyance t'pissed off."

Pete: "Only your fangs or all your teeth?"

MJ: "Just fangs."

Pete: "I wonder if that's worse than having the itch be spread out to all your teeth." He took a second to check for cars and led them across the street.

"I had an itch too before my first full moon. Covered in hives, sweaty from the fever. Everyone thought I was dying."

MJ: "Ya didn't know shit 'fore it happened? Nothin' at all? Which parent is it?"

Pete: "Nope," he said with a shake of his head. "Stella and Luke aren't like me and neither is my mom, so it was probably the other guy."

MJ: "Feel for him. He probably don't know ya exist."

Pete: "He doesn't. My mom never told him and never plans to."

MJ: "Don't matter what she wants. What d'ya want?"

Pete: "I already have a dad. I have no inner turmoil or questions. I'm at peace."

MJ: "Really? That's what you're gonna go with?"

Pete: Pete shrugged. "It's the truth. I was curious for a while, thought about grilling my mom until she told me and going to confront the guy but at the end of the day, what would that accomplish? I already have my dad. I'm already a bear. Nothing would change and nothing would be added to my life."

MJ: "Ya'd have the man that made ya what ya are n'get answers ya might have 'bout your new life. Ya can't pretend nothin's changed. 'Sides, he's got a right t'know."

Pete: "A lot has, but not as much as you'd think. I'm a bear who didn't know he was a bear who was then taught to be a bear by Druids. If he has a right to know, shouldn't my mom be the one to tell him? For all I know he's got a whole life with no room for anyone else."

MJ: MJ shook his head. "You're his blood. What she shoulda done she didn't, so she don't get a fuckin' say. Ya don't get in the way of someone's bloodline like that."

Pete: “She did lots of things she shouldn’t have, and didn’t say anything when she should’ve. That’s how I ended up having a doctor tell me I’m not my dad’s biological son.”

MJ: "They even allowed t'do that?"

Pete: “He thought I knew. I tried to donate blood and mine didn’t match. He thought I was adopted.”

MJ: "Huh." That still didn't feel right, but whatever. Doctors were the last thing he expected to be ethical.

"You're not done. Havin' him would add somethin'. More than what some druid can teach. They aren't what he is."

Pete: “I just...” Pete sighed. “Is it horrible to say that I just don’t...care to have him in my life? Like you’d think I would feel a hole there or something missing but it doesn’t feel like there is. It would be nice to meet someone else that’s like me and that can help me make sense of it all but I would almost rather it be literally anyone else. He doesn’t represent something good for me and that’s not all his fault, I know that. But...I don’t know.”

MJ: "You're sayin' this, but it'll eat at ya. Like a needle prick right now, but it'll get bigger. Shit like that always does."

Pete: "Yeah, maybe. And maybe if it does, I'll feel differently. But for now, my life feels full and complete and peaceful. I'm gonna have a new baby niece soon. My business is doing great. We're getting to know each other again."

MJ: "Your life is always rosy, ain't it?" Or at least, that's what Peter wanted it to be, so that was what he projected. He couldn't tell. He never could. The man had seemed so different since his trip to Montana. Having to chase him down in order to speak with him, to spare him Victoria Harrak. For Callum to dismiss him. This all seemed so tainted and strange, and yet hopelessly normal.

Pete: "Not always," he said softly. "There's a lot that wasn't rosy for a long time and still isn't. There's a lot between us that's far from rosy."

MJ: "I dunno ya. We're brand new." He had to remember that, or let the past repeat itself.

Pete: “You’re right,” Pete said with a nod. “We are. Is there anything from the old us that you want to hash out? That the old you always wanted to hash out?”

MJ: Deep, wasted breath. Years now, and that was a can of worms. Not nearly as gnawing post merge, but still, those thoughts existed.

"How 'bout ya go first."

Pete: "Well." A sigh. "At this point I think it's no secret that the way you left wasn't the best way or even a good way and that it had a pretty severe effect on me. And on the flip side, the way I handled it wasn't the best, or even good either."

MJ: "How did ya handle it?"

Pete: "I betrayed your trust. I hurt you. I up and left without telling anyone where I was going. When you called me I hung up on you. I didn't step in when Callum banished you."

MJ: "We were done when I left. Everything else was just me bein' selfish, so there's that. Ya did up n'leave like a dick nozzle. What happened in the woods... happened, n'it wasn't your fault. I shoulda left ya alone."

Pete: "But you weren't just being selfish. You left but there was a relationship between us, at least for me. There was trust and love and rather than make a clean break, I cheated on you and betrayed all that. It wasn't just you being selfish, you had and have every right in the world to be upset and angry at me. I would completely understand if after what I did you never wanted to see me again. And in a lot of ways, that's why a big part of me believed that I deserved what happened in the woods that night."

MJ: "Well, ya didn't, so shut up about that. Don't be a broken record. N'ya know, ya shoulda given him a try. Like, for real. If ya wanna fuck someone else, ya should be with em, otherwise ya...ya wouldn't have t'start with."

He wondered if that logic applied to him in some measure. Brett Parker, Rohan Dalca... Rohan certainly deserved better, and that was part of the reason he left. A clean slate between both men had been the purpose of the trip. To reacquaint with fresh eyes.

Pete: Another sigh. "I had feelings for him for a big part of my life. The dynamic between us wasn't great even when we were younger and a lot of different things contributed to that, it wasn't all on me or all on him. For the part that was on me, well...I have a long, long history of not dealing with things the way I should. Maybe it was never in the cards or maybe it had been at some point and never came to be.

"But then I met you. And from the moment I met you, you got under my skin and you never really left it. You were under my skin when you were making snakes appear on my bar and when you won me a stuffed elephant at a carnival and when I was in Montana and when you left and when I left."

MJ: "Is that love, though, or is that just... obsession? I dunno either, so it's more just..." His fingers flew up. Something in the ether. Just rhetorical questions that maybe they could answer.

Pete: Pete shrugged. "I don't know. I just know that I care about you. That I want you to be happy. This new person you are? I want to get to know this person. I want to learn this person, independently of anything else."

MJ: "You're still walkin' with me, thinkin' about love. This ain't gonna work if you're just thinkin' that."

Pete: "I'm not though, that's the thing. I like talking to you. This you, not just the old you. I'm already seeing the distinction between the person I knew and the person you are now."

MJ: "Yeah? What's that?"

Pete: "I'm not really sure, it's like...I don't know if the old you would've been okay with saying as much as you're saying? Or not even that, just being okay with saying what you feel and what's on your mind. Which I want you to be able to do."

MJ: "Hmm." MJ shrugged. What was now a collective mind could not notice what had always existed for itself. Surprised to hear about any changes.

"The other me was pissed n'selfish n'panicked. It is what it is."

Pete: "Do you miss yourself at all? However new this is for everyone you know, I imagine it's even moreso for you."

MJ: A thought considered for less than thirty seconds. "No. I don't miss anything. That bother ya?"

Pete: Pete shook his head. "No, just curious. Trying to imagine what it would be like to not completely be me anymore."

MJ: "You can't miss it. I don't think, because there's... nothin' to miss?" A sigh escaped him, needless, but worthy of expression. "I'll never be able t'explain this."

Pete: "Makes sense in a way, at least to my limited understanding. You can't miss you if you're still you."

MJ: "...Yeah. Somethin' like that. I have his memories. I got...some of her. I woke up feelin' reborn but like I always was...but...how two always were."

Pete: "And the people you've been living with? They've been helpful and supportive?"

MJ: "Well... some kickin' n'screamin' along the way."

Pete: "From them or you?"

MJ: "A bit of both. Had t'be chased down n'my RV invaded t'get t'this point."

Pete: Pete blinked. "Seriously? Jesus. That sounds...intense."

MJ: "Ya know what I do. I run."

Pete: "Sounds like they didn't let you."

MJ: "Nope. Damn stubborn like that."

Pete: "Speaking of stubborn." He nodded up ahead, where the bar had come into view. "We've arrived at Charlie's kingdom."

MJ: MJ threw his arms wide. "The only king I'll kneel to!"

Pete: Pete chuckled and held the door open for MJ. "Don't tell him that, he'll get a swelled head." If such a thing was even possible when one's kingdom was a sketchy bar with a sticky floor.

MJ: "I wanna see that now. Especially with havin' ya in his bar."

Pete/Charlie: "He's gotten used to having me here the past few weeks. Ain't that right, Charlie?" he added in a shout to the man himself.

Charlie saluted him with his cigarette, fully intending to go back to his newspaper when he spotted MJ.

"Well, shit," he laughed. "Look what the cat dragged in!"

MJ: "That there cancer stick is illegal in these parts, stranger! The fuck ya doin'?" A greeting for all intents and purposes. His hand came swinging over the counter for a grasping hand.

Charlie: The hand was shaken with vigor. "Bah, it ain't a real cancer stick! It's got menthol in. Refined, that's what that is. How the hell are ya, kid? What we do to be graced with your presence?"

MJ: "I've been t'Mordor n'back t'the Shire. Just needed t'go on an adventure. Ya know, that thing ya should do."

Peter was given a wink.

Pete/Charlie: Pete just smiled and ordered a beer from Dwight while Charlie belly laughed.

"Who says I don't go adventurin'? I was over there at that booth 'bout ten minutes ago and now I'm here. There's your adventure."

MJ: "Was there a battle in between? Someone lose an eye?"

Charlie: "Hell yes there was. Almost tripped over Jose's long fuckin' legs."

MJ: "Shit. I've missed so much." MJ made himself at home near Peter, splayed over a seat in cat-like fashion.

Charlie: "Damn right you have. Goin' to Walmart ain't the same without ya."

MJ: "Florida mom still thirsty for ya?"

Charlie: Charlie snorted. "Boy howdy, you don't know the half of it. Past few months she's been tryin' to march me down the aisle."

MJ: "I wanna hear all about it. What are we drinkin', Peter?"

Pete/Charlie: "We're drinking Blue Moon and wondering why Charlie won't marry Ann."

"I'll tell ya why, Petey boy," Charlie said with a squint, gesturing with his cigarette. "She still believes in the lone gunman."

MJ: "Please, educate Peter," MJ laughed. He leaned towards the werebear with a grin. "Not a Coors? With an umbrella?"

Pete/Charlie: Fondness and humor lit Pete's expression as he made a dramatic face. It warmed him to know that MJ remembered. It gave him hope.

"Never ever. I'd rather take a nap on Charlie's carpet."

"Hey now! Don't go knockin' my carpet, Dwight cleaned it."

"Tell that to Jose, there's a sea of muddy footprints around his chair."

Charles looked over and scowled. "Dammit, Jose!"

MJ: The exchanged look between two grumpy old men was priceless. The vampire couldn't help but snort. Playing human wasn't all bad; expressive if anything.

"Ya need t'fuck off with the carpet, Charl. It's older than me."

Charlie: "Whole world is older than you, kiddo, you're still just a baby. Carpet's fine for this crowd. Hasn't been a crime scene on it or nothing since at least the 80s."

MJ: "Ya hear that? At least the 80s. S'all love at O'Charlie’s."

Pete/Charlie: Pete threw his head back and laughed. "Bullshit, remember that couple who used to live over by Tristan Seger's house? Wife came in and tried to shoot her husband's dick off, remember?"

"Ohhhh, yeah, my bad." Charlie nodded. "Hasn't been a crime scene since at least 2005."

MJ: "Ah. See, that was a lifetime ago. At least get a fresh one. There are some questionable stains. Can't blame em all on Jose."

Pete/Charlie: "MJ's right. I'm almost positive some of those stains are because of you and Ann."

Charlie laughed.

MJ: Another stretch. Eyes focused on the ceiling as he leaned back. A small crack, there. Another strange stain.

"Ya always drink orange beer?"

Pete: Pete shook his head. "Nah, not always. Sometimes I drink Guinness."

MJ: "Just drink t'relax?"

Pete: "Every now and then. If I'm feeling real fancy I'll have a glass of wine."

MJ: "But not anything else?"

Pete: “Relaxing wise or drinking wise?”

MJ: "Wino type shit."

Pete: Pete laughed. “What all falls under ‘wino type shit’?”

MJ: "Drink their sorrows away."

Pete: “Yeah, no. I’m not about the wino life.”

MJ: "Didn't think ya were. Had t'make sure."

Pete: He just smiled. “What about you? What do you do to relax?”

MJ: "Games. Practice vampy things. Learn from a dog." Convoluted as shit, with a shit-eating grin to boot.

Pete: "You--a dog?" Pete laughed. With that grin he couldn't tell if MJ was kidding or not. "Does the dog teach you how to dog?"

MJ: "The dog teaches me magic. I teach him how to shoot 360 no scope."

Pete: "So he's a magic dog...?"

MJ: "Heard of familiars?"

Pete: "I have," Pete said with a nod. "Is he yours?"

MJ: "Ha! Nah. Not mine, but I mean, sort of? He's a friend."

Pete: "Gotcha. Can vampires have familiars? Are there rules for familiars?"

MJ: "They pick ya, not the other way around."

Pete: Another nod. That made sense. "So I guess species doesn't matter then."

MJ: A shrug. "Have t'ask him. He's around somewhere."

Pete: "Oh, he came with you?"

MJ: "Mhm. You'll probably see him 'fore long."

Pete: "He exploring?"

MJ: "Yeah. Or scarin' lil kids in his devil costume." His brow wrinkled. "Or makin' em laugh? I dunno."

Pete: "Man, this just gets wilder and wilder."

MJ: "What's your life been like? More France?"

Pete: “Pretty quiet on my end. No trips to France recently. My sister’s pregnant and I’ve been helping her out with my nephew a lot so she can rest.”

MJ: "What's the husband doin'?"

Pete: "They put him on the night shift."

MJ: "The fuck is he doin'?"

Pete: "He took a second job as a security guard at the mall."

MJ: "Times that hard?"

Pete: “Babies are expensive.”

MJ: "Ain't just one good job out there?"

Pete: "I think his main job is pretty decent, but I guess a little extra money never hurt anyone."

MJ: That logic was reason he never saw his father. Not one he could approve of, but this was none of his business. Something in this thoughts questioned a father's role at all. A rare moment in his new life, knowing exactly which thoughts belonged to which former soul.

"So, tell me somethin' that ain't vague."

Pete: “Umm....” Pete sipped his beer and thought for a moment. “June talked me into starting a karaoke night at the pub every week.”

MJ: MJ bit into the inside of his cheek. A failed attempt at hiding his smile. "About you, flathead."

Pete: “I’m excited to meet my niece.”

MJ: "Were ya always a family man? Ya should settle down with a nice whoever n'adopt or make some babies."

Pete: Pete ignored the pang in chest that accompanied a little voice in his head that said he’d always dreamed of doing that with MJ.

Instead he said, “We’ve always been close, yeah. But my dad’s accident brought us that much closer. Scares me how close I came to losing him.”

MJ: "Has it made everyone write a will? Hell, I think my family has that kinda thing, too. More like a keep what cha kill kinda shit, but still stands."

Pete: He nodded. "Yep. Parents already had one but now we all do, too. We'll update them when the baby's born."

MJ: "'I give my seventy-inch TV to my brand new niece upon my death.'"

Pete: "I'll hand over the whole deed to her tiny hands."

MJ: "But who are ya really givin' it to?"

Pete: "If I ever have a kid, to them. If not, to the baby and Graham and Luke's kids if he has any."

MJ: "What, they all fight over it? Who the fuck gets it if ya drop dead right now?"

Pete: "Luke. And they won't have to fight. It'll be both of theirs, equally."

MJ: "Ya sure are generous, Peter."

Pete: He shrugged. "Can't take it with me, right? It's a good house. Only right that it should go to family. They can sell it or live in it or rent it if they want to."

MJ: "Generous is thinkin' ya can give one thing to this many fingers n'think it'll all work out."

Pete: "It's not just any fingers. Those fingers are being raised by two good, sensible, compassionate people. Call me an optimist."

MJ: "Alright, optimist, let's chug some beer I'll regret."

Pete: "Wanna regret some Blue Moon or would you rather regret another brand?"

MJ: "I'll regret the Blue Moon with ya." It would all return to sender before dawn; this was about time with Peter. Whatever this time meant.

Pete/Dwight: Pete nodded and glanced toward the other end of the bar. "Another round, Dwight, when you can?"

"For both of ya'll?"

"Yes, please."

"You got it."

MJ: "Don't 'yes please' the enemy," MJ snorted. "Bein' so nice t'the rival. How dare."

Pete/Charlie: His responding laugh sounded suspiciously like a giggle. Almost.

"Ah, come on. Dwight's a pal, he can have a please. Not Charlie though."

"I heard that."

MJ: That sure was a nice laugh. He remembered that laugh.

"We’re behind enemy lines. Can't make friends with Dwight except Christmas."

Pete/Dwight: "Well then, Dwight, I formally retract my please until Christmas," he said as the bartender brought over their beers.

Dwight just smiled in his subtle way. "Looking forward to it."

"Thanks though."

MJ: MJ stared. Dwight and their surroundings were faraway realities. Blatantly staring at those lips, trying to remember exactly what they tasted like. Wondering how warm Pete's skin felt now as Fera. Did they have a specific name? Did he know it?

Why did Peter love him so much? Or had. Still.

He wondered about Rohan, what he was doing right this moment. If Xavier was occupying his time.

His focus subconsciously fell to the table.

Pete: Pete could practically feel MJ's eyes boring into him, not that MJ seemed to be making much effort to hide it. Or any effort at all.

What was running through that newly melded mind of his? Was he thinking about their history? Their present situation? Something else entirely? Pete didn't dare ask.

"Rethinking regretting the beer?" he said instead, voice softer than he intended.

MJ: "I dunno what I like. I know I'll drink anything, but..." MJ laughed, fangs unashamedly present. "Thinkin' about parsnip wine."

Fingers tapped to his temple. He didn't have to explain why.

Pete: At the sight of those fangs, Pete cast a quick glance around to make sure Dwight and Charlie's attention was elsewhere. Thankfully they were both busy.

"There's such a thing as parsnip wine?" he chuckled.

MJ: Made it before. Two hundred and something years ago. "Mhm. More beer than wine." He could practically taste it. A first in this new life. Fucking interesting. He closed his eyes, allowed the memory to saturate his thoughts.

"A wagon, campfire. Cold knees. Sex. Wine on my tongue." And breasts. Someone beneath him. Where they belonged.

His eyes opened, his smile returning. "Blue Moon is better."

Pete: Pete squinted. One word stood out above all the rest. "A wagon? Like a covered wagon?" Had Victoria Harrak been a pioneer blowing people for whatever the hell parsnip wine was?

"I'm gonna go ahead and say that yes, it absolutely is." He smiled around a sip. "Everyone knows oranges are better than parsnips."

MJ: "I like the company more," he said without thinking.

Pete: The smile grew before he could do anything to stop it.

"Right back at you." He lifted his beer in a toast. "To our health and to Charlie's questionable carpet."

MJ: "To fucked up stains on the floor." He clinked their glasses and laughed.

Pete/Charlie: "I hear ya'll over there casting aspersions!" came Charlie's voice from down the bar.

"We love you, too, Charles."

MJ: "Wonder how good them ears really are."

Pete: "Charlie's got ears like a fruit bat," said Pete. "He hears all. Must be the conspiracy theorist in him."

MJ: "I'm a vampire. You're a werebear. Charles is a skunk."

Pete: He laughed. "Are wereskunks a thing? Because he'd totally be one."

MJ: "He is one. Or a black lab. Maybe a rottweiler. Weredogs a thing?" Still waiting for Charles to chime in again.

Pete: Charlie had moved even further way; if he heard them, he gave no indication of it.

"Probably not? I think werewolves fill that role."

MJ: "Huh. I guess. I swear there's somethin'. I can see it." Oh well. Probably another one of those memories-not-memories.

Pete: “Maybe it’s some other type of creature, not necessarily a Fera. Like a demon dog or something.”

MJ: "D'y like what ya are?" A question asked softly, sotto voce, giving an ounce of real privacy.

Pete: “I didn’t really at first. It’s weird to suddenly be a bear, you know? It’s overwhelming to wake up one day and not know yourself. I’ve come around to it though.”

MJ: "Sounds the same, then. Heard some of em eat their own." MJ casually glanced around the bar, breathed in deeply. No, Charles' wasn't anything but a man in need of a shower.

Pete: Pete blinked. “Seriously? Yikes. I really hope that’s not true.”

MJ: "It is. I mean, not you but it is what it is. D'ya feel more... feral?" He expected the answer to be no, given that Peter, as far as they were aware, was born human.

Pete: "Not feral, per se. Just feel more...bear like. I swear the whole winter I was exhausted. I went to bed every night at like 8:30 like an old man."

MJ: "Ha!" So fucking neat. "Ya wanna eat everything in your fridge, too?"

Pete: "I did. I had the mealtimes of a hobbit."

MJ: "Holy fuck. I wanna see that."

Pete: Pete laughed. "You wanna see me eat twenty million times a day?"

MJ: "Yeah, actually. I wanna see ya bear out."

Pete: "Wanna hang out with me next full moon?"

MJ: "Should be here. If ya want me here."

Pete: He smiled over his beer. “I’d like that. You’re officially invited.”

MJ: "How long is that? Ya just know, or gotta look it up?"

Pete: “In a few days. I have full moons marked on my phone’s calendar.”

MJ: "How soon ‘fore ya feel different?"

Pete: “The closer the full moon gets the more bear like I feel. It’s not too much yet but it will be here pretty soon.”

MJ: "So it's both, I guess?"

Pete: “Kinda, yeah. I don’t know if I pay more attention to my bear feelings because I know the full moon is coming or if I’d feel them even if I didn’t know.”

MJ: "Should see. Never know, ya know?"

MJ stared down the barrel of his glass, let his thoughts swim for a moment in nothingness before his next sip.

Pete: Pete nodded thoughtfully. "Guess it wouldn't hurt to experiment one of these months."

He gestured toward the beer. "Any enjoyment at all in that or are you just thinking about having to throw it up later?"

MJ: "Ya remembered that?"

Pete: Another nod. "Yep. One of them vampire facts that sticks in the mind."

MJ: "Guess so. What else ya remember?"

Pete: He made a face. "The butt teeth."

MJ: "Excuse me what?"

Pete: “Guildias gave me a book that talked about this one clan who likes to experiment with body horror shit and scarred me for life.”

MJ: "Uh," MJ laughed. "Okay, I meant me. Let's leave butt teeth with the snake charmer."

Pete: “Speaking of snakes, make any appear on bars lately?”

MJ: "Look here, that was just a joke."

Pete: Pete chuckled. “A lot funnier after the fact. Thing looked so damn real.”

MJ: "Hey, I don't know ya. We're supposed t'start over."

Pete: “Right, of course.” He smiled. “Tell me about your magic dog travel buddy.”

MJ: "Mm. Well, Abel's a familiar. Not mine, but," shrug. "Gorgeous face; free to admire. He's a little terror. Insatiable. Probably'll show up 'fore dawn."

Pete: "Insatiable for food?" He hoped?

MJ: "Food n'everything else." MJ returned his gaze and squinted. He knew what Peter was getting at.

Pete: Getting at? He was getting at nothing.

“You should bring him by the pub. Bobby’s doing a lot of comfort food lately.”

MJ: "Up to him. Ya wanna meet him?"

Pete: "Sure. Always interesting to meet someone with magic."

MJ: "D'ya really wanna meet em, or ya just sayin' that?"

Pete: "I wouldn't say it if I didn't wanna meet him."

MJ: "I dunno that."

Pete: He smiled. "Fair enough. I really would like to meet him."

MJ: "How much of what ya say is 'cause of the past?"

Pete: "I'm trying not to, promise."

MJ: "What have ya said, though?"

Pete: "The snake on the bar thing."

MJ: Gasp! "It didn't look real?!"

Pete: Pete laughed. "No, it totally did."

MJ: "What else?"

Pete: "That's all, scout's honor. I really do want us to start fresh."

MJ: MJ leaned forward, elbows on the table, chin in hand. Another squint.

Pete: The squint would be met with an earnest smile.

MJ: "Don't love me, Peter."

Pete: To Pete's credit, the smile never faltered.

"We're just getting to know each other over beers that one of us will throw up later."

MJ: "Wow. Ya went there."

Pete: He chuckled. "I can't stop thinking about it. I feel bad that you have to."

MJ: "Don't want ya t'drink alone."

Pete: "Thanks, I appreciate it." He thought for a moment. "Would you still have to if whatever you were drinking was mixed with blood?"

MJ: "Depends on how much it is, I think. Probably eventually."

Pete: "My mentor's grandson told me about the neighboring prince drinking wine mixed with virgin blood, but I could never quite tell if he was serious or if he was just fucking with me."

MJ: "Probably meant it. If they're older than me - prince - then m'not surprised."

Pete: "I think he said she was a couple hundred years old at least."

MJ: "Yep." MJ stretched his arms and sank deeper into his seat. All but melting.

"Ya figured out how long ya got?"

Pete: "Over a hundred but possibly under two? That's my best guesstimate."

