#her makin the words pop up round her to speak

[phoenix-before-the-flame]

Haha yea uh, Deaf Levy au where she uses solid script alongside sign to speak ok byeeeeeeee

#fairy tail #fairy tail headcanon #levy mcgarden #fairy tail levy #ft levy #i have no more to say on the subject #just take my hand and imagine this with me #her makin the words pop up round her to speak #fonts and different colours change dependin on the tone of which she said em #yall see the comic text effects in spiderverse? thatd be her usin solid script to talk

[lxngbottom]

More mute fic pls omg

Mute | N.L (Part 2)

in which the reader doesn’t talk, and neville is still trying to change that.

warnings: some angst, bullying, swearing (let me know if there are more!)

word count: 2,877

i wasn’t planning on making a part 2 to this but you ask i deliver!! but, maybe a part 3 as well if i feel like the story isn’t finished!

PART 1 HERE!

—

since that day in the library, neville longbottom could not seem to get y/n off of his mind. she ran through it like a marathon, but neville enjoyed every second of it. he couldn’t seem to forget the little giggle that left your lips on that day, or the way you uttered that “goodnight” to him.

he came to visit her quite a few times in the library after that. he wouldn’t go everyday unlike her, due to the fact he didn’t want to make her uncomfortable. he liked spending time with you, even if the conversations were one sided. but, he couldn’t ignore the elephant in the room...

she still had yet to say anything else.

so when today came, he was prepared to get some progress. he felt some sort of guilt due to the fact he would never want to make her feel like you were some sort of experiment to him, or to anyone else. he just hated seeing her so lonely.

the great hall rung out with the sound of chattering and gossip as breakfast continued. neville found himself searching for y/n, as she hadn’t shown up yet. but, when she finally walked in with two books grasped into her hand, a bright smile formed onto the boy’s face.

“what are you so cheery about, longbottom?” seamus asked with a raised eyebrow. but it didn’t take him long to realize what his herbology loving friend was so happy about. because he looked over at where neville was staring, and he connected the dots. “merlin’s beard... you fancy mute!”

dean and him chuckled at the thought,

“what?! no i don’t! and... don’t call her that.” neville clapped back, finally ripping his eyes away from y/n.

“oh, it’s alright, longbottom. we’re just messing with you. but seriously, if you fancy her, why don’t you ask her out?” dean asked, hitting seamus on the shoulder.

neville shrugged, “she won’t talk.”

seamus rolled his eyes, “well, no shit.”

the three boys looked over at her, and her nose was dug into the same herbology book she had checked out a week ago. the look on her face would confirm that she seemed content with how the day was going so far.

but, of course, the slytherins had to change that.

as y/n was reading up on the finer details of a water plant, she felt something hit the back of her head. neville quickly looked over, and saw malfoy and his goons laughing like a pack of wild dogs. he looked over to y/n once more, and saw her staring at the piece of toast that had settled on landing on the floor.

she sighed, but decided to ignore it.

“hey, mute!” malfoy called out for her, another piece of toast in hand. y/n looked behind her, locking eyes with the white haired boy. “think fast!”

he threw another piece, this time right on her face. and sure enough, it was covered in butter and jam. it hit right on her cheek, and it stuck for a moment before sliding off onto her jumper.

for once, the expression on her face leaked pure anger. she whipped her head around once more, and her mouth fell open for one single moment to speak. it seemed as if the whole slytherin table went quiet for a moment, just waiting for her to say something. anything.

neville as well sat, staring intently at her. he just wanted to her stand up for herself, at least once.

but, as the words attempted to crawl their way out of her, they went right back down. she couldn’t muster up the strength to say anything,

“got something to say, mute?” draco teased, flashing a grin at her, “oh, wait. i forgot. you can’t talk!”

his friends all chuckled at malfoy’s stupid joke, and y/n simply collected her things, and dashed out of the great hall.

neville sighed, his fist clenched from aggravation.

“maybe... some speech therapy would work?” dean suggested suddenly, and neville shook his head.

—

care for magical creatures was never something that neville found interesting, but he enjoyed walking out into nature with his friends, hearing hagrid ramble on about dragons and how there living environments are.

“this ere’ creature is a classic, but an ol’ favorite of mine. i’m sure yer’ all familiar with it,” hagrid spoke excitedly, walking over to a random tree bush.

all of the students watched intently as he bent down, and grabbed the unknown creature from the bush. y/n seemed just as intrigued as anyone else did. and neville couldn’t help but smile at the way you got on your tippy toes to see what creature hagrid had in store for everyone today.

“he’s er’ a bit hungry today. but, that’s why you all are ere’ i pose’,” hagrid explained, and finally, he pulled out the mystery creature hiding behind the bush. the students let out a mantra of “awww’s” as hagrid carried a niffler in his hand. he walked up closer to everyone, showing the creature off a little.

“nifflers don’t really ever bite. unless, of course’, you makin’ him angry!”

y/n stared at the creature intently, and focused on writing down the physical details. what color it was, what shape it was. she would never admit it, but she absolutely loved care for magical creatures. it was one of her favorite classes, as she loved learning about the cutest creatures and how they lived their lives.

“he’s cute, isn’t he?” y/n heard from right beside her. she looked over and saw neville longbottom, smiling lightly at her. “were we supposed to take notes? oh dear...”

y/n quickly shook her head at his worry, and closed her notebook. she could do research on nifflers at some other time.

neville and y/n stood beside each other, listening to hagrid’s lesson. neville would glance over at her, just to remind himself of how she looked. her face was morphed into a focused one, and she bit the inside of her lip. he couldn’t help to notice her side profile, and how perfectly constructed the girl seemed to be.

“right’, who wants to feed him?” hagrid asked the large group of students, and all of them automatically shot their hands up in the air, wanting nothing more to pet the niffler.

y/n wanted to, she wanted to do bad, but, she couldn’t raise her hand. she didn’t have the courage to. neville noticed that it was killing her to not be one of the kids to raise their hand, and he could tell that she genuinely wanted to feed the niffler.

hagrid skimmed through the students, pondering on who he should pick. but out of all of the students, he noticed one who didn’t in fact have her hand raised. but, looked quite interested.

“miss y/l/n, is it? come on ver’ ere’!”

y/n’s eyes widened, and everyone looked at her. they all huffed and rolled their eyes as she slowly approached hagrid. neville of course, had the goofiest smile laid upon his round face. he was happy that she got picked, even if she didn’t raise her hand for it.

“ere’, hold him for just one moment,” hagrid requested, passing the niffler over to y/n. when she obtained it, she smiled softly.

the niffler seemed to take notice to the girl’s feature, and he nibbled at the ends of her hair as hagrid grabbed the food. “aye! what i’d tell ye’ about nibblin’ on young ladies hair?! it’s not nice!”

y/n giggled at hagrid’s “parenting”, and pet the niffler on the top of the head. some students seemed to be shocked that she let out a small laugh such as that one, but neville was in bliss.

“right’, jus’ take a piece...” hagird began, reaching into the bag of food, “and just put it by its beak!”

hagrid did so, and the niffler almost chomped on his fingers from how hungry he was. hagrid let out a chuckle, as well as y/n as the hungry niffler chewed on its food. “yer’ turn, miss?”

and y/n repeated the same thing. she smiled as the niffler made small noises, and reached for more food. “one more!” hagrid barked, and popped the piece of food right into it’s mouth.

hagrid began to explain the finer details of nifflers, and what they really were. y/n held the niffler patiently, playing with it a little as hagrid kept on with today’s lesson.

“see, somethin’ else they love is for a wizard er’ witch to speak to em’. they can be quite the talkative creature,”

y/n’s eyes went wide from the giant’s statement, and she started to hope & pray that hagrid’s next choice of words weren’t going to be what she thought they might be.

but, her hopes were faltered;

“go on! tell em’ yer’ name!”

neville stared, knowing what was probably coming next. he could tell from the drop in her face that she was anxious,

“don’t be scared, now! go on!”

y/n looked the niffler in the eyes, and it looked like it was waiting, just like everyone else was. she needed to say something, just anything.

“um...” she muttered, and some of the student’s jaws dropped from just hearing that.

“she can’t talk!” a voice rung out through the trees, and y/n looked over to see pansy parkinson smirking with malfoy. “yeah, she doesn’t know how to speak!” draco added, him and his friends giggling.

other students began to join in on laughing, and yelling about how quiet she was, even some calling her by her infamous nickname... mute.

y/n looked away, and quickly put the niffler back into hagrid’s arms. she stormed over to her things, and collected them quickly.

“where are you going?” neville whispered over to her, trying his best to make her stay. “these people don’t matter, y/n. just stay.”

she looked up at him, and his heart shattered from what he saw. tears filled her eyes, and her lip quivered. she threw her bag over her shoulder, grabbed her textbook, and ran away from the large group of students.

the students laughed at her as she did so, and more vile things about her left the mouths of draco and his friends.

“aye!” hagrid yelled, and the students fell silent. “ten house points takin away from all of ya’s’! we never treat our fellow students like that!”

the students groaned and attempted to protest, but hagrid simply wasn’t having any of it.

“class dismissed! and i’ll be sure’ to let all ye’s heads know bout’ the way yer’ all acted today!”

as students collected their things and left in small groups, chatter of y/n escaped their lips, and not in a very kind way, either.

“ten house points from all of us?! this has got to be some kind of sick joke!” seamus complained, “we didn’t even say anything about the girl!”

neville scoffed and rolled his eyes, “but, you laughed. that’s the issue.”

seamus furrowed his eyebrows, “don’t tell me you’re angry at me because i laughed? if something is funny, i laugh! i’m allowed to laugh, longbottom!”

neville didn’t have time to argue with seamus, he needed to go and find y/n. just to make sure she was alright.

—

tears fell quickly from her face, hitting the book pages as she tried to read. she sniffled, trying to get them to go away.

after her embarrassment, y/n had escaped to the library. where she was sure she would be safe, but was proven wrong when students from that same class found her, and began to harass her, and threaten her due to the fact everyone had lost points for their house.

y/n sat alone, like always. crying to herself, wondering what was wrong with her. why couldn’t she just speak? why couldn’t she be like everyone else and have a normal conversation with others? what was she so weird?

as her thoughts took over her, she didn’t notice neville longbottom approaching the same table they both shared. he frowned when he heard the small cries leave her lips,

“y/n?”

the soft voice made y/n look up, and she quickly wiped her tears away. he pulled out the same chair he had been sitting in for the past two weeks, and sat down slowly.

“are you alright? i’ve been looking for you for the past hour,” he stated, a flash of worry showing in his eyes. “i should’ve known that you’d be here. but, you know me... i forget almost everything.”

as neville made his way to the library, he thought about every way possible to get y/n to speak. and the constant rambling and questions obviously weren’t working, so maybe, instead of forcing to her to speak, maybe he could try to relate to her. make her feel comfortable and safe enough to talk around him.

“you know... malfoy has always given me a hard time, too. him and all of his friends. they’re really mean.” he informed her, still looking into her eyes. “but, one day, i finally stood up for myself. and, they haven’t necessarily... left me alone or anything, but they’re a bit less cruel, you know?”

y/n simply just stared at him blankly, having only a small hint at what he was talking about. “he used to throw toast at me during breakfast. it was immature, but... it still hurt me feelings.”

y/n didn’t know that malfoy treated her the same way he had always treated neville. she felt bad for him, as she knew exactly how it felt to be a victim of malfoy’s torture.

“but, when i stood up to him... merlin, i’ll never forget it. i felt like i could... spit fire or something! it was honestly one of the greatest feelings that i’ve ever had! i felt unstoppable!”

neville was waving his hands, going on this small tangent about when he stood up to malfoy. y/n admired his courage, and the way he talked to excitedly about it.

“all i’m saying is... is that maybe, one day, you should stick up for yourself. i would do it for you... but i don’t think that it would make it any better for you or for me. so... just maybe—“

he was cut off by how quickly she was shaking her head,

“you don’t have to do it today, or tomorrow, or even next week! just, at some point, you know? i promise you’ll feel better if you do it!”

but, she shook her head once more. neville sighed, already feeling defeated.

there was a few moments of silence before neville spoke up once more:

“why don’t you speak, y/n?”

y/n frowned, the question that she hated the most being asked.

“doesn’t anyone ever ask you why? or, you know... try to get to know you at least?”

she shook her head sadly, and her eyes wandered back onto the page of her book,

“well... i really like hanging out with you. and, i want to know all of your interests and stuff. you seem really cool, and... i want to get to know you better.”

y/n thought for a moment, her instincts taking over her. normally when someone said things like this, she would rush out of the room, not even giving them a chance to say further more. but, neville was different. he didn’t seem to have any bad intentions, he just seemed... intrigued.

“why?”

neville thought for a moment that his ears were deceiving him, but when he looked over at y/n once more, he figured out that she was waiting for a response.

it took him a moment to collect his thoughts before he answered, “uh, well... i know how it feels to be the quiet kid. and, most of the time... i’m alone. i just don’t like seeing—others alone, i suppose. it hurts me.”

y/n looked up at him, “but... you have friends.”

neville felt giddy on the inside. finally, he had got her to say more that one single word. even though it wasn’t under the best circumstances, neville was proud of her.

“well, yeah. but... they have friends as well. and, we don’t really share the same interests. in fact, my friends laugh when i talk about herbology. they’re great and all, but... i don’t know. i just wish i had someone to talk to about things like that.”

there was a few more beats of silence, and neville really hoped that he hadn’t said something that made her shut down again.

“um...” she started, “i—i like herbology.”

the small sadness that had taken over neville instantly faded, and he smiled at the girl’s words.

“really?”

she smiled at him, her problems seemingly leaving her body. she nodded her head, “and... care for magical creatures.”

neville could practically feel his heart about to burst from his chest.

“that’s... nice. i’ve never been much into it, but, i would love to know more about it.”

to everyone else in hogwarts, y/n was known as mute. she never spoke, and when she did, it was only a single word. but neville, he saw so much more than that. he saw a girl with a great personality, a beautiful mind.

and, he couldn’t wait to get to know her.

#harry potter #harry potter imagine #harry potter smut #neville longbottom #neville longbottom imagine #neville longbottom smut #neville x reader

[simpingforsoftboys]

The Odds of Us All

Chapter 2 Pt 5/5: Food & Tea- But Not The Drink Kind

It was finally lunch time, Y/n was more than ready to leave her classroom and head to the twins class. Saying goodbye to some of her new friends, she departed from class 2-5 and headed down the hallway to class 2-3. While she was in college prep, the twins and Suna were in the other classes below her. The girl didn’t hold it against them, some people were made for different fields- academics didn’t define anything besides a persons academic intelligence. 

Several people stared after her as she walked, everyone was intrigued with the new transfer student who was the soulmate of Itachiyama’s star ace and the cousin of Shiratorizawa’s famous Ushiwaka. It got on her nerves at first but she got used to the attention eventually. If she was rude to her ���fans” then it’d look bad on Sakusa and Wakatoshi.

“Ushijima-san!” Someone called after her, stopping her in her tracks, Y/n turned and looked over at the person. It was a first year from class 1-2, if she remembered correctly he was in her “fan club.” (Honestly she was a little flattered at how fast she gained a following here, back at Nekoma it took her a whole two weeks before some classmates formed one for her.) “I was wondering if you would be willing to accept this... I made it just for you!” She was about to thank him for the horribly wrapped bento, when someone decided to stop her. 

“Y/n.” Suna said from across the hallway, phone in hand, “come on we’re eating outside.” He gave the first year a deadpan, daring him to speak, Y/n smiled apologetically at him, thanking him for the bento and accepting it. The first year hurried away, but not without a pleased blush coating his cheeks. “Told you- you’re Ms. Popular.”

“Maybe... but it doesn’t really matter.” Y/n replied, tucking the bento into her satchel. “It’s always been this way, but not for the reasons you might think.” Seeing her soulmates inquisitive gaze she continued. “I mean maybe they start genuinely liking me eventually, but initially they follow me around and try to befriend me in an effort to know about all the drama in my life. Having a famous cousin and soulmate does that to you. Oh- but I’m sure you deal with it too- I mean you and the twins are famous on the volleyball scene for a reason.”

Suna hummed noncommittally, pocketing his phone and shoving his hands in his pockets with it. “I get it- people only want to get to know me cuz of the twins or my looks... but I don’t really pay attention to them... neither do Atsumu or Osamu.” He gave her a side glance. “You shouldn’t either, people like that just aren’t worth the energy.” 

“You make a good point Suna- but I can’t. I got to make a good impression for them. Oh wow, Inarizaki sure has everything doesn’t it?” They were in the schools private garden, it was a large plot of land- with rows or fresh vegetables and countless beds of flowers- Y/n could even spot several wisteria trees. “I think it’s even prettier than Itachiyama’s greenhouse.”

“Itachiyama? I thought ya went to Nekoma.” Atsumu asked, popping up in front of her. Osamu walked over to them, they had just arrived too. 

Y/n nodded, “Hi Atsumu, Osamu; I did, but I was initially planning on going to Itachiyama- I toured the campus, passed the entrance exams and everything too. But my friends went to Nekoma so I followed.” Osamu said ‘hi’ in response.

“Interesting.” Atsumu said, his mischievous smirk never leaving his face. “Hey follow me will ya?” He grabbed her hand gently, leading her to a round, stone picnic table below the wisteria trees, leaving Osamu and Suna to trail after them. 

“There he goes.” Suna whispered, earning a sigh in response from the gray haired twin. “So touchy... surprised no one reported him for harassment yet.”

“I’d thank 'em if they did.” Osamu huffed with an eye roll. “Maybe then he would learn ta keep his hands ta himself.” The four of them settled at the table, Atsumu on Y/n’s left, Osamu to her right, and Suna in front of her. 

“Y/n got a bento from a first year earlier.” The brunette gossiped (but in his weird deadpan way), he hid a grin at the matching scowls the twins wore. “Hey Y/n what did you think of him?” 

“He was sweet.” She pulled the bento out and plopped it on the table. “But I’m not going to eat it- he’s still a stranger and I’m not the type to eat food from just anyone.” She didn’t notice the glances the three shared at her words.

“What if I made it?” The younger Miya muttered, staring at the h/c (hair color) girl. Atsumu did his best to hide his snort- meanwhile Suna subtly recorded the moment. 

“Oh? Well you’re not just anyone are you?” Her words seemed flirtatious, but in actuality she was just being genuinely blunt. “I wouldn’t mind if it were you.” Let’s just say Suna was very glad he was recording- because the pink hue that overtook Osamu’s cheeks was HILARIOUS. 

“Good, cuz I made ya some f/f (favorite food).” Osamu pulled an expertly wrapped bento from his bag and placed it in front of Y/n, who looked pleasantly surprised at his kind gesture. 

“Look at him flirtin- almost as good as me. I’m so proud.” Atsumu grinned, not the least bit jealous (shockingly). “Never thought I’d see the day.” 

“Not you getting a big head over this.” Suna teased, earning himself a mean scowl. “If it were you, Y/n would have said no... maybe even eaten that first years bento instead.” 

“Ya know I’m startin to think ya spend too much time with ‘Samu.”

“Heh.”

Y/n took a bite of the food, meanwhile Osamu watched her from the corner of his eye- pretending to be occupied with his own serving of f/f. Her e/c orbs widened as her tastebuds registered the burst of flavor that was overtaking them. The entire dish was seasoned to the point of near perfection- of course there was some fault, but that was probably due to Osamu’s inexperience with this specific food. Even if it wasn’t a first for him, this was still some of the best damn f/f she had ever tasted. It was tempting to scarf it all down at once, but she forced herself to savor the taste. 

“So... how is it?” All eyes were on her, each of them eager to see what she thought of Osamu’s cooking. 

“You cooked this by yourself?” She questioned, swiveling to the right to look at the younger twin. Osamu nodded, fidgeting ever so slightly.

“Yeah... m’sorry if it’s not that good- was my first attempt at makin’ f/f.” 

Shaking her head and placing her chopsticks down, Y/n smiled at him cheerily. “When you told me you could cook I was expecting something like a simple tamagoyaki- but this is what it’s like when you’re just experimenting? Miya Osamu you are seriously talented- this is some of the best f/f I’ve had in a long while- and I eat this a lot.” 

“Thanks so much, means a lot-” Osamu began, a small, genuine smile slipping on his face.

“IDHOISA Y/n yer so cute! Can’t believe I thought ya were a total jerk on Twitter-” 

“How tf did he say that out loud?” Suna wondered, referring to the verbal version of a keyboard smash.

“NO I WAS HOPING YOU DIDN’T SEE THAT TWEET.” Y/n screeched, appalled at the expected- but completely unwelcome- news.

“Pfftt-” The brunette snorted at her expense.

“TSUMU YA RUINED THE MOMENT YA ASSHOLE!”

“OW- THE HELL? YA WANNA FIGHT SAMU?”

To put it simply it was pure chaos, their chances at a peaceful lunch completely dashed. For the rest of the lunch break the twins argued, meanwhile Suna live streamed their idiocy, and Y/n enjoyed the chaos while simultaneously savoring her delicious meal...

Facts/Trivia

Y/n was actually pretty popular in Nekoma- but it took a good two weeks before she had her own fan club

So majority of her fan club actually liked her for who she was as a person and not because of her cousin

Her new Inarizaki fanclub is not like her Nekoma one

This club was only formed because people want to get to know her in order to meet Sakusa and Wakatoshi

Some people like first year kun are apart of it because they think she’s attractive

Yes some girls left Atsumu’s fanclub in order to simp for Y/n

Atsumu may not care for his fans but he does like the attention 💀

Any peace between the twins is ruined because Atsumu can’t stfu

Osamu and Atsumu are actually pretty good at sharing and not getting jealous over partners

Suna never helps stop fights

Good thing Y/n’s here now

Fyi the ramen incident is filed on Osamu’s highschool record 😭

It took all of Atsumu’s willpower to not ask Y/n to be their manager when she talked about cheering for him

Series Masterlist

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*send ASK to be added; BOLD means I’m unable to tag you

#haikyuu poly au #haikyuu social media au #haikyuu soulmate au #inarizaki manager #miya atsumu x reader #miya osamu x reader #miya twins x reader #sakuatsu x reader #sakusa kiyoomi x reader #sunaosa x reader #suna rintaro x reader

[serararku]

Dancing in the Sand Pt 2

Thalen had plans of his own out here, but what he didn’t realize was he would be Mizuna’s packmule. Up and down, back and forth, he had to haul all sorts of boxes, all while the tribe simply watched; not even Era lifted a finger to help, as she was too busy trying to get Vahli out of the barrow so Mizuna could get some work done without him breathing down her neck or worse-- ripping out Thalen's. By the time he had carried the last box from the back of the wagon, all the tribewives were inside, standing between the ‘scaleborn’ and their precious kittens.

"They ain't never gonna hand them babies over until it's far too late." Thalen scoffed in between huffs, choosing to plop down on a box to watch this disaster for himself. "Just look at em. They all want them kittens cured but none a'them are willin' to trust ya."

"Not even the older children want to get near me, huh?" Mizuna tried to hide her disappointment, but it was painted all over her face. Like spirits lurking within the edge of a haunted forest, the kittens stared at Mizuna from behind the legs of their mothers, curious, but overly cautious; they've encountered lizards before, but not ones that spoke in a foreign language and wore clothes. The protective tribewives weren't exactly making it any easier for their children to trust this stranger either.

So it fell to Yuun to once again demonstrate why she was the Favored Wife for over twenty summers, and why she would have continued to hold that title if she didn’t become a Matron. The woman gently yet firmly pushed through the group of women with her youngest and final daughter bundled in her grasp. She stared through Mizuna as if she was searching for any trace of treachery, but all she saw was concealed excitement and tension. The language barrier and stark difference in cultures made conveying her emotions to this scaled stranger difficult, but it wasn’t going to stop her; Vesri was just as precious as all of her other daughters, and if anything were to happen to any of them, there would be hell to pay. Yuun continued to stare into Mizuna’s eyes while she slowly offered the bundled infant, before muttering in her native language. The Raen woman turned to glance over at Thalen and asked, “What did she say?”

“She said every time she yelps in pain you’ll pay it back a hundredfold, Doc.” His words were… concerning. “Just be careful, aye? One word from these wives and both’ve us ain’t makin’ it outta here alive.”

Mizuna did her best to prove she meant no ill will to any of the children, and treating the youngest of the Zu Tribe would certainly help convince the others. Only the fat round face of the kitten poked out of the cotton blanket, her cheeks flushed red and her eyes and nose watery. She was so light and delicate… Mizuna wasn’t sure this woman was even handing her over until she took a step back to return to the other tribewives. Immediately she could tell the kitten was suffering from Crimson Flux, a serious and contagious disease, but one that was easily curable. Carefully she sat down next to her tools and tonics to begin returning their children to better health. The burden of proof that outsiders could help them was now sitting squarely on her shoulders.

But first? A bath.

Mizuna first pulled the infant out of her warm blanket and lowered her naked body into a bowl of cool water. She began to hum as she rubbed soft soap against her skin, and kneaded shampoo through her tiny silver tufts of hair. Vesri seemed to be enjoying it-- she even opened her bright orange eyes and reached up to grasp at Mizuna’s fingers. The bitter medicine was sweetened with blood strawberries, and it went down smoother than honey. Next came the soothing balm she spread over the baby's scalp; not only did the spearmint help cool her off, but the hair loss would be reversed in no time. Mizuna dried her off from ears to tail, before swaddling her with the blanket. The child wiggled and struggled in her cotton cocoon for only a few moments, before she slowly closed her eyes and drifted off to sleep.

“Thalen? Can you translate for me?” Mizuna asked, causing him to perk up.

“Hmn? Aye.”

“Their children have Crimson Flux. I can easily cure them with the medicines I have, but they will only catch it again if they continue to drink contaminated water. Their drinking sources need to be purified.” Thalen cleared his throat and began speaking that peculiar language; she hoped he was repeating everything she said verbatim, but given the shocked looks on the womens’ faces, whatever he was telling them was making them worried. The woman before stepped to Mizuna again and smiled when she gave her back the swaddled kitten. The tribewives began huddling around her as she slowly left the chamber, but once they all got a good whiff of the mint in the baby’s hair and saw how clean her skin was, it was over.

They swarmed Mizuna, picking up the bottles and prying open the crates she had set aside in search for more of that shampoo and spearmint; Thalen wisely rose from his seat and gave them a wide berth once they approached him and the other boxes. “Wait-! Ahck-!” It was no use! Once one of them found the case of spearmint, they all began humming and whistling at each other, squirting the contents into their hands to rub into their hair. To make matters worse, they began stripping out of their clothes to rub the shampoo into a lather on their bodies. Even the kittens reluctantly followed their mothers and joined in, and before long the soap that was supposed to be used to clean all the children was all over the place. “Thalen! Where did you-- Thalen?!”

But Thalen was long gone. He decided to make himself scarce once the commotion started; he wasn’t about to further risk the Nunh’s ire by staying in the same chamber with his now naked and soapy harem. He resigned himself to the back of the wagon, where he had 'acquired' a bottle from the estate’s private collection-- Black Galleon Whiskey, a forty-summer-old sour mash that ran almost a hundred thousand gil a barrel. Fortunately for Thalen it was already half-empty and gathering dust, and with luck it's absence wouldn't be noticed. Slowly he lifted himself up to sit inside the back, letting his feet dangle off as he popped the cork out and brought the drink to his lips.

"There you are… Tia." Thalen glanced up to find one of the tribewives headed straight for him. It was the one with the infant, though her baby was notably not with her. "Why have you come here? Were you sizing up your opponent… and the prizes for being victorious?"

"No." Thalen answered, glancing around nervously. There was nowhere else he could go-- not without pushing her out of the way. Only a fool with a deathwish would put his hands on a Nunh’s tribewife. "Just… paying off my debts…"

"He's not here. Vahli is currently being tended to by a few of his wives so the scaleborn woman can do her job." An amused grin spread across the woman's face as she took another step forward. "You're one of the oldest Tia I've ever seen. Are you some sort of hero in the tribeless lands?"

"I'm a lot of things, ma'am, but a hero isn't one of them." He scratched at the scruff on his chin, doing his damnedest to avoid looking at her; there was not a shred of doubt in his mind that this woman was Era’s mother-- they could almost pass for twins.

She took another step forward. "You stared death in the eyes. Vahli could have snapped your neck like a twig between his fingers, but you didn't even flinch. I think you're braver than you think." She glanced over her shoulder to check if anyone was close enough to hear them, but the warriors were out on patrol, the huntresses were guarding the barrow, and the other wives were busy indulging themselves;, they were both alone out here. "How did you come to know my eldest daughter?"

"She saved my life up in Mor Dhona." He explained, choosing his words carefully. "Without her searching for that poor bastard Tage, I would have bled out and died."

The woman's eyes flickered. "So your life belongs to Era, not the scaleborn."

"Yes… that's the truth of i-"

"But you mated with my daughter, didn't you?" Instinctively his ears pinned to his head when he was caught off guard, but she didn’t bother waiting to hear his excuses. "Vahli would leave your corpse for the carrion if he knew you were one of her partners. But not to worry…" She said with a devious grin. "Your secret is safe with me... for now. Lie to me again and I might go back on my word. So…" She stepped to him again, close enough to touch. "Why are you really here?"

It was blackmail of the foulest kind. Thalen swallowed dryly, his throat parched and his thirst ignited; the last thing on his mind was entertaining a tribewife, no matter how good she looked-- he didn’t come here and risk his life to sate his lust. “... my brother was butchered by Rarku Nunh twenty summers ago. I… wanted to reclaim his bones and give him the proper burial he deserves.”

Her ears pinned against her head, and her grin faltered. “I’m sorry to hear that… but if your brother passed away such a long time ago, his bones are either buried deep in the sand or ground into dust. It could take you time to find his remains… time you don’t have.”

Thalen knew the truth of it, but it still stung regardless; Nolas was just a boy when that grown man killed him like he was putting down a crippled animal. The sunken face of his half-dead brother flashed in his head and he was brought back to that terrible place all over again. Through labored breaths he blinked and forced himself to try to swallow back that panic, but all he could do was focus on the gargled voice of the greatest man in his life, screaming at him to run.

“You poor thing…” Yuun whispered, snapping him out of his trance when she brushed the back of her hand against his chin. “You were there… yes, I remember… that little boy my Nunh spared from that grisly sport. Twenty summers ago-- how old were you?”

Through a scratchy throat and a sudden headache Thalen answered with, “It was my sixth summer…”

“The bones may be gone…” She started, tracing his bottom lip with her thumb. “... but our Tia Keeper takes the weapons and armor after every battle to better train our boys. Perhaps he still has that small wooden shield?” His eyes lit up with newfound hope; even a memento of his brother would be good enough. Her grin returned when she saw his spirits lifted. “You can’t wander around the territory searching for him… Vahli is itching to find just one good excuse to take your head after that display of disrespect. But I can take you there myself. Would you like that, Tia?”

"Going out of your way to help a complete stranger like me?" Thalen huffed as he perked a brow. “I find it hard to believe this is coming from a place of charity.”

“How right you are.” Her hands reached behind her neck to tug at a few threads, causing her furs to cascade down her body. Thalen’s heart began to pound as she climbed up on top of him, using a hand to push him onto his back. “A favor for a favor… mate with me like you would if I were Era. I want to know what it feels like to be mounted by a young Tia again…”

“S-someone will hear us…!” He protested, placing a hand on her shoulder to get her to stop.

She leaned back just enough to grab the door and swing it closed behind her, plunging the inside of the wagon in darkness. He felt her press herself against his body, her hot breath tickling his neck and ear. 

“Then we better be quiet…”

[ourladytamara]

Recreation Time

Tamara 03/09/2021  - @_ourladytamara

CW: CNC (“C”NC), prison, general mean girl stuff, hazing, beating, girls with huge meat, cutting/knifeplay at the end

Upstate Women’s Correctional Facility wasn’t known for its hospitality.

You stuck out like a sore thumb as you raised the pick high and triumphant above your head before bringing the steel down, metal on stone ringing out across the yard. Your hair, longer than the others, sways enticingly with your motions. The orange jumpsuit struggles to cling to your lithe form, two sizes too large – they didn’t have one small enough for you, but luckily, your girlish hips do a good enough job at keeping it in place.

The sun glares down on you just as the guards do while you ready the pick to strike again. Dragging it across the dusty earth, gripping it with intent before you begin to lift – you’ve done it countless times in your two-day stint so far and you’ll be doing it countless more before your year’s sentence is up. Was this fair retribution for your combined sentences of jaywalking, shoplifting below $20, and street harassment? No – your attorney was very sure you knew that.

Were you in a position to challenge the ruling or the musclebound bailiffs enforcing it? Definitely not – and thus, here you are.

Something blocks the sun from behind you and forces you to abort the swing. You spin your head around just in time to meet the fist of a woman practically twice your size.

“’Sup, faggot?” she barked above the clap of her fist against your face. In an instant you buckled, like tissue paper wet with a spray bottle; your baggy jumpsuit padded the blow as you hit the rocky ground and stared up at your aggressor.

She was far beyond imposing. Well beyond seven foot and with musculature to give the average U.S. Marine a severe inferiority complex, not to mention the impressive rack blocking just as much of the light as her now-folded arms, the woman stood above you in a jumpsuit half-rolled down to expose her sweat-slicked undershirt and sculpted olive-hued body. The light shone from her completely clean-shaven bald head, her left brow shaved and replaced with a finely-detailed tattoo reading “DADDY,” cascading into a full face of other, equally-detailed stick-and-pokes; the most prominent among them being the black-and-white symbol of Venus, a large A scrawled in the center of the design’s hoop.

“Asked you a question, didn’t I, puttana? You gonna fuckin’ answer?”

Her words rattle your already-rattling brain. Before you can get a further word out, she spits, saliva impacting your bruised cheek with a disgusting sclerp.

“P-Please, stop!” you choke, blocking any further abuse with a meekly-raised hand and nursing your wet face with another.

“That’s how you’re doing, eh? Ingrata, bitch. ‘Please stop’ is how you’re feeling about me?” snaps your assailant in reply, readying herself to spit again. “I’ll show you something to beg me to fucking stop over --”

“Violetta, fuck’s sake, girl, don’t break ‘em without me bein’ there first.

Another voice breaks her predatory gaze. Smoother, deeper, but just as commanding; the glare above is completely stifled by another figure stepping in front of the sun.

“What? They’re just a fuckin’ newbie, Tanya, they can handle being roughed up."

She’s shorter, closer to your stature but not by much. Her coffee-colored figure’s much stockier and bottom-heavier than her cohort, fit and built for grappling; she, too, bears a “DADDY” tat across her eyebrow, opposite Violetta’s – evidently, the name of the one who’d attacked you.

“Yeah, but I wanna rough 'em up, too.” replied the second woman, finally turning to speak to you. “Oh, I’m Tanya, by the way – this is Violetta. We're kinda in the business of breaking girls like you - I really hope you’re not a virgin, cutie.”

“I want its ass.” the stoic, taller woman replied.

Panicking you look around the rock yard, hoping someone’d see the blatant violence and step in – but all you’re greeted with is the sight of a veritable circle of people centered on your crumpled body, all of them standing shoulder-to-shoulder and forming an unbroken arena. You begin to shout before you notice that almost every woman around you has a similar tattoo as Violetta – the A-marked sign of Venus. Some are on faces, some on hands, and some on exposed legs, shoulders, breasts – but all uniform. The syllable in your throat is stifled, snuffed like a birthday candle.

You’re helpless as they descend on you. Violetta makes the first move – or second, if you counted her sucker-punch – and descends on you like a hungry wolf. She grabs you by the thighs, yanking you and your baggy jumpsuit down across the rough gravel towards the two of them. It happens quicker than you can process, and by the time you’ve even realized what’s happening, Tanya’s halfway into squatting over your face.

“First thing you gotta learn in here, cutie, is to keep your fuckin’ mouth shut.” Tanya says, unzipping her jumpsuit which she’d already loosened around the collar to expose her modest cleavage. “Between the guards not caring and our little chokehold over every other girl in here, screaming ain’t doing shit – so you gotta put that tongue to better use than tryn’ to yell.”

Tanya’s jumpsuit hit the ground just above your head, pulling your attention away from Violetta attempting the same to yours. Her powerful fingers practically tore the zipper off as she ripped it down your body, breasts popping out into the muggy air. A scream forced its way out of your lungs as you felt the sun-warmed zipper slide down to your waist, your crotch, and ultimately to the bottom where it was ripped away by Violetta’s grip.

You were quickly shut up by Tanya’s ass. She crawled forward and planted it firmly on your face, spreading her enormous cheeks apart to give you the best access to her waiting, puckered hole. It was slick with sweat and almost overwhelmingly musky, a clear product of her rec-time workout; it was all but impossible to breathe without huffing her scent and making yourself dizzy.