MJ: Without something to say, Peter was left with a smile, simple albeit genuine.

Pete: That was more than enough as far as Pete was concerned. This place they were in was fresh and new but it was good. This was good.

“Had enough of this A+ ambiance or wanna stay for another round?”

MJ: "We just got here! Regale me with stories of the pub. I pick next round. I think it's time ya had some cinnamon schnapps."

Pete: "Oh man," he laughed. "I haven't had that since I was...fifteen maybe? Snuck a bottle from the pub and my friends and I took it down to the beach and passed it around."

MJ: "Jesus. Yeah. Regale me with freckle-faced you when the world was young and excitin'," laughed MJ.

Pete: "Well, in a shock to no one, we got super plastered. It was nearly one in the morning when we stumbled home and the second my mom opened the door ready to tear me a new one for breaking curfew, I puked all over the porch."

MJ: MJ feigned disapproval, shaking his head. "How could she ever love ya after that?"

Pete: "Right? The shame of it all. I was grounded for three weeks and my dad made me bus tables to pay for the bottle we took."

MJ: "What a good boy ya are." And a wink to follow.

Pete: Another laugh. "Oh yeah, a Goldschlager-stealing teenage paragon of virtue."

MJ: "Nothin' wrong with stealin', if ya don't get caught."

Pete: "Or if you don't throw your guts up on your front porch and also your mom."

MJ: "She's never forgiven ya. She mighta said it, but she didn't. Her feet'll never forgive ya."

Pete: "It's definitely not in her Top Mothering Moments highlight reel. She tells that story literally every time she makes something with cinnamon in it and I happen to be around."

MJ: "Forever punishin'. That's a -" MJ watched the door. The couple walking in, talking passionately about something. Politics, maybe. There was laughter, so he doubted.

"That's a mom. Don't think ours would get along."

Pete: Pete briefly followed MJ's gaze, turning away again upon not recognizing the couple.

"Oh yeah? Why's that?"

MJ: "'Cause my mama woulda rubbed your back n'left it at that."

Pete: "She wouldn't have grounded me?"

MJ: "She woulda asked if ya learned anything from it."

Pete: "I did, in fact. I learned a very valuable lesson that day."

MJ: "S'all matters t'her."

Pete: "My mom liked to drive home the 'you done fucked up' point. My dad was more like your mom. If you broke something you had to fix or replace but he was a lesson guy above all."

MJ: MJ just smiled, thoughts filled with Kenna and all the lessons she had to discover herself. Lessons he'd had the shock of learning himself. Ones he refused to intervene in her coming of age. Too damn stubborn to listen, anyways. Pick and choose the battles. You only get one hill to die on, his mother said.

"How many times were ya grounded?"

Pete: "During my entire childhood? Oh, man," he chuckled. "Too many to count. Most weren't that big a deal, the Goldschlager incident was one of the big ones. Probably the biggest."

MJ: "Why'd ya do it?"

Pete: "Curiosity, dumb teenage judgment. I remember being very impressed with the gold flakes in the bottle."

MJ: "That's it? Just 'cause ya could?"

Pete: "Pretty much. Boredom probably played a part, too. It was during the summer."

MJ: "Look at chu. Thought ya woulda had t'have some kinda excuse. Maybe somethin' angsty."

Pete: Pete just smiled and finished off his beer. “Nah, I was just fifteen and dumb. Being grounded during the summer by the way? The worst.”

MJ: "You're just old enough iPads didn't rot your brain. We were spared."

Pete: “Right? Being bored was an integral part of growing up.”

MJ: "I was never bored." Said like a challenge.

Pete: “Spoken like a man that never broke a window with a soccer ball.”

MJ: "Your mama punished accidents?"

Pete: “I’m sure she would’ve done something, but my dad standing beside her dying laughing kinda ruined her plans.”

MJ: "Kinda dig ruined plans these days."

Pete: “She barely got the middle names out when my dad just started wheeze-laughing.”

MJ: "I only got the middle name once."

Pete: "Only once? Impressive. What caused it?"

MJ: "Gettin' kicked outta college."

Pete: He nodded. "Yep, that'll do it."

MJ: "More like gettin' caught with my hand in the cookie jar." He shrugged. "But you. You're a bad boy. Gettin' caught all the time."

Pete: "The soccer ball incident was all Luke. That's why he's a goalie, he can't aim for shit."

MJ: "His center of gravity is better than ours. He should be the best."

Pete: "You'd think so," Pete chuckled. "But nope, he can't aim. He played goalie in school and for a while for our weekly game but his true calling is being ref."

MJ: "Knew a guy that every game hit someone's car."

Pete: "Accidentally? Or on purpose?"

MJ: "Baseball wasn't his game."

Pete: "Damn. He ever break any windows?"

MJ: "Fuck. Mike broke many fuckin' windows. Sent one flyin' into Jock's fuckin' shoulder. Hit a teacher's car. Hit his mama's car. It was fuckin' great."

Pete: Pete laughed and shook his head. "Jesus Christ. Mike, my guy, you should've cut and run after like the second window."

MJ: "Mike's a father now. He teaches his kid how t'play."

Pete: "Did the kid inherit his skills?"

MJ: "No idea." He gestured to his body. "Don't keep in touch anymore."

Pete: "I kinda hope the kid broke one of his car windows."

MJ: "Same. Probably will. That whole family is klutz."

Pete: "Bless their hearts. I feel like breaking windows is a rite of passage for kids. Even June and her siblings broke one."

MJ: "June?" Oh! He snapped his fingers. "The lil fake blonde!"

Pete: "Thankfully the fake blonde days are long since past. She's stayed brunette and boxes now."

MJ: "Punched her boyfriend out?"

Pete: "No but I hope she goes back and does it someday. She's bartending now. Waitress days are long gone too."

MJ: "She a strong independent Latina now."

Pete: "She is. She's a cat mom, too. Her cat is my cat's brother."

MJ: "...Ah." The damn cat again. That link to a man he intended to visit. One of these nights. Maybe.

"Ready for that second round?"

Pete: "Yep. Let's relive my youth, minus the puking and grounding."

MJ: "Well. One of us is gonna do it. I'll take the bullet." Dwight was waved down and given their order. A leap from Blue Moon to say the least.

Pete: "You're a real trooper, and I mean that."

Dwight had no reaction to the order beyond a nod but Charlie, who was back at their end of the bar, couldn't help but chuckle and shake his head.

MJ: MJ just smiled. A tricky subject to broach, but he wanted to.

"So. How's your love life? Any hook ups?"

Pete: Pete shook his head. "Nope, none. Love life is pretty much non-existent."

MJ: "What a perfect waste of a good beard."

Pete: He snorted. "You sound like Sylvain."

MJ: "Which one is that?"

Pete: "My mentor's grandson. The one who told me about the virgin blood wine."

MJ: "See, this why I think ya need t'find your dad."

Pete: "...Because I'm not hooking up?"

MJ: "'Cause your mentor ain't a bear."

Pete: "Gaetan being my mentor pre-dated me finding out I'm a bear. It's just another thing he helped me through, I didn't seek him out specifically because of it."

MJ: "How'd ya find him?"

Pete: "By pure chance," Pete said softly, something quietly awed in his voice. "In a marketplace."

MJ: "He just took ya home with him?"

Pete: "Not quite." He nodded his thanks to Dwight as their drinks were placed in front of them.

Once he was sure no one was listening, he continued. "I'd been in St. Malo a couple of days and went to the marketplace after a local told me about it. I go, look around, have some breakfast, pretty standard. But then as I'm walking around, I start to feel like someone is staring at me. You know that feeling when all the little hairs on your neck stand up? That but more...I don't know, intense? So I stop and look around to see if I can spot who it is when I see this old, old man sitting at a little table beside a produce stand. He looked about ninety-something and he's staring right at me, like he's trying to see through me. We make eye contact and he just smiles and beckons me over."

MJ: "Your mentor is in his 90s?" Was all MJ had taken from the story so far. He imagined some frail old bastard with a beard down to his knees. Eyebrows untamed bushes, ridiculous and forgotten. A man to use his walking stick to smack sense into idiot children.

Pete: Pete smiled. "Patience, grasshopper. So he's beckoning me over and I'm standing there wondering if I should move closer or turn and walk in the other direction. For god knows what reason, I move closer. He points at the chair in front of him, I sit. Then he pulls out this little leather pouch and asks me what my name is in heavily accented but perfect English, which caught me off guard since a lot of the older people I met couldn't speak English that well. Anyway, I tell him and he dumps out the little pouch--which had runes in it--and proceeds to cast them for me to tell me my fortune."

MJ: Patience, then. He was hungry for more. That which he'd been ignorant to during their relationship. Things he no longer had the energy to wish for. In regards to Peter and to Rohan, he felt numb. Victoria's doing, no doubt.

"A hot piece of ass in your future. A great fortune n'a bigger cock."

Pete: He snorted and shook his head. "Not quite. I don't even know if I can call it telling me my fortune. He just told me stuff about me. How I was feeling, where I'd been, what path I was on. Very spiritual. And unsettling. Mostly unsettling if we're being completely honest, but also intriguing? I don't know if that's the right word for it but it made me want to keep sitting there talking to him. He had this energy about him that felt familiar and not familiar at the same time. I felt like..." He squinted, trying to find the right words.

"You know that feeling you get in dreams, where the people you're interacting with are completely real to you in that moment but some part of you knows it's not?"

MJ: "I don't dream much anymore, but I know what ya mean. I think. Things bein' real n'not real is kinda my schtick. So then what happened?"

Pete: "Actually yeah, it's kinda like the snake on the bar. Not to keep bringing it up or anything but as I was looking at him I felt the same way I did that day. That split second of believing the snake was completely real before my brain remembered it was an illusion. Something about this mysterious old man seemed like an illusion as I was sitting there with him, even though I knew he was completely real. The woman running the stall talked to him, a few people that passed said hello to him. He was definitely real and he could definitely tell I was having this internal debate, I'm sure I looked confused as hell. It amused him enough to invite me to his house for lunch. Well, their house I should say, because it turned out the woman running the stall was his daughter. And once again, for god only knows what reason, I accepted the invitation and went to their place for lunch. I say house but really it's a villa."

MJ: A simple sentence in that statement tightened MJ's brows. Restricted his attention to the rest of the story. A story of an illusionary man was intrigue enough, but that damn statement wouldn't leave him be.

"Remembered it was an illusion?"

Pete: "Maybe I didn't phrase that right." He thought for a moment. "You ever see footage of like...supposed hauntings or UFOs or something and there's that initial mental gasp before something kicks in that tells you that what you're seeing isn't real?"

MJ: "Is that a challenge?"

Pete: "Definitely not," Pete chuckled. "Not here at least. Maybe you can test me when you come along on the full moon."

MJ: "Was it 'cause it didn't move?"

Pete: "Partially. It was insanely realistic though."

MJ: "Did things all the time. Ya just didn't -" That's not what this was meant to be. He couldn't break his own rule. "Drink your schnapps."

Pete: Pete took an obedient sip, and almost instantly a smile broke out across his face.

"Tastes like being a dumb teenager."

MJ: "So, like begin' sick?" Being sick, verses what he really wanted to say. Polite-ish company and all.

Pete: "Nah, everything that came before. It was fun before the being sick and getting grounded."

MJ: "Bein' grounded didn't do shit. Ya badass kid."

Pete: That got a laugh. "No one has ever called me that, ever. It didn't stop me from being dumb but it sure ruined my life for three weeks."

MJ: "Shit's slower as a kid. Of course it was for-fuckin-ever." A thought which had him looking down the bottom of his glass. "They say it gets like that after two hundred. Ya know. Them."

Pete: He nodded as he took another sip. "Gaetan says that, too."

MJ: "After how long?"

Pete: "I doubt you'll believe me if I tell you."

MJ: "Guess ya really did have your own adventure."

Pete: “It was an adventure and a half. I really hope I’m not boring you, I know it’s a lot.”

MJ: "Boring me? The fuck ya think you're talkin' to?"

Pete: "Just making sure! Not everyone likes hearing long-winded things."

MJ: "Well, lucky for ya, I happen t'like em."

Pete: "I'm glad," he said with a smile. "You and Gaetan would get along."

MJ: "Why's that?"

Pete: "He likes long-winded stories, messing with people, going on adventures. He's been to space."

MJ: "Long winded makes em sound shitty." A finger raised. "Space?"

Pete: “Space!"

MJ: "Elaborate!" he laughed.

Pete: "Should I pick up where I left off or tell you the space part?"

MJ: "I think we need t'digress right quick."

Pete: "He's always been really fascinated by space and astronomy so as soon as being an astronaut became a thing that people could do, he became one. He worked on the very first American space station in the 70s."

MJ: "He's a fuckin' astronaut? Name in the books n'everything? How'd he get away with that?" He knew how Kindred could. Information a now simple subconscious existence. It hadn't occurred to him to consider outside of his circle.

Pete: Pete just smiled again as he took another sip of schnapps. "The same way I thought he was a ninety year-old man."

MJ: "Ya can't just glamour a fuckin' background check!"

A quick glance around. Ignore the yelling biker.

Pete/Charlie: Everyone mostly did, except for one Charles Brandt.

He squinted at MJ. "The hell ya'll talking about over there?"

MJ: "Lion tamin'!"

Charlie: "Pffft, sure, and Marilyn OD'ed."

MJ: "What? Ain't seen Tiger King?"

Charlie: "Who's the tiger king?"

MJ: "Bless ya."

Charlie: "Don't patronize me, ankle biter."

MJ: "I mean it! Saved precious hours of your life!"

Charlie: "Oh. Well that's all right then."

MJ: MJ returned his rescuing smile back to Peter.

Pete: "Nice save," Pete said under his breath.

MJ: "Baby, m'all about saves."

Pete: "You really friggin' are. And to answer your question, he's not currently an astronaut but he's thinking about giving it another go soon. He fabricates identities fairly regularly."

MJ: "So, guess the older ya get the more perfect ya are."

Pete: "He's had a loooong time to get the process down pat."

MJ: "I don't trust anything that sounds perfect."

Pete: "I don't know if I'd describe him as perfect. He's perfected a lot of things just because he's so goddamn old but the man himself? Human as human can be."

MJ: "Hmm. Don't trust anything that old with humanity."

Pete: Pete chuckled. "That the vampire in you speaking or just you?"

MJ: "Maybe both. Don't judge me."

Pete: "Oh no, I don't. I can completely see why someone wouldn't trust him, I don't blame you."

MJ: "But ya did."

Pete: "I did, yeah. Feels like he stitched me back together. Not just him, though. Being there, the whole experience."

MJ: "Mm. I can't say shit on the matter."

Pete: "Sounds like you had your own similar experience, only in a different setting."

MJ: "What, runnin' away from shit?"

Pete: "With your demon friend."

MJ: "Apples n'oranges."

Pete: "True. But they're both still fruits at the end of the day."

MJ: His mouth opened - closed. "Nah. M'thinkin' a tomatoes."

Pete: "Tomatoes?"

MJ: "Fruit."

Pete: "Well, it might not go in a fruit salad but it's still a fruit, too. That's all life is. One big salad."

MJ: "Dude, you're a fuckin' hippie."

Pete: Well he was just all smiles now, the corners of his eyes crinkling in delight as he finished off his glass. "Yep, 'fraid so."

MJ: "I miss the man that would throw punches." He didn't mean to say that out loud, but too late. He would mirror finishing his own glass to shut his mouth.

Pete: Pete tried to temper his expression. It was comforting to know he wasn't the only one to have a slip on this new leaf of theirs.

"If it makes you feel any better, he threw one a couple weeks ago."

MJ: Like a dog with perked ears. "Who deserved it?"

Pete: "Creepy old perv that cornered a kid at the park."

MJ: "The fuck? How many times did ya punch him?"

Pete: "Twice. Cal and I had gone to the soccer field one evening just for fun and when we first arrived at the park there was this group of kids hanging out by the swings. Oldest one looked about fourteen. When we were leaving we passed by the playground again and there was only one of the kids left and this mouth-breathing cockbag had him pressed against one of the poles."

MJ: "The fuck did he - Did ya tell Bre..." Oh. Right. That can of half-dead worms. MJ looked away, arms coming in to cross and rest on his stomach. "The sheriff woulda taken care of him."

Pete: "He did. Cal called him while I tried not to commit murder."

MJ: The vampire's lips slowly thinned. "How is he?"

Pete: "Regrettably still alive, but in the county jail."

MJ: "Nanana - the uh, the sheriff."

Pete: "Oh! He's fine. Also had to resist the urge to commit murder. Actually the second time he had to resist, and for the exact same reason."

MJ: "Thought this was gonna be a meth town. I'd rather a meth town. Whatever." With that, he was on his feet, fishing for his wallet.

Pete: "The only comfort--if it can even be called that--is that the cockbag doesn't live here. Fucking tourists."

He quickly shook his head and reached for his own wallet. "No no no, you don't have to do that. I'll get it."

MJ: "Why? Did ya win the lottery?"

Pete: He just smiled and placed a few bills on the bar. "Let your new friend buy your drinks, wouldya please?"

MJ: "New friend tryin'ta get in my pants?"

Pete: "New friend who will hold your metaphorical hair while you're sick."

MJ: "Tisk. Aw jeez. What a pal." A five was tossed out of friendly spite.

Pete/Charlie: Pete just laughed and waved goodbye to Dwight and Charles. "Good seeing you, Charlie."

"You, too, kid. Ya'll come back now."

MJ: "Ya go treat yourself t'the spa! On me, Charl." The door was allowed to close with its own weight behind him.

Pete/Charlie: "There are cheaper ways to get a happy ending!" Charles called after them.

Pete shook his head as the door closed. "Ol' Charl never changes. He's gonna outlive us all."

MJ: "If he's anything he hides it like a pro."

Pete: "He's probably just some kind of super human powered by stubbornness and whiskey sours."

MJ: "My uncle lived on canned beans and bacon. Anything's possible."

Pete: "Some people just have that gene I guess. So. Where to now?"

MJ: "Need t'find some kinda spell t'push this town closer t'the city."

Pete: "And have them city slickers ruining the place? Never."

MJ: "Nothin' t'do 'round here. How did I - mm." A hand clasped firmly to his stomach.

Pete: Uh oh.

He looked around for a suitable bush. "Over there. Easy does it now."

MJ: "'Easy does it'? Did ya gain fifty years while I was gone?" To the bush, then.

Pete: "I've got a pregnant sister I've been saying it to a lot. Need anything to make this easier?"

MJ: Peter was waved off. "Fuck off for a minute." No one needed to see vomit and blood and hear the retched sound.

Pete: "Yep, can do." Pete was just gonna step a safe distance away and turn around while MJ did what he needed to do.

MJ: The unmistakable sound would reach Peter's ears within moments. Spit and curses following. All for the sake of company and some shred of domesticity.

"Where to now? My place. I need some fuckin' Listerine."

Pete: Pete winced. Not because of the sound, he'd heard worse. He just wanted MJ to feel comfortable.

"Sure thing. Need a napkin or anything?"

MJ: "Don't fuckin' baby me. I got it."

Pete: "All right, all right. Lead the way then."

MJ: Miles to the mobile home park. To the same lot which had been his years ago. The same people, the same attitudes. Not so late in the night for silence. A herd of children were being rounded up by two men armed with water guns.

Leslie Issott waved with his free hand, saying nothing in his passing. Yellow and pink squirt gun still aimed at his neighbor's son.

Pete: It had been ages since Pete had walked down this way, or walked this much on a non-full moon night. Something to remedy now that the weather was starting to warm up.

Pete smiled at Leslie as they passed, returning the wave.

"Place always looks exactly the same," he said absently. "Or it seems to, anyway."

MJ: "S'real people. Kind m'not interested in - in that way, ya know?"

Pete: He nodded. "Yeah, I can understand that. Any of them roll out the welcome wagon for you?"

MJ: "Just got here." Tunnel vision for this meeting, MJ hadn't lingered long enough for anyone to say hello.

Pete: Another nod. "Bet someone does before long."

Pete's eyes narrowed as they approached MJ's house. "Does your RV look...newer?"

MJ: "Uh... yeah. Other one kinda... broke."

Pete: "Really? Huh. Well, an upgrade is always nice."

MJ: "I guess. Shit happens."

Yes, it was his RV, but he was going to knock for Abel's sake.

Abel: Abel was sitting upside down watching something on his phone when the scent of MJ registered a moment before he heard the knock at the door.

"I'm not naked!" he called. Although at this point, did it really matter? They'd been living in the same space for ages, what was a bare ass between friends.

MJ: A statement which put a smile on MJ's face. A wink to Peter before opening the door.

"Good, 'cause I got innocent eyes here that don't need t'see your dangly bits."

Pete/Abel: Pete's brow furrowed in confused amusement at the shouted greeting.

"Is he usually naked?" he asked before they stepped inside.

Abel turned toward MJ and their surprise guest. He gasped. "Did you make a friend? In less than twenty-four hours?! I'm so proud!"

MJ: "Shaddup. This is Peter. Remember Peter? " Said casually, of course, but the look in his eye was one which said "be nice" in all capital letters above his head. If only he could manage that without Peter noticing.

Pete/Abel: Whether Pete noticed or not, he was going to pretend he didn't.

Abel did though. "Oh! Yeah, I do!" He righted himself and got to his feet. "Hi, Peter, I'm Abel. I promise not to show you my dangly bits."

Pete laughed and reached out to shake his hand. "I appreciate that. You can call me Pete, by the way."

MJ: This felt awkward. Hours and hours and miles and miles leading up to this moment, and he wanted to turn his ass around and pull Peter by the collar.

And yet, in contrast, why care? What was the point?

"Gonna swish." Abel was given another look. "I did the thing."

Abel: Abel made a face. "Ew, gross. Forget swishing, go whole hog and brush your teeth. I'll entertain Pete with some jokes and an improvised dance number."

MJ: "I need t'put on some cabaret?" He'd certainly hum some on the way to the bathroom.

Pete/Abel: “Every little thing helps!” Abel called after him, swaying along with the tune until it faded.

He turned back to Pete and smiled. “All right. I’m gonna bounce. I owe you some jokes.”

“Oh no, you don’t have t—“

“I don’t but I do so I’m gonna. Good to meet you, Pete.”

“Abel, really—“

“Nope, trust me, you both need this.”

And just like that, he was gone.

MJ: He did a thing, now Abel did a thing. He could feel it in the silence. What side was the damn familiar on?

"It got quiet," gargled from behind the bathroom door.

Pete: “Uh...yeah, it did. Your friend decided to make himself scarce.”

MJ: "What did he think, we gonna fuck?"

Pete: “Does he? You know him better than I do.”

MJ: "Askin' if he said that or somethin'."

Pete: “He just said we both needed this.”

MJ: The door was carefully kicked open while he swished. Words in neon orange above his head, struggling to remain visible.

'You agree?'

Pete: Impossible not to smile. A small bit of magic perhaps but incredibly impressive. Sure beat the hell out of pantomiming.

"Maybe, yeah. Do you?"

MJ: He didn't want to just dismiss the idea. Abel was meant to be some sort of buffer. Part of the reason he'd been brought across country. Abel must have known that.

The neon changed color, faded to yellow question marks.

Pete: "He could've felt like he'd be intruding by staying. Or he didn't wanna make it weird."

MJ: Time to spit. "Was it weird?"

Pete: Pete shrugged. "Not at Charlie's, but that was more familiar. Meeting someone new is always a little weird. Even for normal people."

MJ: "Familiars eat that shit up. Least that one does." The door was shut behind him. Jacket tossed over the nearest seat.

Pete: "Maybe he just wanted to give you some privacy." He smiled. "You know, like friends do."

MJ: "Maybe he thinks we'll fuck."

Pete: Another shrug. "A logical assumption, I guess. Anyone would think the same."

MJ: "Anyone? 'Cause we had a wild year t'gether?"

Pete: "People assume far more about people who've known each other for far less."

MJ: MJ leaned his shoulder against the nearest bit of wall, picked at his less-than-perfect fingernails.

"Ya remember what ya said t'me, once, 'bout how I didn't give ya enough attention?"

Pete: Pete nodded and looked down at his hands. He remembered every excruciating moment alongside the good ones.

"I do."

MJ: "What was it?"

Pete: "I said..." A sigh. "I said that I felt like I had to share you with everyone, that you seemed to have time for everyone but me."

MJ: "I didn't vamp into this." He gestured around the RV. "I was raised in one of these until Kenna was born. Daddy got us a brick n'mortar, but I still lived in the RV. Never had a curfew. No questions but if I had a good time, if I got caught. If we wanted t'get up n'go, we got up n'went. M'not used t'this." Pointed between them.

"I left Rohan, too. Just got that itch. Wasn't safe, it said. Then I got chased. Everything screamin' at me t'save myself. Like bein' backed in a corner." More picking at his nails, looking up to continue.

"I loved Rohan. I loved you. Still do, but that's just love. That ain't... enough reason t'do anything more than say I love ya."

Pete: They'd had such different upbringings. Not quite polar opposite, but still different. He tried to imagine his own parents taking that approach, tried to imagine how he would be and how his siblings would be if they had.