Immobilized by an unholy amount of ass, you could only writhe in pathetic non-resistance as Violetta ripped away your jumpsuit entirely, rolling it down your hips and leaving you totally exposed. Your cock pops out first, impacting your stomach with a slap; it’s modestly-sized, but nowhere near the unseen length the woman was fishing from her pants. She spits again – this time, into her hand, coaxing a yelp out of you and getting your mouth open for Tanya.

“There you go, newbie, that’s the spirit! It’s just like makin’ out – use your tongue!” coos the woman sitting on your face just as Violetta spreads you open. You’re tight, practically a virgin except for the few toys you use on yourself – you’d never had anything like the veritable third leg swinging between Violetta’s toned thighs. “Ugh! There you go, girly! Fuck!”

Without a word she slams her hips into you. The pain is searing, instant, but coated in saccharine ecstasy as your prostate is practically obliterated from the sheer force of the 13-inch rod splitting you open. Tanya wiggles your hips and coaxes your grimacing tongue into her hole again; you know better than to keep her waiting and begin to oblige, stuffing the full length of it inside of her, savoring every inch of her plump, meaty hole.

Tanya’s heavy balls rest on your chin, jiggling as she begins to stroke herself off while you eat her out. They’re covered in small, curly hairs, tickling you just like her ass; they’re one of the few things you can still feel as your lips and jaw begin to numb from the exertion.

“Christ, this bitch’s ass is fuckin’ fine.” Violetta croaks, booming voice clearly marred by the pleasure as she uses you like a fleshlight. “Yeah, you’re comin’ to my cell with me after this, puttana, I need more of this.”

Her balls slam into you every time she bottoms out, your guts more than slightly rearranged. The bald woman slaps you across your bared ass and leaves a bright-red mark before continuing to plow you. Tanya does the same to your tits, slapping and squeezing them while she pumped her thick, uncut cock between them, the head peeking out from her foreskin with every satisfied forward motion.

“Hah! God, I wish they’d fuckin’ arrest more of you useless bitches – it’d keep things more interesting ‘round here!” Tanya exclaimed, eyes rolling back.

“Yeah – for how little fight you put up, you’ve got some primo fuckin’ hole, ragazza.”

“Fuck!”

Tanya grinds her asshole into your face, hole clenching tightly around your tongue as she begins to cum. Her hips buck forward, crushing your nose underneath her considerable weight; seconds later her cock erupts into the first, second, and third glue-thick jets of cum, all landing in spattered trails across your sweat-baked skin. Each pulse causes her balls to tense up against your chin, adding to the sensory overload.

It’s nothing compared to Violetta, though. Her equine cock slams into your back walls one final, triumphant time before it begins to inject burst after burst of boiling-hot sperm into your innards. In seconds she’s coated you white from the inside out, the overflow seeping out of the airtight seal that is her cock, lodged in your asshole. Every spurt hits your insides like a softball throw, wrestling you almost as roughly as the woman herself.

They cum for another minute, unbroken, before they began to settle back down. Tanya sighs deeply before squatting and rising off your sweaty, ruined face. Saliva and sweat cling pubes to your face, wetting your hair; the woman’s scent is practically seared into your sinuses by now, still just as potent even after she stands off of you.

Violetta follows a moment after, groaning as she pulls her half-turgid length out of your gaping ass. Cum drips from your busted-out hole and onto the rocky soil below, all over your legs, jumpsuit, and ass. Half of the fluids coating your lower body seem to be Violetta’s.

“Damn, girl, if only all the hazings went that easy!” Tanya exclaims, rising to her feet and zipping her jumpsuit back up. “Shit, I could do that every day.”

“Not like anyone’s stopping you,” Violetta returned, chuckling, “I mean, that’s what I plan on doing with this little cream-filled cannoli here.”

Both women loom over you as they had before – not like you could really tell, though. Your mind is buzzing, empty, hazy; you’re too fucked out to really form words, let alone independent ideas. Was this really what you deserved for all you’ve done? Such minor crimes?

To be fair, your attorney didn’t warn you about the musclegirl prison gangs.

“You wanna hit the weight room ‘n see if that little piece of ass with the pigtails is still in there?” Tanya asked her partner, finally composing herself.

“With how bad you split her open, yeah, she’s probably still there – oh, but wait…”

The larger woman digs into her baggy jumpsuit pocket and procures a small shiv, cut from a piece of scrap metal and sharpened to deadly efficiency on some kind of angle grinder.

Tanya grins at her.

Violetta bends down and grips your neck, holding you still as she presses the crude blade to your forehead. Blood seeps from the razor-thin lines, but the pain never progresses beyond a dull sting.

“Hold still – this won’t hurt much.”

She works quickly, your mind far too dulled from potent cock to feel the pain, anyways – but soon she finishes, standing up to admire your work.

“Looks good on ‘em, don’t it?” she asks Tanya, who replies with a wicked grin.

You raise a hand to her work and trace the incised outline, wiping away the blood – a sign of Venus, the ring indented with a large, capital A.

“Yeah – they’ll fit right in.”

#subscriber stories

[decorous-biohazart]

Recount The Days

Breakdown of my creative process to this piece on my Patreon! 

Going back to Phoenix Nest to shake off the rust. 

Dingo and Megan have a heart to heart during their worst month of the year. 

Character Descriptions

Dingo Background Log  Megan Phoenix Background Log

There was an unusual amount of sound echoing through the halls of the medical center. The normally serene whitewashed walls echoed a clambering commotion to catch the attention of Dingo as he backpedaled. Now no longer bound for the exit he stared curiously down the corridor to a near trembling office door. 

His brow furrowed in suspicion, turning on his heel to make his way towards the door holding back the waves of sound. His eyes moved to the plate hung beside the door to find the label sporting an unexpected name: Megan Phoenix. Dingo grew a curious smirk, raising his knuckle to rap on the door a couple times before stepping in. 

“Ms. Phoenix, your Now O’clock appointment is-” He started in a jesting tone only to be interrupted by a stray binder soaring over his head and skidding across the hallway. Several other unfortunate office supplies were strewn about, left in the wake of Megan’s white lab coat darting across the room. 

The virologist came to a stop with a book pressed against her chest as she gasped in surprise, “Dingo!” She exclaimed with a bit too much energy, trying to catch her breath, “Hi! Do you... Need something?” Megan asked, growing a sheepish smile. 

“Yeah. I need to know when you got an office.” The marksman answered, matching her zealous tone for the scientist to hear the level she spoke at before lowering his tone again, “You alright? Ya look like a cat just misplaced its tail.” 

Megan puffed her cheeks with a light huff as she lowered the book clutched in her hands, turning to set it down with a show of being gentle, “Yes, I got an office. At least I did get an office, what I’m getting now is out.” She hoisted a box up onto the desk, pawing through it as she continued to speak, “I had a bunch of my stuff moved in here because I was running some tests in my lab when a burner went and blew one of the gas lines.” She reset the folders in the box back to their original position before setting it on the floor again, “Now that it’s fixed, I can move back in.” 

Dingo leaned himself against the doorframe with a cross of his arms, cricking his jaw slightly as he listened, “Well, that’s good. Right? Seem like you feel more at home at the desk in your lab.” He cast a glance to the side back out the door, “They got you a nameplate real quick, too.” 

“Yes, I’m glad,” Megan affirmed as she popped up from behind her desk crouched to a knee before submerging behind it again, “At least I would be if I didn’t lose my picture in this near pointless move.”

“Your picture?” Dingo asked with a tilt of his head, “Oh. Oh, no you mean the picture?” 

“Yes. Dingo,” Megan answered from her dug in position with a sharp tone, “The picture.” A quiet gasp from the blonde ceased the sound of rummaging as she jetted up to her feet again with a photo frame extended upward in her hands, “I found it-!” She exclaimed with an immediate drop off to her words as her joyous smile morphed into a look of horror.  The sink of her heart was almost audible enough for Dingo to hear as he crossed around behind her. Leaning in next to the stunned scientist he found the cause of her shock: a long crack across the glass panel. 

The striking picture of the frame’s owner in her graduation gown stood next to a marginally shorter brunette was marred by a jagged, diagonal crack connecting to opposing corners. 

Dingo gently rested a hand on Megan’s shoulder, cupping his hand under the frame, attempting to hold it as if it would turn to dust with the slightest jostle, “Okay, easy now. Let’s just get it on the desk and I can get it outta there.” 

As soon as the trinket left her hands Megan took a couple quick steps to the side, turning her back to the room as her hands cupped over her face. 

After the picture safely met the table face down he started on the folding hooks that held the back in place, glancing up with a brief double take to his distraught companion. 

“Hey,” He prompted with a soft tone, “Photo’s just fine, Meg. I can get this in a new frame real easy.” 

She sniffled with a quick raise of her head in a haphazard attempt to collect herself before turning around, “It’s not about the photo,” Megan assured quickly before taking a deep breath, “I need that picture now more than any day and it’s the worst one to misplace it on. I just... Thought I lost it, I got a bit overwhelmed and it’s catching up to me. I’ll be fine, I promise,” She assured as she flashed a smile, “I can handle the picture. Please, I’m sure you’re busy.” 

Dingo slowly raised his hands from the frame, turning himself to face the scientist before folding his arms as he leaned against the desk, “C’mon, Megan. Cell’s swung at me before tryin’ t’ get me to leave when I know she needs an ear.” He shrugged with a smirk, dipping his chin with an expecting stare, “You’re gonna have to do better than that.” 

Megan’s widen unconvincing smile twitched as it started to waver before she melted into a slouch with a small frown. She shuffled forward, leaning her forehead in a defeated slump against his shoulder, “You’re too good of a friend, Dingo.” 

“So I’m told,” He chuckled as he raised a hand to gently pat her back, “Had I known you lost Cass in December I’d’ve stopped by already.” 

“I know,” Megan whined, muffled into his vest before standing upright again as she adjusted her glasses, “It’s just... Hard, I guess. I carry a lot of the hope of this camp on my shoulders, you know?” She shrugged, tucking her hands in her coat pockets, “If you guys see me sad, well... I feel like it’d hurt morale, that’s all.” She turned with a spiteful gesturing around the room, “Then the gas line breaks and I’m stuck in a suffocatingly small office.” 

Dingo held the silence with an incredulous smile, turning around to lift the back of the frame away before working his fingertip beneath the photo. 

“Don’t smudge it-!” Megan interjected with a quick turn, holding out her hands before catching herself as she cautiously resumed her previous distance. Dingo cast a small glance over his shoulder before gingerly lifting the photo free and holding it aloft. 

“Ta-da,” He presented the still pristine picture gently pinched between his fingertips, “Good as new. You got another frame around here?” 

She took a few rapid glances around, diving into a box before removing a chestnut colored wooden frame and passing it off to the operative. 

Setting down the fresh frame Dingo got to work removing the back as he spoke again, “You know, ‘s never good t’ tackle grief by yourself. It’s got a way of makin’ an empty room feel emptier.” 

Megan twisted her foot on the toe of her bright pink soles with a quiet shuffling against the carpet. Dingo gave a warm chuckle as he stood upright again, holding out the replaced photo in its new frame, “It’s for times like these I prefer to keep it ‘round my neck.” He ran a thumb under a thin gold chain on his neck, a small gold heart locket appearing from his collar and resting against his chest, “Always know where it is.” 

The scientist eagerly stepped forward, tucking her hands around the sides of the frame before pulling it closer to herself to check for damage. Midway through her brief checkup she glanced up, locking eyes with Dingo in a look of staggering epiphany. 

“You said ‘like these’,” She recalled before letting out a gasp followed by a dragging pause, “... Did you lose Hope in December, Dingo?” 

He tilted his head with a small upturn of the sides of his mouth, the question seeming to answer itself as Megan’s eyes drifted back down to the frame. The silence returned before her head floated up again, her tone almost a whisper, “I’m sorry.” What she was apologizing for, she wasn’t entirely certain. 

“You lost your best friend, Meg,” Dingo replied in a consoling tone, “But you never stopped bein’ one yourself.” He plucked a stray shard of glass from the desk, tossing it into a waste bin, “Can’t be a best friend to an empty room, now can ya?” 

Megan blinked, her eyes refocusing onto a small drop of moisture now resting upon the surface of the glass on the frame in her hands. She quickly rubbed her lab coat sleeve over her eyes before just as hurriedly polishing the frame. When her fervor teetered off she took a heavy breath, “No... No, we can’t.” She agreed with a staunch nod. The tenseness in her cheeks gave way to a softly glowing smile, tilting her head with a sympathetic crease of her brow, “You wanna help me take all this stuff back to my lab?” 

Dingo’s tucked his chin as he snorted a laugh, shaking his head before Megan jumped a bit and held out a hand. 

“I didn’t mean like I’m trying to get free labor or anything!” She assured quickly, waving a hand before returning it to a protectively secure grip on the frame, “I just thought that-” 

Dingo raised a palm, “S’alright, I know whatcha mean. Just so happens my office is rather empty, too.” 

Megan froze as she picked up another file box, looking to the man with an unconvinced expression, “You have an office?” 

Dingo didn’t answer, keeping his bastion of a smile as he turned for the door to retrieve the cast off binder from the hallway. 

#Dingo #Megan #Megan Phoenix #Character Writing #Character Musing #Character Development #Phoenix Nest #Grief #Loss #Writing #Musing #OC #Patreon

[ask-the-becile-boys]

Fic: Missing

AO3 Link

Word Count: 2465

CW: Implied abuse, offscreen violence, some strong language

Summary: The Becile Bots go looking for their missing engineer and dig up some dirt along the way. Askbox prompted.

----

          “Everybody, shut up!” Hare finally shouted. The argument, which had started with him asking The Skull where their engineer was and then quickly devolving into them sniping at each other over personal maintenance issues, only escalating with the arrival of Locksmith, Locksmith’s opinions, and The Jack, who had taken up singing a round with himself. But one detail had become increasingly clear through the bickering and tangents and references to the only other resident of Becile Manor one could reasonably expect to be present.

          “So nobody’s seen Weed since Thursday?”

          Hare looked from ‘bot to ‘bot around the room, waiting for someone to speak up. The Skull glowered; Locksmith’s fingers tapped against the head of his cane; The Jack mumbled to himself and looked at the ceiling.

          The Skull had mentioned Mr. Weed had bumped into him coming out of the kitchen on Thursday evening, and ‘ran off with his tail between his legs.’ Apparently, he hadn’t been seen since.

          It was now late Sunday morning.

          The Skull took out his burner cell phone and tried Mr. Weed’s number. It went straight to voice mail. “Nothin’,” he said, shaking his head and huffing a cloud of dark smoke. “He was gonna make a break for it eventually. Humans can’t be trusted to stick around.”

           “Did he take his tools with him? Or any of Pops’ stuff?”

           They checked the workshops. All the tools and supplies were accounted for. Mr. Weed’s bedroom also appeared to be undisturbed (though it was depressingly messy). Hare even went up to Dee’s room to make sure he hadn’t been strangled and stuffed under the sofa. He hadn’t been.

           “You guys think he’d still be in town?” Hare asked. “He could’ve gotten pretty far in a couple a’ days.”

           “If we are to conclude that he has not abandoned us and is merely occupied elsewhere, then I see no reason why he would leave the city,” Locksmith said. “If he had formulated plans to travel or stay absent, I prefer to think he would have packed a bag of clothes and toiletries.”

           “That might be thinkin’ a little highly of him,” Hare said. “But you got a point. If he was makin’ plans, he would’ve done somethin’ in advance, and it don’t look like he did.” He paused for a moment, thinking. “Alright, here’s what I say we do:

           “Skull, you know a lot of seedy folks. Get on the horn with some of ‘em and see if someone lookin’ like Weed got hit. Locksmith, your people gossip, and a lotta them either are or know ‘bots. Chat some people up and see if he might’a taken a new gig. Me, I know every bar in the city. By now, he’s gotta have stopped at one of them. Between the three of us, that covers crooks, ‘bots, and booze—which sums up dear ole’ Weed pretty well.” Hare readjusted his hat as The Skull and Locksmith nodded. “And Jacky can come with me,” he added before they split. “Kiddo needs the fresh air.”

-

           Locksmith slipped through the heavy entryway curtains practically unnoticed. The show had already begun—in fact, it was almost over. He had made other stops already, all fruitless. But here, in this cabaret in particular, things were promising. Locksmith took up at a table in the back, near the doorway to the dressing rooms. He watched as the porcelain-plated robot posed on her hanging hoop, twisting and curving to the music before it finally lowered and she slipped offstage. The next act he barely minded, calculating his next stop if his hunch was incorrect, until a smooth hand came to rest on his shoulder.

           “Locksmith,” the porcelain robot said poutily. “Is my act not good enough for you?”

           “Chinadoll, my seraphic beauty,” Locksmith said smoothly. “You and I are aged enough to understand there is never time sufficient to enjoy all the world’s pleasures. Your performance, regrettably, I was unable to take in. But your company, ah—” He took her hand as she rounded the table and lightly tapped it to his bronze lips. “That is something far grander.”

           Chinadoll had legions of engineers begging to join her staff. There was no way she’d have picked Mr. Weed, out of all of them, to attend to her—but engineers knew other engineers, and Chinadoll drew information from her attendants like blood through a syringe.

           “Weed?” She said when Locksmith slyly brought up the subject, half an hour into their conversation. “Weed, Weed, Weed.” Chinadoll cocked her head. “You know, my dear Mr. Huron knew someone named Weed, once.”

           “Did he, now?” Locksmith leaned forward. “T’would be too miraculous for it to be one and the same.”

           “Perhaps,” Chinadoll said coyly. “But the world is a miraculously funny place. I shouldn’t say more, though. It’s such a sad thing.”

           “I trust your judgement, my wonder,” Locksmith said. “When you bestow a story, it has only ever been those of the greatest interest. And, naturally, supremely confidential.”

           Chinadoll’s eyes glittered. “Oh, twist my arm, why don’t you. You’re such a good listener, too, Locksmith. Very well, I’ll say—but keep it between us, hm?”

-

           “You mean that tetchy runt you sometimes bring to evaluate parts? Real picky, flinches at the word ‘boo?’” Jager leaned back in his chair and rubbed his jaw in mock thoughtfulness. “You know, I might’ve heard somethin’, but I just can’t quite remember.”