A dull, familiar ache pulsed in his chest as he offered MJ a small smile. "I don't have any illusions or expectations of anything more. I didn't even have illusions or expectations of that. Hope, sure, but not any expectations. I just want you to be happy and okay."

MJ: "But ya wanted me here. I get wantin' texts or somethin'. I get that now. Back then, that was too much, but that's on me."

Pete: "I probably was, too. Too needy, too emotional, asking too much. If I was, at any point, I'm sorry."

MJ: "Ya wanted the picture. I ain't ever been the picture, Peter."

Pete: "Well, it's like the Stones say, you don't always get what you want. It was unfair of me to try to fit you into some ideal. Some mold. You deserve better than that from someone who loves you."

MJ: "N'ya deserve someone that's around. M'not gonna always be around. Ya deserve what ya always wanted."

Pete: "The rest of that lyric is 'if you try sometimes, you get what you need'."

MJ was given another smile. "You know what I really want? Something real. Not the ideal or the mold or the thing that looks like what everyone thinks it should look like. I just want something real."

MJ: "How m'I supposed t'know what ya really mean n'what you'll say t'get what ya want?" Spoken carefully and clearly despite his accent, words as delicate as the situation.

Pete: Pete gave a small shrug. "I think this is something where actions speak louder than words. I can tell you all day but that won't make you believe me. I have to prove it to you."

MJ: Fingernails were beginning to warm from constant picking. Too good of a distraction.

"Same."

Pete: "So I guess my question is, what can I do to prove it to you?"

MJ: "I don't have the answer, either. Thought about it the whole way here. Only thing I came up with was pretendin' we never met."

Pete: "Well..." He offered up smile. "We've made our introductions, new friend. The rest is in the lap of the gods."

MJ: "Ya believe in that stuff?"

Pete: "In gods?"

MJ: "Mhm."

Pete: "I don't think I'm a capital 'B' believer, but I do, yeah. I pray my Druid prayers every day. It comforts me."

MJ: "Callum, I guess?"

Pete: Pete shook his head. "Madeleine. Gaetan's current eldest daughter."

MJ: "Current eldest?"

Pete: "His family tree is pure chaos. Took me a long time to get it straight. He's had countless children in his life, countless daughters. Madeleine is his eldest at the moment and she looks like she could be his mother."

MJ: "He just lets em all die?"

Pete: "He gives them a choice."

MJ: "Sure." He didn't know enough to have an opinion, outside of the wary of druids and their strange magic.

Pete: Pete didn't understand it much either, but it was one of those things he hadn't felt comfortable inquiring on further.

"Yeah, so. Madeleine was the one who suggested I join her during her evening prayer and eventually taught them to me. She said people derive comfort from their prayers. She must've thought I looked like I needed comfort."

MJ: "What were ya like 'fore I came here? The guy I met at the bar, I only knew him for a little 'fore ya became this."

Pete: "I'm not all that different. From my perspective anyway. Just less angry, not in as much inner turmoil, or that weird feeling of limbo I didn't realize I had."

MJ: "Maybe what ya fell in love with in me ain't here anymore."

Pete: "I could say the same to you. You may very well decide I'm insufferable and not want anything to do with me." Pete shrugged. "We won't know until we get to know each other."

MJ: "How d'ya wanna get t'know me? Ya got somethin' in mind? Ya thought about this, didn't ya?"

Pete: He just smiled. "Only thing I had in mind was to take you with me on a full moon. Or invite you at least. Maybe go for a swim, catch some fish."

MJ: "I'll come with ya. Yeah. But what ya wanna do until then?"

Pete: "Right this minute? We could watch something or go down to the pub with Abel."

MJ: "We just left a bar!" MJ laughed.

Pete: "We don't have to drink! We can just be there and people watch or bother Bobby. Watching something is also an option at the pub, I put a TV in my office."

MJ: "You're a workaholic."

Pete: “I put it up there precisely so I could have a little break from work. And the cats really like it.”

MJ: "Catsssss?"

Pete: “June brings Socks with her so he can hang out with his brother.”

MJ: "N'people think I'm a nut."

Pete: “You got nothing on us crazy cat people,” Pete said with a grin.

MJ: "I mean, rat person. Totally different breed."

Pete: “Midas is a rat person, too. Only hunts bugs and sticks.”

MJ: "I don't trust a face that beautiful."

Pete: “That beautiful little face once watched a field mouse eat his food and just meowed and looked sad.”

MJ: "The mouse will always come back now."

Pete: "He definitely did a couple times before we came back to the States."

MJ: "Alright, so ya want outta the RV?"

Pete: "Unless you wanna watch something here or just keep talking. I don't much mind where we go."

MJ: His mind was pulled in two directions. One simple and safe, one convoluted and certainly unsafe. Maybe a test. One which pushed leadership into Peter's hands as he stepped closer, less than the appropriate distance of acquaintanceship. His scent had not changed. Leather, gasoline, nature. The same cinnamon toothpaste. MJ took a breath, wanting to breathe in nostalgia.

Pete: Pete went very still as MJ approached, watching him with quiet curiosity and perhaps just a hint of caution.

He did smell exactly the same, reminded Pete of exactly the same things. Of his motorcycle and the forest. He wondered if he did, too. He still wore the same cologne, still smelled vaguely of smoke, still used the same soap.

So many things had remained the same and once upon a time, Pete would've just leaned forward to kiss MJ, easy as anything. But not everything was the same; there were things that had changed. They had changed.

All Pete could think to do was smile and say, "Let's go walk on the beach."

MJ: Well, there were some of their answers. Not the expected reaction of the man he'd once fallen to pieces over. Maybe that spontaneity had aged; maybe that new scent brought with it a composure his Peter hadn't possessed. Either way, he couldn't expect change and what had been his sweetheart to remain the same.

"Sure."

'You're gettin' hazed when ya get home. Ya in my head, pup?'

Anyway, a new shirt, same jacket. "Lead the way."

Pete/Abel: Spontaneity had given way to caution, at least for now. He wanted to kiss MJ. To hug him and cling to him and have everything be exactly as it had once been, as easy as it had once been.

But if he gave in to those wants, he risked losing MJ entirely. MJ could take it as proof that Pete wasn't really prepared to start at square one or that he was too hung up on who MJ had been to accept who he was now. And kissing MJ once right now wasn't worth potentially losing him. As ready as Pete was to fight for him and as willing as he was to start over, he wasn't willing to take that risk.

Pete smiled. "All right. I can show you the two-headed turtle."

'I made myself scarce! It's polite to make yourself scarce when your roommate brings his ex home!' Abel thought back.

MJ: The voice in his head, feminine and ripe with wisdom reminded him that this was for the best. Nothing lasted forever, not even immortals. Why should love be any different? A human lifetime was gone in a snap. Fera fell right behind them. Where were druids? These were not hills to die upon.

But he loved them both. He loved the memory of one, and the purity of the other. Hills.

'He's not a - doesn't matter! I needed a buffer ya dick!'

Peter was shooed from the door, locking the RV behind him. Not a barrier for the familiar. 'Go get laid or somethin'.'

Abel: 'Well then you should've said so! Communication, MJ. Remember that whole conversation we had about sharing our feelings with that homeless guy in Nebraska?'

But if it was buffer MJ wanted, then buffer he would get.

Within moments, Abel would come barreling out of the darkness with a tennis ball in his mouth, once more in dog form.

MJ: Fucking goddamn!

"Didn't wanna go get laid, huh?" The ball was grabbed from his mouth, thrown further down the dirt road.

Pete/Abel: Pete's brow furrowed as he scented the air. "...Abel?"

A confirming bark before the familiar went racing after the ball.

MJ: "Did ya just sniff the fuckin' air?"

Pete: "Oh, yeah," he chuckled. "I do that now. I also scratch my back on trees."

MJ: "Like, in both forms?"

Pete: "Nah, tree bark hurts in human form. I use door frames in human form."

MJ: "My fuckin' god, dude. How do they feel? Morphin'."

Pete: "Like becoming a human rubik's cube, or clay. I don't know what giving birth is like but I imagine it's kind of like that."

MJ: "Hurts like bein' squeezed outta a three-inch tube, or does it feel good... eventually?"

Pete: "A three-inch tube, yes, that's exactly it. But when it's done, there's just relief. Which is how my sister described childbirth."

MJ: "Yeah, some chemical shit makes ya forget." His smile reignited. "Childbirth. That's funny as shit. Givin' birth to yourself, I guess."

Pete/Abel: Pete laughed. "Yep, that's me. Giving birth to myself once a month."

Abel ran back towards them, ball in mouth.

MJ: "Toss it for him. He's really a dog like this."

Pete/Abel: "It's like when I'm a bear." Pete took the ball from Abel and tossed it, chuckling as the dog went racing after it again.

MJ: "Ya completely gone under the fur?"

Pete: He shook his head. "Not completely. The first few times I blacked out but now I'm fairly aware when I transform."

MJ: "But I mean, ya have... a bear brain, I guess?"

Pete: "Yep, along with everything else. I'm exhausted the whole winter, eat a ton leading up to it. And I now have actual chest hair."

MJ: "I dunno how to ask; my rats have linear thoughts n'great memory. Super simple. S'what I me - wait what?"

Pete: "Chest hair. I've got some now. A good bit actually, teenage me would be thrilled."

MJ: "Lemme see."

Pete: Pete tugged down the collar of his shirt just enough to expose some of his new crop of chest hair. It wasn't at the most extreme end of the hairy chest spectrum but it held its own.

MJ: "Shit, ya got more than me now," he laughed.

Pete/Abel: "It's them bear genes," Pete said with a grin.

And once more out of the darkness came Abel. It was MJ's turn to toss the tennis ball and the familiar showed no signs of getting tired. It had been a while since he'd played fetch.

MJ: The ball was taken and bounced between hands. He threw! but no he didn't. The ball held behind his back.

"I think about... things we didn't do."

Pete/Abel: "You mean other than playing fetch with a magical dog?"

Abel fell for it. Completely. His current doggie brain didn't realize MJ hadn't thrown the ball until he got about 20 feet ahead of them.

MJ: "Wow that really works." The ball was thrown in truth down their path.

He waited for those ears to get far enough away.

"People assume shit, with how I look. Big dudes like big dude things."

Pete: Ah. Those things. A sudden vision of the dream he was convinced he'd shared with MJ came into his head.

"Yeah. I'm familiar with that particular assumption. I made it of you, didn't I?"

MJ: "Don't blame ya. I didn't open my fuckin' mouth."

Pete: "I didn't ask and I should've. That was an important conversation to have."

MJ: "We talk with our bodies. I gave ya all sorts of conversation. I loved all of it. I'm also a liar."

Pete: "There was plenty to love. And for the record? Makes no difference to me."

MJ: "You're a fuckin' bottom if there ever was one," MJ grinned.

Pete: Pete laughed. "Can't argue with that, I guess. But I've flipped that coin before. I am technically bi, you know."

MJ: "So am I. Most people are, they just don't say shit. S'what I think."

Pete: “Yeah, maybe. Point is, I have no objection or...aversion to coin flipping.”

MJ: "I guess I don't, but like, m'still dead."

Pete: "And I'm a forest creature."

MJ: "Ya don't cum blood."

Pete: “We can’t help what form our bodily fluids come in.”

MJ: Peter was given a look. A long stare of scrutiny as they walked.

Pete: He just gave MJ an earnest smile and took his turn throwing the ball when Abel came back with it.

"I've had a lot of time to think about it."

MJ: "About my bodily fluids?"

Pete: "About all of it. Conversations, feelings, everything."

MJ: "Wanna spill?"

Pete: "Told you about that dream I had, right? About us?"

MJ: That had been one hell of a night. He squinted in the darkness. "Sounds... familiar."

Pete: "Well, we were in this dream version of my living room or somewhere and we were...like we used to be. You were in my lap and it felt so normal and we had one of those silent body conversations and it was so clear that...well, that the coin should've been flipped. I don't know how I didn't see it."

MJ: "Didn't want ya to, I guess." Abel was lifted under his arm, tennis ball bounced for the sake of teasing.

"Breakin' our rules left n'right."

Pete/Abel: Abel made a couple of half-hearted attempts to snatch the ball but all that running had worn him out. Better to catch his breath.

Pete smiled. "Yeah, we are. I should be asking how the cross-country drive was."

MJ: "About as fun as roamin' France, probably."

Pete: “Did ya’ll do a straight shot on highways only or have a proper road trip?”

MJ: "Dirt roads. Largest ball of yarn, corn fields in Nebraska, that kinda thing. Walked the streets of Chicago. Met a girl." He swiveled his hand. "Long trip here."

Pete: Mention of a girl would be ignored. For now. "Sounds like it. You know there's cryptids in those cornfields. My grandpa used to tell us stories about them."

MJ: "Nothin' surprises me anymore. Not about what exists. Tell me ya got abducted by aliens, maybe that'll get me."

Pete: “Not me, but by all accounts Grandpop Hiram did.”

MJ: MJ slowly turned his head to face his old boyfriend.

Pete: “No shit,” he chuckled. “He told me, right hand to god, that he got abducted while driving down a country road in the middle of the night and they didn’t return him until the next morning.”

MJ: "Now that'll take me a minute. Coulda been a fake memory."

Pete: "It could've, except that he didn't get returned in the same place. He woke up on his front lawn, truck nowhere to be found. The old sheriff found it abandoned in the middle of the road, keys still in it and everything, except no Hiram. Luke and I asked Peabody to see if there was still a report on file and there was, just like grandpop said. Abandoned truck in the middle of the road, lights still on, keys in the ignition."

MJ: "N'he don't remember jack shit? 'Sides bein' taken." A vampire, and even he felt that sting of doubt. Like what he imagined delirium to be like for kine.

Pete: "No, he did. He remembered laying on a cold surface and bright lights and shadowy figures standing over him."

MJ: "Ah. See, nah. That's too 50s."

Pete: "It was in the 50s."

MJ: "See?! No way, man. He's why we got movies like Close Encounters."

Pete: “Orrrrrr there just isn’t that much variation to how alien surgery is performed. Anyway, grandpop had that thing where his eyes were different colors and he said that after that incident, the colors were switched.”

MJ: "Heterochromia," a word smooth from his tongue, of course, having such eyes, though not quite the same.

"I don't think a little green man is gonna travel lifetime after lifetime after lifetime just to poke some flesh n'set it free."

Pete/Abel: "Yes, that word. And judging from what everyone says, that's exactly what the little green men do. Right, Abel? Back me up."

Abel barked once before thinking, 'Yeah, he's totally right,' to MJ.

MJ: "Ya ain't seen no goddamn aliens, Abe."

Abel: 'Hey, I could've seen aliens, you don't know. We spent a long time in Nebraska with Kenny the homeless guy. Ooh! I bet Kenny's seen aliens.'

MJ: "Of course Kenny's seen aliens. Guy had a mullet n'worked with corn in the 70s."

Pete: "Who's Kenny?" asked Pete.

MJ: "Some homeless dude we met in Nebraska. Had a thousand tales. Probably half true."

Pete/Abel: "And Kenny has a mullet, worked with corn, and has seen aliens, huh?"

'If anyone has, it's definitely--wait he can't hear me. MJ, if I switch back so I can talk will you still carry me?'

MJ: "Sure, piggy-back." Abel was placed on the ground between their feet.

"Yeah, all that Kenny stuff."

Pete/Abel: Once on the ground again, Abel gave himself a good shake and switched back to his human form, which was a far more streamlined process than Pete was used to. And Abel even got to keep his clothes on.

"Hi again!" the familiar said brightly. "Up, please!"

MJ: MJ bent his knee, waiting for that familiar weight of the familiar before returning to pace. This was completely normal.

"So yeah, Nebraska."

Pete/Abel: “Sounds like a hoot,” said Pete, smiling as Abel scrambled up on MJ’s back and clung to him like a koala. “Were any of Kenny’s maybe true stories about aliens?”

Abel shook his head. “No but he had a lot to say about drones and the pesticides they use on the corn.”

MJ: "He was on the same tree, not the right branch. Ya believe that shit?"

Pete: “The drones or the pesticides?”

MJ: "Both."

Pete: “The pesticides are fact. The drones, I’m not so sure. At least on a Big Brother kind of level. All those YouTube kids have drones.”

MJ: "If I had it my way there'd be no security cameras ever, but I'm fuckin' biased, and kinda fuckin' dead."

Pete: “I don’t think there’s any escaping them now. You can escape the YouTube kids though.”

MJ: "Gets easier n'harder at the same time."

Pete: “That’s progress, I guess. Keep an eye out for a rock with a turtle painted on it.”

MJ: "This metaphorical or literal?"

Pete: “Literal. It’s the marker for where the two-headed turtle lives.”

MJ: "The fuck are we doin' again? The beach?"

Pete: “Yes, and we’re also visiting the two-headed turtle.”

MJ: "Alright. Two-headed turtle it is. Wanna see a two-headed turtle, Abe?"

Abel: “Do you even have to ask? I’d go anywhere to see a turtle, especially if it has two heads.”

MJ: "I sure love not bein' the only weirdo."

Abel: “Turtles aren’t weird!”

MJ: "No. They're slow speech and wise. You. You're weird."

Abel: “For loving turtles?” Abel scoffed. “Nuh-uh. You’re weird, you like cowboy music.”

MJ: "What's wrong with Garth Brooks?"

Abel: “All his songs sound the same.”

MJ: "N'Reba?"

Abel: “Isn’t that a sitcom?”

MJ: "I'mma drop your ass."

Abel: Abel laughed. “You wouldn’t, Pete would think you’re a meanie.”

MJ: "I am a meanie. How d'ya not know Fancy? Or uh, The Night the Lights Went Out in Georgia?"

Abel: “And here I thought Fallout Boy had long song titles. Why is all country music about the south? The north has countryside and cows too.”

MJ: "Folk, bluegrass, country, southern rock, country rock, hillbilly, blues, bluegrass; s'all countryside."

Abel: “Aren’t you Hungarian? How does a nice Hungarian boy develop a taste for the banjo and ballads about trucks?”

MJ: "I was born here, believe it or not. My old man just happens t'like that shit."

Pete/Abel: “Ah, well, we all need a guilty pleasure. Right, Pete?”

Pete smiled and nodded. “Right. Also we’ve arrived.” He pointed at a rock with a turtle painted on it. “Callum warded his home so some piece of shit kid didn’t kill it or kidnap it.”

MJ: "How's that work? Kill the kid instead?"

Pete: “What, no. It just keeps them from getting too close. He read a story about some little assholes killing a swan’s babies and it upset him so much he started warding every nest he found.”

MJ: "Ol' Callum's magic. Ya might like em, Abe. I see X in him. They'd hate each other or love each other."

The familiar was placed back on his own feet.

"N'I'm more than just Hungarian. Ya know that."

Pete/Abel: “They’ve met,” Pete sighed. “Cal’s not a fan.”

“He’s not alone in that.” Abel stretched. “Xavier is an acquired taste. Like kombucha.”

MJ: "See? Love or hate. Here's my thing: they're alike. Can't tell ya how. I ain't that articulate. They just are."

Pete: “Well, whatever you do, don’t ever say that to Callum,” Pete chuckled. “Have you talked to him since you’ve been here?”

MJ: "Have I?" He looked to Abel and laughed.

Abel: Abel grinned. “Xavier? He pops into our heads every now and then. Or to the RV. I think he misses us.”

MJ: "Think he means Cal."

Abel: “Oh! Yeah you definitely have. I haven’t.”

MJ: "Yeah, see. Definitely have."

Pete: “How did it go?” asked Pete.

MJ: "M'still alive. Hallelujah," MJ smiled.

Pete: Pete smiled back. “Yes you are. And he didn’t chase you around with a broom or sic the dog on you?”

MJ: "Not tonight. Maybe later. I'd probably deserve it."

Pete: He shook his head. “No, you don’t. He knows that, deep down.”

MJ: "Sure." His go-to when he had nothing to add, he realized. Wondered if that had always been the case, and too lazy to change it.

Pete/Abel: Pete just smiled and led MJ and Abel over to where the turtle liked to spend its time.

Sure enough, at their approach, two little heads poked out from the brush.

“Turtles!” Abel went in for a closer look, crouching so he was closer to the turtles’ level.

MJ: "Are they sayin' anything, Abe? They some hive mind, or they hate each other?"

MJ took to crouching by the familiar's side.

Abel: “I dunno, I can’t talk to them without that spell. Maybe you can talk to them.” He wasn’t sure if turtles greeted by sniffing but he offered them a finger anyway. “Hey there little guys!”

MJ: He'd take to the ground, then, chin against folded arms. Did turtles even make sounds? He waited patiently for eye contact, his only means of establishing a connection.

"Hey there, uglies."

Pete/Abel: “MJ!” Abel and Pete said in unison.

Being closer, Abel would be the one to give his friend a light smack on the shoulder. “Don’t be rude. They’re so cute! Don’t listen to him, fellas. You’re fantastic.”

One the heads seemed determined to stare anywhere but at the two beings before it. The other showed a bit more interest.

MJ: "I bet ya want your own body, huh?" Only one mind to speak with. Interested in all things. This existence was the only existence; he couldn't miss what he'd never had. Not the way humans lamented. His brother, not so much. More aware, perhaps.

"Y'all hungry?"

Pete: “I take it you mean the turtles,” said Pete, looking around for something the little reptiles could eat. “Ask them if they like snails and worms.”

MJ: "Can't go wrong with strawberries. Abe, got any? Or some snail 'bout to meet their end?"

Pete/Abel: “On me? Nope. There miiiight be some in the fridge? Can’t say what state they’re in though.”

Pete, meanwhile, was already on a snail and worm hunt. He couldn’t hear them in his human form as well as he could in his bear form but he liked to think he could a little bit. At least we’ll enough to find a snack for a two-headed turtle.

MJ: "What ya think, uglies?" They couldn't argue; this was free food either way.

Meanwhile, MJ would lay on his stomach in front of them, having their own private conversation.

Abel: Another smack to the shoulder courtesy of Abel. “They’re not ugly! Think of a cuter nickname for them. They’re special, they need a cute nickname.”

MJ: "What's wrong with bein' ugly?!"

Pete: “Absolutely nothing but they’re not ugly, they’re adorable. Ask them what their names are.”

MJ: "Fine! Fine." He searched for the brother's eyes, urging contact and a conversation to follow.

"They ain't got names. Most things don't. Just feelin. Like... this one's left n'this one's right. My other half, kinda thing. Alright. Larry n'Todd."

Pete/Abel: Abel’s face lit up. “Perfect! Larry and Todd, I love it. They look like a Larry and a Todd.”

“Soup’s on.” Pete returned with a couple of slugs and a worm.

MJ: "Hey, that is inappropriate wordin' 'round turtles."

Pete/Abel: “Oop, you’re right. Sorry, boys.”

“Larry and Todd!” Abel said cheerfully.

“Ah. Sorry, Larry and Todd.” He placed a slug in front of each head.

MJ: "I think they share a stomach. We'll find out in a minute." And away they went, chowing down on their little feast in what shadow they could find.

Pete: “They probably do since they share all their other parts. I think. They’re the only two-headed anything I’ve ever seen.” Pete offered the worm as well and left the little turtles to eat.

MJ: "Some share the same brain. Saw it on YouTube. Mama would show a picture to one head n'the other would know the color."

Pete: “That’s incredible. Must be difficult to adjust to life attached to another person but when it works, it’s incredible. I’m guessing they weren’t able to safely separate the people in the video?”

MJ: "Hell no. Same brain! Or part of brain, but yeah. Like those guys from the Circus way back when. Just an inch of skin kept em together, but they shared a liver."

Pete: “Oh! Um...dangit what were their names...Chang and Eng!”

MJ: "There's a reason I love ya."

Pete: Pete tried and failed to hide his smile. “My recall ability for names?”

MJ: "Ya know your freaks."

Pete: “I do what I can. Didn’t Chang and Eng have like a dozen kids?”

MJ: "Think so, yeah. Ain't gonna let an inch of skin stop em."

Pete: “An inch of skin and a liver.” He shook his head in awe. “Fucking incredible. I wonder if being conjoined gave them any abilities. Seems like the kinda thing that would.”

MJ: "Abilities? What, like you?"

Pete: “Not necessarily. Something non-Fera related. Something...I don’t know, magical. Possibly psychic.”

MJ: "Ya got an imagination on ya. That's for sure."

Pete: “I blame Graham’s books,” he chuckled. “Been reading a lot of them.”

MJ: "Graham?"

Pete: “My nephew.”

MJ: "Ah. Graham Graham. Of course."

Pete: “Yeah. He loves him a bedtime story. Can’t tell you how many times we’ve read Alice in Wonderland.”

MJ: "Ya know, I get I fit the description of people that'd like it, but nah."

Pete: “Mad hatters and hares and magic potions not your thing?”

MJ: "Vampire ruined it for me."

Pete: “First time Stella read it to Graham he painted all their roses red. She was horrified, Callum was tickled pink.”

MJ: "Ha." Reminded him of Brett. Left a taste in his mouth.