           The Skull had been expecting that. He flipped a folded bill onto the table between them, sitting in the smoky back room of Jager’s pawn shop, and said nothing. Jager’s organic eye ticked down to it and he smiled, while his mechanical one continued to twitch this way and that.

           “Might take a little more jogging than that,” Jager said evenly.

           “Any more,” The Skull said with a glare, “And I might as well hire a new engineer. All I need to know is if he’s alive or not.”

           They stared each other down for a moment. But The Skull knew that Jager knew he wouldn’t cave; it was just an annoying game of posturing he insisted on playing when doling out information.

           Jager finally sighed. “Bouncer I know saw him boozing at Kelsey’s the other night. Thursday. Seems someone picked a fight with him, and they both got thrown out. He watched him take off running with the other guy on his heels.”

           “How’d your bouncer know it was Weed?” The Skull said.

           “This guy—you’ve met him. He’s my back-up at some of our little part swaps. He recognized Weed, got a real laugh outta thinkin’ he was runnin’ home to you.” Jager grinned. “Guess that wasn’t the case, was it?”

           The Skull stood. “If you ‘remember’ anything else, there’ll be more money. Otherwise, you’ll hear from me when I have something to sell.”

           “Watch your back, The Skull,” Jager said lazily. “There’s always trouble brewin’.”

-

           “My Mr. Huron met this Weed in college,” Chinadoll said quietly. “And he said it was practically love at first sight. They were both engineers, you see. Roomed together. And Mr. Huron became utterly devoted. Waited on his every need. Walked him to all his classes. Protected him from every lech and interloper. Like the world’s most suffocating knight in shining armor,” she said with a laugh. “Hilarious what humans find romantic, isn’t it?”

           Locksmith expertly hid his irritation. “Riotously,” he said. “But please, you must finish. I must assume there was no happy ending for these two roboticists?”

           “Of course not,” Chinadoll said flippantly. “One day, Mr. Huron returned to their room to find Weed had cleared out. Packed up everything and disappeared. Changed schools, even. And told no one where he was going. My Mr. Huron was practically in tears recounting it, and he went on and on about what he’d do if he ever got to see him again.”

           “Sweep him off his feet, mayhap? Kneel and beg for a second chance?”

           Chinadoll slowly tilted her head, eyes almost shimmering in the half-light. “Oh, no. Nothing like that.”

-

           The Skull stood outside Kelsey’s bar, impatiently waiting for Hare to pick up his burner. “Come on, you rat,” he muttered.

           He had followed up on Jager’s lead, bribing more information out of the bouncer. He’d remembered more specifics, particularly what this assailant had screamed at Mr. Weed, and it had all been red flags. “Come on, goddammit, pick up!”

-

           Chinadoll leaned in and sweetly said, “He said he was going to kill him with his bare hands.”

-

           Hare didn’t pick up his phone because he was too busy chasing The Jack.

           “Come on, Jacky, this isn’t funny!” Hare hollered after the renegade robot, hopping over a divider and sliding down the concrete slope. They had had a so far uneventful stroll through the most frequented pub crawl route, turning up nothing despite Hare’s best efforts and The Jack’s intimidating presence. Hare had unwisely brushed off The Jack’s growing twitchiness, too focused on trying to coax information out of his card shark circles and other criminal miscellanea and worrying about what would happen if Mr. Weed didn’t turn up.

          The Skull was always saying it’d be easy to replace him, that they could find any drunk on the street to do what he did. It was an eventuality, sure. But not one of the dozens of low-life engineers they’d gone out to between the time Pops died and Mr. Weed showed up had been willing to stay on. Even crooked engineers took one look at the Beciles and ran.

           Not Weed. Maybe he was just the most desperate of them all, but he stayed, even though sometimes they picked on him and sometimes they scared him and Dee sure hated his guts and The Jack had bitten him more than once and—

           Hell, maybe he had run off. Hare wouldn’t blame him. It was every man for himself, at the end of the day.

           But Hare also owed him his life, and silently thought that maybe they were sort of friends. He kind of hoped Mr. Weed did, too.

           Hare chased The Jack through a train yard, following the echoing laughter as he started losing sight of him. Smoke poured out from between his teeth; he couldn’t afford to lose both Jacky and Weed. He dodged around the last motionless train car to see The Jack struggling over a divider, trying to get back to the street. It gave him some time to catch up, but not enough. The Jack zipped off, howling with laughter—when a man stepped out from around the corner and yelled, “Hey, Jack! You’re it!”

           The Jack immediately wheeled around and flung himself at the man, knocking him to the ground. “No, no, no,” The Jack said cheerfully. “You’re it.” And he began cracking up again, this time standing still.

          Hare lunged forward, seizing the straps of The Jack’s straitjacket. “Gotcha! You friggin’ brat—I oughta knock your block off—don’t you know we’ll get arrested if you go running into people like this guy—” Hare looked down and paused. “Weed?”

          The man on the ground was roughed up, hair tangled, dirt on his jacket and pants, but there was no mistaking him. Mr. Weed shook his head, trying to clear it from the shock of the impact with Jack. “Wasn’t sure that was gonna work. But I saw him comin’ and thought, hell, worth a shot.”

          “Where the hell have you been?” Hare asked, offering one hand to help Mr. Weed up, the other still firmly holding onto The Jack. He looked Mr. Weed over as he stood, noting the bruises on his face. “Oof. Nice shiner. Did Jacky do that?”

           “No, it’s been there a bit,” Mr. Weed said, self-consciously touching the edge of his bruised eye. “I… got into some trouble.”

           “A giant white turtle,” The Jack said suddenly, tilting his head up. The other two glanced up. There were some clouds, one of which was almost kind of turtle shaped. Hare gingerly let go of The Jack, watching him to make sure he didn’t bolt again, but the clouds had his attention.

           “Trouble, Weed? You? You’re usually too chicken to get into trouble.”

           “Yeah, well, trouble found me,” Mr. Weed mumbled, looking down and away. “I ran into an ex.”

           Hare chuckled and slapped a hand on Mr. Weed’s shoulder. “They got a new beau to beat you up? Break your heart all over again? Next time, get some ice cream and cry at home.”

           “He gave me the shiner.”

           Hare shut up. He stared, good eye wide, at Mr. Weed, who did not look back at him.

           “What’s his name?” Hare asked with fake cheerfulness. “So me and the guys can go kill him later.”

           Mr. Weed snorted and shook his head. “Don’t go gettin’ mixed up in my problems,” he muttered. “I didn’t even know he lived here, now. I moved down the coast to get away from him. He saw me before I saw him, and…” Mr. Weed trailed off, frowning. “I got scared he’d follow me back to the manor, and if he didn’t just break in, he’d come back when I was alone and finish me off then. And my phone was dead before I thought to call anyone, so I just… I’ve just been tryin’ to hide. Skull’s probably ready to kill me, huh?”

           “Give him a little credit,” Hare said. “He’s out here lookin’ for you, too.”

           Mr. Weed looked surprised, but he nodded.

           “Look, Weed,” Hare said, and after a moment’s hesitation, he slipped his arm around Weed’s shoulders in something approaching a friendly gesture. “You don’t gotta share all your dirty laundry with us. But you’re part of the gang, and that means we ain’t gonna let some asshole beat up on you. You get what I’m sayin’? We, y’know… we got your back.”

           “That’s an awful big thing to say on the other guys’ behalf,” Weed mumbled, but there was a hint of a smile on his face. “Nice to think it might be true.”

           “Now Weed, when I have I ever told anything but the truth? I’m practically one of your saints—” Hare’s phone buzzed, cutting him off. He dug it out of his pocket and cheerfully answered. “Skully! Good news! I—yeah, I know someone’s tryin’ to kill him, he just told me about it. Yeah, I found him! Meet us at home, ‘ey? I’ll get ahold of ‘Smith. Yeah. Yeah, whatever. Bye.” Hare hung up and grinned at Mr. Weed. “You ready to go, or we gonna wait around until your ex catches up for round two? I’d love to meet him.”

           “Let’s go,” Mr. Weed said quietly. “And, Hare?”

           “Yeah?”

           “… Thanks.”

#becile bots #steam powered giraffe #fanfiction #hare becile #the skull becile #the jack becile #locksmith becile #missing #amuseoffirebane #lore bits #abuse tw #physical abuse tw #jager the pawnbroker #ms chinadoll #jaime huron #canon fic #story update #riker szarka

[rcris123]

“How’re you feelin’?” Arthur asks Kieran that evening after things settled down a lil’.

“Dizzy.” The boy was still nursing his injured arm, looking rather pitiful. Grimshaw bandaged it “But I guess it’ll heal.”

“Unless you catch the fever.” Sean mocked.

It felt isolated the way all of ‘em that went away were the ones around this fire. That and Charles. Isaac fell asleep in Arthur’s arms; must have exhausted him being in an actual gunfight.

“Shut up!” Kieran mused up the courage.

Sean laughs: “Keep tryin’.”

And the kid scowls, and changes the subject: “Sadie, I ain’t got the time to thank you. I-I know you ain’t- I mean-”

“I don’t hate you.” She says drily. “But don’t you think we’re friends either.”

“Yeah, I wouldn’t even think of it.” A pause. “I’m still sorry for what happened to Jack.”

“That’s done now.” Arthur says, brushes a few strands of hair from Isaac’s forehead. “We keep goin’.”

“An’ what ‘bout Dutch?” Sean interrupts.

Arthur just lets out a long sigh.

“Ain’t seen him that... what you call it?” Sean continued.

“Unhinged?” Charles chimes in.

“... Well... Without morals I mean. You went back for me, you did. And that pile of cowdungs that’s Micah.”

Arthur coughs a laugh at that; hearing Sean insult Micah in increasingly creative ways ain’t ever gonna get old.

“Guess I’m still an O’Driscoll to them- to Dutch at least. I mean it ain’t makin’ sense goin’ to rescue me-”

“The fewer O’Driscolls the better.” Sadie’s stone cold. “Just want them all gone. Every. Single. Last one o’em bastard.”

“I’m so sorry, Sadie...” Kieran truly sounds heartbroken and it seems he ain’t ever heard the story of what happened to her. “Truly I am-”

“I don’t want your pity, kid.” She spits.

Sebastian puts a hand on Kieran’s back before the boy gets to speak again.

“I think we all need to rest now-” Arthur tried.

Sean won’t have it: “Can’t rest now thinkin’ Dutch might just lemme rot if I were to get lost even just a lil’ bit, or worse put a bullet in me head ‘cause I said somethin’ he ain’t liked. It gave me the chills hearin’ him talk like that- how long’s it been for you Arthur? In the gang I mean?”

“20 years.”

“20 years and ye think that’ll gain a man some respect...”

“Ye’r thinkin’ too much lately, Sean.” Arthur chuckles.

“Ain’t you always said to use me noggin?!”

“Well it’s better that you don’t right now.”

“That ain’t fair, Arthur.”

A hand comes to rest on Arthur’s shoulders and everyone looks up: Hosea.

“Managed to calm the ol’ man down.” He says, taking a seat by Arthur and Isaac. And Hosea brushes the boy’s head with the same care as his actual father. “You really upset him this time ‘round, Arthur.”

A sigh: “I know...”

“It’s better if you apologize-”

“Yeah.” Arthur didn’t let him finish. “I ain’t meant it to end the way it did... I just-”

“No, I understand.” Hosea continues. “Things are... let’s say complicated.” It’s Sebastian that looks at the old man, knowingly. “And it’s the same for our good ol’ Dutch there. He cares for you, Arthur.”

“I know...” voice drops penitently.

“He fears he’s gonna lose a dear old friend-”

“But I can’t just sit an’ do nothin’!” Arthur sighs.

“Raising the boy made you real caring, ain’t it?”

“I guess...” A scratch of the beard, a purse of lips: “But you know how it was.”

“No, I ain’t blaming you.” Hosea lifted his hands defensively. “I’ve just been thinking that things feel like slipping. Ever since Blackwater.” Charles and Sean nodded. “And with you being gone more often I feel somehow older.” Old man gave a bitter laugh, followed by a dry cough. “I feel-” a drawn-out exhale. “I feel like I don’t have the strength to hold all together anymore.”

Arthur’s silent and if he wouldn’t be holding Isaac he’d try to comfort Hosea with a touch.

“It’s too much to ask this of you, Arthur... But here I am.”

“Hosea-”

“English’s tryin’.” Sean butts in, sounding somewhat more quiet than usual, and still that was some courage from him for all the trouble Hosea gave him for laziness. “I mean I ain’t knowin’ why the hell’ll save this soggy ol’ bread.” He gestured to Kieran and the kid scowled.

“It was certainly lucky.” Hosea replies. “It’s true that if the O’Driscolls found Kieran in the camp they knew where we were and could of come with even more men. But the undead- I mean there were legends among Creoles about something called zonbi. I guess the people around here should know something if there's a plague and if we're in any danger of getting it.”

Arthur nods: "I'm comin' with you."

"Well if you got the disposition.. I think bringing this to Dutch soon will appease him somewhat and make it all seem like less of an act of defiance."

"O'course."

Arthur goes to stand up, almost forgets Isaac in his arms. And he's also reminded of that letter…

"And I guess I'll go see Mary."

"Her?" Sean's surprised. "Ain't you got done with that long ago?... I mean no offense but I heard the stories..."

John couldn't keep his mouth shut, that and Uncle.

"I was, but she popped up again." A sigh. "But I ain't deserving her and she ain't deserving me. So I gotta end things. Proper this time…"

"You want me to come with you?..." Sebastian spoke quietly until voice died down completely and he pursed his lips as if he said something wrong.

"I…" Arthur tried to find words. "I would-"

"Rather do that alone. Yes…" He cuts him. "I get that…"

The world ain't kind to lovers like them.

"I'm sorry, Sebastian…"

But Sebastian gave a smile:

“You and Hosea take care out there.” Arthur nods. “I’ll get Isaac upstairs.” And now, trying his best to not wake the boy up he lifts him up, but Isaac’s eyes flutter awake.

Sebastian holds him up and Isaac mutters a half asleep: “Pa?”

“Go get some rest kid, you earned it” Father smiles to his son and one could see the pride that flushes on the boy’s cheeks as he’s lulled away with care.

And Christ, he'd love to kiss Sebastian right now, to give him the courage to see Mary, 'cause he's feeling like he'll go soft and weak again. A touch of the necklace; he’s still there. A deep breath in.

“Well… guess we should get goin’...” Arthur gets up from the log he was standing on: “Rest up, Kieran. Take blankets from upstairs if you need to.”

“T-thank you, Arthur.”

 The road to Saint Denis he could do in his sleep by now, and with the sun setting like it was he almost did. Hosea didn’t talk, only coughed from time to time. Then:

“Arthur… I… Maybe there’s no good place to ask or say this, but- Do you remember how me and Dutch met? Back in ‘72?”

“ ‘Course I do.” Heart started to shrink in his chest; he knew what came after this.

“And is there anything that you want to tell me about you and...”

“There ain’t much to it...” a sigh; it ain’t even been that long ago. “Man saved my sorry ass just ‘cause Isaac happened to be with me and he happened to have been a childless father-” Another sigh, or maybe it was a defeated groan: “What you want from me, Hosea? ‘cause I ain’t knowin’ how I got here, just know that I goddamn did...”

Hosea remained quiet for a while; there was Saint Denis with all its electrical glory, there to illuminate fossils and human scum, then: “He strikes me as a good man. Sebastian I mean...”

“Ain’t I keepin’ a record of courting people much better than myself...” a bitter laugh. He’s going to see that Mary again; what a sad, deluded fool he was... “Guess we should be splittin’ up about here.”

“I’ll meet you back around here.”

Where were they even? Well that looked like the Police Station, by the way lawmen buzzed around the entrance. She’s at the Grand Hotel just a street further. Sun’s almost done setting by the time he reaches the structure, head’s bowed low and he ain’t even truly looking for her. There’s a pit in his stomach, gnawing at him. And then she hears her from above him:

“Arthur! Arthur you came!”

He dismounts, looks up for a brief moment: “Yeah, I came...”

“Wait there! I’m coming straight down” She had a bright smile on her face as she rushes downstairs.

Arthur takes a deep breath in: there were people staring and he throws them a glance. It ain’t none of their business, and he fears it’s hardly his own. Oh what a fool he’ll make of himself once more; seems to be a trend when it came to Arthur Morgan and love...

Dumb love... Is he going to let this one slip away as well. A scratch of the beard then hand goes down to rub the necklace. Christ!

She’s downstairs already: “Arthur...” She sounds as in love as she ever was, and to think back to how her face drained of color upon seeing Isaac...

“Hello, Mary.” He can’t match her enthusiasm.

“You came...” Arthur just nods. “How’s the boy? Isaac was his name?”

At last he gains the courage to look her in the eyes, it almost sounded like she cared and it’s tearing at him. If only she could of been a mother. If only he could have been anything but an outlaw. But things ain’t changed; she told him they never would. But maybe he just hasn’t been looking in the right places all this time. Sebastian ain’t no woman, but there ain’t no question that man loved Arthur, with all his biggest flaws and the son to boot – or maybe the son was the only reason Arthur was deserving of love in the first place. And with that tightness in his chest thinking of him now when Mary was right before him, Arthur surely seemed to love just as much in return...

He hasn’t replied in a while: “Arthur?... What’s wrong?”

“Nothin’.” He purses his lips, shifts weight from one leg to the other. “The boy’s fine. Been a long day...” But she needed his help with something: “But what you called me for?”

She tucks her hands into each other: “Well... Daddy-”

“Your father!?” He’s offended but not surprised: “Should of known...” He takes steps away.

“Arthur! I’m sure you’d understand, being a father yourself and all...” she follows him, voice pitched.

Arthur spins on his heels: “Well at least I’m aware I’m a no good father, unlike your own.”

She purses her lips: “I know Daddy wasn’t kind to you... but... but can you hate a man for the sin of loving his daughter?...”

“What ‘bout his son? Jaime?” Arthur takes a stride forward. “Look where all that love got him! Running with a bunch of lunatics! And you! Is that where this pure life has gotten you!? Begging me for help?! ‘cause he no doubt went drinking and whoring and gambling?!”

Mary turns away almost putting her hands in her head: “Be kind to me!... Arthur...”

But Arthur spins away once more, his voice low once again:

“Were you kind to me, Mary? Were you kind calling my son a degenerate, tellin’ me I haven’t even tried, when I did. I did, Mary. It’s why I came, but I see now I’ve come all this way for nothin’...”

“Arthur!... Oh Arthur, I’m- I’m sorry...” He lets her draw close. “I... I missed you.”

And he looks at her, how she stretches her hands out for him to hold them. He does, only to fold them in on themselves, back towards the woman’s chest:  

“I missed you for a long time, Mary. But it’s done now. I may be the best man you know at frightening decent people, but for my son, I cannot.”

He withdraws his hands:

“Okay... Arthur...” She’s heartbroken and when she wants to tear her gaze away it falls down on his neckline, the medallion. A moment’s ponder; Arthur already drew away: “Can I at least know if... Is there someone else?”

“Yes.” And he hoped that was enough.

“... Can I know who?”

He climbs back in the saddle with a deep inhale: “You read the name on the medallion...” Her eyebrows knit together before a hand hides her mouth from hanging loose “Be well, Mary...”

She says not a word more and Arthur finds himself sitting on the sidewalk back at the police station, head in hands, rubbing his face until it’s no doubt red. To love a man, what a goddamn fool he is. A moron even. Dug himself into a hole there ain’t no escaping from; all he once had felt torn away bit by bit and all his attempts at stitching it back together with reasons that worked before no longer did. He betrayed Dutch horribly with one simple act. Ain’t it of been better if he was purely ruthless and not wanting to do something that ain’t his domain: kindness? He ain’t a do-gooder, he murders people, animals; he maims whatever he can get his hands on, even hope for the goddamn future. And somehow this broken mess that he was became a father and had to raise the kid ‘cause his Momma was killed – and he thought that’s been in no small part thanks to himself, the way the boy was fathered.

He’s afraid he’s gonna lose the boy too somewhere, sometime... And the thought hurts more than he can bear. He sits up to try to shake the feeling, gets inside, maybe he can make something of use.

And there was a man there putting up a poster.

“That a bounty poster, mister?” Arthur asks with a sniff and a faked cough; he’s keeping the tears away.

“Indeed.” The man had an almost pristine white coat, and what looked like some burn scar on his face. “Are you a bounty hunter, mister?”

“Happen to be, yes.”

“And are you efficient?”

“Took down the Captain of the Lemoyne Raiders so I guess I ain’t too bad neither.”

“Good.” Man stops pinning the poster and hands it over to Arthur, and soon after a card too: “Here’s my address. Bring the bounty to my house please.”

“Not the police station?” That was odd.

“Oh, no. I have a permit for taking care of psychically unstable people. You see, I’m a psychiatrist.”

“And what you needin’ a bounty for?”

“Ah, well, I also happen to be a scientist. And my newest invention is in need of a subject.”

“Yeah, but why a bounty-”

“It’s a device made to administer an effective, painless death, mister.”

Arthur grunts: “ ‘kay. But I’m afraid I ain’t caught your name.”

“Victoriano.”

Another Italian?... Although he sounded British. But that ain’t no business of his; Arthur’ll just return to sitting outside, waiting for Hosea.

He must have fallen asleep ‘cause the man shook him awake:

“Let’s go Arthur. I’ll tell you on the way.”

He snorts and grunts getting back up on Ghost, how late was it even?

“So, what you found out, Hosea?”

“Well, not much, but you definitely ain’t been wrong-”

“I know what I saw, Hosea. People call’em Night Folk.”

“Yes, yes. People are afraid to go out in the Bayou ‘cause of them, especially at night. Some said they were spirits of slaves that died, others claim they’re people turned mad by something in the water.”

That caught his attention. “So the water in the swamp ain’t safe?”

“I fear so too, yes.”

“So what we gonna do about that? Boil all water? ‘cause we’re still in the Bayou.”

“It’s worth the try.”

“That also means that Lakay spot me and the boys found ain’t safe.”

“Yes...” Hosea was terribly distraught.

“What about what Bill and Micah found?”

“Well they said it was full of degenerates, a gang called Murfree’s Brood, I think. Said they acted like animals, that they had a mutilated corpse propped up at the entrance like some kind of trophy.”

“Christ!” No more places to hide for them... “We’re running out of time, Hosea...”

“It’s the last push, this one. We’ll be gone soon. Dutch found a boat, wants us to leave the country.”

A bitter laugh: “And you believe that?”

“Well I can’t have been running a fool’s errand all these years. And if I was I guess I just convinced myself it ain’t true just so I have one last thing to cling to.” Hosea sighs after that. “But I’m old, Arthur. For me it doesn’t matter that much where it ends, how it ends. I lived my life, but Isaac, Jack-”

“I ain’t letting no harm come to that boy, I swear.”

“I know. I raised you two both. Isaac’s the closest thing to a grandson I’ll ever have. Bessie loved him...”

“I remember. She’d smother him all up.” A chuckle. “And the kid loved it to bits, having no mother and all...”

“Don’t blame yourself for that, you did all that you could have done.”

“And still I ain’t been a good father. I ain’t been meant to be a father-”

“Think of it as it could have been a lot worse, Arthur.” Hosea doesn’t stand his self-doubt. Never did.

And still, to think Hosea believed him and the boy should somehow get out of this life came as a surprise but comfort too, and courage.

People were asleep back at Shady Belle. It was crickets, the crackling of fire and the occasional snore that broke the silence. They hitched the horses beyond the bridge before passing over and that’s when he saw Sebastian slumped next to the campfire he left from. Heart sinks to the bottom of his guts.

“Goodnight, Arthur.” Hosea salutes before splitting their ways.

“ ’night.”

Sebastian wasn’t asleep when he reached him; just looked up at him, a bottle of whiskey in hand and a smoking cigarette in the other:

“Everything a’right?” he asked trying on some sobriety.

“Her father’s a no-good bastard an’ she calls me for help with that after degrading the way I raised my son.” A deep inhale and Arthur sits down beside him.

“Oouch.” Sebastian slurred, leaned closer then stopped. “Wanna go stroll a lil’? ‘Round the back of Shady Belle.”

“Sure-” Arthur helps the man up not a moment later.

It’s pitch black for a moment, as the light of the campfires still flickered behind them, but once ‘round the corner, a dim blue light illuminated the side of the manor, the trees and their faces. But Sebastian slips behind his back, wrapping his arms around his chest, face nestled in the crook of his neck, breathing slow. A pleasant shiver runs down his spine and Arthur dares keep that inhale in as he closes his eyes. There’s things he wanna say, things he wanna hear Sebastian speak about, but he just keeps quiet, ‘cause words cram in his mouth and nothing’s right. And there’s that feelin’ croppin’ up again, and those thoughts that he mulled over at the police station come racing back. Arthur’s clinging to him now. Mary ain’t ever touched him like this. But they were different people.

There’s still a whiskey bottle in the man’s hands. Arthur takes it and draws a bit away:

“Bet you I can drink this whole bottle in one sip?”

“Arthur-”

Too late, the bottle’s neck is to his lips and the liquor drains into his mouth and with big gulps down his throat. Higher and higher. It burns, his chest caught flames. Then it’s done and he throws the bottle away. He gives a laugh:

“Told you I can-” then his knees buckle underneath him and he falls to the ground.

Sebastian’s quick enough to catch him, but not quick enough so that they don’t end up on the muddy ground.

What a pitiful man he was; eyes become watery:

“It’s caught up to me... This mess...”

Sebastian rests his head on his shoulder: “You and me both...”

Arthur cups the man’s face as soon as his says that.

“You’re gonna get out-” It’s his only promise, when sober and when drunk alike: “You have to, you and the kid-”

“Shut up-” It’s lips on lips, rough, Sebastian’s hands pinning him down.

And he don’t understand what that’s supposed to mean, just huffs into the kiss.

“Shut up, you fool, you-” It’s sloppy, words panted when mouths ain’t on each other. “I can’t go on alone.” Sebastian stops, bows his head and buries it back in the crook of Arthur’s neck.

“You love me?...” A question, voice is breaking apart.

A kiss on his neck to make Arthur gasp out: “ ‘course I do-”

“For me? I ain’t worth it- Agh!” Sebastian bit into his neck at that remark.

“Who the fuck else...”

“Isaac...”

“You both.” His nose rubs against the itching spot that was left behind. Then man shifts up, cups Arthur’s face, coaxing the head back, exposing the neck. “Arthur...” Another kiss trailing up from his collarbone. “Arthur-” The way that name slips out of his lips makes his pants wanna set up a tent. “I’m starting to make sense of things. With you.” A kiss on his jaw. “With you...”

Arthur strings him up by the thighs, stretching them apart until he’s straddled under Sebastian. And the man pants with the touch:

“You buckstuborn idiot- I thought of you.” Arthur muses, lifting his chin just slightly up, brushing his lips against the other’s where they ghosted above him. “She was right there, in front of me, and I thought of you... I loved her. I missed her...”

And now I miss you.

That he ain’t dare say it’s too much even for a drunken sap like he was.

Sebastian lunges in to devour his mouth once more, body grinds against Arthur’s; there’s whiskey on his breath, on his tongue. Cheap cigarettes, cheap liquor and cheap life choices ‘cause they’re both poor and got nowhere else to go. He’s gotten drunk so he ain’t gotta be afraid, of thoughts, of actions, of whatever the hell. He’s gotten drunk so he can be numb to the meaning of all these feelings. But not to touch.

And no one touched him like Sebastian did. Why is all he could ask. Why’s he deserving, why now, why Sebastian – why this moron that he was- And all this fighting raging on in his mind makes him grind the man against himself. It’s tights now and there’s a bulge bucking against his abdomen. Pants escape him. Wasn’t religion that talked about how the body desires without the mind consenting to it, ‘cause that’s what he wanted now.

“Sebastian-”

“Mhm-” the man purrs into the next kiss, coaxing him up. The grinding don’t stop.

“I-”there’s too much to say, mostly alcohol induced. “Shit-” There’s mud in his hair, on his clothes. It’s dirty work. They’re in camp-

He stops suddenly.

“You okay?” Sebastian runs a hand through sticky hair.

A single huff as he leans against the man’s chest, arms wrapping around his back.

“Isaac’s upstairs- Dutch, Everyone-” A sigh. “Not here...”

 Sebastian presses a kiss on the top of his head, then a chuckle when he’s done laying his face on top of his own:

“We could always keep quiet.”

“Not with this mud.”

“And you don’t fancy bathing in the bayou?”

“At the risk of alligator death? No.” Somehow man’s got him chuckling again. He’s feeling warm now and not in the aroused way; he’s still hard thou.

“Guess I just have to fuck you when no one’s watchin’-”

“Good luck with that.”

Arthur laughs, but before he has time to finish, Sebastian’s hand groped his half hard cock. Lips purse and he bucks his hips up; success came in the form of a barely abstained moan from the other. It’s then followed by a soft kiss on the neck from Arthur’s part. And now Sebastian’s laughing, a throaty, drunken laugher and he leans back in his arms. Arthur sways with him.

“Por favor, dame un beso.” Sebastian coos with a faint smile on his face.

“What?” He doesn’t understand; that ain’t English, was it.

“Un beso-” A kiss on Arthur’s lips. “Just a lil’ one-”

“What you tryina’ pull here?” Arthur’s still quite amused.

“Trying to teach you some Spanish.”

“Why?”

“So you’d know when I tell you besame.”

“What’s that mean-”

“Kiss me-”

And Arthur does, sucking the breath out of Sebastian, that an’ a moan. Why all the doubting from before when he’s pretty goddamn certain that he’s in love... It’s been so long- And he ain’t a good man, no matter how he felt-

“Christ...” he exhales when the kiss is broken. “Sebastian-”

“Arthur...”

He rubs the man’s cheeks with his thumbs, smiling like the fool he really was.

“Te amo.” Sebastian whispers with such grace.

 He wakes up with a headache; it takes a groan to set himself in motion- A blanket?

A hurried look to the side only to find Isaac curled next to them under a thin mat. A drawn out sigh as a hand goes to rest on the boy’s shoulder, offering gentle rubs now. Sebastian’s hardly awake himself, looking through half lidded eyes at the kid with one arm draped over Arthur’s chest. They slept in like that leaned on one of the porch’s posts, drunk again and with some wood to show what they’ve been thinkin’ last night, or it was probably the drink...

He’s been sighing a lot lately, so with the latest one he leans his head onto Sebastian’s.

“The boy really loves you.” Man says, voice gruff, glazed over by sleep and whiskey. “You’ve been a father many’d wish they had.”

A snort: “That ain’t true-”

“You love your son. More than anything.” Sebastian draws a finger across his chest. “I ain’t known any man to fight for their son like you do.”

“I’m coddling him...” Arthur scolds himself.

“Life ain’t of been kind to him if you weren’t.”

There goes one more deep exhale; finally admitting defeat: “Guess that much’s true. Wanted that for him. So he ain’t turning out like me.”

“He ain’t.” And he dips up for a kiss on the jaw before standing up and stretching his bones with a groan. Then a look at Arthur who ain’t yet got the courage to sit up: “And you need a bath.”

That and Sebastian’s gaze checks out the lil’ tent his pants put up with a smirk and for a moment he feared the man’ll put his boot on it. But Sebastian’s got at least that much decency. Instead he helps Arthur up.

By the time Isaac got up, Arthur got him some new clothes and to Miss Grimshaw’s surprise Arthur washed on his own volition, with a change of garments to boot. Sebastian went and fetches them some breakfast:

“Seems Pearson found alligator eggs.”

“Get outta here-” Arthur chaffs then he’s presented with a plate of hard boiled alligator eggs and a yellow sauce that smells like mustard.

“Alligator eggs?” Isaac almost trips over his pants while pulling them up trying to peek at the exotic dish. “Ever had ‘em Pa?”

“No.” And that’s signal that he should dig in already.

“What’s it taste like?” Isaac wastes no time asking.

“Chewy.” He hasn’t swallowed yet. “Fishy. Kinda salty but I think that’s on Pearson’s part.” Isaac giggles. “Sauce is decent thou.”

And once he’s all dressed boy wastes no time chowing down on his own portion. While Arthur should go talk with Dutch. ‘course Isaac notices.

“Where you going?” kid takes a bite. “Talk with Dutch?”

He can’t lie... “Yes.”

“Can I sit by you? ...Promise I won’t talk.”

“Yes...”

Isaac perked up: “Really?”

“Don’t ask twice I might just change my mind. Now c’mon.”

Sebastian didn’t follow; there were flames on the pyre and Sebastian was smart enough not to walk into them. Thankfully Dutch looked to be in a pleasant mood - not the same could be said for Molly O’Shea. She looked miserable, slumped on a crate.

“Mornin’.”

“Good morning to you too, Arthur.”

Here it comes; he sits down and Isaac beside him: “I’m sorry for yesterday.”

“It was very reckless of you.” Dutch’s tone was a note away from scolding.. “But I can’t not forgive you, Arthur.”

Arthur looked at him, trying to find the right words:

“You’re like a son to me.” Dutch continues. “All of us are family.”

He bobs his head: “It’s why I did it, Dutch.”

“I know...” Man sounded like he was just as sorry. “I just got scared.”

“I told you- What could I have done, Dutch?” he’s getting mildly frustrated.

“Distrust me. My judgement.”

“You ain’t lookin like ye’r trusting me very well right now.” Arthur’s real hoping his son either don’t catch what Dutch was saying or don’t stand up. A glance at him and sure enough he had his eyebrows knit

“Can I count on that trust?”

“Always, Dutch.”

Then silence.

“You know Hosea talked with the locals about them undead.” Arthur broke it at last.

“Yeah. He told me.”

“There’s something in the water that’s making it that way.”

Dutch turns to him:

“Would you and Hosea see about that? What’s causing it?”

“Sure.”

“Want to know who’s behind it.” Man rubs his hands with seeming anxiety. “There’s people out to extermin us. As if we’re vermin for not conforming to their uptight rules. Us and everyone who’s poor and unfortunate- Did you talk with the Indians?”

“Yes, saw them a couple of days ago. The father asked me to see his son near Citadel Rock.”

“Good. It might have something to do with that.”

“At this point who knows.”

“You’re right.”

Arthur gets up, urges Isaac to do the same, with permission and all he could go-

“I-...” Dutch utters, coaxing Arthur to turn his head back to him. “I’m sorry, for earlier.”

“Don’t mention it-”

“Are you taking the boy with you?”

“Yes...” Arthur scratches his beard.

“Take care there, Isaac, okay?” Dutch sounded much younger then, almost like someone he used to know a long time ago.

“Sure.” kid replies.

But first he makes sure he checks up on that Kieran kid. And he find him with Mary-Beth carefully tending to his wound.

Arthur leans on the pole keeping up the tent with a smirk. Isaac peeks behind his shoulder and snorts and with that both youngsters grow apart and a deep shade of red almost instantly:

“Ain’t meant to interrupt!” Arthur lifts his arms up. “Just came here to see how dear ol’ Kieran here’s doin’.” A chuckle.

“ I’m fine actually, thank you!” Yet he’s still rubbing his arm.

“Does it hurt?” Isaac asks making one more step forward.

“Not all that bad now.” Kieran darts is head to the side; Mary-Beth was looking down hiding her face behind curled locks. “Thanks to Mary-Beth.” Kieran lights up like fireworks. “B-but I won’t be here without you or your Pappy.”

Isaac’s beaming and Arthur can’t help smiling himself. Then he remembers:

“Weren’t you the one who said you wanted to go fishin’ sometime? For.. uh… that big Bluegill, ain’t it?”

“Oh! Yes!”

“Remind me when I get back and that arm o’ yours is stronger.”

“Sure- but where’re you going? After more O’Driscolls?”

“No. Not yet. Why?”

“ ‘cause there’s some things I wanna say.”

“Can’t you say them now?” Isaac intervenes.

But it’s Mary-Beth that talks next: “I said it’s best if things settle down a little. Dutch ain’t- well Dutch is...”

“I know.” Arthur says.

“I’ll tell you on that fishin’ trip. Promise.”

“Don’t forget.”

“No sir-” Kieran says that out of habit without paying mind that it wasn’t Arthur who said it, but his son. The father laughs.

“Get your strengths back soon, ‘kay?”

“Uh-huh.”

They should probably get goin’ already. He tells Isaac to fetch Sebastian and maybe some warmer clothes, while Arthur’s off to saddle the horses. But there’s something off. There by Pearson’s wagon, Micah’s talking. He listens in:

“Quite the woman.” He catches. “Quite the woman...” Arthur stops brushing Ghost. “You could make a feller real happy... bet you know how.” That’s it Arthur’s off, bagging the brush and that poor mare stretches her neck looking for pats.

“I got work to do now.” Abigail was pissed and after what happened with Jack this was a poor move of the bastard’s part.