"What cha wanna do now?"

Pete: “I picked the walk and the turtle. Your turn. Or Abel’s if he wants to take one.”

MJ: "What cha wanna do, Abe?"

Abel: “Hmmm....” Abel thought for a moment. “I need a snack. And a cherry coke. And possibly some rainbow sherbet.”

MJ: "So we raid the Walmart?"

Abel: “Yes!” Abel said brightly. “I love Walmart!”

MJ: "That's about the most trash thing ya ever said. Don't ever let X hear ya say that."

Abel: “He loves Walmart, too, he owns a crap ton of stock.”

MJ: "That ain't the same as love. Trust me."

Abel: “Walmart keeps our Xavier in the Armani suits and it keeps us in cherry coke and rainbow sherbet. And chips.”

MJ: That reminded him, he should check on his own stock before sunrise. Another one of X's bits of advice. Same as his father. A truck driver with more stock than he knew what to do with. He wondered how his old man was.

"Walmart can keep ya in the chips without the stock, I promise ya that."

Abel: “Yeah, you’re probably right. This whole country loves it. So are we going?”

MJ: You have no idea what I mean and that's cute.

"Yeppers." He looked to Peter with a smile. "Comin'?"

Pete: Pete smiled and nodded. “Sure! I could go for a cherry coke. How are we getting there?”

MJ: "I dunno how to fly a broom yet, so..."

Abel: “I can take us!” Abel piped in. “I already know where it is, I saw it one day when I was exploring. Everyone take a hand.”

MJ: "Careful with Peter; he's a delicate honey bear."

Pete: “I’ve teleported before,” Pete said as he took Abel’s hand. “Feels like getting squeezed through a straw on a tilt-a-whirl.”

MJ: "More druid stuff?"

Pete: “Another familiar.”

MJ: "How many familiars ya know?"

Pete: “Just one other. Callum’s cousin has one.”

MJ: "Huh." Abel's hand was given a squeeze. "So why ain't Callum got - why were ya flyin' around?"

Pete/Abel: “I needed to take a trip to New Orleans to visit someone.”

Abel squeezed both their hands. “Okay, you two, enough chit chat. I need sherbet! Ready?”

MJ: "Ready." He wasn't taking his breath. What would be the point? "What friend in - I didn't know ya had people there."

Pete/Abel: “Ready,” Pete echoed.

“All rightie. MJ, hold that thought. Petey, deep breath.” Abel held their hands to his chest and transported them across town to the Walmart. This time of night, there would be no one around to notice three men appearing out of thin air.

MJ: Still, MJ looked around. A hand came to rest on Peter's chest as though to steady him.

"Gonna puke?"

Pete: Pete, whose eyes were squeezed shut, held up a finger. He was trying to take deep even breaths to settle his body.

MJ: "Boy I'm sure glad I don't have to deal with that shit." Abel was given an appreciative smack to his shoulder.

"A trucker's feast, huh? Let's get ya some chips."

Pete/Abel: A few more moments and Pete finally opened his eyes.

“All right, I’m good. Let’s get junk food.”

Abel didn’t have to be told twice. He practically skipped into the store and led them first to the frozen section for sherbet.

MJ: MJ waited for Peter to fall into step with. His arm draped over his wide shoulders and squeezed.

"So back to New Orleans. Talk."

Pete: “Oh, right. Well, I don’t exactly have family there. Callum’s cousin is there and she’s my friend but mostly I went to visit the grave of my previous incarnation. Clarke.”

MJ: "Goddamn every single time ya speak ya got some sorta life changin' adventure. What the fuck did ya just say to me?"

Pete: Pete couldn’t help but laugh. “I guess I do, huh? I found my previous incarnation in Paris. In a photo, obviously, not in person.”

MJ: "How did ya chain them events together?"

Pete: “I didn’t at first. Took a few weeks before the chaining really got going.”

MJ: "Gonna explain in detail?"

Pete: “I don’t have to if you don’t want to. I know this is the kinda thing no one but me cares about.”

MJ: "I mean, sure. I'm more curious 'bout how ya found it. Sounds like a huge coincidence."

Pete: “It kinda was. Coincidence or fate, if you wanna look at it that way. I was in the exact right place at the exact right time. Walked by a frame shop right as the owner was placing a frame with his photo in the window.”

MJ: MJ looked ahead for Abel, stumbled a bit on his own feet, pushing into Peter. "And ya knew who it was?"

Pete: Pete immediately reached out to steady him. “Not then. All I knew was that something about the photo struck a chord and drew me in. So I bought it and after asking the owner if she had more photos of him, I bought those too.”

MJ: "Why she have a bunch of old photos? People buy that shit?" His mouth bunched to one side. "I dunno 'bout fate. Just seems too specific." He shrugged. "Anyway go on."

Pete: “It was a frame shop, she has a lot of random photos. She thought it was a shame for them to be in a box somewhere so she used them for her displays. She knew him, you see. Her brother had taken the photographs and she’d gotten them after he passed.”

MJ: MJ's brows began to knit. "Fuckin' how old was your past self? When was this shit?"

Pete: “Clarke died in 1981. He was thirty-one.”

MJ: "...Well, ya lived longer this time."

Pete: Pete nodded. “Yeah. Feel some kinda way about that.”

MJ: "What, worry or somethin'?"

Pete: “He was too damn young to die.”

MJ: Peter guided them for a row of bagged chips and processed dips, jerkies and candy bars, while MJ stared at him.

Pete: He forced a smile and brought himself back to the moment.

“Yeah, so. That’s how I found my reincarnation.”

MJ: "You're one of them people that loves themself."

Pete: “Not in a romantic way. Or a ‘gee, I’m so great’ way. Finding him was like finding a friend I’d lost. Made me feel less lonely.”

MJ: "I think I know what ya mean, but," he shrugged. "Guess I'd have to meet a me to know. That me don't exist."

Pete: “Reading his journals is the closest I’ll get to meeting him.”

MJ: "Maybe not. There's magick for everything. Depends what you're willin' to pay."

Pete: He shook his head. “This is the way it is. He died and now I’m here and someday I’ll go and there will be another link in the chain. Journals and some memories are more than so many people get of their past lives.”

MJ: "So, what, ya gonna start writin' journals for your future self?"

Pete: “I already have.”

MJ: MJ looked around for Abel. Nodded to him. "What ya think of that? Would ya love yourself?"

Pete/Abel: Abel had found a basket and was already busy filling it with gloriously unhealthy things.

“If I was a decent person then sure, I don’t see why not,” he said with a nod and a shrug. “Pete’s right, most people don’t get to learn about their past incarnations. It’s rare.”

MJ: "Fuckin' 'if'? You're an 'if'?" He laughed. Abel was about as chaotic as himself, but the admission, intentional or otherwise, tickled him.

"Ya 'bout done?"

Abel: “Hey, you never know. Past me could’ve been a dick.”

Abel looked down at his basket. “Just about. Still need cherry coke.”

MJ: "Next aisle." Memory from his previous employment. Felt like yesterday since he'd worn that stupid fucking vest.

Better to work for and with Xavier. For himself.

"Why ya feel like ya needed him? You're him. Was it like... findin' yourself?"

Pete/Abel: Abel moved away under the pretext of the soda and left them to talk.

Pete sighed. “I was going through a rough time when I learned about Clarke. Couldn’t see the light at the end of the tunnel, felt the worst about myself that I ever have. He gave me hope. Comfort.”

MJ: "Rough because of that night?"

Pete: “It was a lot of things. Too many things all at once.”

MJ: "Sounds too easy."

Pete: “What does?”

MJ: "That answer. I dunno. Don't really like vague answers with close people. Strangers, not close."

Pete: “Well, that night happened. My dad nearly died. Found out he wasn’t really my dad after I tried to donate blood to keep him from dying. Had my private business out in the open for several weeks and was constantly bombarded with it. That specific enough?”

MJ: MJ watched, patiently. "Ya angry?"

Pete: Pete sighed. “No. But me saying it was a lot of things all at once wasn’t a cop-out. It’s me not wanting to give that whole spill of misery.”

MJ: "S'misery I wanna hear. S'misery I helped make. S'you. Talk for hours. Yell for hours. I don't give a fuck. It's you."

Pete: He didn’t quite know how to feel about that. There weren’t many people in his life that had ever given him carte blanche to yell or express his feelings with abandon. It was as foreign as it was touching.

“...Thanks. Walmart probably isn’t the ideal place for that kind of conversation though. Suffice it to say, I was having a really shitty time mentally and emotionally and learning about Clarke made it less shitty.”

MJ: "Ah shit, we've heard worse here. We're like Olive Garden. 'When you're here, your family.' N'shit."

MJ bumped into Peter's shoulder again. Something to pull him away. He stretched his shoulders and looked around the neighboring aisle for the familiar.

"Wanna see somethin'?"

Pete: “I’m positive that’s true but the aforementioned having my private business out there situation has made me a little more careful with where I have those conversations.”

Pete smiled and pointed out Abel, who’d made his way to the cracker aisle. “Sure. What kinda something?”

MJ: "Somethin' fun. Learned t'fuck with Abel over the years." Years. He'd never said that out loud before. What had been of their relationship was a toddler's age. People changed. His transformation was not much different than the man beside him. A beast in a man. A beast of a man.

"Watch him." A laser line of red whizzed past Abel's feet and over the nearby box of Ritz. The line returned from under the shelving and split off into three.

Abel: Abel, blissfully unaware of MJ's schemes, was on a single-minded hunt for Goldfish.

Well. Relatively single-minded was probably more accurate, because the sudden appearance of red light had his attention immediately. No matter how many times this gag was pulled on him, it was impossible to resist. He had to find and hunt down the lasers!

MJ: MJ bit against his cheek, helping conceal his laughter all of three seconds before bursting with a pfft and a snort.

Pete: Pete wasn't far behind; it was impossible not to laugh. "He really is a dog, isn't he?"

MJ: "Yep. Down to wantin' scratches behind his ear n'his leg kickin'."

The red lasers disappeared under the fat dairy fridges.

Pete/Abel: "Is he allergic to chocolate too? Or does his having a human form cancel that out?" He shook his head. "The whole having a human and animal form thing is still new to me. Not looking forward to being exhausted all winter."

Abel was helpless to follow the lasers as far as he could. It was a good thing the store was deserted this time of night because a grown man peering under the fridges definitely would've raised some questions.

MJ: The camera was brought out. Making a short video for the Atlas staff and family to enjoy. Priceless.

"Abe! Have I seen ya eat chocolate 'fore?"

Abel: Abel looked up like he'd been caught with a hand in the cookie jar. "Huh? Chocolate--what?"

MJ: "Will it kill ya?"

Abel: "Chocolate? Only in dog form."

MJ: "Well, there ya go. Let's get a chocolate pretzel. Lemme live vicariously."

Pete/Abel: “Okay!” He took one last look under the fridges—just in case—and got to his feet. “They’re usually with the candy and nuts.”

“They are,” Pete confirmed.

MJ: Peter's shoulder was given a gentle nudge. "Ya gettin' somethin'?"

Pete/Abel: “My cherry coke aaaaand....Goldfish. And hot fries.”

“I got us Goldfish!” Abel called over his shoulder. “Knew you seemed like a Goldfish kinda guy.”

MJ: "The fuck are hot fries?"

Pete: "The far superior sibling of hot cheetos."

MJ: "I... was a cheese puffs kid. Nah. Take that back. Bugles."

Pete: "Well then let's find some Bugles so you can live even more vicariously."

MJ: "I already up chucked once tonight."

Pete: "Once is enough. I'll bravely eat them for you."

MJ: "Smellin' em is enough. I need candles of my old faves."

Pete: "I know someone who makes candles, if that's a serious request. I'm sure she could do something."

MJ: "She make candles smell like root beer and Bugles?"

Pete: "I don't think anyone's ever made a Bugle candle, but if anyone can, it's her."

MJ: "Druid?"

Pete: Pete nodded. "Yep. Callum's cousin Bronwyn. She owns a shop, sells candles and trinkets and witchy things."

MJ: "For real witchy or tourist witchy?"

Pete: "Tourist witchy on the surface, real witchy if you know what to look for. Gotta fly under the radar."

MJ: "Wanna take a look at that later, Abe?"

Abel: "Yeah!" As their snack haul had officially outgrown their basket, Abel divided the overflow between MJ and Pete's arms. "Did you want vicarious root beer, too, MJ? Or just the Bugles?"

MJ: "I can swish that shit and spit it out. Let's just go with Bugles."

Abel: Abel made a face. "Yeah, you definitely need a root beer candle. That's just wrong."

MJ: "What's wrong is that leech in Chicago chewin' tobacco."

Abel: "Ugh, god, the spitting can. Why not just vape like everyone else?"

MJ: "I love that you're offended."

Abel: "Spitting. Can. Spitting can, MJ."

MJ: "Angry puppers."

Abel: "I'd rather have to breathe in a cloud of cigarette reek than watch a grown ass man with ugly teeth spit into a Budweiser can."

MJ: "Have ya seen them motherfuckers vapin'? The look on their fuckin' millennial-Z faces?"

Abel: "At least they're not spitting into cans. I'll take them over that."

MJ: "Tryin'a think of worse. Can't think of anything but them people that ate mummies."

Pete: "Okay, all right, enough spit and mummies," said Pete, making a face himself. "Only snack talk allowed. Let's go get the cokes."

MJ: "But mummies were snacks," MJ grinned.

Pete: "Not for us, they're not."

MJ: "Bet Guildias did it once."

Pete: "Now you're just being a troll."

MJ: "What? Think he wouldn't?"

Abel: "Moratorium on mummies, please," said Abel. "We're having such a nice day, I'd rather not have any more cursed images in my head."

MJ: "Any more? What else ya got in there?"

Abel: "Spitting. Can."

MJ: "In all your forty years, that's the worst?"

Abel: "It's up there."

MJ: "What's the worst?"

Abel: "Very drunk middle-aged lady answering the call of nature in a very gross men's bathroom in Berlin. Except she wasn't using the toilet."

MJ: "How d'ya find this shit?" A certain word in that question had him biting his cheeks.

Abel: “Xavier was meeting a guy about a certain cursed artifact.” That last said in a whisper.

MJ: "Hope it wasn't her."

Abel: “God, no. She just happened to be there at the same time.”

MJ: "I think Peter needs a dangerous night with us. Soon."

Pete: "What does a dangerous night with the two of you entail?" Pete asked, squinting.

MJ: "Goin' wherever we want, take whatever we want. Robin Hood or Punisher."

Pete: "Sounds like a barrel of laughs. I'm sure the two of you don't want a wet blanket like me tagging along."

MJ: "What would a wet blanket do?"

Pete: "Request that you don't take whatever you want because...the law."

MJ: "Did ya forget ya dated a thief?"

Pete: "No, I didn't forget. I also never went with you, or I would've requested that you don't take whatever you want because the law."

MJ: "Just a paladin ya are."

Pete: "A what now?"

MJ: Peter was given a look.

Pete: "What?"

MJ: "Ya hang with druids... and don't know what word?"

Pete: "Can't remember hearing it from them. This something that I should add to my notebook?"

MJ: "I mean, I got it from a video game."

Pete: Pete shrugged. "Video games use real things all the time, they just don't know it. Maybe some do."

MJ: "Ya seriously never heard the word 'paladin'?"

Pete: He shook his head. "I don't think so, no. What does it mean?"

MJ: "Ya know, the heroic knight that doesn't budge from his noble cause!"

Pete: "Ah, so the modern-day wet blanket," he chuckled.

MJ: The smile MJ gave was private. Something for the two of them as they lagged behind.

"Ya just ain't punk anymore. That I see. Prove me wrong."

Pete: Pete snorted. "Was I ever punk? Doubt it."

MJ: "Of course ya were. Ya punched people out. Ya shouted. Ya locked me out the bar with fuckin' garlic. We made scenes in the bar with Budweiser n'lil umbrellas."

Pete: "Every single one of the people I punched had it coming." He smiled. "Locking you out with garlic counts as punk?"

MJ: "About the most punk bitch thing ya did to me."

Pete: Pete laughed. "I ever tell you Peabody sat me down and lectured me about how I handle trouble at the pub? I tell you, if he ever has kids, his dad voice is gonna be legendary."

MJ: "Didn't think he'd give a shit."

Pete: "Only when the people I punched went to tell on me."

MJ: "So what he say?"

Pete: "Don't break the tourists, use your words, did I wanna get sued, stop making paperwork for him."

MJ: "Fuckin' pussies," he muttered under his breath.

Pete: “Some people have no business drinking in public. Or even being in public.”

MJ: "Some people don't deserve the things they got. S'what I'm for," he smiled.

Pete: Pete chuckled. "The vampiric Robin Hood, dispensing karma to the arrogant."

MJ: "Goddamn right."

Pete: "What is your latest heroic act, Robin Hood?"

MJ: "Heroic?" MJ glanced to Abel.

Pete: Pete grinned. “Robin Hood was a hero, kinda. Depending on who you ask.”

MJ: "Still give t'Kenna. Gave to a uh, no-kill shelter. Well, Abe gave to em. Daylight hours."

Pete: “Both worthy causes,” he said with a nod.

MJ: "I don't even remember mentionin' her."

Pete/Abel: "It was a long, long time ago."

Abel, for his part, was busy grinning to himself and picking up any snacks that seemed interesting as they walked. This had been such a good idea, they were going to eat great. Not healthy at all, but great.

"Are we ready to check out?" he asked them. "Do we need anything at home?"

MJ: "Uh, nah. I don't need... anything." Still trying to remember his mention of his sister, as well as a sudden urge to extract that information from Peter. The not knowing suddenly mattered. Ah. Of course. He understood now.

"What I say about her?"

Pete: Pete shrugged. "Just that you had a sister and that her name was Kenna, like Callum's aunt. Nothing beyond that. You really don't remember?"

MJ: "Nah. My memory ain't that perfect. I remember every time we swam, though."

Pete: He ducked his head and smiled. "Yeah, I remember that, too. I'm an even better swimmer now. Good fisher too."

MJ: "Better fuckin' be. Ya got no excuses now," he smiled.

The cashier lady was someone new. Another little reminder of how long it had been since working here. Never again.

Cash was pulled from pocket, intent on paying for both.

Pete/Abel: Abel gently smacked MJ's hand away. "No no no, put that back where it came from. I got this."

Pete's hand would be given similar treatment when it ventured to reach for his wallet.

MJ: "The fuck ya smackin' me for? It all comes from the same place!"

Abel: "It's the principle!" He pulled out his shiny new credit card and put it in the chip reader before he could be stopped.

MJ: "Cards. Pfft." Abel's hair was given a rough tangling.

Abel: "Heyyyyy!" Abel tried and failed to squirm away. "X said we have to use it every now and then."

MJ: "S'how he keeps tabs on ya."

Abel: "He can do that anyway."

MJ: "The man doesn't put all his eggs in one basket."

Abel: "He has a zillion baskets. Thanks!" he added to the cashier, taking the card back and splitting the shopping bags between the three of them.

MJ: MJ looked into his appointed bag and frowned. "Food don't smell the same. Don't taste the same. I don't wanna look at gazpacho n'grilled cheese again. It'll be fucked."

Abel: Abel patted MJ’s shoulder. “Don’t worry, buddy. I won’t let those get ruined for you.”

MJ: The vampire scoffed. "Least X don't like paella. Ain't had that fucked."

Abel: “Nope, he’s a fancy ham kinda guy. We’re not though! Where are we going to eat our feast of champions?”

MJ: "I know some docks we can borrow." Seemed too late at night for a certain someone to be awake.

Abel: “Cool. Think of the place, everyone grab an arm.”

MJ: MJ linked an arm with Peter's. He was warm tonight, as though recently fed.

What he had in mind was Callum MacGillivray's dock. Private enough, with the exception of a druid that might or might not be home. Might or might not be asleep. More besides, Peter could feel safe here, as a kind of home turf.

Pete: It didn't go unnoticed by Pete. For a brief moment, he forgot entirely that MJ was a vampire and attributed his warmth simply to him.

Letting MJ guide him, Abel transported them to what he'd initially thought was one of the docks by all the other docks, but this looked like someone liv--

"Callum's house?" Pete asked once they'd arrived and he managed to open his eyes.

MJ: "What he won't know what hurt him." MJ winked, heading out to the very edge of the dock.

Pete: Pete chuckled and shook his head. “He’s asleep anyway. Always goes to bed early when he’s working on an event.”

MJ: "What's the event now?"

Pete: "Some charity dinner thing."

MJ: Away with the black sneakers, removed with his feet as he walked, left behind as he reached the edge and took a seat.

"Some charity thing ya believe in?"

Pete: "I don't even remember what it is. I wanna say it was something school related? Or maybe book related?"

He joined MJ and began looking through the bags for his hot fries.

MJ: Away with the leather jacket. March be damned, he was preparing for a swim. Socks followed, tossed over his shoulder.

"They do that winter gala thing this year?"

Pete: "They did, yeah," Pete opened his bag of chips and took a handful. "It was a big hit as usual."

MJ: "They need, like, a summer cocktail party... thing."

Pete: "There's the fireworks and stuff for the Fourth of July."

MJ: "Not the same as a little black dress."

Abel: "A little black dress goes against the spirit of summer!" Abel said around a huge mouthful of rainbow sherbet.

MJ: "A red, white, n'blue dress with bitchin' heels."

Pete/Abel: "They can throw a beach party for the Fourth of July!"

"They kinda do," said Pete.

MJ: "I just got put into a suit. Chicago. I actually have a suit now."

Pete: Pete grinned. "Yeah? Can't picture you in a suit."

MJ: "Looks like I'm goin' to a funeral."

Abel: "It does not! Don't let him fool you, Pete." Abel gestured with his plastic spoon. "He looks all respectable like."

MJ: "I didn't even try! Just let X pick it out."

Abel: "You let the man with a closet full of fancy bespoke suits pick a suit for you." He gestured again. "You were going to look fancy and respectable no matter what."

MJ: "Still ready for a funeral. Didn't even wear the tie."

Away with the shirt, now.

Abel: "The tie makes you look like an investment banker," Abel giggled. "Or a hedge fund manager."

MJ: "Don't put that shit on me. Just cause I got money don't mean I gotta dress like the dead."

Abel: "Investment bankers and hedge fund managers are alive!"

MJ: "Not on the inside. Their blood is shit, too."

Pete: "Have you ever fed from one?" Pete asked.

MJ: "Just one. Before Edenton."

Pete: "And they tasted....bad?"

MJ: A nod. "He was also fat, and I couldn't find a vein for shit. She had to do it."

Abel: Abel took another enormous bite of ice cream. "Stick to the athletes, man. Gotta get your vitamins."

MJ: "Vitamins and veins." With that in mind, a backwards fall into the quiet water.

Pete: Pete glanced back toward the house, half expecting Callum to have sensed their presence and woken up.

There was no need for concern; the windows remained dark.

"How's the water?" he asked.

MJ: Dark hair had immediately matted in his face, curtained his eyes. "Good enough for a swim. For the dead. Dip a toe in."

Pete: "Eh, why not." Pete put his chips aside and set about taking his shoes off and rolling up his jeans.

This time of year the water was still fairly cold, but he didn't mind. He'd gone swimming in the dead of winter before.

MJ: "Fuck yeah. Hop in, Abe! I'll throw ya a stick!"

Abel: Abel stuck his hand in the water and pulled it out immediately. "It's freezing!"

MJ: "You're a dog!"

Abel: "Dogs still feel the cold!"

MJ: "Tell that to a Saint Bernard!"

Abel: "They're huge!"

MJ: MJ opened his mouth, ready for a dirty throwback before thinking better of it, sinking into the water instead.

Abel: Abel squinted. "I see your mind going in the gutter there," he called as MJ slipped beneath the surface. "I see it!"

MJ: A middle finger emerged from the depths.

Pete/Abel: “Wow, rude. And in front of Pete.” He leaned closer to Pete and whispered, “Do you think he can hear us down there?”

Pete chuckled and whispered back, “We probably sound a little muffled.”

MJ: MJ watched from below, sinking further to the bottom. The instinctual fear felt back in 2010 nothing but memory. A little unspoken merit to unlife he'd never seen in film, nor read in his favorite comics.

Abel: Abel squinted and moved closer to the water. "MJ, can you hear me?" he whisper yelled.

MJ: Nope. Just muffled of what he assumed was a conversation between them. He began to feel at the bottom, looking for anything Callum might have lost over the years.

Pete: There would be more than one interesting find beneath Callum's deck.

A travel mug that had been knocked off his sailboat when the water had been particularly choppy one day. A spoon he had dropped while enjoying his morning tea on the deck. And last but not least, a dog's collar and a whistle.

MJ: All of which collected no different than a man combing the beach for shells. The items were returned to the surface and brought other deck.

"Thought y'all were gettin' in; the fuck?"

Abel: "Pete is, I'm not," said Abel. "We were testing to see if you could hear us."

MJ: "Sounds like bein' underwater." The little trinkets were pushed further from the edge.

"Get the hell in here."

Pete/Abel: Pete would resume getting undressed, but Abel remained staunch in his refusal.

He shook his head. "Nuh-uh. I'm staying up here and eating my ice cream."

MJ: "Lemme have a lick." He kept going back despite flavors being nothing from memory. Thinking, maybe this time.

Pete/Abel: Abel scooped up some sherbet and offered MJ the spoon while Pete finally dove into the river.

MJ: Just a small taste. Something he could spit out without concern.

"Mm. Nope." River water could wash that out.

Now to find Peter and pull his leg. Literally.

Pete/Abel: "Aw. That makes me sad. I'll finish the whole pint in your honor."

Pete was floating on his back and looking up at the stars, feeling utterly peaceful until a certain someone came along and gave him a yank.

"Oy!" he laughed.

MJ: "What? What happened?" he laughed.

Pete: "I see you over there playing Jaws."

MJ: "What? We gotta lot in common." Hardly a current to take them. Hard to believe this attached to the ocean eventually.

"Race ya across."

Pete: "What does the winner get?"

MJ: "What does the loser want?"

Pete: "You tell me, all I can think about is food."

MJ: "What, lemme take a bite outta ya?"

Pete: "I meant I can't think of anything the winner or loser gets because all I can think about is food."

MJ: "Don't want a bite?"

Pete: “That would be a very intimate prize,” he said carefully.

MJ: "Can be. Could be. If you're so hungry, go back to the dock. I'll declare victory."

Pete: "And forfeit the race? Hell no."

MJ: "What's Abe doin'?" And he was off! Giving his full body towards the other side of the river. No need to breathe had its advantages.

Pete/Abel: "What--hey!" Laughing, Pete slipped beneath the surface and propelled himself forward. His lung capacity was better than it had been pre-bear but he still lost time coming up for air.

Abel sat on the deck and shook his head. "Not sportsman like."

MJ/Guildias: MJ and Peter were quicky becoming specks towards the other end of the wide river.

A new scent had been taken by the breeze. An ozonic, woody, softly musk cologne reached the docks seconds before the towering figure. Long healthy-looking hair, darker than the shadows, covered each shoulder. The man squatted next to Abel in proper form, cigarette between fingers. Arms straight on his knees.

"What the trickster do this time?" asked the stranger, voice silky, local, with a hint of German.

Abel: Abel paused with the spoon halfway to his mouth and slowly lowered it.

He scented something on the air a moment before he felt the new presence, and with no time to do anything about it, all he could do was startle.

"Noth--he's--uh, hi? Hi. We're not breaking and entering!"

Guildias: "That would require breaking and entering," he replied. "Of which you've not broken, nor entered."

Abel: "Right, yes. Hi. Again. It was MJ's idea to come here, I'm just the messenger. Or...teleporter."

Guildias: "A teleporter? He's come up in the world with friends."

He watched the two in the distance, the ever-learning and the ever-running. They seemed happy.

Abel: “Well I don’t know about that, but we are friends.”

Abel took a second to study the stranger. He smelled like MJ, so definitely a vampire. A tall one, if the length of his legs was anything to go by.

Talk about tall, dark, and handsome.

“So this is your house, huh?”

Guildias: "No. The person inside asleep is mine."

Another intake of cigarette, leaning himself an inch to Abel. "Still asleep.  No harm done."

Abel: "Yeah, Pete said he would be. So you must be Callum's boyfriend or...husssband?" He didn't want to presume.

Guildias: "I am a label, yes," he smiled politely.

Abel: "Not big on those?"

Guildias: "They mean everything and nothing."

Abel: "You're not wrong." He went back to his sherbet. The scent of the smoke reminded him of his dad, which in turn was making him more than a little nostalgic.

"I'm Abel by the way."

Guildias: "Hello, Abel." Two fingers to the chest. "Guildias."

Pete: "Nice to meet you! I'd offer you some of the mountain of junk food we got, but...you know."

Guildias: "I don't feel like cleaning a mess tonight."

Abel: "Is there anything you'd like to sniff? Which is a very weird question but there you go."

MJ/Guildias: "He's not your first, is he?"

MJ shook his head like a dog, splashing water over Peter in the process. Wiped his hand down his face.

"Fuck."

Pete/Abel: "MJ? He's the first one of you guys that I've been friends with, yeah."

Pete intended to come up to take a breath only to be immediately splashed with water.

"Hey!" he chuckled.

MJ/Guildias: "So, you're young?"

"He ain't been givin' ya trouble?" asked MJ, staring off in the direction of the docks. The new long dark figure.

Pete/Abel: "Technically I'm middle-aged, I just don't look it. Although I guess compared to someone like you I'm young."

Pete glanced back toward the docks and shook his head. "Nope, none. We're not bosom buddies or anything but we get along okay."

MJ/Guildias: "Some would consider me young." A small smile. "Young is relative."

MJ just stared for a moment. He could feel his old self, that place between distaste and envy. That man was gone, but his ghost still lingered.

"You're stronger now."

Pete/Abe;: "Yeah, I guess so. Sure you wouldn't like to sniff anything? Anything your person doesn't have in his pantry, I mean."

Another glance toward Guildias. Their relationship hadn't changed too much since Pete had returned from France, but he wasn't sure how much his being a fully bloomed werebear had to do with it.

"I am, but that's incidental. Not like I'm gonna fight him or anything."

MJ/Guildias: "I've learned long ago not to indulge. Jolly Ranchers and Bazooka gum were my sweets. Something to end this," the twirled cigarette. "Didn't pan out."

MJ arched a brow, allowed the pathetic current to pull him closer. "But ya could," he smiled.

Pete/Abel: Abel smiled at the cigarette. "At least it can't hurt you anymore. What brand are those?"

Pete just smiled and shook his head. "In theory. Only fight I've been in recently is with a raccoon."

MJ/Guildias: "Camel." A brand which he had not strayed since mortality. "Certainly disturbs my clothes, according to my person."

A raccoon? The image which conjured was of a great bear pawing at a small relentless jackass of an animal. An image which had him laughing openly at his own mind.

Pete/Abel: His expression softened. "I actually liked the smell of Camels. They're the kind my father used to smoke."

"Whatever you're imagining is probably close to exactly what happened." Pete frowned. "Little asshole stole my fish."

MJ/Guildias: Guildias looked to the man at his side, head barely moving with the effort.

The cigarette was offered.

"Oh my fuckin' god!" MJ lulled his body back to float, laughter rippling the water around him.

Pete/Abel: Abel accepted it but didn't take a drag. He just wafted the smoke and felt nostalgia slam into him like an asteroid.

"Thanks," he said after a moment, giving it back.

Only the echo of raucous laughter coming from the other side of the river could pull him back.

"Sounds like they're having a ball over there," he chuckled.

Meanwhile, Pete was grinning like a lunatic. "I almost wish I was joking."

MJ/Guildias: "MJ has that power over people." The cigarette was returned to his mouth. A long slow drag of what remained, before putting out the end on the bottom of the dock; many tiny burns scattered throughout the years.

"I wonder," MJ managed after a time, "ya know, raccoon people. Or like, snake people. Or somethin'."

Pete/Abel: Abel just grinned. "He sure does. He's a good guy."

"There are definitely snake people. Not sure if there are raccoon people but I wouldn't be surprised. I think the raccoon I fought was normal, though. A normal fish thief."

MJ: "My people." If MJ were to be anyone, other than kin to the late Miss Swiss.

"How ya know about snake people?"

Pete: "Gaetan told me about all the types of Fera he knows of. There are also shark people and gator people, which is fucking insane."

MJ: "Gator people, so like..." Give him a second to consider his words. "They're the oldest? I mean... sounds right."

Pete: "I...guess? Have gators been around longer than sharks?"

MJ: "Have bugs been around longer than sharks? Wait are bugs a thing?"

Pete: "Probablyyyy? I feel like bugs maybe came first, then sharks? Who knows, man."

MJ: "Wow. You're suddenly low on that totem pole."

Pete: "On the evolutionary scale, yeah. But I'm slightly higher than I was pre-bear."

MJ: "Slightly, like a mile behind?"

Pete: "It's not much, but it's something."

MJ: "Not much between a human and a Fera? Ya kiddin' me?"

Pete: "Again, evolution scale. You ever watch Cosmos?"

MJ: "What's that?"

Pete: "A docuseries about the universe and spacetime."

MJ: "And how's that about ya bein' a bear?"

Pete: "In the whole grand scheme of time and evolution, there's not that big a leap between Fera and humans. Fera are superior, but again, not by much when you consider the whole of existence."

MJ: "What lil I fuckin' know, didn't a god make ya?"

Pete: "I think so? Who really knows. How'd we get here?" he laughed.

MJ: "A raccoon got us here."

Pete: "Oh yeah. Thieving little asshole."

MJ: "N'ya want me to see ya? Like that?"

Pete: "Getting got by a raccoon?"

MJ: "Gettin' got by a raccoon. I'll have a talk with em."

Pete: He chuckled. "My hero. But yeah, I want to share that with you. Me being a bear, the whole full moon routine."

MJ: "How long we got 'til then?"

Pete: "A few days. Full moon is on the 9th."

MJ: "Right, right." Hadn't he asked already? He just wanted to hear Peter speak. He didn't want that swim back to Guildias and the interview he knew was coming. He belonged here as much as that snake. More, now.

"Who fuckin' won this shit?" The reason for being on the other side of the river.

Pete: "Pretty sure you did," said Pete, going back to floating. "All that having to breathe slowed me down."

MJ: "Should see what the sky looks like from the bottom of the ocean. Or Lake Michigan. Walked around Lake Michigan before I got here."

Pete: "Isn't Lake Michigan also like, freezing and windy and as choppy as the ocean?"

MJ: "Fuckin' huge." The river was a great excuse to gently bump into Peter's chest.

Pete: "Isn't it also full of wrecked ships and bodies?"

MJ: "Yep. Wish ya could see."

Pete: "I think I'd avoid the bodies if I had the ability to go down there without scuba gear."

MJ: "Didn't see one. Thought I saw ... somethin' outta Swamp Thing."

Pete: "Now that does not surprise me at all."

MJ: "N'you're in this river why?"

Pete: "There are no river monsters in it. I check every month."

MJ: "Nothin'? Not even a gator thing?"

Pete: "You start getting bigger fish and things once you get out into the sound, but the river proper only has the usual things in it."

MJ: "Man, ya really should see your old man."

Pete: "He hasn't found any river monsters either as far as I know. And believe me, he would've told me. He loves shit like that."

MJ: "Wrong old man."

Pete: "Oh. My old man is Pete Graham, Sr. The other guy is just a bear sperm donor."

MJ: "C'mon, man. I still stand by what I said."

Pete: "And I stand by what I said. I've already got a dad."

MJ: "That's only a portion of your life now. Gotta expand t'somethin' that's actually you."

Taking his own advice, he started back towards the shore.

Pete: "I guess." Although, he fully considered his life and his family something that was actually him. Being a bear hadn't changed that.

But they'd already had that discussion and he didn't want to rehash it.

He'd just swim alongside MJ.

Guildias: Guildias only rose to his feet with the first splash of droplets to his arm. Bowing his back long enough to offer his hand to Peter, all but lifting the Fera wholesale from the water.

Pete/Abel: Pete offered a smile in greeting, thanking Guildias as he helped--lifted--him out of the river. He didn't see that strength often but when he did, it always caught him off guard.

"So who won the race?" Abel asked.

"MJ did."

Guildias: "Are you a betting man?" Guildias asked Peter. "You could have won, had your opponent not been an athlete in his former life."

Pete/Abel: “I’m an athlete now,” he chuckled. “I just have to breathe.”

Abel nodded sagely. “Breathing will get you every time.”

MJ/Guildias: "I mean to say, you might have stood a chance against a one of those other clans."

MJ just laughed, arms folded over the dock, still floating at the current's mercy.

"I've seen a fat Rav."

Abel: “You have?” Abel’s face lit with interest. The whole clan thing was fascinating. “When?”

MJ: "With Simon. The step-sire...asshole."

Abel: Abel made a face. He didn't know much about MJ's step-sire, but what he did know was enough to make him dislike him.

"Ugh. What was the other Ravnos like? Could you beat him up?"

MJ: "Looked like an old Romanian biker with a gimp in his basement. Hell fuckin' no."

Abel: He threw his head back and laughed. "You could've taken him! You're squirrely!"

MJ: "The fuck ya just say to me?"

Abel: "You're squirrely! Wiley! Like the coyote, only more successful!"

Guildias: Peter was given a look from Guildias. This was your choice? The man threatening to pounce and "put the pup in his place", was it?

Pete/Abel: Pete didn't notice; he was too busy grinning and laughing at Abel and MJ.

Yes, this was absolutely his choice.

"It was a compliment!" Abel laughed, scooching out of grabbing range.

MJ/Guildias: "I'm going to kick you in and end all of this if you don't quiet down." A threat and promise which put a smile on MJ's face.

"I sure missed your broodin' face, Aloysius."

"Ah, there you are, Victoria."

Abel: Abel's brow furrowed. "Aloysius? I thought your name was Guildias."

MJ/Guildias: "First names and surnames."

"Can't you tell he's prior military?"

Abel: "All we talked about is junk food and being old."

MJ: "How can ya say that? You're practically a baby."

Abel: "Pfft, I'm older than everyone here except Guildias."

MJ/Guildias: Guildias simply smiled. "Seniority has its perks. I suppose you're not really in your thirties anymore. What was the Victorian age like?"

"I danced scandalously with your grandmother."

Abel: "Wasn't everything scandalous back then?" Abel set the ice cream aside in favor of some chips.

MJ: "Like ya wouldn't believe," scoffed MJ.

Abel: “Now nothing is scandalous. We’ve seen so many billboards for strip clubs on our road trip.”

MJ/Guildias: "Some things. Some circles. Even our circle."

MJ shook his head, splayed out over the dock to stare up at the stairs, fists to his forehead.

Guildias crouched once more, lower back leaned against the pillar.

Abel: "Not as...nitpicky though. Things that are scandalous now are actually scandalous and sometimes kinda fucked up. The Victorians wouldn't let people show ankles."

MJ/Guildias: "It was nuance. What else do ya show? Ya represent your family. No internet but way better magnifyin' glass."

"What do you recall?" Guildias watched the fledgling. Or was this now a neonate?

"Honestly?" Hands dropped to his stomach.

"Morocco. London. Matheus going by Frederick. New York."

Pete/Abel: Pete wasn't sure he liked this conversation, but that was more than likely lingering distaste for the woman that had assaulted him and thrown his best friend off a balcony.

He was as glad that MJ was okay as he was irked that she hadn't died completely.

"Who's Matheus?" Abel asked. He on the other hand, was fascinated.

MJ: "Mm - Victoria's partner. Ya hear them stories about Jack the Ripper? He was the detective on the case. Had visions of murders. Already insane before a Malkavian sunk their teeth in."

Abel: His eyes went wide. "Wait, did he know who it was?"

MJ: MJ smiled. A smile of a man with an answer. A smile that would not have been before the merge.

"History's got it wrong. All the assumptions."

Abel: "So it wasn't someone with medical training?"

MJ: Another smile. Two personalities with a love of secrets and mystery. There would be no budging.

Abel: "AH HA! I KNEW IT WAS SOME RANDO!"

MJ: "Stew in it, baby."

Abel: "I feel vindicated."

MJ: "I didn't say shit!"

Abel: "Ah, but you did!"

MJ: "Ya think I did."

Abel: "You totally did and you can't take it back now."

MJ/Guildias: "What ya think I did?"

"There's the old trickster," Guildias smiled to himself.

Abel: "You said history's got all the assumptions wrong, the most popular of which is that someone with medical knowledge killed those women. As such, people assumed it had to have been a doctor."

MJ: "Ya can think it's Lewis Carroll or a butcher. Ya won't be spot on."

Abel: “I don’t know who it was. My best guess is either some psycho or some supernatural psycho.”

MJ: "Human."

Abel: “Figures. It’s something a human psycho would do.”

MJ: "I'll let ya stew in it." Peter was given a wink.

Abel: “No stewing here!” Abel said cheerfully, going for some Goldfish. “Only vindication.”

MJ: "Tell Peter what happens to his missin' socks n'let him feel vindicated."

Pete/Abel: “Sock goblins,” Abel said to Pete.

“Sock...goblins?”

MJ: "There's more."

Pete: “More sock goblins?” Pete asked.

MJ: "More reasons!"

Pete: "What reasons do the sock goblins have?"

MJ: "Nanana. I mean more than sock goblins."

Pete: "Oh! There's more reasons socks disappear?"

MJ: "Yes! Lots of shit loves socks. It ain't you."

Pete: "Feels like it's me. So why do the goblins and other things steal socks?"

MJ: "Abe's the expert, not me."

Pete/Abel: "They don't steal--well, the goblins do," said Abel. "But sometimes there are portals and things like loose change and lost socks fall into them and disappear into the Umbra."

Pete blinked. "...Portals."

"Magic portals!"

MJ/Guildias: "Into the Umbra."

"That's too advanced for Peter," Guildias frowned.

"It ain't your call. He's a big ol' bear. Can learn what he wants."

Pete/Abel: Pete was looking at all of them with a furrowed brow. "So you're telling me...that the reason my socks disappear...is because they're stolen by goblins and sometimes fall into magic portals to the Umbra."

Abel nodded. "Yeah! Do you feel magic in your house?"

"Not really?"

"Then it's probably goblins."

MJ: MJ nodded sagely. There you have it.

"Heard about that one kid in Raleigh. Playin' hide-n-seek with his sister. Always hides in the dryer. One day they were playin', then he's just gone. Could be other shit, but what ya wanna bet he's on the other side?"

Pete: "So portals can just appear anywhere and take a whole child?!"

MJ: "Been on my mind. The kid. I think we can do somethin' about it. I wanna do somethin' about it."

Pete: "Is it possible to do something? Can people come back from the Umbra?"

MJ: "Why not? How rare is a one-way door? What ya wanna bet it ain't goblins givin' back socks."

Pete: Pete turned to Guildias. "Ever heard of someone going to the Umbra and coming back?"

Guildias: "You really want to know?"

Pete: "I'd like to have realistic expectations for finding this kid and whether or not he'd be okay when we found him."

Guildias: "Would you rather his parents bury an empty casket?"

Pete: "I'd rather his parents have him back, I just don't want to go in blind."

Guildias: "Blind is the Umbra, but not those within. The other side is more than a single realm. It's inconceivable... but penetrable. Especially to your people. So go the tales."

Pete: "So it's theoretically possible to go in, find this kid, and bring him home to his parents?"

Guildias: "I'm not going to say yes or no. It doesn't work that way."

Pete: "How does it work?"

Guildias: "Schrodinger's cat."

Pete: "Oh good," he sighed. "....Is it possible to get someone out of the Umbra from outside the Umbra?"

MJ/Guildias: "Can you pull something out water without touching it by any means?"

"What d'ya know, Abe?"

Abel: Abel answered for Pete. "Sure you can. With a fishing pole or a net or a scoop of some kind. I haven't ever looked into it, but that's where I'd lay my bets. Magical scoop. Or rather magic as a scoop."

Guildias: "'By any means'," the vampire chuckled. While normally disinterested in those outside of his circle, familiars were within the exception.

"If you're serious about your rescue operation, you should speak with Gertrude Draegan."

Pete/Abel: "Well now, there's a difference between touching the water or getting into the water and just getting wet. Nuance is key here."

Pete shook his head. "Absolutely I am not going to do that."

MJ: "I'll do it," said MJ. "I owe her a visit."

Pete: "Why does she have to be involved at all?"

MJ: "Manners. Gotta do that manners thing, babe."

Pete: "The manners thing can be done without bringing up our magical Umbra scooping venture."

Guildias: "Then the Malkavian?" Guildias suggested with two fingers.

Pete: Pete pointed at Abel. "We've got Abel, we're sorted as Callum says."

Guildias: "My knowledge is limited but not barren. If I don't assist, Callum will not be forgiving."

Pete: "You and Abel then. And Callum. Sorted."

Guildias: "Dawn, dusk, full moons and moonless nights are preferable. I'm not fireproof, and neither is that one. The sooner the better, if Schrodinger's cat has any chance."

Pete: “How long ago did the kid disappear?” Pete asked MJ.

MJ: "Two-ish days ago."

Pete/Abel: “How soon can you find a magical scoop?” he asked Abel.

“I won’t know until I get into it but I have a deep well to draw from.”

MJ/Guildias: "Let's get started, then. Humans got, what, a month before they starve? Less if he - does it matter on the other side? I've only seen people grab shit from it. Gertrude, actually."

"She operates on a different aspect, if you hadn't noticed."

Abel: "Time doesn't work the same way in the Umbra," said Abel. "It's a lot more fluid and abstract, but sooner is still definitely better."

MJ: "Mmkay." MJ got to his feet, snatched up his clothes. "Ya said Cal, both of ya. We addin' him?"

Pete: “Maybe?” said Pete. “He might know about some magic that could help. Or his cousin might.”

Guildias: "A party of five. How could this go wrong?" Guildias smirked.

Abel: Abel gestured with his spoon. “Positive thoughts, my guy.”

Guildias: "We'll best be a party of four; Callum's schedule is otherwise occupied."

Pete: “He’ll be upset if we don’t at least tell him about it. And I really think he might know something that could help,” Pete added.

Guildias: "Yes, but not to bring."

Pete/Abel: "All right, fair enough." That was really Callum's call but he'd let it be for now. They didn't even have anywhere to bring anyone yet.

Abel took another bite of ice cream and put the carton away. "We should get back. Scooby Dooby Do, we've got some work to do now."

MJ/Guildias: "That is perhaps the most untactful declaration of rescue I've ever heard."

MJ simply smiled. "I mean, he's a dog. That's like his thing."

Abel: “Hey! My declaration of rescue will be very tactful! This is my declaration of research.”

MJ/Guildias: "On that eccentric note, I will return. I know where to find you."

The tall Setite was saluted. A wink for good measure.

"Tomorrow night," MJ called to the back of Guildias' raised hand.

Abel: "It was nice to meet you!" Abel called after him, and interestingly enough, he meant it.

Once the three of them were alone again he said, "He seems nice for a vampire."

MJ: MJ looked over to Peter, raised a brow. "What ya think of that statement?"

Pete: Pete shrugged. "He has his moments."

MJ: "We'll leave it there." Time to hop on his feet while lacing his shoes.

Abel: "I sense a story there but we'll leave that for another time." He paused for a beat. "Should we call X?"

MJ: "This gonna be a whole coterie thing, or just us? Already got that back there with us."

Abel: "Maybe not a whole coterie thing, but can you think of any other person who might know how to scoop someone out of the Umbra?"

MJ: "Peter done said no. Simon, maybe. More than maybe. The maybe is me. What ya wanna bet Cal knows some witches?"

Pete/Abel: "Peter is still firm on the demon front," Pete chimed in. "And yeah, I think Cal does."

Abel nodded. "All right, no X. Oh! What about Ramsay? He knows all kinds of shit."

MJ: "No X, no Cal, no Gertrude, no Matheus - your makin' that list short."

Pete: "Hey, Guildias said no Cal, not me. I think it's Cal's call but that's just me."

MJ: "I mean, if I told ya no I hope ya listen."

Pete: "It's been suggested that I'm dangerously reckless and stubborn."

MJ: "One of the worst. Cal takes the cake."

Pete: "He's Scottish, it's congenital."

MJ: "I mean, that's like sayin' I get a pass flirtin' for bein' Spanish."

Abel: "Are the Spanish known for flirting?" asked Abel.

MJ: "You're older than me. And lived a piss stream away."

Abel: "Bergen is more than a piss stream away from Spain."

MJ: "Closer than America." And this is how conversation went between the two of them. All across America and it was this. Some subject with bickering. Some subject with many tangents. It was a wonder they knew so much of each other.

Pete/Abel: Pete just couldn't help but smile at the pair of them and their banter. He imagined this is how people felt listening to him and Callum, witnessing that bond and seeing all the little signs that pointed at the hard as diamonds foundation of trust.

"Everything is close together if you measure by the America ruler," Abel said with a snort. "This country is ginormous."

MJ: "Ginormous and likes to keep everyone at umbrella length." He demonstrated with the item of mention, long and orange and just suddenly in his hand.

Pete/Abel: Abel laughed. "It's the American way!"

Pete didn't quite startle, but he did give a bit of a start. "Never gonna be used to how quickly you can magic things out of thin air."

MJ: "This ain't nothin'. Not anymore. Watch this shit," he commanded, promptly smacking Abel in the ass with the umbrella before it disappeared.

Pete/Abel: Pete laughed as Abel cried out a rather undignified "Ahhh!"

"You really are getting good. Of course, you were good before." He still remembered that snake on the bar in vivid detail.

MJ: "Only gets better. Don't ya have magic of your own?"

Pete: “It’s very nature oriented and I don’t have a lot of it, but yeah. I can suddenly keep plants alive without Cal.”

MJ: "Ain't he jealous," the Ravnos grinned.

Pete: "The opposite actually," Pete chuckled. "I am now trusted with the real versions of my nice fake plants. The cat safe ones anyway."