But Arthur ain’t thought too far; Micah backs off hands in the air

“Oh, you’re a sneaky one, Morgan...” That inhale through teeth Micah did, tipping his chin up. “But I didn’t know I was your type.”

“Just back off, would you-” Arthur’s still larger than him.

“Woah there-” Somehow that cackle is uglier than he was: “Don’t wanna see you biting the pillows, cowpoke.”

Micah steps away like he’s facing off a wild beast and rest assured that comment sure made him bare his teeth:

“You watch that goddamn mouth-” Micah’s arms rose higher and there was fear at last in those cold eyes. “Lest you want a fist in it.”

“Easy, tough guy.” Man still laughs like he’s got the upper hand and the moment Arthur tears his gaze from him he notices Dutch looking over.

His lips purse as Micah backs even further away before spinning on his heels.

He didn’t even notice John coming by:

“You okay there, Arthur?”

“Don’t you pay him no mind.” Abigail reassures. “He’s all talk and no bite.”

He came there to help not to be helped.

“Sure, but you tell me if he ever gives u trouble again, Abigail.”

“What about you, thou?” John intervenes.

“I got fists and bullets.” Arthur grunts.

“He ain’t worth the trouble, Arthur.” Abigail encourages, the passes on to John: “And where’ve you been?”

Arthur’s already drawing away, back to his horses and saddles ‘cause Isaac’s down with the warmer clothes when John replies: “Been with Jack, playing something.”

“John Marston...” the surprise in Abigail’s tone is bringing him joy too. So the bastard can change.

“Did anything happen?” Isaac, bless his heart, noticed.

“No.” He ain’t gonna expose the boy to that idiot’s cruelty.

“Okay...” A hand rubs the kid’s back with rigour.

“So... Isaac said I can borrow one of your coats.” Sebastian said, packing that coat he called ‘the Grizzly’ ‘cause he made it out of one.

He entirely forgot about Micah; there’s a smile on his face: “I’d love to see you in it.”

Sebastian chuckles; Arthur knew exactly what was on the man’s lips but he ain’t dare say it.

They should be reaching Citadel Rock by Nightfall if all went smoothly. And then the next morning, if all, again, went according to plan, they should be reaching the Grizzlies border near the Heartlands’ Overflow where their bounty was last seen.

Road sure is long enough, and most of it comes quiet. At one point a wild turkey cut their path and Isaac pulled out his bow and with one swift motion downed the bird from a gallop. He almost heard Sebastian gasp then. They hung the bird on Big Sir and went on. A storm caught up to them sometime in the afternoon near Dewberry Creek, good thing they packed the thicker coats ‘cause they sure as shit needed ‘em now. Isaac rode with his arms crossed and hunched over and Arthur got the rear to make sure Big Sir ain’t getting lazy all of a sudden.

The sunset barely shines through the breaking clouds and for the first time in weeks it smells of cold. Citadel Rock’s up ahead and they pass just by Cornwall Kerosene and Tar – rather unbelievable he’ll be robbing Cornwall of all people yet again. Here’s hopin’ this time it’s quiet.

And there’s Eagle Flies on the cliff with that gorgeous splash horse.

“You came.” Lad almost sounded surprised when the lot of ‘em pulled up.

“ ‘Course I came. Said I would.” Arthur dismounts already, Sebastian soon following suit.

And Eagle Flies wastes no time telling them what they gotta do: “There’s a foreman. His name is Danbury. He has the files in the office above the refinery room.” He hands Arthur the binoculars he was using: “It’s that window with the blind drawn up.”

“I see it.” He replies.

“If the files are as incriminating as we believe” Eagle Flies continues taking the binoculars back. “Cornwall’s men will destroy them if they know you’re coming.”

“There’s only one of us goin’ in so I don’t intend on lettin’ ‘em know I’m comin’, son.” Arthur spoke, then turned to Sebastian. “Can you get me outta trouble if it comes knockin’.”

“ ‘course...” man said.

“Isaac, you find a hidden spot and set up camp, far enough away but not too far.”

“Got it, Pa.”

Arthur returns to Eagle Flies who was looking at the boy galloping off already:

“What would the files say?”

“There’ll be a report from Leland Oil Development Company.”

A sigh: “Now any ideas about how I sneak into the place’ll be greatly appreciated.”

“You could crawl under the fence. Or hide in a wagon; they keep rolling in.”

“Wish me luck, Buck.” Arthur’s off without thinking too much about what he just said; there was a wagon ahead and he fully intended to sneak in that way.

He’s lucky enough that a train passes by and the wagon stops just in time for Arthur to crawl inside. It’s empty. And now here’s hopin’ they mistake him for cargo if one as much as looks in the back of it; he’s barely hiding. But he’s soon inside and with the night falling people get to yawning rather than watching out for shadows scurrying in the dark. He makes it pretty easily inside the building. And there people mill about absent-mindedly; it’s easy to sneak by, then upstairs. Maybe he’s got too much confidence opening the office door.

There was a man inside. A chair to the door, some intimidation tactics: raising fists and applying one for good measure to know he’s meaning business, and in the end he’s got the papers. But o’course someone heard it, came around asking what happened.

So Arthur snuck out the window. Where was that Sebastian he can’t tell but he saw him on that roof ‘cause the moment he’s out there’s a loud whistle and the bang of a pistol. Guards gather round and sure enough they give chase to what seemed to be one, no two outlaws drunk or stupid enough, or both, to rob oil coaches alone.

And ‘cause of that madman Arthur get to sneak out with no problems, but soon enough pulled round and shot off some of the pursuers that head out from the refinery.

No more of them and they seem safe enough away:

“Thought you wasn’t getting involved?!” Arthur’s probably sounding too much like a father and much less like a business partner.

“I decided to help.” Eagle Flies comments, eyebrows furrowed. “Because he refused the money.”

So Eagle Flies tried to pay their services to Sebastian. Goddamn reckless fools, both o’em, but at least he’s expecting the ol’ Buck to be that way.

“Thank you.” Arthur says. “You saved my life.” He takes out the papers and gives it to the lad; he looks them over as if it’s a loaf of bread when he hasn’t eaten in days: too little, but still better than nothing.

“I hope...” Eagle Flies spoke. “Well, I don’t know what I hope... but who knows, maybe these will be of some use.” Then he turns fully to face the two of ‘em. “Thank you, Sebastian, Arthur...” He got in the saddle. “I hope we can see each other again on friendlier terms...”

Off he went.

“What you charmed the kid with?” Arthur chaffs.

“Nothing. I’m not the talkative type.”

“Su~re.” Arthur draws the word out and Sebastian paints a smile, closing his eyes. “You’re about the second most talkative bastard I know.”

“Second to who?”

“Dutch o’course.” Arthur laughs, and Sebastian soon follows suit.

“Now I ain’t knowing if I should take that as a compliment or not.”

“Well, I like you, Sebastian.” He draws closer; there’s still commotion downhill at the refinery. “I like you terribly much.”

They should be heading away, finding Isaac, but Arthur dares brush a hand over Sebastian’s chest, just ‘cause he loved him and for a moment he had the man all to himself. And Sebastian blinked at the touch almost in surprise before an arm reached to bring him back again. There’s people wailing in the valley; horse hooves somewhere, and he ain’t caring in the least. Breath’s caught in chest and that urge that came over him when Sebastian’s looking at him like that sweeps him again; and in turn Arthur swoops the man in his arms for a kiss. And Sebastian eats his mouth out, hungry, fingers soon gripped in his hair, making it a mess.

Kiss breaks: “You thinkin’ what I’m thinkin’?”

Sebastian drags him behind himself not a moment later, deciding to throw Arthur in the nearest bushes. Branches scratch his cheeks but he ain’t caring, not when mouth’s on mouth again and that whole man above him. His hands are already working at Arthur’s vest, then shirt, then his head dips down and it had Arthur gasping. Sebastian’s lips trail kisses down from his collarbone to his nipple. Clothes are tugged to the side and one arm arches Arthur’s back, pushing him against Sebastian. His fists clench in the man’s clothes as his lips and tongue make a mess on his chest, lapping, sucking, with the occasional gentle bite. He’s going hard and hot and restless. Arthur’s hands work on undoing his suspenders and pants.

“Christ-”

It’s quick work from there: pants thrown off, Sebastian’s as well, erections spring free, then fingers in his mouth to be pushed wet inside Arthur. Lips purse and eyes squeeze shut. It’s unpleasant at first, but Sebastian’s all gentle. A wet kiss on his mouth, tongue slipping by inside, makes him forget to clench his ass. Fingers’re slick, in and out, scissoring from time to time, turning stings to itching and pressure’s building up inside his navel. Hands don’t sit still; Arthur runs them underneath the man’s shirt, popping buttons as they went, now rubbing thumbs on stiffening nipples. If their mouths ain’t been locked to each other the pants and gasps’ll just roll out. He ain’t letting them, keeps them for himself, frustrated and rushed as they were. They ain’t saints, and they’re gonna indulge this sin much further when Sebastian takes those fingers out, props his ass up on his knees and slowly slips inside him-

“Arthur~” That names slips from those lips again, so goddamn deliberate and so goddamn erotic; hips buck and he regrets it, but Sebastian moans biting his lip and maybe it’s all worth it.

One hand sneaks up Arthur’s navel, ruffling short body hair the other direction, and now once touching his erection. Arthur can’t but exhale through barely parted lips as all this builds heat inside him that he ain’t meant to withstand. Sebastian’s slow, pleasantly, agonizingly slow.

He wants to talk-

“U-agh--” In and out the thrusts pick up: “I hope you know the mess you makin’ o’me. Ahh-”

Sebastian drives that hand to his jaw, and then the other one too to cup his face; rhythm doesn’t slow down and Arthur ends up rolling his head inside the other’s palm.

“If only you knew what you o’me, Arthur-” Forehead’s pressed to forehead as they’re there bucking off. “Arthur--”

It builds and builds this strain between his legs, it twitches and throbs:

“Keep callin’ me that-” Arthur pants out.

“Arthur!”

“Augh-Jesus-” Hands grab at Sebastian’s ass, his hair, pull him close and up, inside. “Keep at it, Seba-astian- Christ!- Keep at it!” ‘cause that’s the spot that’s sweet, right there, right goddamn there.

Legs are wide and ass is high, pounded with some form of cruel mercy. Waves run up him hot, then cool. The night air prickles. And he’s kissing him; kissing Sebastian where he can reach: the neck, the ear, the jaw, the lips, sloppy and wet, leaving trails behind. And Sebastian’s moaning in his mouth, his ear. It’s him; it’s him, for him, with him. How’s he so goddamn enamored. Thrust by thrust he gets a lil louder a lil’ more shameless. There’s hooves nearby; they draw closer than away- Sebastian stops for barely a moment, covering Arthur’s mouth and his own. And that man’s cock inside him pulsating, struck right against the spot that’s sweet and he’s begging that be moved-

He’ll regret that in the morning. He finds his footing and with dexterity he ain’t thought he had, nestles Sebastian to him as he gets up, then laying the man down with a thud. It hurt moving like that, his teeth are clenched and there’s a groan, but that goddamn cock’s still too good and there Arthur moves: up and forward then back again. Slow at first then fast ‘cause he can’t take it. Both his hands rest on Sebastian’s chest now, snuck under the shirt’s fabric where fingers brush against the nipples, as thrusts pick up in speed. And it’s relentless.

Sebastian has to turn his head to the side to let those sweet moans out and what a sight that was; and always will be: to have him at his mercy and be at his instead, ‘cause it ain’t like he’s not there as lustful.

“Arthur—Agh-a-” Faster, harsher, so he says his name out loud like no one ever did. “AGh-Arh-”

That was one fine goddamn dandy. So fine. Arthur’s propped in just one hand, huffing, biting his own lip, so with the other he can run his fingers through that man’s sideburns. And he should be saying something, but he can’t speak now; he just keeps working himself until the knot’s unbearable.

Sebastian catches his thumb into his mouth, and the way the lips and tongue moved to draw him in’s suggestive enough to have him buckle forward under the pressure of the orgasm. He stands still, Sebastian doesn’t: catches his hips and keeps on going-

“AUGH- Ugh- Seba-a-Christ!”

It’s just a few more rough thrusts before he’s done. Sebastian vibrates under him, moans long, drawn out, in hiccups. There’s cum in his ass and he sits right up to get it out. The shirt’s goddamn ruined. He wipes the stains off with one hand.

“What a goddamn mess-” Arthur pants; there’s a smile there and Sebastian looks at him from where he was flat on the ground with leaves in his messy hair and returns the gesture:

“Uh-huh...”

Arthur stretches up: “Shit!” It hurt. Sebastian cackles beneath him: “What?”

“Think of me.” That goddamn grin on the man’s face.

He scoffs: “Always, buck.” Nonchalantly, like it’s always been there.

The faintest gasp; Sebastian props himself on his elbows, lost in thought.

Arthur’s at last tying up his suspenders: “We should get going-”

The man pulls at his legs, shoves Arthur on his knees and on top of him. It ain’t gentle:

“The hell-” Sebastian found his neck to kiss it, warm hand wrapping around his back to hold him there.

“Just a lil’ while longer, Arthur.” Obliged; Arthur lays his head down, finding a way to rest it on his chest, as Sebastian draws lines over his shoulders. “Significas mucho para mí... Arthur. Buck...” the last one sounds like he’s tasting the word.

“You gonna tell me what that means in English?”

“You mean so much to me.” Sebastian combs Arthur’s hair with such grace. “It’s been...”

“So long?... Yeah... Me too.” A kiss to his forehead. “But we gotta get back to Isaac. We left him alone-”

Up they go; Sebastian lifting both of them up before he can finish his sentence.

Dust and fluids get smudged off, clothes buttoned back together before they get back up and set out. Arthur’s whistling and when the whistle returns they know it’s Isaac.

It’s a small fire the boy’s built.

“I burned the turkey a bit.” Isaac says before looking up at them both, then his eyes squint: “You fucked?...” No answer, kid turns his head away, shifts on the spot, then looks back at a loss of words, lips puckered and eyes wide.

The silence is awkward as they sit down; Arthur takes a bit of cooked meat and chews it on. Isaac shortly clears his throats and reaches for the coffee mug:

“I found some berries. We didn’t have any more mushrooms or other herbs.”

“And this’s got mint on it.” Arthur notes.

“Yeah... You like it?” Isaac picks up a more joyous face.

“Quite delicious actually!” Boy smiles wide. “Here. Can you hand me some berries?”

Sebastian’s still frozen in the knowledge that the boy asked him if they bucked it off behind some bushes; Arthur bumps him with his shoulder:

“Eat up, please.”

As if snapped out of some trance, the man does.

 But there ain’t no nice dinner and sweet rest that could’ave prepared them for finding that bounty in a camp that starts shooting right at ‘em. Sure they went after Wofford but this time there ain’t no place to hide.

Isaac’s a decent shot, even in the open like this, but he’s still fearing for the boy’s life. And bullets fly past their target ‘cause he keeps darting back to a panicked Big Sir, galloping with his son in the saddle trying to aim. Sebastian says nothing; he’s effective. Finally, somehow, shots start landing where they need to; it much resembles how he used to be shooting: a few scattered bullets to the chest area until the body don’t flinch no more.

But in that frenzy he almost forgot the bounty’s meant to be alive-

“Pa! He’s escaping!”

Ghost’s a fast horse; he spurs her round and to a gallop, picking up his lasso as he goes. She’s huffing under him but the bounty’s lil’ horse can’t keep up.

Feller falls from his mount with a shout. Arthur pulls the reins while lassoing the man in.

“A’right! You got me!” Arthur dismounts and hogties him good. “I’ll come with you, you son of’a bitch.”

Something snaps inside thinking that this person before him’s gonna end up some scientist’s Guinea pig, but the bastard’s not done talking:

“You’re your own jail keeper, mister. In a prison of your own making.”

“Shut up!” A hard punch to the man’s face and the body slumps. He ain’t dead, just knocked out, but Arthur ain’t in the mood for a philosophy lesson from some goddamn outlaw he’s taking in to be judged.

He damn well knows he ain’t righteous, no need for anyone else to tell him that.

He picks the man up and whistles for the others. Ghost, the sweet darlin’, comes as well and he stows the bounty on her back this time. Isaac comes in view just as he got back in the saddle:

“You okay, kid?”

“Yeah.” He’s huffing from effort. “Sir Lancelot’s a lot to handle when spooked.”

Arthur purses his lips and sighs: “I’m sorry.”

Boy scratches his neck, twists his lips: “Wha-? But you ain’t done nothin’.”

That was the point... He worried too much and got ineffective and-

“Ah, don’t mind me, I’m just an ol’ geezer.”

“You did well, Arthur.” Sebastian chimes in.

A bob of the head: “Then let’s get the bastard back before he wakes up an’ starts talkin’.”

 The road ahead seems interminable. And indeed the bounty woke up, but they gagged him so he’d shut his mouth. The groaning and choking got annoying after a while. About midday they take a break, for the horses and themselves to eat something. A storm was to roll in again. It got cold, frighteningly cold real fast, the smell of rain almost overbearing. It’s electric.

But the downpour don’t come until they pass the Kamasa River and enter marshland. Arthur checks the address on the little card Victoriano gave him; asks Sebastian if he knows where it is. Sure enough, man leads them straight there.

They’re all wet to the bone and the poor feller up on Ghost’s hide stopped struggling, but fear was written all over his face. He writhes as he’s taken down, but only for a moment.

Sebastian knocks on the door and sure enough mister Victoriano opens, who looks at the man before him, then Arthur with the bounty:

“Ah, excellent! You brought him. And in such a short time. Very good.” The professor exists the house, trying up his white coat to shield from the rain and comes to point him where to ‘deposit’ the bounty: “Bring him here, please.”

“He was a pain to deal with-”Arthur heaves flinging the body on a chair in the shed he was shown by the side of the house.

Mister Victoriano then darts back inside the house: “Wait here. For payment.”

Arthur joins Sebastian by the doorframe not a moment later.

He sees the woman: ghostly pale skin, icy blue eyes and hair of such a shade of blond that it almost looked white as well. She stares at them and then gets closer; and Sebastian’s staring back:

“Myra...” man gasps out.

That was his former wife wasn’t she...