MJ: "No more glass roses, huh?"

Pete: "Those live on my bedside table."

MJ: "Still?"

Pete: Pete smiled and nodded. "Still. Was thinking about making a little box or something for them. Midas does this thing where he knocks shit over when he wants attention and I don't want him to get my roses."

MJ: He had missed that smile. "Could talk to him, if ya want."

Pete: "That's riiiiiight, I forgot you could do that! Would you? I really don't want him to break them."

MJ: "I ain't gonna bark orders." Although he could. "We'll negotiate."

Pete: "He can be bribed with salmon and chicken."

MJ: "What's his opinion of dogs?"

Pete: "Depends on the dog. He likes the really big fluffy ones that just kinda lay around because then he can sleep on them. Smaller dogs are judged on a case by case basis."

MJ: "We headin' back? I got an idea. All mafioso."

Pete: "Yeah, sure. Is the mafioso idea for convincing Midas not to break my sentimental things or for rescuing the kid from the Umbra?"

MJ: "Cat first, kid tomorrow night."

Pete/Abel: "Does it involve Abel?"

"Yeah, does it involve me?" Abel asked. "I wanna make a good impression on Midas."

MJ: "You'll see." One more vigorous shake of his head, fingers combed through the wet mess of black.

Abel: "We need to towel off your hair." Abel gathered up all their snacks. "Ready to go, boys?"

MJ: "Ain't gonna catch a cold." So often did he forget Abel's age until he said something like that. Then it was just glaring.

"Yep."

Abel: "No but you might get frost in your hair. Are we going to the RV or to Pete's house?"

MJ: "Pete's." He looked to the sky, though. "When ya usually go t'bed?"

Pete/Abel: "Varies," said Pete. "You know me, I'm on the pub owner sleep schedule. We're all good."

"Good!" Abel adjusted the bags on one arm and held out a hand to each of them. "Now Pete, I need you to visualize your house so I can take us there."

MJ: "It's March, man. We can walk." But still he took that hand, if only to straighten himself.

Pete/Abel: "This is faster! Why walk when you can teleport?"

"Hard to argue with that," said Pete, taking Abel's hand and forming as clear an image of his house as he could in his mind.

And off they went through time and space.

[zoocross0vers]

A Zootopian Christmas Carol Part 3: The Present

A/N: The next chapter, yes! Apologies for releasing this after December. I really wanted to finish these remaining chapters before the month (and year) were over, but I really didn’t have much free time during the last few days of December. Had family visits and then New Years so…

Regardless, I hope you enjoy and I wish you all a Happy New Year and happy start of a new decade! 2020! :D

FF.net Link: https://www.fanfiction.net/s/13461657/3/A-Zootopian-Christmas-Carol

…

Chapter 3: The Present

Bogo sat at his bed, gripping his head with remorse, “How could I let her go like that? Why was I so foolish? Why, why?!” he cried to himself.

He pressed his head against his hooves when he noticed a light suddenly appear from a slit between his bed’s curtains. “What in the...?” 

“Bogo...hahahaha!” he heard a loud, echoing giddy giggle call to him. He swallowed hard and hesitantly opened his bed’s curtains. He peeked out and saw that his bedroom had been decorated with Christmas decorations, warm candle lights, and a large array of food spread all throughout. “Wha--Where did all of this come from?”

“Over here Bogo, hahahaha!” called the source of the giddy laughter from the corner of his bedroom. The buffalo turned to see who it was and spotted an enormous chubby cheetah with a thick mistletoe crown and a large green robe. Bogo stepped out of his bed and approached the big cheetah who was currently wolfing down a whole chocolate cake. “Hi there,” he said between bites. “Cake?” he offered the buffalo a whole strawberry cake that he had in his other paw. 

“Uh, no thank you,” replied the buffalo, disgusted by the cheetah as he spewed crumbs all over his face while he spoke. “Who are you supposed to be?”

“Why I’m the Ghost of Christmas Present!” announced the cheetah with a chipper smile.

“Present?” Bogo looked at his surroundings, “May I ask, what does food have to do with the present time?”

“Oh,” the cheetah licked his fingers, “Everything! All that you see here, is the food of generosity, which you Bogo, have denied your fellow mammal.”

“Generosity? Bah! What point is there to show generosity when all mammalkind is selfish and greedy deep down?”

“Are you sure you’re not talking about yourself?” asked the cheetah.

Bogo glared at him, insulted. “In any case, no mammal has ever shown me generosity.”

“You’ve never given them reason to,” scolded the cheetah. “But believe it or not, there are still some mammals out there who can find enough warmth in their hearts, even for a miser-able miser like you. No wait, is it pronounced miser-able or miserable? Mis-rable? No, no wait that's not right.”

Bogo rolled his eyes in annoyance, “Spirit! Can we please carry on with whatever lesson it is you’re supposed to teach me?”

“Oh, right!” the cheetah wolfed down the last chunk of cake that he had left in his paw. He lifted his paws up, “Go on, touch my robe!”

“Come again?” Bogo asked uncomfortably.

“Touch my robe. It's the only way to transport us to our destination!” he announced innocently.

Bogo sighed, hesitantly giving in, “Very well then.” The buffalo placed a hoof on the chubby cheetah's stomach. The cheetah then lifted his arms and a flurry of sparkling snow circled around them, teleporting them just outside a poor, modest house -- on early Christmas morning. “Where are we? And...is it daylight already?” Bogo asked, noticing the bright blue sky and sunlight bouncing off the bright white snow.

“That's right Bogo, it's Christmas morning!” confirmed the chubby cheetah.

All around him, Bogo saw mammals carrying gifts, shoveling snow and wishing one another a chipper, “Merry Christmas!”

Bogo remained stunned at everything around him, until the cheetah spoke again. “It's a beautiful morning, isn't it? Ooh and look at all the food,” said the cheetah as a wealthy elephant couple walked out of a food shop, carrying a large carrot cake which could easily feed thirty rabbits. At the same food shop there was a large salmon dinner on display at one of the windows and another large carrot cake on display at the other window.

“Yes I suppose this is all nice, but what does this Christmas cheer have to do with me? What am I to learn from what I see every year outside my counting house’s window?” Bogo asked confused.

“You may see all this joyful Christmas cheer outside your wealthy window, but I’ll bet you’ve never wondered what goes on inside the windows of others less fortunate than yourself,” said the chubby spirit as he turned Bogo around to face the small, poor house again. 

“What is so important about what goes on in this place?” Bogo asked, annoyed.

“This is the home of your overworked, underpaid employee, Nicholas Wilde,” answered the cheetah. “Come on, let's go inside.” The cheetah took Bogo's arm and led him inside through the wall.

Inside, Bogo and the spirit saw Nicholas’ family as they all busied themselves with some sort of Christmas activity. At one corner of the room, they saw a brown rabbit in his late fifties/early sixties sitting by a small, simple Christmas tree. This was Stu Hopps, Nicholas’ father-in-law and his wife Judith’s, father. He placed popcorn pieces into a needle and string on one end, while at the other end, his hybrid grandchildren placed more pieces along the other end. His mixed grandchildren were half fox and half rabbit.

There were two boys, both of which looked almost entirely like foxes and one girl, she looked almost entirely rabbit. Of the boys, there was James Nicholas Wilde, the oldest at age eight -- he had gray fur and amethyst colored eyes like his mother, fox-like ears but narrower and longer in length, and he had a white line running along the bottom part of his tail, but with a black tip at the end. The other boy, Jonathan Stuart Wilde, age seven and named after both his grandfathers, looked almost identical to his older brother, with the only exceptions being that both his ears were fully black, he lacked a white line beneath his tail, and he had emerald eyes like his father. Their younger sister, and Nicholas’ only daughter, had her father’s full red and black fur color scheme, as well as his paw pads, but she had her mother’s amethyst colored eyes. This was little four year old, Felicia Judith Wilde.

James took the finished garland and placed it along the tree, “Like this grandpa Stu?” he asked the brown rabbit. 

“Yup, just be sure to keep it even as you go along there, son,” Stu stood up to help him.

From the kitchen, out came Bonnie Hopps (Stu’s wife and Judith’s mother) and Amelia Wilde, Nicholas’ mother. The two carried empty bowls to fill with the carrot stew brewing at the chimney for their Christmas morning feast. “Johnny-Stu, don’t eat the popcorn dear, that’s for the tree,” said Amelia to her young grandson. 

The little kit dropped the pawful of popcorn that he had just picked up and swallowed what he had in his mouth. “Sorry grandma Amelia.”

“Stu don’t you think that’s enough popcorn for the tree?” asked Bonnie Hopps of her husband. 

“Nonsense Bon, you can never have enough popcorn on a tree, aren't I right kits?” 

“Right grandpa!” squeaked the kits in agreement.

At the corner near the door, the chubby cheetah gave a high pitched squeal, “Awwww! I’ve never seen hybrid kits before! They’re just so adorable!”

“Yes, I suppose they are rather cute,” said Bogo without much care -- even though deep down he did think that they were adorable. “But what does this wholesome scene have anything to do with me?”

“You’ll see,” replied the cheetah, “Just keep watching.”

At that moment, Judith Wilde (née Hopps) entered alongside her father-in-law, Jonathan Wilde. The rabbit and fox both carried the end of two large suits -- an elephant sized one, and a cape buffalo sized one. “Mama! Grandpa Jonathan!” The kits ran over excitedly to their mother and grandfather. Judith Wilde looked identical to her mother in both fur and eye color, but Judith was much thinner and a bit of a curvier frame. Jonathan Wilde meanwhile, looked almost identical to his son, but he had blue eyes rather than green ones like his son and wife.

Judith giggled and released her end of the suits in order to crouch down and hug her happy children. “Hi kids, have you been behaving for your grandparents?” 

“Yes mama!” the three chirped in unison.

“We were decorating the tree with grandpa Stu!” added little Felicia.

“Hey, Jude!” called Stu to his daughter with a wave. “How’s it lookin’?” he asked regarding the tree.

“It’s looking great!” she replied with a smile. She turned back down to face her children, “Where’s your father and Tiny Finn?”

“They went to church,” replied Amelia for the children.

“Church?” Judith asked in surprise. “That’s a first,” she giggled. “I’m normally the one who has to drag Nicholas go to church in the first place.”

Amelia giggled, “Yes I know, but it was Tiny Finn who insisted.”

“Yeah, it was Finn who asked Papa to take him,” confirmed James for his grandmother. 

“Imagine that,” Judith replied as she released her children from her arms. 

Jonathan placed the large suits on one of the dinner table’s chairs. He kissed his wife on the cheek, “How’s the food coming along, dear?” 

“Delicious. I hope you have an appetite,” she replied with a smile. “How were the sales today? Did Mr. Jumbeaux like his suit?”

“Uh...not exactly,” Jonathan replied, glancing over to the elephant sized suit. Amelia’s eyes widened at the sight of it. 

“You didn’t sell it to him? Was he not home?”

“Um...well,” before Jonathan could explain, Felicia and Johnny-Stu grabbed at his paws.

“Come on grandpa Jonathan! Come help us with the tree!” squeaked Felicia as she and her brother pulled at their grandfather’s paws.

“I guess I’ll have to explain later,” the fox chuckled and allowed the kits to pull him over to the tree.

The two does and vixen laughed at the adorable scene. Bonnie saw the small cauldron at the chimney start to bubble and boil. “Oh looks like the carrot stew is ready. Care to help us out with the rest of the food, Judith?” Bonnie asked her daughter.

“Sure,” the three females disappeared into the next room.

“So that young rabbit is Wilde’s wife, eh?” Bogo asked curiously.

“Yes, haven’t you ever met her before?” asked the chubby spirit.

“No, I’m afraid I’ve never had the pleasure. She’s quite beautiful. Her jovial demeanor reminds me of Gazelle’s before I…” Bogo paused, hesitant to continue.

“Before you broke her heart and chose money over her, you mean?” the spirit asked bluntly.

“Yes, that,” Bogo gritted between his teeth, completely embarrassed. “Wait, how did you know?”

“The Ghost of Christmas Past told me. We’re really good friends!” he chirped innocently. 

“Gossip amongst spirits, how fun,” he muttered, annoyedly. 

At that moment, Nicholas came home, carrying his young five year old son, Finn, on his shoulder. Finn Tiberius Wilde, looked almost identical to his sister as he was more rabbit than fox. Unlike his sister however, he had emerald eyes like their father and gray fur like their mother. “Merry Christmas everyone!” Nicholas called to his family.

“Papa!” called his other three children and came rushing to the door to hug him. 

“Hey there kiddos!” he lowered his young son from his shoulders and set him beside his brothers and sister. But not before handing the boy a small wooden crutch to help support his ability to stand. 

Bogo’s eyes widened, immediately taking notice of this, “Spirit, what is wrong with that small child?”

“Much, I’m afraid,” answered the spirit with sadness.

“Nicholas!” Judith chirped happily when she saw that her husband had come home. 

“Hey Carrots!” he greeted her by her nickname. The two hugged and kissed. Judith then crouched down to hug her little son.

“Hi there sweetheart,” she gave the boy a kiss on the cheek, “How was church?”

“It was great Mama! I made a lot of animals smile today!” he announced with a big smile.

“Really? How did you do that?” Judith inquired with a good natured giggle.

“Because they saw me smiling, even though I'm a cripple!” he stated with joy.

Judith stared at her son with awe and confusion, but then simply smiled back at him. “I'm happy you were able to make others happy, sweetheart.” She gave him a kiss on his forehead, now go play. Christmas breakfast will be ready in a few minutes.”

Little Felicia ran over to gently pull her brother over to play with them by the tree. Tiny Finn eagerly limped over as best he could to play.

Judith stood beside Nicholas and they took a moment to simply watch their happy children play. “He’s really something, that son of ours,” stated Nicholas, placing an arm around his wife’s shoulders.

“He really is,” Judith agreed, snuggling up beside her husband.

“You know what he told me while we were at the sermon?”

“What?” Judith inquired, curiously.

“He said he hoped other animals saw him in the church, because he was a cripple, and it might be pleasant to them to remember upon Christmas Day, who made lame beggars walk and blind mammals see."

Both Judith and Bogo stared at Nicholas and then at the child, completely bewildered.

“So that's what he meant,” Judith said with a proud smile, “Hard to believe that he’s only five years old, and has such a warm and wise heart already.”

“Yeah,” Nicholas breathed with an equal amount of pride for their son, “Sounds like he really takes after his mother.”

“He’s your son too. You can't give me all the credit,” Judith smirked, playfully bumping him with her hips.

Nicholas smiled, but immediately frowned right after. “Though I appreciate that Carrots, I don't think I deserve any credit,” he said glumly, as he walked over to sit at one of the chairs with a sigh. “I didn't get a raise, Judith.”

“What?” Judith asked, standing beside him. 

“Mister Bogo said that I couldn't have a raise,” he repeated.

“But why?” she asked incredulously, “You work so hard for him. You’ve increased profits and you’ve been his only employee for ten years. You’ve even sacrificed spending Christmas Day with us for all those years. Not to mention New Year's.”

“I know, but according to my boss, Mr. Buffalo Butt, I haven't done enough to earn it. Plus, I already work more than I should for him so I can't even ask for more work hours.”

“What did he just call me?” Bogo asked the chubby spirit.

“Uhh... I didn't hear anything,” the cheetah answered, feigning ignorance toward the subject.

“Did he just call me 'Buffalo Butt’? Has he always called me that behind my back?” Bogo asked almost incredulously.

“Shhh,” silenced the spirit, “Keep listening.” Bogo grunted annoyed, but obeyed nonetheless.

Nicholas lowered his head in shame, “I’m a failure Carrots.”

“What? Nicholas, look at me,” Judith placed her paws at her husband's cheeks and lifted his gaze to hers, “You're not a failure. You're a wonderful husband and father. And I know you're a wonderful worker too. You do enough to provide for our family. If there's anyone who should feel ashamed of himself, it's Mr. Bogo. He’s selfish, self centered, and only thinks of himself!”

Bogo flinched at each insult she sent his way.

“You do everything you can to help his business grow and yet as wealthy as he is, he can't find the funds to pay you the wage you’ve so rightfully earned through your hard work?” Judith continued. “Someone should really report him for exploiting his employees like that. Why if that were me, I’d look him straight in the eye and demand he pay me the proper wage, and you know I would.”

Nicholas couldn't help but chuckle at how adorable she looked when she was both angry and determined. Also, it warmed his heart just to see how much she cared. “I don't doubt that in the least hun-bun. But if I do that then I'm definitely out of a job. He said something today, that as much I’d like to disagree with it, I know it’s true.” Judith eyed him with a confused brow. “Like I told Finn earlier today at church, if there's one thing I’m grateful to that buffalo butt for, it's that he gave me a job when no one else would.”

Bogo's eyes widened in surprise at his employee's words.

“I don't know if you remember Carrots,” Nicholas continued, “But I had a real hard time trying to find an honorable job before we got married. I wanted us to have a future together where you would be proud of me and where our children would be able to look up to me as a positive role model. Not the hustling low life -- trying to make ends meet to avoid the workhouse me -- that I was before I met you. And after so many failed attempts at a decent job, Bogo was the one to give me that job. Speciest and selfish as he is, he was impressed enough with my business savvy to give me a chance. If it weren’t for him, I would never have been able to put a roof over our heads and provide what I can for us.”

Judith smiled, a little more calm. Perhaps even finding a slight bit of appreciation for the buffalo. She hugged Nicholas’ head, caressing his ears, “And you do an amazing job at it.” She kissed him. “You don’t know how proud I am of you and I don’t think you have to worry about our children viewing you in a negative light.” They looked over to their children who were playing nearby. 

James continued helping his grandfathers with the decorations on the tiny tree, while Johnny-Stu ran around with a garland of popcorn as his giggling younger sister and brother ran/limped after it. In the midst of his giggling, Finn stopped as he started having a coughing fit. Nicholas and Judith flinched with concern as did his grandfathers and siblings.

Bogo also found himself displaying concern for the sickly kit. A fact which the spirit noticed.

 Little Felicia placed a paw at his arm and Finn smiled at her as if to tell her that he was okay. Just to be on the safe side, Johnny-Stu helped his brother over to the small steps that led to the bedrooms and sat him down there. He handed the popcorn garland to him and it brought a smile on the younger kit’s face. Johnathan, Stu, and James smiled and went back to decorating.

Nicholas and Judith smiled as well, but their concern for their child remained on their faces. Most notably on Nicholas’ face. Nicholas frowned sadly and insecurely rested his head against Judith’s chest as he gently pulled her closer, wrapping his arms around her. He spoke as softly as a frightened child would to his mother. “I’m scared, Judith,” he said with a tremble.

“What?” she asked, visibly shaken by his demeanor. Judith remained in his arms but pulled away enough to look at his face. She wanted to see his expression as she knew this was serious if he referred to her by name like that. His eyes shimmered a little, as if he wanted to cry but was not allowing himself to do so. She had never seen him look so vulnerable before. 

“I’m scared,” he looked back to their son who coughed a little again, “He’s getting worse the more time passes and we still can’t afford his medication or to give him a more proper nutrition. Not on my pay anyway. And if Bogo keeps refusing to give me a raise, then…” he exhaled a trembling sigh, “I don’t know what we’ll do. I might have to go back to hustling or even pick-pocketing to--”

“What? No,” Judith immediately pressed her forehead against his to speak to him directly, “Nicholas, listen to me, you will not go back to that lifestyle. You worked so hard to get away from that dishonest life. What if you get caught committing a crime? What would we ever do if you were arrested?” Nicholas lowered his head in shame. “Besides, you're not alone. Your father and I have been working very hard to get Suitopia off the ground. With both his and my sewing skills and the right investor, I’m sure we'll be able to make a legitimate business together that sells clothes for all mammals! No matter the size or species! I'll bet we can even make a wing for dresses and children's clothing!”

Nicholas chuckled at her enthusiasm, “Your optimism never ceases to amaze me, Carrots. How did the sale go by the way? Did Mr. Jumbeaux like his suit enough to invest?”

“Uhh... not exactly,” Judith said, recoiling into herself. She glanced over to the chair where her father-in-law had placed the suits. Nicholas followed her gaze and stood to approach the suits on the chair.

“Why is his suit still here? Did he decide to cancel the meeting with you and my dad because of the holiday?” Nicholas asked her, curiously.

“No, he... cancelled his order and any future affiliation with us,” she said glumly.

“What? Why?” Nicholas asked in shock. “You said that he was really excited about his suit when you showed him the designs and material.”

“I know. He told me that he was willing to see what I could do, though to tell the truth I think he only agreed to give me a chance because he was more entertained by the idea of a bunny making an elephant sized suit. Little did he know that I relish a challenge and that I'm more than capable of tailoring a suit like that within three days. With your father's help of course.” Judith smirked confidently.

Nicholas smiled. “So what happened?” Nicholas asked, not understanding what went wrong.

Judith's confidence faded. “Well, when I met with him the first time, I made the deal alone. But when he saw me walking into his office with your father, he immediately told him to leave and to get his 'grimy, thieving’ paws off his suit. He thought your father was trying to rob me, but then when I explained that he was my business partner and that he helped me make the suit, he had us both kicked out of his office.”

“What?!” Nicholas yelled, startling everyone. He turned around to his father, father-in-law, and children, “Sorry, sorry everyone. Everything's alright, no need to worry.” Everyone went back to what they were doing. Jonathan however seemed to know exactly what they were talking about and lowered his gaze in shame.

“You alright there, John?” Stu asked him with concern.

“Never better. Just observing the tree is all. It's looking great!” 

Stu and James nodded in agreement and continued their decorating.

Nicholas held Judith's face protectively in his paws, “Did he hurt you?”

“No, not really. He had one of his servants throw us out. But that didn't bother me as much as the things he said. He actually had the nerve to say that he didn't want the suit just because he didn't want anything that a 'filthy fox’ had touched. I got so mad that I went on a tirade insulting him. That's when he had us kicked out.”

Nicholas cupped a paw at her cheek, smiling gently at her. Proud that she tried to defend his father's honor.

“I'm sorry Nicholas,” she apologized soft spokenly. “I guess it was my fault that we ultimately lost that sale and investment opportunity.”

“Hey, don't take it too hard Carrots. You said it yourself, the sale was already doomed once he saw my father. It wouldn't have been worth it to have a guy like that as a business partner.”

“I know, I just wish things had gone differently,” Judith sighed, glancing over to the other suit on top of the elephant sized one. She walked over to it and took it in her paws, “After all you’ve said about Mr. Bogo, I highly doubt that he’d ever want to invest in us too. But we made this in case if you ever see that he’s in need of a good suit. Maybe he’d like to buy one or hire us to tailor some for him.” 

Nicholas felt the suit, “That feels really soft. Is that wool?”

“No, it's cotton,” Judith smiled.

“Mr. Jumbeaux oughta consider calling himself Mr. Dumbeaux if he was really dumb enough to deny a finely tailored suit like this.”

Bogo and the chubby spirit moved closer to observe the buffalo sized suit. Bogo touched it and was actually able to feel it without the bunny or fox noticing. “Mhmm, soft to the touch but firm and sturdy, fashionable, good design. Yes, this is indeed a finely made suit. Did Wilde’s wife and father really stitch this themselves?”

“Yes they did!” chirped the cheetah. They're pretty talented, aren't they?”

“Yes, Wilde must feel so lucky. He has a beautiful wife who is also quite talented and ambitious,” Bogo smiled, genuinely happy for Nicholas.

Judith smiled at Nicholas’ compliment, but lowered her gaze almost immediately afterward, as if losing faith in her own talent. Nicholas held her and lifted her chin up to face him, “Hey, don't make me be the optimist now.” Judith giggled at his attempt to humor her, “We’ll get through these tough times together. Just like you said.” They smiled at one another when Bonnie and Amelia walked back out of the kitchen carrying plates and a couple of dish trays.

“Breakfast everyone!” Bonnie called out to everyone. “Care to help us Judith? Nicholas?”

“Yes mother,” Judith replied and took some plates from her mother. Nicholas took a couple in his paws as well.

“So glad to see you and Mr. Hopps were able to join us for this Christmas, Mrs. Hopps,” Nicholas told his mother-in-law.

“Well of course,” Bonnie replied with a smile, “It’s Judith’s turn this year after all.” 

“Yeah, and thank you for havin’ us Nicholas,” Stu added. “I’m just really sorry Bon and I couldn’t chip in more with the food besides just a few vegetables and a blueberry pie. It’s been a rough few months ever since we were forced to close down the farm. I don’t know if it’s the soot in the air or just the constant bad weather, but…”  he shook his head with an apologetic sigh.

“It’s okay Mr. Hopps, I understand. Guess we’re all going through some tough times,” Nicholas said with an understanding tone. 

Stu nodded. “Bon and I are fortunate enough that our kids are all grown and able to fend for themselves even without the farm. But I only wish we could’ve been able to help you given that yours and Jude’s little ones are still well...little,” Stu said as he glanced over to Tiny Finn, who was struggling to climb onto his chair. Nicholas quickly picked up his son and helped him sit, tying a little bib around his neck. Judith meanwhile came around and took the boy’s cap and cane.

The little kit, much like his siblings, lit up at the sight of the food on the table. There was a blueberry pie which Bonnie set down on the table. A tray which had two baked potatoes, two full carrots, a spoonful of peas, about five lettuce leaves, and a single tomato sliced into ten thin slices for each member of the family. Amelia carried over another tray with a cover. She lifted the top, revealing only three cooked sardines.

The adults finished serving the food and drinks and they all took their seats. 

“Oh my! Look at all the wonderful things to eat!” chirped Tiny Finn, happy despite the meager meal. “We must thank Mr. Bogo,” he said innocently to his parents who sat beside him.

Bogo’s jaw dropped in awe. He was touched by the boy’s innocent consideration.

Nicholas and Judith looked at one another. Judith sighed reluctantly as if giving Nicholas the go ahead to supporting their son’s statement. Nicholas nodded to their son, “Couldn’t have said it better kiddo!” Nicholas raised a glass, “To Mr. Bogo, the founder of this feast.” Bonnie, Amelia, Stu, and Jonathhan all scoffed, while the children gazed at the adults in confusion.

“Nicholas sweetie,” said his mother, “Maybe it would be best if we not include him in our toast.”

Little Felicia tugged at her grandmother’s sleeve, “Why not grandma Amelia?”

“I understand mother, but it is Christmas,” Nicholas responded, “And everyone deserves consideration on this day,” he placed a paw at his son’s back and smiled at him. The kit smiled back at him, as if proud of his father. 

Though hesitant herself, Judith stood with her glass in paw. “I know it may be difficult to toast someone like Mr. Bogo, seeing how he is a stingy, odious, and all around unfeeling mammal.”

Bogo, shrunk with each word Judith said, more so after seeing the other adults nod in agreement. 

“But,” Judith continued, “Nicholas and Finn are right. We should remember that Mr. Bogo did give Nicholas a job. So, I’ll toast to his health for Nicholas’ sake and because it is Christmas and...I hope the rest of you can find it in your hearts to do the same.” The other adults looked at one another and sighed, giving in. Judith lifted her cup, “A Merry Christmas and a Happy New Year to Mr. Bogo.”

The other adults, and children all raised their glasses, “To Mr. Bogo.” 

The Wilde and Hopps families drank a sip of their respective drinks and ate. Tiny Finn was given the meaty torso of one of the sardines. He was ready to dig into it when he noticed that his father had only taken the tiny tip of the tail. Being the ever considerate boy that he was, Tiny Finn took his fish and tried to hand it to his father. Nicholas looked at him in surprise and smiled, politely denying the fish from his son. He then hugged him and they each continued eating their respective meals. 

Bogo observed the innocent child and asked, “Spirit, tell me, what will happen to Tiny Finn?”

The normally chipper chubby cheetah, frowned, “If these shadows remain unchanged, I see an empty chair where Tiny Finn once sat. And a crutch without an owner, carefully preserved.”

Bogo uncharacteristically felt his chest tighten with horror, “S-So does that mean...Finn will…”

Bogo turned to face the chubby cheetah when he felt a cold breeze brush past him, forcing him to shut his eyes.

When he opened his eyes he saw that he was still in the Wilde’s home, but there was no one to be found -- not the Wildes, not the Hopps, not the chubby spirit. There was now only darkness in the simple little home.

…

A/N: I’ll bet a lot of you thought Finnick was going to be Tiny Finn, huh? Lol! Funny as that would be he’s not Nick and Judy’s real son...nor is he a child, so he unfortunately can’t play the role. But don’t worry he has an important role in this fic somewhere ;)

Oh, by the way, I know it's a bit unoriginal of me, but I personally really love Helthehatter’s bunny-like hybrid kit design (ie Violet Wilde), so I kind of adopted it here as what Felicia and Finn would look like. I just really love it, it's like the canon look to me for bunny-like hybrids. And I feel that if Nick and Judy could have hybrid children, this is what the bunny looking ones would look like. As for the fox ones, I kind of just reversed it in that they look more like foxes but have some subtle bunny like features. This way we have both funnies (bunny looking ones) and boxes (fox looking ones). :D

[kottawrites]

River Deep Mountain High

Hank/Connor Royal AU

Born only hours apart, one to serve and one to rule. Prince Hank Anderson, first and only heir to the throne of Detroit. Connor Smith, abandoned. Destined to walk through life together, the pair have a long road ahead of them before they discover their hearts desire.

AKA: The royal AU no one asked for but I was thirsty for it

Chapter 2

READ ON: Ao3 // FF.net

Age 14 // Winter

Connor stood outside Hanks bedroom door, he was awaiting the young Prince to come back from his evening studies. Tonight's lesson was Ballroom Dancing- which he found rather amusing because he knew for a fact the Hank had two left feet.

Though Connor did find it cute when the other boy did try to dance. He was sad he didn't get to sit in on the lesson.

Connor had been up since the crack of dawn working through his daily tasks and a few extras. He'd cleaned and dusted Hanks bedroom from top to bottom, made sure the room was well aired and the bed was made to the highest standards. 

Amanda had come in and checked his work, she was impressed! She'd even given him a small smile of approval showing he really had done a good job this time. Connor straightened his tie as a sense of pride flowed over him. Whenever he did please Amanda he felt wonderful. But, he shouldn't really be striving for the affections of someone so horrible.

Connor had returned to the servants quarters after that and polished more cutlery than he’d ever seen in his entire life.

He knew the royal family were throwing quite the banquet tonight. A lot of people would be attending- the kingdoms most rich and even dignitaries from far off lands! They must have something big to celebrate (Connor had not been told what yet).

The food that he'd seen being prepared looked simply magical. Large roast Turkey's, perfectly glazed vegetables, cakes stacked so high they may fall over at any moment and hunks of Salmon that probably weighed more than Connor!

He was really looking forward to getting some of the leftovers later- if there were any.

While he'd been polishing the cutlery earlier the prince's trusted dog (called Sumo) had kept Connor company. Sumo didn't do much more than sleep, but his presence alone was soothing to Connor.

He liked dogs.

Connor looked out the window, the sun was starting to go down which meant the prince was back later than usual today.

This was bad to two reasons:

1. Connor would have less time to dress Hank for his evening meal. 2. Hank would probably be in a foul mood.

He was only really late when his bad-tempered side showed its ugly head. Connor sighed, but couldn't keep the fondness out of it. Most people found Hanks bad temper to be his worst character trait, but somehow Connor still found it a little bit endearing (just like how he found everything about Hank a little bit endearing).

He startled when he heard loud crashes coming down from the end of the corridor. He looked and saw exactly who he'd been expecting. Hank was storming down towards his room- ripping off his tie and throwing his blazer off leaving them in the corridor for someone else to pick up. Connor frowned at the young princes bad manners then stiffened and folded his arms behind his back preparing for prince Anderson’s onslaught of ranting.

Connor had a feeling that dressing him for the evening meal was going to be even more difficult than usual.

Hank reached Connor and gestured at the door angrily for Connor to open it. He did so, and allowed the prince to go in first. Connor waited a few moments for the prince to calm down slightly before entering himself and shutting the door behind him.

“So-” Connor began, calm smiled placed on his lips “How was your evening class? What was it today?”

Hank only grunted in reply. Like he hadn't actually heard what Connor had said. He was too busy angrily undoing his shirt and belt, which he again threw to the ground in a huff, he kicked over the chair sat by his desk also.

Connor kept his peaceful expression “Prince Anderson, we must talk about your poor manors if you are to continue like this. You know your parents are throwing a banquet tonight, they wont take kindly to this attitude.” He advised softly as he went to the wardrobe to fetch one of Hanks more flashy suits.

Hank glared at him before and flopping down on the bed with heavy sigh “You’re so lucky you can get away with taking to me like that, only teachers are supposed to lecture me, not my servant.”

Connor noted how tired the other boy sounded “Yes well, your lucky I’m going to pick up your mess when you shouldn't have created it in the first place.”

Hank sat up and looked at the mess he’d made, his face scrunched up in annoyance at his servant.

Connor put the suit down next to Hank on the large bed and smoothed it out with his hand, talking in the soft silk on the lapel of the jacket for a moment before going over to the knocked over chair. “Normally I wouldn’t mind as much, but I spent most of today cleaning this room. It is sad to see my hard work go unnoticed.” He stated passive aggressively, knowing it would get a Hank to apologize.

The other boy sat up from the bed and picked up the discarded clothes, hanging them over the back of the chair that Connor had stood up. They lingered there. Connor had his head tilted to the side slightly, waiting for Hank to say something.

Hank ran a hand through his hair “The room looks great Connor. Sorry, I’m just… I got some news and I don’t know how I feel abut it.” He returned back to the bed, sitting down. He looked far to weary for someone who’d had not long turned fourteen years of age.

Connor softened visibly, he hated seeing Hank in distress. “Can you tell me the news? You know I wont tell a soul.”

Hank laughed bitterly, “Doesn’t matter if you do tell anyone. The whole kingdom is going to know tonight.”

‘The party must be to announce this then.’ Connor thought to himself, eyes glued to Hank in anticipation of what the big news is, and how he can make the young prince feel better about it.

Hank leaned forward and rested his head between his hands, looking at the floor “My parents took me aside after a shitty ballroom dance lesson- so I was already in a bad mood because I hate dancing!” He exclaimed in exasperation, before falling back in to his melancholic state “They told me that they’ve selected my future bride. When I turn 18, I’m gonna be crowed King and then Married in the course of a day. It’s- it’s a lot to take in.”

Connor stood in front of Hank a while longer, letting the information he’d just received process. He was feeling a lot of mixed emotions right now, the main one being jealousy- he couldn’t work out why? It’s not like he and Hank could ever- no. That was a stupid idea. He should be scolded for even considering it.

He sat next to Hank on the bed and let the air breath around them a while longer “You must see the positives in this. Now you no longer have to worry about correctly courting a pretty maiden. The poor girl will be stuck with you.” he joked coldly.

Hank slapped his leg playfully “Yeah well, she’ll be stuck with you too. So I guess I feel sorry for her.”

Connor smiled at the rise he’d gotten out of the other boy “Well without me taming you I doubt she’d be able to tolerate you very long.”

Hank sat up, a smile was begging to tug at the corners of his lips “I hear girls prefer untamed beasts, so I guess your fired.”

“Freedom at last.” Connor rolled his eyes slyly.

They both shared a laugh. There was still clearly an elephant in the room, but the atmosphere was starting to lighten.

“Can I ask you a personal question?” Connor started.

“Go on then…”

“Why do you see this arranged marriage as such a bad thing. Unfortunately most all royal engagements these days are arranged. You must have known this was coming.”

Hank waked his hand dismissively “Of course I knew it was coming, I’m not that stupid… I just didn’t know I’d be told so soon and I didn’t-” he froze, then swallowed nervously “-forget it.” he picked up the suit next to him and started examining the interact pattern embroidered on the sleeve.

“Forget what?” Connor pressed “You can tell me anything, Hank.” He used the princes first name in a hope that he the other boy would remember their trusting relationship.

Hank run his thumb slowly over the raised stitches of the embroidery as he spoke, in need of a distraction so he could keep his mind off of what he was actually about to say. “I’m upset they have chosen a princess for me… and- and not a prince.” He struggled to get the words out, his true desires would be deeply frowned upon by all though out the land, he may even be banished for treason knowing how over the top his parents can be some times.

“That is a shame.” Connor frowned. He couldn’t say much more, the new information he’d recovered making his mind spin- he felt… Happiness? “It’s unfortunate that the kingdom would not like your true wants. I wish there was something we could do, but alas, I fear Detroit is not the most accepting of places.”

Hank put the suit back down and turned himself slightly to face Connor “I’ll just have to go along with it. For the good of the kingdom.” he was still desperately frustrated by the whole situation, but he didn’t feel as weighed down like he had before.

“I’m afraid so, Sire.” he reached over and placed his hand tenderly on Hanks “But know that I shall never leave your side. Not matter your decisions. You will always have someone to rely on- and that's not the contract I signed swearing on dedicating my life to you talking- that's me.” he grinned reassuringly “…At least I think it is.” Connor chuckled.

Hank placed his hand atop Connors and squeezed it lightly “Thank you.”

Connor almost got lost in the moment when he caught sight of the suit next to Hank and jumped “We’ll be late for the Banquet if you’re not dressed soon!”

Hank felt a lot more positive about the evening thanks to Connor and he laughed “Yeah yeah, lets just get this over with.”

[suppositoryrepository]

Whenever have you not gone under? When you sit and solipsize on why how what of some bullshit. As you place yourself so high, yet dirt is in your ears and the weight of the earth presses on your head. “But at least I’m in Top Soil!” You so eagerly condescend. “Pity those poor souls who feel the heat! I can yet move, I can!” As your pinky toe twitches. “Oh yes, indeed, how wretched are those lain akimbo at that toe! Such folly they have done to go so far under. If only they could see as I see, they would understand their actions, how in injurious to the betterment of their condition. Quite! If they could know all that I know! Perhaps then they could ascend as such as I. Yes, how comfortable it is, here, next to the worms, troglodytes, and cicadas. Such friends they are as they eat all my bad bits away! Hehe! Wouldst thou eat more! My hungry companions. I have so much to give, yes I do! I did not need my nose anyway. Though I glimpse the others further down have no such wonderous friends as I. Their poor noses are still nosing! Oh and these eyes, these wicked eyes, they are witness to much piteous beings below me. Thank you mister ants. For too long have these discriminating eyes fell on those lesser, they have! And these ears, my dear mole, Chomp Away! If you could only have heard what silly thoughts that found their way inside. The droll talk they had to endure by those bottom dwellers. My hands, yes of course, how did I forget? These hands which were forced to grasp all their little members. Enjoy my gift beloved creatures of the mulch, that Top Soil. I feel so terrible I cannot share with you, oh they who are at my feet. If thou could see how swell we get on together!” And like that the man went to feed his closest friends. And the others deep below -- in rock and stone -- waited. Years they kept. As the creatures of the mulch, that Top Soil!, begot many from this so lofty rotting sustainer. The Earth moved, continents bellowed out cries, and soon mountains broke the seal. They, the bottom dwellers, grasped air, embedded half into the new faces of cliffs that they near touched the ceiling. One man first rose up to the precipice, stepped first on that solid ground, and upon his eyes a lush valley was before him. A valley filled with bountious animals: the mole, the shrew, and others too. He wept, then said thusly: “Oh you holy one who gave birth to all greenery. Who sacrificed your eyes and gave up your hands, then your hair made branches of trees, while your toes grew roots. Whose lungs breathed leaves. Whose hair sprouted flowers. Sacred are you who gave so much, that we may yet prosper. If only you could have told us your master plan. How you were to die for us that we may have worshipped you then between that marble and granite, but of course.” And the wind blew. “Indeed I have done this for thee! Naturally I knew to seed this paradise! You are all my most beloved, oh yes my most beloved! How your praise fills my heart! My eyes saw your stoicism, my ears heard your daring tales, my toes felt your strength, my fingers touched your grateful heart! My nose inhaled your clean scent. As the animals dragged me away, oh how my soul gushed with love for thee. You of the stone. You who were safe below me. You who heard my cries as I was torn apart... ahaha, was very fine! You who heard my cries as my loins were stripped, who smelled my bowels empty and drip down! Who saw my face contort in most wonderful ways. Pride you saw, oh yes pride! Loving Pride! All I have done for you, of course, yes, indeed, quite, naturally, undoubtedly yes, no other way! Now I am free - I travel in the shit of Deer, the piss of Salmon, the seed of Elephants! Now I’m everywhere - under the feet of dogs; behind the ears of rats, between the toes of Pigs! I pass in the gas of Apes, the burps of Men!” And thus those of the stone venerated the sacred soil and wind. And the wind and soil cursed in forever silence.

[rhetoricandlogic]

Packing

BY

T. KINGFISHER

Today is not the day I wanted to do this, but we aren’t always given choices. It’s time to pack for the new seasons.

No, you can’t stay. This place won’t be here soon. It’s already going, slipping away, each new summer tearing off strips. You can see the new flesh underneath. We’re still guessing at the shape of it. Probably the cicadas know, but we can’t understand their buzzing, and there are more of them every year.

All these choices were made long ago. Now is not the time to relitigate them.

Now our job is to decide what to bring with us.

No, you can’t take the polar bear. I’m sorry. I know you loved him. He takes up too much room, and he requires refrigeration. So does his food. We have to make hard choices now.

(Look, he’s already making his own way, trading his coat to the grizzly bears, the seals for salmon. Let him go. Remember that you loved him.)

Stop. There is no time left for crying, either.

Don’t talk to me about Noah. He got an ark and everything came to him. In breeding pairs, no less! We get a suitcase and our own two hands, and only so much as we can carry.

The beekeepers began long before the rest of us, stuffing the hives into their knapsacks, bubble-wrapping up the queens. You can tell them by their honey-streaked T-shirts, by the way they greet each other, with buzzing luggage, performing the secret handshake of beekeepers.

The people who love wasps are rarer, but they will open up their coats and show you the rows of black and gold, all lined up in tubes with stingers pointed down, like an array of hypodermic needles.

The beetle lovers are fretful. There are so many beetles, you understand, and so many of them look alike, and sometimes they swap their tiny nametags and set taxonomy back a decade. When the beetle woman goes by, bent under the weight of a thousand carapaces, you can hear her muttering Latin names to herself.

Plants are easier, provided you don’t get too attached to water lilies or massive, stinking arums. The seeds pack into very small spaces, a whole potential forest cupped in the palm of your hand.

What will it be, then? Rare orchids? The cucumbers that went in your grandmother’s pickle recipe? The parrots with red feathers on their heads? The apples will be hard. It has to do with chilling hours, you understand. I wouldn’t weep. The Red Delicious has been a soggy travesty for years.

Of course I understand. My first love was Przewalski’s horse, from a poster I had on the back of my door when I was not much older than you. They won’t fit in my suitcase, though. Now we must choose practical things. Sturdy species that can’t be broken by the weather.

Sunflowers? Yes, certainly. We can sit on the steps and spit out the seeds together. And peppers, yes, those will do well. Tomatoes, too—not the big ones, maybe, but the little ones, in red and gold. The earthworms have already gone ahead. They’ll be all right.

Cats and dogs? No, don’t worry. They got there ahead of us, and the coyotes trotted in their wake. Rabbits, goats, and bristle-backed hogs—they’ll all be fine. The new seasons don’t worry them. We’ll still be neighbors.

What’s in my suitcase?

Ah.

Here, I’ll show you.

These jars here are full of beans. Don’t ask me to unpack them. There were so many and my hands cramped writing labels, trying to save them all. And here in this corner, in damp tissue paper, a tree frog with flashing orange patches on her legs. There were so few frogs that we could save. The ones that handle fire and acid and strange seasons, only. I packed spotted salamanders in around the box turtle’s shell, and yes, I cried over the ones I couldn’t save. But there is no more time, and grief takes up too much space in any suitcase.

Warblers, yes, I packed a few already. Nothing fancy. Let’s not get too ostentatious. If they can only breed in young jack pine, it’s probably best to leave them here. The mockingbirds have gone ahead of us. They know a thousand songs you know, and the warblers only one.

I fit the nuthatches into my other pair of shoes, their feathered bodies packed tightly in the toes. The vireos are rolled inside the tube socks, waiting to be released, so that they can sing at burning noon “Here-I-am, where-are-you?”

There were so many things I wanted to bring. I sacrificed my toothbrush for the pallid coneflower, my hairdryer to make space for hellbenders. But we can only bring what we can lift. The people who pooled all together to bring an elephant have strong backs, and I try not to resent how many frogs could have fit inside those boxes.

Yes, I know you’ll miss the others. We all will.

But it is exciting to move to new places. Try to remember that. Think of the people you’ll meet. And the creatures that will sit beside you as you travel: the crows snickering together, the mosquitoes reading newspapers on the train. The dragonflies clinging to the zipper pulls, with their great eyes reflecting the new shape of the world.

The friends you make now may be with you for the rest of your life.

Come on then. It’s time to pack.

[shazyloren]

The Dragon Club: Chapter 19 - Papers and Elephants

Link: http://archiveofourown.org/works/12018519/chapters/27728961

---------

Jon and Daenerys didn't see anything of each other over the next two weeks, however they did text each other nearly everyday, getting to know a little about each other bit by bit. They would also correspond about the photoshoot which Daenerys had planned but unfortunately, it had been pushed back until three days later than scheduled due to a double booking.

This meant Daenerys was in her office all day making sure all the pieces she'd already received from her writers and photographers were properly edited and ready to go into the April issue. Once the shoot and interview was done she would need Jon to write as quickly as possible as so to make the deadline in 8 days time.

It was midday and Daenerys had not been interrupted since she got to work. She was going spare over the amount of stuff she was having to cut down as all the stuff she received was exceptionally high quality. "Seven hells"

She took a mini-break, opening her lunch box that was in the mini fridge under her desk and eating her salmon and cress sandwich, She did so closing her eyes, she thought that perhaps if she didn't look at anything while she was eating this headache she was seemingly achieving would go away. It worked for a few minutes, that was enough.

As she looked at her desk, there was just a large mass of papers and photos. Her computer had the layout of her magazine on and most of the pages were filled with the different articles she'd already got. There was a 10 page space in the middle she was leaving for the cover shoot and article plus a bunch of one page spaces throughout.

Why did editing magazines have to be so hard?

Daenerys had always struggled with this part, she knew the vision in her head and she knew what articles she wanted, the layout was just always a pain. She liked the magazine to flow, one article into another. It was why she'd won editing awards, because of how picky she is when it comes to layout.

It was another hour before anyone else disturbed her again, Missandei poking her head around the corner. "Sorry to disturb you, Miss. Targaryen, but Marco Lambertini from the WWF is here to discuss your limited edition magazine coming out in August"

"Ah yes, give me one moment and allow me to clear up" Daenerys had forgotten all about it, but she too had been doing plans to give back to the WWF from proceeds of her magazine by doing a limited edition version in which it's all about animals and wildlife and endangered species.

From early setting up of Valyrian, she said no fur would be used in the photos of her magazine (especially that of minx and tiger skin). She had also not used leather in the magazine (even if she has leather bags at home) and this had been applauded by people in the fashion and makeup industry.

"Very well" Missandei bowed her head and left the room. Daenerys was feeling a little stressed to say the  least so a nice conversation would release the pressure she was feeling in her head from staring at a screen for hours on end. She tidied her desk up as best as she could; putting photos and articles in all the drawers of her desk and just leaving the planner on her table.

As she opened her planner she saw Jon's name scribbled on Friday 16th February, the photoshoot. Daenerys felt her heart skip. In three days she would see his face again. She remembered all those things he had said, about this mysterious girlfriend of his past, her death, how lonely he feels and how... alive and distracted he felt around her. He had been very closed off from her, and she hadn't liked it. She knew that even his siblings probably didn't know what he was feeling, and so she was thankful that after all the interrogation of her he'd finally let her in slightly. But she still couldn't help feel like she knew him less than before too, there was no mystery around him anymore, or at least not as much as there had been.

Jon had pretty much not left her thoughts since Daario drove her home from the wedding. She'd gone to bed when she got home at six in the morning and had found herself lying awake another hour thinking of him. And even though the thought of this still embarrassed her, she had found her hand touching herself while she thought of him. It had been so long since she'd had anyone and he had filled her senses so deeply that her brain had stopped functioning and her body had taken over.

Shaking herself from thoughts of Jon, and of an aching that has begun in her thighs, she rang Missandei's phone just outside her office and said she was ready for this man to come in. She stood from her desk and looked out the window, as she always did before a meeting, just to calm herself and take in the view. The door swung open and an aging white man with barely any hair stepped through the door. "Marco, is it?"

"Indeed" He said, not used to being addressed so casually. Dany smirked, she was going to have the upper hand in this conversation. Dany motioned for him to take a seat after they shook hands. "I have to say, I was surprised you were okay with this meeting going forward after your disaster meeting which made the headlines"

Daenerys just laughed. "Jon Snow is harmless, well, he's actually become a friend over the last week or so"

"So I've heard" She smiled like how Daenerys would imagine a super-villain to smile, as if he was taunting her almost.

"The dear old media, love to go after things and make big headlines out of nonsense" Dany sat in her own seat and got out her planning for the magazine. "So, why have you come today, Mr. Lambertini? To press me about my personal life?"

"My dear your personal life has nothing to do with this magazine we're working on" He leered almost. Dany found the man repulsive slightly.

"Has there been an issue with the progress of our collaboration, then?" Dany said with authority as she got comfortable in her seat.

"No issue; we want to propose you something" He said getting a leaflet out of his pocket. He slid it over the desk.

"Udawalawe National Park?" She said picking up the leaflet. It was a guide of one of Sri Lanka's biggest Elephant reserves. "What's this about?"