#rdr2 #red dead redemtion 2 #rdr2 fanfic #arthur morgan #isaac morgan #van der linde gang #sebastian castellanos #sebthur #ruben victoriano #tew ruvik #nsft

[kiliinstinct]

A Smile In The Embers: Prt 1

Rating: PG (or K) - For Now Setting: AU - Time Period Open for Interpretation Pairing: Nalu

{This is a Holiday Story I’ve been planning for a few months now. It’s not necessarily for Christmas, Yule, Hanukkah, Kwanzaa, etc- but it takes place during these months and has some of those elements. Please enjoy!}

The lonely mansion held many servants and visitors, but the walls were always cold even in the hottest of summers. Lucy Heartfilia dreams of nothing more than to finally feel the warmth of a friend, something beyond the death she feels in her own home.  One-freezing winters night- a secret wish comes true in the most strangest of ways. This is her story, of the Smile She Found Through the Embers. 

Part One of Five   -->

Warm Companion

On cold nights when even the servants couldn’t be bothered to patrol the halls, Lucy Heartfilia spent her time by the Fireplace. With a warm, fleece blanket over her little shoulders and an open book under her nose, she barely noticed the biting chill in the mansion. The echoes that bounced down the walls sometimes made her scared, but all of that could be shoved away with the heat of the lit fire and the stories she quietly read.

Once upon a time, these were stories read by her Mother, but it had been a year since the kind woman had passed and Lucy’s only comfort had vanished.  During the day it was impossible to read, as Lucy was constantly being moved from one tutor to the next. Hour after hour she was taught and trained in all manner of things: etiquette, business, horseback riding, piano, geography, embroidery- so many things.

Not a single one for reading and writing. A lady didn’t need to read fantastic tales or to write them, oh no! (She wasn’t a lady, she was still a little girl of nine.)  She didn’t even get free time to play or go outside!

Letting out a sigh: Lucy sniffled, the cold getting to her nose despite the roaring flames in front of her. It almost made her hot, to be facing it in such a way, but the mansion rarely felt warm these days. Even without the snow falling outside, Lucy always felt cold.  “ - … Mother would have chased it away…”  with a warm hug I’ll never get...

A tight, embrace that held her close and kept her safe- closing her eyes, she could practically feel and smell Layla’s perfume as if she were still there. It brought a knot into the little blonde’s throat and another sniffle followed.  The book set before her seemed lonely and forgotten, its pages being still for a few minutes as she fell prey to her own thoughts and memories.

The warmth was long gone from this place… even her father had lost his heat. Everything was just cold. As frozen as the icy wonderland outside the foyer windows.

 “ …. Why are you crying?”

Wet eyes blinked and Lucy froze in her place, allowing the book’s pages to flip back to the beginning, effectively losing her place. Where had that voice come from? It sounded like a boy, young and curious- but there were no little boys who lived here. The closest neighbor to the estate wouldn’t have sent their child to stay for the night either- so where…

Whipping her head back and forth, causing blonde tresses to slap across wet cheeks, Lucy let out a tiny shriek when the voice laughed, “The other way, look over here!”

Where? Eyes wide, she realized with a strange clarity, that the voice- miraculously, was coming directly in front of her.

Right from the fireplace.

 “See me, now?” The voice asked, and for the longest of moments, little Lucy thought she was going to faint.

“T-the fire’s talking to me!” She exclaimed! Shooting up faster than a rabbit, blanket slipping off her chilled shoulders. In her haste to back away, covered feet slipped on the hardwood and her attempt to stand was ruined by a sudden flop back to the floor with an echoing thud. “O-ow!”

Laughter followed once more, a tingling, almost nymph like laugh full of mischief and wonder, “Don’t go falling over everything, I’m not THE FIRE! Look closer!” Oh, yes, because any small, defenseless girl is going to listen to a voice coming out of fire. Absolutely.

Not.

“W-wait, don’t go-!” The voice called out, as Lucy struggled to stand and dash out of the room- the way the laughter switched to a near whimper, suffused in desperation, caused her to stop in her tracks, bottom lip trembling. “Please? I’m sorry I scared ya’, I just- I just wanted someone to talk to!”

The words rang in the little blonde’s head like a mirror. The floor was cold, tingling through her fingers and toes and up her limbs, but that voice… the way he sounded. As scared as she was, it spoke of a familiarity she hadn’t expected. Loneliness.  She knew that feeling. It was what lead her down to the room from the beginning.

Silence followed. No more pleas for her to stay or laughter, just a soft sniffle that matched the random popping of firewood. Whatever spoke to her wasn’t lying. Waiting with bated breath for her decision instead. If it had truly meant her harm, wouldn’t it have found some way to force her to stay? Could talking fire even do that?

So many questions. The curiosity of a small child was strong, and it gripped Lucy’s empathetic heart like iron. Blinking back her own, frightened tears, she up-righted herself. With brows furrowed, she tried to look deeper into the flames and blinked.

“You- you’re really not the fire… are you?” Wonderment filled her as the realization finally came through. Through the fire, to the very depths of what should have been the brick of the house- she saw the strangest thing.

Another room.

It wavered in and out, similar to how heat waves danced over fire. For a few seconds, she wasn’t sure it was there at all only for it to come back into focus. Wooden floors that looked slightly stained and old, and an even larger room, devoid of decorations or warm furniture could be seen. Crawling on hands and knees, eyes squinting from the heat of the flames, Little Lucy tried to get a better look, but the more she tried, the harder to see past the brick of her wall it became.

Except for the boy. For that was clearly who was speaking to her, now that she looked harder. Big, wide eyes, tinted green from firelight, darker in color where shades danced. She could hardly tell, but his hair was wild and looked pinkish. (From the heat, perhaps?) His face was rounded, similar to her own age and with soot covering his nose and cheeks.

“Yeah, I’m real as can be!” He chirped, face widening into a huge, relieved grin. It made her chest hurt all over again. “Are… are you real?”

“Of course I am!” What? After all that, he wasn’t even sure she existed? How rude! - but the relief he sported grew to another burst of laughter and he practically danced in his seat. She briefly realized that he was dressed in the thinnest of clothes, full of holes. Much different than her own.

“Just makin’ sure! I can’t see you real well!”  Still squinting to look at him, she noticed him doing much the same- nose scrunching up before a crackle of flames shot up between them. It really was difficult to talk to someone while crouching down at the entrance to a fireplace.

Then again, normal people didn’t talk to others through them did they? “How do I know I’m not dreaming?” Lucy asked out loud, lifting a hand to pinch herself. “- ow! Th.. that really hurt!” Throbbing flesh on her right cheek made her eyes water all over again and she pouted.

“You really ARE strange. Is that just a girl thing? Why would you go off and pinch yerself like that?” He talked funny, she decided. As if he didn’t have enough time to say all he wanted so the words sometimes jumbled together in his haste to say them all. Her pout only grew and she crossed her arms, nose tilting into the air.

“If it didn’t hurt then I’d know I was dreaming!” She explained, frowning. “I’m not strange. You’re the strange one! You don’t even have pajamas on!”

“.... I don’t have pajamas.”

Just like that, her frown deepened, joined with a glint of guilt as she blinked back towards the flames. “You… You don’t? But why wouldn’t your Moma or Papa get you some?”

Perhaps, she really was strange, to talk to a boy through a fireplace so openly, but it was mystifying and amazing all at the same time. She couldn’t bring herself to see anything wrong with it, and she really wanted to know. The boy, seeming to think the same thing, crossed his legs and matched her frown, a sudden sadness seeping into his lit-up eyes.

“I don’t have those. I’m a- my brother calls it an orf… orphan, yeah We were just moved here to maybe get adopted, but I dunno…” He didn’t sound as if he had any faith in this happening but Lucy’s eyes were swimming with so many tears, she could hardly tell if he looked as sad as she felt or not. “-Hey it’s okay! You don’t have to cry! I mean, well, I can’t stop ya’, but it looks like you have parents, so be happy about that!”

“I have a Papa.” She answered, sniffling despite herself. “- but he doesn’t even hug me anymore.”

“.... do you want a hug?”

It was such a sudden, surreal question, that it had little Lucy blinking: stunned.  “-but, you’re there- and I’m here-  and why would I let a boy I just met hug me?!” “That’s not what I asked!” He said, his own arms crossing over his body. “You’re a little strange, but I want to be your friend. Do you want a hug or not?!”

Such a silly question. They couldn’t hug each other through the fire, so why was he even asking? Her stubbornness made her silent, tapping her finger on the floor where she sat as a low, confused hum escaped her. She DID want a hug. A big, warm one, that was so tight she’d be squeezed, but there was no way she could get it. “Well?” He asked impatiently. Lucy sniffed. “Yes. Happy?”

“Okay- “ His tone shifted, sounded almost serious. As serious as a little boy could sound. He leaned closer to his side of the flames and pointed to her. “Close your eyes for me, ‘kay?” She almost argued again, but with a sad nod, she slowly did as he asked- eyes slowly sliding shut so that only the sounds of the crackling wood, the cold wind from the windows, could be heard. Lucy waited in the darkness of her her closed lids, waiting for further instruction, but his voice never came. A shuffling sound from the other side echoed lightly, but her apprehension grew. Was he no longer there?  Had this really all had been a dream?

Just when she was about to give up and snap her eyes open once more, a gust of heat flowed over her. It danced along her skin and the fleece of her pajamas making them warmer. A shiver ran down her spine, but a tiny, wistful smile covered her face. In a way, despite there being no arms around her- the heat almost felt like a hug.  When another wave ran over her, Lucy opened her eyes.

The boy was still there, sweating, panting a little- but an old rusted fireplace bellows was under his hands, pushing firmly on the handle to cause gusts of heated air to hit the flames. It fanned the heat up the chimney, but sent a blast of it her way as well.  “Sorry, it’s the best I can do.” He said after pushing onto the bellows once more, grunting from the force it took his small arms to handle.

“Does that help?”

Lucy felt a new wave of tears, but they weren’t from sadness. Pushing her forgotten book aside until it slid into the blanket she left behind, her arms encircled her small body in a small embrace- mimicking the warmth she desperately craved. Her house was cold. So very cold. And it had been for quite some time.  “It does.  Thank you.”

Now, it was warm, and she had a mysterious little boy to thank for it.  “... if we’re going to be friends, can I know your name?”

Tired relief crossed his face and relaxed against the bellows, panting softly as another grin spread across his dusty face.

“I’m Natsu, what’s yours?”

Little Lucy felt she had no reason to deny him and answered through a wide smile of her own.

Is this what having a friend is like?

#A Smile In The Embers #Fairy Tail #ftfanfiction #ftfanfic #nalu #natsuxlucy #nalu fanfiction #Mira's Fanfiction: #Here we go! part one of my mini series! #there will be a lot of italics for this #there's a reason for that #but i wont give it away!

[thisisthe-way]

Whim

Uraraka looked up st UA High School, feeling strange to have visited the campus twice now in so many months. Last time had been to get All Night’s advice. She has sought him out.

This time, she has been called to the school. It was her day off and she didn’t mind the trip down memory lane, enjoying walking the halls and remembering her own rigorous course work.

Still, she had to wonder what could be so important that she needed to come all the way down to the school. She paused in front of the 1A classroom, let out a small breath and then opened the door.

She paused when she realized no one was yet there, and looked around. She glanced at her watch, fiddled with the twine necklace she wore anxiously, the tiny manufactured firepops going off inside the connected vile as always.

She sat behind one of the front row desks and frowned. She was on time.

She suddenly heard the unzipping of something nearby and Aizawa popped his body up from behind his desk, his normal deadpan now focused on her.

“Aizawa-sensei, did you call this meeting?” Uraraka asked. The teacher was silent, not answering her. His attention was broken from her suddenly when he heard more footsteps in the hall.

Just then, Bakugou came through the door, blinking when he saw his girlfriend there. “Uh...”

Uraraka shrugged, as Bakugou made his way around to the seat next to hers and sat down, sliding red irises toward her in curiosity.

She shrugged again, and then both of them turned their attention to Aizawa as he dug in his sleeping bag and pulled out a few newspaper clippings. He set them down in front of them, and then glared down at the two of them.

“I thought I taught you both better than this.”

All the clippings were various pictures of them kissing, sharing food, walking down the street together hand-in-hand, even fighting side by side against villains.

“Kuso, can you not? Stupid Hot-Cold already gave me this damn lecture,” Bakugou snapped, crossing his arms over his chest and slouching in the desk.

“It isn’t about a lecture anymore. You two have barely graduated. It’s been almost a year which means you not being affiliated with UA is still fairly new.” He set down a stack of letters. “These have been coming to the dorms.”

Uraraka picked one up and unfolded it, her eyes trailing down to the writing. She blanched and dropped the letter, eyes suddenly filled with tears.

Bakugou immediately sat up straight, reaching out and taking her hand. “Kao?”

“She has a right to be upset,” Aizawa said, pacing the classroom suddenly. “They’re death threats. Some claim to be from the League. Others from random non-affiliated villains. Each other is addressed to one of you, threatening to kill or harm the other in front of you.”

“Teme!! I’ll kill them first!!” Bakugou growled, eyes cleric. “Let then try to lay a hand on Ochako!!”

“The school isn’t the only ones getting them. Your places of employment have been as well—they called me and asked me to speak with you because—“

“They figured someone who hates the media as much as you might be able to talk some sense into us,” Uraraka murmured quietly.

“You just got that job, didn’t you?” Aizawa asked her, his voice softer than usual—these weren’t his students anymore. He could speak to them as equals. Uraraka nodded.

“You two, it isn’t a crime to be together. But in our line of work, you can’t be this public with this level of intimacy. Bakugou, you’ve given the entire world the impression you are untouchable, a raging force to be reckoned with,” Aizawa murmured. “Which means anything you might be soft toward becomes an automatic target.”

“Ochako can handle herself!!” Bakugou argued, standing up, slamming his hands down on the desk and glaring at the teacher.

“Maybe so. And she’ll have to do a lot of that just doing her job normally on a day to day basis. Why have you two then added extra work to that by turning your relationship into this spectacle?” Aizawa asked, holding up a clipping. “Many of the students from 1A are dating and none of them have had the short-sightedness to do this. It’s—“

“Reckless,” Uraraka and Bakugou answered together, and the blonde ‘tch’ed and stood up, crossing his arms over his chest as he trailed to the back of the room, angry but thoughtful. He clenched his jaw, furrowed his brow and the muscles in his arms tensed and contracted.

Suddenly, two strong, slim arms slid around his middle from behind, gentle and focused, offering support and confidence, trust and understanding. He lowered one hand to rest on the interlocked ones on his stomach, and he lifted one to his lips.

“We need to take a break,” he murmured.

“I know,” she whispered back, kissing his shoulder blade through his shirt.

“Just for long enough to make it seem like we aren’t together,” he murmured, glancing over his shoulder at her. “I’ll be damned if I’m the reason you ever got hurt. And there’d be hell to pay.”

She smiled against his back. “I love you, Katsu. It won’t be forever.”

He nodded and turned around in her arms, cupping her cheeks in his hands and smirking. “Damn your pretty round cheeks for always makin’ me fall harder.” He groaned and growled and punched a desk hard enough to crack it, using his quirk to propel his fist.

“You’re paying for that.”

Bakugou glared at Aizawa.

Uraraka pulled away from Bakugou and chewed her lip. “How long until it blows over?”

“Hard to say,” Aizawa said with a shrug. “It could be anywhere from a few weeks to....a few months. But it might speed the process along if one of you—“

/////

“Me, and the hero Uravity are done,” Bakugou, as Ground Zero said to a reporter who was getting a little too nosy for her own good, after the finish of a battle with a villain. As per Aizawa’s advice, one of them needed to tell the public they were through. He knew it’d be too hard for Uraraka to pretend she didn’t want him anymore when she cared deep to her core about everything that mattered to her.

But the public expected him to be a hardass. It wouldn’t be a hard sell to convince them someone like him might get tired of someone like her.

“She got pretty annoying and clingy. Something I might expect from a girl who fawned all over Deku,” he replied. The words were like acid on his heart and they made him want to vomit. The truth was he loved Uraraka more now than he had even just the day before. And everyday he loved her deeper. Having to lie about that didn’t feel good.

When the reporter was satisfied with what she had heard, she thanked him and went on her way.

Bakugou went back to the office to finish his report on the fight, and then went home, his heart heavy. As he stepped into his apartment, every inch of it reminded her of him. Especially the drum kit in the corner of the room. Her special present for him because she had gotten a job. How could anyone be so selfless?

How could he ever deserve someone so selfless?

He sat down, the environment dark and quiet, and he closed his eyes. I miss her, he realized. He pulled out his phone and sent her a text.

I love you, marui kao.

There was no response for a pregnant moment, and then: Luv u, Katsu <3

He snorted at how ridiculously cute the response was, and groaned, standing. He paced back and forth in front of his couch, and then growled and dialed her number.

It trilled, then: “Katsuki, we’re supposed to be avoiding contact. What are you doing?”

“Losing my damn mind,” he mumbled, sighing. “I just needed to hear your voice. Sorry, kao.”

“It’s okay—I know this is hard.” A pause, and he could swear he heard a sniffle. Dammit, she was crying. He hated when she cried. “It’s hard for me too.”

“It’s just until our pictures stop being in the paper,” he murmured, scratching the back of his head, and squeezing his crimson eyes closed. “I really fuckin’ love you. I hope you know that.”

“I love you too,” she whispered back, and he could almost hear her warm smile over the phone. There was a heavy silence, and then they said their goodbyes and he hung up.

His heart was heavy. For the past few months, she has been his everything. He hasn’t even realized until that moment how deeply she’s burrowed into every crevice of his heart and life. He didn’t want to be without her.

Ever.

Eyes snapping open, he picked up his jacket and ran out of his apartment.

/////

Uraraka sat at her kitchen table, her chin rested on her palms, her cheeks damp from crying. She missed Bakugou. A lot.

They had been dating almost a year now, and the idea of potentially hitting their one year anniversary apart from one another was painful. She didn’t want to be separate from him, not in any aspect of her life.

If this was what the true love from cheesy princess movies felt like in the real world, she could almost understand being cheesy.

She sighed and picked up ger empty tea cup, turning to carry it into the kitchen when someone pounded loudly on her door. She frowned, brows furrowed, suddenly cautious as she pressed her fingers to random things around her house, making them float and readying them to drop on an intruder or a villain in a surprise attack.

She carefully pulled the door open, one palm out to make the person in the other side float as well if they were an intruder, but was taken aback when familiar fingers grabbed her cheeks roughly, and familiar lips ravaged hers without hesitation.

“K-Katsuki...” she whispered between the heated kisses, before she pulled away. “Katsuki, What—“

“I got everything I ever wanted,” he said, suddenly, stepping in and closing the door. “I got to go to UA, graduate with high marks, become a damn hero, and all of it seems so meaningless with...”