"We want you to go to Sri Lanka, to the reserve" He said with a face which she knew he was putting on to get sympathy from her. "This is one of the reserves we protect in Sri Lanka, the elephants are found in the wild outside the boundaries of the park when they're in need of medical attention. We help fix them up and even help them mate in the park to build up numbers"

He slid some photos of baby elephants with the park rangers and himself feeding them. "It looks happy"

"That's Whispers, she's only 6 months old in that photo. I just got back four weeks ago" He informed her.

"Precious" Dany felt her face smiling brightly.

"We'd really like for you to go, even just for a few days and interact with the elephants there; just to get a feel of why we do our work"

"You want me to visit Sri Lanka?" Dany had never thought about that.

"We can provide you with a photographer and videographer, then, when we launch the magazine we can launch the small video with you of your experience. It'll be good publicity since the bad press you received ages ago" She actually found herself agreeing, she could do with the good press.

"Not a bad idea and to be honest with you, Marco, I'm in need of a change of scenery" She thought about it some more. Photographer? She could ask... No he won't do it, he's already doing you one favour. Daenerys did have another thought though. "Okay, you've got yourself a deal. Now, my idea"

He leaned back in his chair. "Shoot"

"If I'm going to this reserve, and that video releases, there will be a lot of people wanting to visit. So, how about in the back of the issue we have a little competition for a week's holiday in Sri Lanka, all payed for by me, right by Udawalawe National Park?" Marco smiled. They spoke for another few minutes before Daenerys mind was back onto Jon. Marco left after a handshake and a promise of further contact; but all Daenerys thought of, was the curls and the grey eyes she was going to be seeing in a few days time.

Missandei left Daenerys for the rest of the afternoon; Jorah took her home and once she'd eaten dinner she'd retreated to her bedroom for the night. The black walls and red silks, the four poster bed and the pillows so soft. Her own silk nightdress mingling with that of her bedding as her hand travelled up her own thigh, finding her sweet spot, thinking of Jon's eyes and her release afterward.

Daenerys went to sleep dreaming of those eyes and the warmth that enveloped her when he was around.

[sonicasura]

Devil Skull, Crystal Light

By: SonicAsura (One shot, Don’t own Bleach or Steven Universe)

Have you ever felt there was something out there? Something...new...something strange...and something dangerous… Did you ever feel like you’re the only one out there when left alone by time? I am something different from everyone else but it didn’t really bother me. I’d always fit in, but you bring something new into the matter? How long will things last? Let me tell you a story about the Devil Skull and the Crystal Light.

My name is Steven Universe, a 14 year old boy living in the shore town Beach City. Home of the magical guardians known as the Crystal Gems, a trio of magical women who protect the world from vicious monsters and magic! I’m at least 4 ft tall with a slightly large body(not fat though just big boned!), light peach skin, bright brown eyes and curly dark brown hair almost like a curly afro and I always wear my signature salmon shirt with a yellow star in front of it, a pair of blue jean shorts and light pink sandals. And...I’ve been lonely for awhile. It all started this morning… Garnet, Amethyst and Pearl had set off on a mission and said they wouldn’t be back for awhile. So what do I do in this situation? I walk around the beach looking for people to hang out with.

First I’ve decided to go to the Big Donut where Sadie and Lars worked at to strike up any conversation. The shop was closed for some strange reason, I’ve managed to find Lars but he told me to buzz off. I thought about going to the arcade but realized it was boring just to play by yourself. I decided to talk to Onion, he didn’t answer and walked off. My whole day was spent trying to find someone to play with. I was now in my house by the beach sitting on my couch. “Man… I feel so bored and empty… No one wanted to play or do something with me. I couldn’t get a donut from the shop, didn’t want to play in the arcade because I was alone and even Onion didn’t want anything to do with me!” I said to myself disappointed. “Maybe I can read a book!” I shouted but noticed I’ve read everything.

“Maybe a game?” I asked but just remembered I was alone. “Aaaaah… I wish I had somebody to play with me.” I sighed as I got off the couch and climbed up the wooden stairs then went into my bed. “Maybe I won’t be lonely tomorrow.” I muttered as I closed my eyes and drifted to slumber. However in the middle of the forest a little way from Beach City… It was the middle of the night lit by the moon and millions of stars in the sky. The leaves of the trees rustling in peace, the chirping and cries of animals that dwell within, all was in peace until an unusual pressure filled the air. A tear emerged through the air like a rip in reality of a single cut but not ripped. It was like that until the tear shook violently ripping open to reveal a spinning gray vortex of light within the confines rip opened as a loud blood curdling shrieking ripped through and the glow of yellow shone through it.

“Aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa!!!!!” A loud shriek roared through the town and scared the living daylights out of me causing me to fall off my bed. “Whoa!*thud*” I shouted as I landed on my back in pain. “What was that?” I asked as the shriek happened again, it sounded like a cry of pain. “Whatever it is, it’s hurt. I’ve got to find it!” I shouted as I quickly grabbed a flashlight and my sandals then ran out of the house. I ran through the streets of Beach City and quickly into the forest as the shrieks continued but I noticed that nobody was aroused by it though it didn’t really matter. “Aaaaaaaaaa!” The shriek came louder and louder as I was getting closer to the source. “Don’t worry! I’m almost there!” I shouted as the screeches started to grow quieter and softer. I threw my hands across the last set of bushes as I arrived to the area. I dropped my flashlight as I looked at what I was seeing completely shocked.

Lying on the ground...was a demon of some sort. It was a 6 ft 3 in tall white humanoid demon with a slender yet buff frame covered in white skin, it had a hole in its chest with silver black lines coming from it, slender arms ending with razor sharp clawed fingers with tufts of red fur around the wrists, clawed feet with red fur around the ankles, a huge mane of red fur around his neck, a skull mask like face with 3 black stripes on the top forehead, two black lines going down his face, razor sharp skeleton like teeth and a lot of them, 2 pointed and straight curved devil horns and long orange hair going down the back of his head as he was wearing some sort of torn black and white robed pants but so shredded that you could see more of his left leg than his right and a black sleeve on his right arm and lied next to him was a black blade with a strange kanji shaped guard with chains going down the end of the hilt. The devil was severely injured with tons of cuts across its body.

“Is this… some sort of Gem Monster?” I asked a little nervous and confused as I noticed there was no Gem on it or anything from what Pearl told me. “Is… he alive?” I asked as I approached the demon which twitched for a moment when I got close before I saw it. Piercing yellow eyes coming from the carved sockets of the mask staring into my being. “It’s okay. I won’t hurt you.” I answered as the eyes faded like it passed out. The first thing I went to was the sword. I wrapped the chain around my waist and then picked up the demon and hefted him on my back. He was heavy but I could managed. “Hold on Mr. Monster, I’ll take care of you.” I answered as I started my way back home. It took awhile but I managed to get back to my house with the strange monster. I quickly laid him on the couch and placed his sword on the table before running into the bathroom. “Got to find some medicine!” I shouted as I searched through the cabinets and grabbed some bandages and some rubbing alcohol then ran back to the living room.

I took out the rubbing alcohol and began to clean his wounds from what Pearl showed me then I started to bandage him. The first thing I bandaged was the hole in his chest, I didn’t know how he was alive with it but I bandaged it quickly before taking care of the other wounds. It took some time but he was completely bandaged and I quickly got a spare blanket and covered him. “There you go big fellow. You should be feeling better soon. I’ll call you Skullzy. Good night Skullzy.” I whispered as I kissed Skullzy’s forehead and headed off to bed. What I didn’t know was Skullzy had begun to stir as his bright yellow eyes opened. Night slowly turned to day as the sun’s light shined through the windows and onto my bed.  “Mmm.... Stop it Dogcopter…” I mumbled in my sleep as something shadowed over me. “Hey...Who turned off the sun?” I asked as I opened my eyes to see Skullzy was in my face. “AAAAAAAAAAAGH!!!!” I screamed loudly as I accidently bumped my head into his head and fell off the bed only to not feel the hard ground.

Skullzy had literally caught me in his arms before I hit the ground as I glanced at him. The bandages were gone as his wounds were healed except for the hole in his chest. I looked at him and saw his glowing eyes but they weren’t intense, they were actually soft, warm and bright. “Thanks for the save Skullzy.” I answered as Skullzy placed me on my bed and looked at me. “Hey, your okay! I don’t see any of the wounds on you except for that hole in your chest! By the way I’m Steven, Steven Universe. It’s nice to meet you Skullzy.” I said as I extended my hand. Skullzy looked at it strangely wondering what to do. “Oh! You shake my hand. Like this.” I answered as I gently took Skullzy’s hand and shook it then let Skullzy try. He did well except he shook me the same time leaving me dizzy before he caught me again. “Thanks Skullzy, we’ll work on that. Do you know what happened to you last night?” I asked but Skullzy just stared before nodding no.

“Hm. So do you know what you are Skullzy? Are you a Gem like me?” I asked as Skullzy looked at me confused. “I’m only half human. I’m half Gem as well. See?” I explained lifting my shirt revealing a pink rose quartz crystal on my stomach where my belly button should be. “Aaaaaa....” Skullzy muttered curious as he looked at the Gem on my stomach and even feeling it with his hand. “So Skullzy, is that hole in your chest normal for you? It’s the only thing that hasn’t healed.” I asked as Skullzy nodded yes. “Is that sword yours too? It looks pretty cool! It must be important to you.” I asked as Skullzy nodded.  “Yep. This Gem is apart of me like that sword is apart of you. Right?” I asked as Skullzy eyed the sword on the torn sash of his before nodding. “I’m guessing your not a Gem… Then what are you? Oh well… It doesn’t matter because your here! I’ve been so lonely lately… would you like to be my friend? You do have friends right?” I asked as Skullzy nodded no. “Then let’s make you some! In fact I’ll be your first!” I laughed happily as Skullzy eyes gleamed brightly.

“I can introduce you to the Crystal Gems once they come back but let’s take you a tour on Beach City? I should introduce you to my dad first, he runs a local carwash here. He’ll love you!” I shouted excited as I ran to one of the spare boxes holding my Cheeseburger backpack and took out a colorful ukulele from the same box and put it inside along with packing some snacks in it too. “Alright Skullzy! Let’s go!” I shouted excitedly running out the door with Skullzy running after me on to the bright beach were the Temple but also my house was at and into the small town of Beach City. Skullzy looked at the town as we ran by seeing some of the citizens as he followed me to my dad’s. After a while we arrived at car wash with a light yellow van with red stripes and the words Greg Universe on it by the front near the elephant car wash sign but it looked like no one was there.

“It’s been awhile since I’ve seen my dad. Now wait here for me to get him.” I answered as Skullzy stayed put as I headed to the back of the van. “DAD!!!!! I’M HERE!!!!” I shouted loudly as the van shook while a middle aged man jumped from the back with a waffle iron in his hand. It was my dad, he’s 5 ft 7 large man with reddish skin, long brown hair except on the top of his head and brown beard, brown eyes and had tan marks on his body wearing a white tank top, blue torn shorts and black sandals. “Alright! Where are you!? I’ve got a waffle iron and I’m ready to use it!” Dad shouted anxious before looking down to see me laughing but didn’t notice Skullzy laughing either. “Hey dad, you can put the waffle iron down.” I chuckled as my dad sheepishly smile putting down the kitchen tool. “Steven! I almost waffle ironed your face for a moment! Give an old man a warning you little bugger!” Dad chuckled as he picked me up and noggied me before putting me down.

“So what brings you here?” Dad asked as I smiled. “I want you to meet a new friend of mine! Skullzy come here!” I shouted as my dad scratched his head confused for a moment before Skullzy appeared behind me in a flash. “AAAAAAAAAAA!!!!” My dad screamed surprised falling back into the van until Skullzy caught him before he did. “Holy schmucks! My son brought a demon!” Dad screamed as Skullzy just dropped down in the van annoyed. “Don’t worry dad! Skullzy doesn’t mean you any harm! He’s my new friend! I met him last night when I found him in the woods injured.” I explained as my dad decided to take a deep breath before relaxing. “Okay. I’m fine. Steven, do the Gems know about him?” Dad asked a little curious. “No. The Gems are still gone on a mission. Skullzy’s been keeping me company.” I answered as Skullzy nodded. “Sorry for flipping out there Skullzy, you just caught me surprised is all. I’m Greg Universe, Steven’s Dad. It’s nice to meet you.” Dad answered as they shook hands or Skullzy shook Dad like he did to me actually.

“So Skullzy, I guess you can’t speak? Well, I’ve got somethin for that. Just hold on a moment.” Dad answered as he dug into his hand before coming out with two little booklets. “What are those dad?!” I asked with literal stars in my eyes. “These are Sign Language Booklets. I got these just in case. Skullzy can communicate with us using Sign Language so we’ll understand him more and know what he’s trying to say.” Dad explained as we were both amazed. “That’s awesome Dad! Let’s try it out!” I answered handing a book to Skullzy as he flipped through it while I looked at mine. “Alright, Skullzy let’s ask you some questions.” Dad answered as Skullzy answered Okay in Sign Language. “What are you?” Dad asked as Skullzy answered with me as a translator. “Hollow. He says he’s a Hollow, a type of spirit.” I answered for him. “Whoa! That explains one thing. Alright, Skullzy. Is that hole normal for you?” Dad asked as I answered yes for him.

“Okay. Final question, are you really Steven’s friend?” Dad asked as Skullzy answered with a yes. “Yay! I knew it!” I shouted happily hugging the Hollow. “Bonus Question, you want to listen to a Steven and Greg Jam session?” Dad asked as Skullzy answered yes before looking at me. “Yep! My dad’s a musician and so am I! Let’s bring you into a father and son Jam Session!” I shouted happily as Dad took out his guitar and I took out my ukulele. Dad began to strum a energize and metallic music as I answered with a light but strong note on my ukulele. (The Palace That Was Found, Crush 40)

🎵 (Greg) If truly free, then believe all that is happening. Who's gonna rock the place, place, place? Who's gonna rock the place, place, place? And forever rock the place, who's gonna rock the place? And together rock the place and the one who touch this?!

(Steven) Down in the castle of burning flames, all these pictures look the same. Breathing fire, the burning spire! We’re running through the zone, following the path of brimming stone. We burst through the blaze, leading the path with a windy haze!  It’s just you and me beyond this castle’s boundary. We will make it through this Evil Foundry! Break through the lock! (Greg: Who's gonna rock the place, place, place?) As the palace that was found will rock! (Who's gonna rock the place, place, place?)

(Steven) In this palace of hidden desire! Burning bright with the burning fire! We run! We jump! We fight! The flames of the spire! (Who’s gonna rock the place, place, place? And the one who touch this!) The palace that was found! The golem that was bound! The darkness of the foundry’s tower! We’ll make it through with our power! (Who’s gonna rock the place? And forever rock the place, who’s gonna rock the place? And together rock the place!)

(Steven) The fire is strong. The Evil Foundry has got ahold of us all along. Golem that protect this tower. Watching us by the final hour. We will get caught in the lock? Or we will rock? (Who's gonna rock the place, place, place? Who's gonna rock the place, place, place?!) Even hearing the drop of the pin… WE WILL WIN! (Greg and Steven) Who’s gonna rock the place? In this Evil Foundry race! Jumping through the fire! Running across the burning spire! Who’s gonna rock the place, place, place? Together we rock the place! Fighting the golem of the tower! Make it through with our hearts and power! Who’s gonna rock the place? And forever we’ll rock the place! Who’s gonna rock the place and the together we’ll rock the place! AND THE ONE WHO TOUCH THIS!🎵 End of song.

   Skullzy clapped in applause as Dad and I bowed our heads. “Aw dad! You remember the song!” I chuckled happily. “I wouldn’t forget my son’s favorite music from the Sonic Series! It was easy to add words that make sense and putting in lyric breaks. Skullzy seemed to enjoy it too.” Dad explained as Skullzy answered Yeah I did in sign language. After a while Dad and I continued the jam session while Skullzy took an interest to Dad’s instruments mainly his drums and spare guitar. We took the time to show Skullzy how to play them for a least an hour. He actually started to get the hang of it though he had to use a pick because of his sharp claws. A few hours passed as we were lying down in the van a little tired. “Man that was so fun! I never had this much fun ever without the Gems.” I chuckled as my dad smiled.

   “Yep. It’s pretty awesome to a spirit play the guitar and drums. He’s got that nice beat.” Dad answered as Skullzy said something in sign language. “Aah! Bad language!” I shouted covering my eyes before Skullzy answered Oops, moved an extra finger tried to make an L not an F. Dad chuckled sheepishly while I just chuckled and so did Skullzy. “Well son, I think the Gems might be back. I suggest you go to the Temple to see if they are. After all you did want to introduce Skullzy to them.” Dad answered as I immediately remembered. “Aw jeez! You’re right! Come on Skullzy! Let’s get back to my house!” I shouted only to have Skullzy pick me up and took off in a flash to the Beach House but gave me a chance to say bye. Skullzy had managed to get us back in less a second as I opened the door for us to come to see Amethyst back first. Amethyst was a purple woman gem around my size but at least a ft and a half taller with long white hair, brown eyes and a purple gem on her chest wearing a black tanktop with a strap down, gray fuchsia shirt, black pants with a star on it, white boots with a purple star on it.

   “Hey Amethyst!” I shouted getting her attention. “Hey Steve...WHOA!! What the heck is that?!” Amethyst shouted surprised as she ran up to Skullzy. “Is that a Gem Monster?!” She asked excitedly looking at Skullzy. “No! This is my friend Skullzy, he’s a Hollow. I met him last night and he’s been playing with me the whole day!” I answered as Skullzy answered hello in sign language. “That’s pretty cool Steven. Hey Skullzy, I like those horns of yours. It makes you look awesome!” Amethyst chuckled shapeshifting into a purple version of Skullzy surprising him. “Oh yeah. The Gems have the power to shapeshift. Amethyst likes doing it a lot!” I chuckled as Amethyst started messing with Skullzy who only sweatdropped at the strange woman before she changed back. The Warp Pad began to glow as a beam of light shot up while two figures materialized from the light. It was Garnet and Pearl.    Garnet was a tall gem at least 9 ft tall with red magenta skin, black hair in the form of a huge black square afro, a busty figure, and had light pink sunglasses covering her eyes and forehead wearing a black and red jumpsuit with light red stars on the chest and half was red and the other half was black with two gemstones on her palms while Pearl was 2 ft shorter than Garnet and thinner with light colored skin, blue eyes, a pearl on her forehead, peach pointed hair and a long pointy nose wearing a blue ballerina outfit with a yellow star, white see through frilly skirt, white leggings and blue ballet shoes. “Amethyst there you… ARE!!!!!?” Pearl screamed as she noticed Skullzy next to me causing Garnet to summon her gauntlets and Pearl her spear. “Aaaah!” Skullzy howled surprising arming himself with his sword.

   “No! Don’t fight!” I shouted getting between them. “Steven back! There’s a monster there! Let us take care of it!” Pearl shouted but I refused to budge. “No! He’s my friend! Skullzy’s my friend not a monster!” I shouted shocking the two and Skullzy who lowered his weapon. “Friend??? You mean that creature… Is your friend?” Garnet asked a little confused. “Yes. This is Skullzy. I met him last night. He was injured so I took care of him but he means no harm. He’s been playing with the whole day and even did a jam session with me and my dad.” I explained as Skullzy answered yes in sign language. The tension was starting to lower until we heard a loud high pitched wail coming from far away. Skullzy tensed up as his eyes lit with fury before he let out a blood curling roar. “Skullzy? What’s wrong?” I asked only for Skullzy to grab ahold of my hand and took off to the woods with me. “Steven!” The Gems shouted as they ran after us.

   “Where are you taking me Skullzy?!” I shouted terrified as Skullzy looked at me. In his eyes said Danger. He took us back to the forest only for us to see something insane. There were tons of monsters but they looked different. They were gray with white masks on their faces and a hole in their chests each in different forms and sizes but were similar for the mask and hole in their chest. “Are these...Hollows?” I asked as Skullzy nodded before saying something in sign language surprising me. “What…?! Hollows are evil spirits that eat people’s souls!? But… you aren’t like these Hollows… Your different!” I answered until Skullzy said something in sign language. “I’m only part Hollow. I am also. A Soul Reaper.” I read for Skullzy thinking that Soul Reapers were good spirits. “STEVEN!!!” The Gems shouted as they arrived to the scene only to alert the hollows of our presence.

   “Well… Look what we have here. A bunch of tasty souls! They don’t have spiritual pressure like Soul Reapers but it does smell delicious! Why don’t you hand them over puny Hollow? There is plenty to go around!” A bat like hollow chuckled evilly terrifying me. “AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA!!!!!!!!” Skullzy screeched as he began roaring at the hollows in his own language. “What’s he doing!?” Pearl asked. “He’s protecting us!” I shouted. “If your not going to hand them over, then we’ll take them from you and enjoy eating your souls!” Another hollow screeched as they began to charge at us but Skullzy looked at us. “This is his fight. Let’s respect his wishes.” Garnet answered as the fight had begun. A bunch of Hollows leaped towards Skullzy with an attempt to slash at him but Skullzy countered by slicing the hollows in half with his black blade causing them to disintegrate into nothing.

   Skullzy charged into the large group of hollows and began slicing and dicing from left to right with furious speed and strength. “That thing is strong.” Pearl answered shocked in awe of Skullzy’s swordsman skills. “Roar!” Skullzy howled as he charged black and red laced energy through his sword before unleashing a huge dark red energy slash with a swipe of his blade colliding into a group of hollows and exploding with unbelievable power. The hollows started to charge spheres of red energy in front of them like preparing for an attack before firing off the spheres in the form of gigantic red lasers. Skullzy quickly prepared his own and fired it back with a much bigger blast countering all of the lasers leading to a gigantic explosion and huge pillar of red light.

   “GO SKULLZY!!!” I shouted loudly cheering for my friend. There were only a few more hollows left including the bat hollow but they didn’t seem to let up. “This is impossible! No hollow can have this much power unless�� YOU’RE A VASTO LORDE!!! The strongest species of Hollow aren’t you?! How dare you protect measly earthlings! You’re a disgrace to all hollows! I will end your miserable life!” The bat hollow shrieked as he fired up another laser with the other hollows merging to create a gigantic mega laser. “Skullzy!!!” I shouted loudly as Skullzy let out a loud howl before his horns were laced with the black and red energy before shooting out a colossal black and red laced laser from his horns. The two lasers collided with incredible power trying to push each other back. “GOOOOO!!!!” Skullzy and I howled as the red and black laser blasted through the smaller one and  slammed straight into the hollows ending with a gigantic red and black explosion blowing everything away with immense force but Skullzy placed his palm out diverting the shock wave from us.

   The explosion and shock wave have stopped as they were was a massive crater taking up a huge chunk of the forest. “So much...power.” Garnet answered as a rip in space tore open in front of Skullzy but nothing came out. “You did it Skullzy! You won!” I shouted happily before he started to say something in sign language. “You… have to go?” I asked surprised and concerned while he began to make strange noises. “S...Steven… Fr...iends… I… Must ...lea...ve… Be… in danger… if… I… stay…” Skullzy answered an adult male voice that sounded young but a bit scratchy. “What?! You have to go!? But… Skullzy! You’re my friend! Please… don’t go!” I shouted as tears began to stream down my face. Skullzy wiped the tears from my eyes and looked at me with the softest of looks. “Skullzy… won’t… for...get… Steven… Take...this… as… a memory…” Skullzy answered as he grabbed ahold of his horn and rip off a chunk of it and handed it to me.

   “Skullzy…! Then at least take this before you go!” I cried as I handed him the red and black guitar pick that he used. Skullzy took the pick and took a piece of his sash to wrap it and place it on the scabbard of his sword. “Good...bye Steven Universe...and Gems…” Skullzy answered hugging me tightly. “Goodbye Skullzy… I’ll never forget you! I’ll treasure this always!” I cried as Skullzy let go and walked towards the vortex. He turned to us giving us the best impression of a smile before walking through the vortex as it closed behind him. “Steven… we’re so sorry about Skullzy but he wanted you to be safe.” Pearl answered as she tried to calm me. “Steven, Greg wanted me to give you this.” Garnet answered as she handed me a photo. It was a picture of me and Skullzy playing instruments together. “*sniff* Thank you Garnet! Thank you guys!*sniff*” I cried as we hugged each other.

   I looked up to the sky with tears in my eyes but a bright smile on my face. (Skullzy, wherever you are. One day we might meet again… until then I’ll keep living for your sake. I love you Skullzy and I wish to see you again. My friend.) I thought. In another world… A teenage boy with bright orange hair was in a world with sideways and upside down buildings facing a black cloaked man and a white doppelganger of himself. “Zangetsu! Who is this guy and why does he have my sword?!” Ichigo Kurosaki shouted to the spirit. “I used to not have a name until someone I met gave me one. I am Skullzy, Ichigo Kurosaki. And I’m here to teach you a lesson in the way of the Zanpakuto!” Skullzy shouted as the guitar pick around his neck fluttered with the passing wind. (Steven Universe, my buddy! I will make you proud so don’t forget about me! Until we meet again. Friend.) Skullzy thought as he held the guitar pick in his hand.