He paused and growled, rubbing at his face, the idea of such strong and deep-seeded emotions still foreign to him. “Without you.”

Uraraka’s expression grew soft, the words settling deep in her heart. “Katsu....”

“Look I ain’t—I know it’s sudden, and it’s—I’m not trying to copy IcyHot or some stupid shit like that, I—“ He dropped onto both of his knees, took her hands and kissed them, and Uraraka’s eyes widened.

“Katsuki, What—“

“Let’s get married,” he said, his face deadly serious. “Maybe I don’t have some stupid, special ring and I know we haven’t even been dating a whole year but—I can’t even go an hour without wanting to punch a wall or Deku’s face if there’s no hope of seeing your face everyday. Your stupid, beautiful round face that just makes life bearable. Makes the anger lessen. If you aren’t my future, Ochako, I don’t—“

He ‘tch’ed, realizing how mushy he sounded and he chuckled and stood, pushing hair out of her eyes and kissing her forehead. “I don’t have one.”

“Oh....” she breathed, and her brows furrowed. “Are...are you sure?”

“Yeah. Let’s get married. Right now.”

“Now ?”

“Look,” Bakugou mumbled, sighing. “It’s always gonna be dangerous. And maybe Aizawa-senseI is right and we should not be seen in public together. But if I can come home and find you there every night—and know that that’s....my forever...being apart from you otherwise....it won’t be so damn hard.”

She stopped to try and process what he was saying. He wanted to marry her. He wanted to elope. He wanted her to live with him. Same home. Same bed. Which also meant....

Her face lit up like a Christmas tree, and she pressed her hands to her cheeks and began to giggle nervously.

Bakugou blinked, confused suddenly, and flicked her on the forehead gently. “Oi, marui kao, where’d you go?”

Uraraka shook the thoughts from her mind, and looked up at him. “You really want to do this? There’s no going back. What if you get sick of me?”

“Not a chance in hell.”

She was warmed by his coarse words, and she smiled, before nodding. “Okay. But we won’t be able to tell anyone for a while. At least not until after Yaomomo’s wedding. I wouldn’t want to steal her moment.”

“This ain’t for anyone but us, babe,” he whispered, sliding his arms around her. “For now. But if you think I’m not gonna give you the big damn wedding you deserve someday, you’re crazy.”

Uraraka laughed and hugged him tightly around his muscled abdomen, burying her face in his chest. “You’re too good to me.”

“That’s my line,” he mumbled back, chin resting in her head, before he smirked. “Let’s go get married.”

//////

The next morning, Ochako woke up, feeling warmer and safer than she ever had before, and she looked over at the man sleeping next to her. And she remembered their night. Their heated, unhinged night together, celebrating a decision made on s whim but built on a lifetime, and she blushed darkly.

Neither was wearing a ring. Too dangerous, too conspicuous. But both were still wearing the necklaces they’d given each other on separate special occasions. And it was enough for now.

Bakugou Ochako, she thought to herself, and smiled, leaning over and pressing a kiss to her new husband’s mouth, causing him to stir. He smirked into the lip-lock, and growled, grabbing her by her bare waist and turning them over.

“Didn’t get enough last night?” He asked with a wide grin, red eyes glinting down at her.

“I’ll never have enough of you,” she whispered back, and then proceeded to prove it to him, allowing him to ravish her for a second time in a handful of hours.

When they were finished, she stood in the kitchen, draped in his skull t-shirt from high school, sipping coffee and leaning against her boyfriend’s—husband’s, would she ever get used to that?—arm as he stood at the counter, shirtless, sweatpants hanging low on his toned hips, and chopped onions. and scrambled eggs to make them both breakfast.

She remembered seeing him shirtless on his birthday almost a year prior and wondering what it would be like to be intimate with him. It was better than she had anticipated. But it wasn’t even the physical aspect that made it special. It was that this rough, hard-headed, stubborn, coarse hero of man could soften his layers enough to want to spend his forever with her.

That meant he saw something worthwhile in her, and nothing in the world would ever give her more strength than to have someone like Bakugou Katsuki see her worth.

Things were about to get harder, and she knew that. They were going to have to do a lot of hiding—hiding their marriage, hiding their relationship as a whole, lying to the public, lying to friends even.

But she had a home now. A real home. Not just a place to stay in between missions. Not even his apartment. No.

He was home.

#kacchako #kacchaco #bakuraka #my hero academia #boku no hero academia #bakugou katsuki #uraraka ochako #fanfiction #writing #my writing

[cherryyharryy]

@titanicbuff1912 here you go! I hope it’s what you wanted😬 I’m not too sure about it...

Word count: 1765

“You’re not okay.”

“Sleep at my place tonight.”

Y/N saw it coming. She’d grown to know Harry better than himself most of the time, and she knew he didn’t feel well. He insisted he was fine, smiled and everything, did a great job of changing the subject when she pointed out that his skin was changing a little too fast for her liking, going from a deep flush to a washed out pale, and then back again. He was taking in deeper breaths and slipping cough drops between his lips when he thought she wasn’t looking.

His jacket was shrugged off only for him to yank it off the floor ten minutes later and zip it to the neck. His bathroom trips were frequent and lasting longer each time. And to top it off he refused lunch. The same man who berated y/n for missing a meal (God forbid she had a big breakfast and just wasn’t hungry), actually turned the veggie pizza Jeff had ordered just for him.

“Harry. Look at me.”

“What, love?”

If he’s fine than she’s Miss America. “Let’s go. I’ll take you home. No one will be mad at you.”

“Why would I go home?”

“Jesus Harry, we’re not idiots. It seventy-five degrees in here and you’re shivering.”

He rolled his eyes, his glassy red-rimmed eyes, and hunched back over his notebook. “I promised everyone we’d finish writin’ this song today. I don’t break a promise.”

“No one’s gonna care about the song when you get them all sick.”

“M’not sick.” On cue a round of wet coughs rumbled up his chest. Despite his best efforts to hold back, they erupted past his lips. “M’not.”

“Yeah okay. God, you’re so stupid sometimes.”

“You’re stupid.”

Y/N sent him the glare. The one that meant business and the one that shut Harry up real fast. Except not this time. Whatever bug had gotten into him was apparently fiddling with his common sense.

“Why don’t you act like the best friend you’re supposed to be, and offer me your unconditional support.”

She fought hard against the smile twitching at her mouth. Harry was a teddy bear without a mean bone in his body, and any attempt at a frat-boy ass persona was a joke, especially when his nose was a ruby red and his eyes could barely stay open.

“Alright then, whatever you want pop star.” She put her hands up in defense.

“Shut up.”

“Start writing.”

Once he had his head buried in his notebook once again, Y/N slipped out, mumbling about taking a walk around the studio to get some fresh air.

He had one more line written when she popped back in the room, smirk on her face as she stepped aside to let Jeff come in.

“Why the hell are you here if you’re sick?”

“Y/N,” Harry groaned.

“Go home, we can get together this weekend. Besides, we don’t need you infecting your whole band.” Jeff raised his hand to rub Harry’s shoulder, retracing his movements when his hooded green eyes looked up to him after a loud sneeze. “Yeah, please go home.”

“Tattle-tale,” he mumbled to y/n as she collected his things from around the room. “S’what I get for lettin’ you come along?”

“I wouldn’t be throwing insults if I were you. You’ve got yourself quite a sweaty look there.”

“This is ridiculous. I’m good enough to keep working. You can go if you want, I’ll be okay.”

“You’re not okay. Now let’s go.”

***

Harry was always quite the dramatic. Yes, he loved any attention that was offered up to him and wasn’t one to stop you if you went on a spill complementing his achievements. But when things didn’t work out as he wanted even the slightest, you were really in for a show.

So when the two of them were stuck in traffic on the way to Harry’s house, he had a lot to say.

“Do these people have nothing better to on a Tuesday morning?”

“Why does this have to happen to me?”

“See, should’ve just stayed at the studio. Could’ve written ten songs by now.”

Y/N groaned, pretending to hit her head against the steering wheel.

“What?” he asked.

“Nothing. You’re just whinier than usual. You must really feel bad.”

“‘Least M’not a snitch.”

“Alright, grumpy. Change of plans.” Y/N eased over into the turn lane and worked her way over until she was going the opposite direction.

“Where’re you goin’?”

“My apartment. You can sleep at my place tonight.”

“Your apartment? You sure?”

She hummed in acknowledgement. Harry was quiet after that, too absorbed in his own thoughts to catch y/n chewing on her lip and fidgeting with the loose button on the steering wheel.

***

Both of their egos had simmered down by the time they reached y/n’s front door. Eye contact was at a minimum and sentences were fizzled out on their tongues, replaced by small smiles.

“Bedroom’s down the hall. I’ll be there in a minute.”

“Your bedroom? But, I’ve never been in there.”

Y/N set Harry’s notebook on the kitchen counter and pulled a water bottle from the fridge, handing it to Harry. “I know,” she whispered.

He nodded and disappeared out of the living area, shuffling across the hardwood after tucking his notebook under his arm.

Y/N busied herself with making soup. That’s what you feed a sick person, right? She was beginning to think her head was cloudier than Harry’s.

***

Once the soup was steaming in a bowl and a plate of crackers was set on the tray (the one she’d quirked an eyebrow at as a Christmas gift but was now utterly thankful), she set off for her bedroom. The one Harry was in. In her bed.

“Hey.”

“You didn’t have t’do that, y/n.”

He shifted himself up the mound of pillows and turned the volume on the tv down.

“Can’t not feed you. What kind of host would that make me?”

“You have a lot of pillows.”

She nodded and set the tray across his lap. “I do.”

“Why?”

She looked up into his eyes, blinking before shrugging her shoulders. “I dunno.”

Harry slipped the spoon into the bowl and brought it to his mouth. “This is amazing. You’re a good cook, love.”

She picked at a loose thread on her shirt and took a step back to sit on the chair by the window. “S’just from a box. It’s hardly cooking.”

“S’more than I can manage.”

A smile tugged at her lips, and Harry caught it before she ducked her head down. “I can still taste that burnt casserole,” she giggled.

“Hey—” he was cut off by his own coughing. Y/N jumped up to steady the tray before they had a mess. “Wasn’t that bad,” he finished once he could speak.

“Sure.”

“You don’t have t’be so far away,” he whispered, stopping her on her way back to the chair.

She nodded and went around the bed to sit beside him. “You don’t have to eat all of it.”

His brows raised as he slipped the spoon between his lips once again, mumbling a really? over the metal.

“You were gonna?”

“Don’t want t’be rude.”

Y/N rolled her eyes and got up to move the tray to her desk. When she turned around he had sunken back down into the blankets. “How d’you feel?”

“M’okay.”

“You know you can admit it if you don’t feel good. S’just me.”

He sucked in a breath. “Yeah. I don’t feel too great I guess.”

“Get some sleep. I’ll be right out there if you need me.”

“You—okay.”

“What?”

“No, no, m’tired. I’ll see you later.”

***

Three episodes into Friends and y/n had passed out on the couch, and what she had at first perceived as Joey mumbling her name in a dream turned into Harry’s gravelly voice from down the hall.

She jumped up faster than she’d like to admit and ran to her room. He was laying on his side, holding a pillow close to his chest with his hair flopping over his eyes.

“Feels worse,” he grumbled.

She came up beside him and laid her hand across his forehead. “You’re a little warm. I think I have a thermometer in the bathroom.”

“Wait.”

“What’s wrong?”

“Where’re goin’ now?”

She pointed at the door. “The bathroom. To get the thermometer.”

“Kay.”

When she returned he was face down into the pillow he’d been cuddling, and only mumbled something unintelligible into the fabric when she called his name.

“Harry, let me check your temperature.”

“Just come sit beside me.”

She huffed out but did what he asked.

“D’you want me to make you s’more soup?”

“No,” he sighed, looking up from the pillow. “Y’know, you sure are pretty for a girl who buys an absurd amount of pillows.”

Y/N all but choked with wide eyes staring down at him. “I think you’re delusional. That fever’s gotten to your brain.”

“No. ‘Ve thought that for a while now. You’re pretty and smart, and sweet when you wanna be. Not the best cook, though. I lied. The soup wasn’t that great.”

“It was from a box!”

“I’m on my deathbed over here, least you could do is humor me.”

Y/N rolled her eyes. “Did you lie about feeling worse too? You’ve got that look in your eyes.”

“What look?”

“The, I’m a diva and I get what I want, look.”

“You’re bedside manners are incredible, love, just incredible.”

She swatted at him and rolled her eyes once more. “S’there anything you want? I have popsicles if your throat is sore, and—”

“Good God woman, you! I want you, that’s all!”

“Me?”

“M’not beatin’ around the bush here. Thought I’d been makin’ it obvious, I have a car you know, don’t need you driven’ me everywhere.”

“I—I…”

“I’ll take y’out. Wherever you wanna go. Official date an’ all. If you want.”

“I—I don’t know what to say…”

“Well before you say anything, let me remind you that I may not have that much time left—“

“Oh shut up!”

She couldn’t help but laugh, and seeing him tuck his face into the pillow as he let out boyish giggles really did something to her heart.

“Anywhere?”

“S’long as you cure me here. Anywhere.”

“Okay,” she whispered.

“You can start by laying here with me.”

She rolled her lips in and made her way to the bed and climbed under the covers.

“Feel better already,” he hummed, pulling her closer.

“What if I get sick?”

“Then I’ll be guaranteed a second date.”

#prompt list #harry styles #writing #prompts #titanticbuff1912

[tenebris-melodiam]

Lucas Baker x Reader: Game of Life

Pairing : Lucas Baker x Reader/Female Protagonist (18+) Rating & Warnings : Vulgarity, death by electrocution

=7=

“Goddamn, girlie! You’re bein’ pretty fuckin’ mean to your opponent, there! How come ya don’t cut lil’ ol’ Clarice some slack, huh?”

The male voice that echoed throughout the small room didn’t faze you, and you moved another trump card in front of the four numbered cards that you possessed. Once the card was in place, you heard the bet counter tick several times as the number on Clarice’s side jumped from two to six. If you won this round, you would only need to win once more before the red tick marker on your opponent’s side came to rest upon the crimson skull—and that would mean that you had completed this sadistic game. You had won the three previous rounds without a hitch, and you most certainly weren’t intending to change that any time soon. Although you couldn’t see the face of the woman in front of you, the meager, whimpering noises that passed through the cloth covering her head made you realize that your offensive tactic was working. She was growing anxious that your cards would win the match, and it was successfully breaking her down.

“I don’t intend on cuttin’ her anythin’. I don’t know her, or her family, so why the hell should I care whether she lives or dies?”

You said these words softly, almost as though you were speaking to yourself, but you noticed your sentence had earned an intrigued hum from the man watching all of this take place. Inhaling a breath through your teeth, you turned your attention to the machine to your left, admiring the handiwork that it would have taken to get such a relic working once more. Knowing that prolonging the round would break down your opponent further, you cleared your throat before glancing over at the televisions that lined the room.

“Y’know, I’m kinda interested in how you got this thing workin’ again. I ain’t gonna deny that you’re pretty sadistic in makin’ us play a game like this, but goddamn… the fact you got this thing workin’ again shows that you’re pretty smart, y’know?”

You heard nothing but the gentle hum of the electronic devices littering the room for quite a while, but eventually you saw the largest screen flicker, and once more, the face of the man who held you captive came into view. There was an amused smile upon his lips, and he leaned back in his chair as his hands came to rest upon his midsection once he made sure that you could see him.

“If you’re tryin’ to give off some kinda faux compliment, I’d advise against. I-“

“Oh, it ain’t no faux compliment. I mean what I say; seein’ somethin’ like this is honestly really interestin’.”

You watched as the male on the other end of the television cocked his eyebrow curiously, his lower lip pursing a bit as he seemed to think over your previous words. He then clicked his tongue, his thumbs tapping together rhythmically as he eyed you through the camera.

“Alright then, girlie. You got my attention now.”

“Oh yeah, I nearly forgot. I’ll stay.”

Almost immediately after saying those words, the light upon Clarice’s side flickered to life, illuminating the cards that she possessed on the opposite side of the table. Now that you looked closely, you could see her body physically shaking, and you waited patiently whilst she decided on her fate. Hesitantly, she raised her free hand and hovered it over her cards, her reply indicating that she would stay with her current hand as well. Since Lucas now had his camera on and allowed you to see him, the grin upon his lips widened and he moved his hand off-camera to mess with something.

“Alright, you two. The winner is…”

Your (color) eyes stared at the television that showed two numbers, one being eighteen, and the other being nineteen. Whilst a victorious smile came to your lips, the woman across from you began to writhe and wriggle as she pleaded for help. The machine next to you whirred to life once more, the two prongs rising up before coming down to press into the skin of Clarice’s hand—the smell of charred flesh filled your nose, and the screams that came from her lips filled your ears. You watched as tiny bolts of electricity erupted from various parts of her body, the cloth upon her head growing darkened patches as the fabric burned. Once the device had done its work, the humming slowly died down once more, leaving the woman a sobbing, charred mess. For the first time since the beginning to the game, she finally managed to speak to you.

“H-how can you… be so fuckin’ heartless…? I have a family… a h-husband…”

“I told you. I don’t know shit about you. I ain’t got no sob story about how I got a family, or about how I got anythin’. Only one of us is gettin’ out of here alive, and it ain’t gonna be you.”

You heard an amused coo come from the speakers within the room, and Lucas moved himself closer to the camera in response to what you had previously said to the woman in front of you.

“Man, I think I can feel the temperature droppin’ in here! Such harsh words!”

You stupid as it was, the words that Lucas spoke brought a slight smile to your lips and made a quiet laugh escape your throat. This seemed to catch his attention, and he hummed to himself before pushing something off-camera once again. The cards in front of you dropped into a slot within the table, and you heard the dealer whir to life as the cards were shuffled within it. After a while, it spit two cards in front of you, and two in front of Clarice. This was it—it appeared that she didn’t have any trump cards that lowered her bet, since she didn’t use any upon her last round, and that meant if you won, she would die.

You glanced down at your cards, flipping the face-down one up towards you to see what number was scrawled upon it: eight. The other card you had received was a nine, so you started off with a relatively good hand. You sighed quietly as you watched Clarice weakly look at her cards, and then mumbled that she would stay. You blinked, rather confused as to why she would do such a thing with only two cards—it was then that you realized what card was face-up on the table: an eleven. You resisted the urge to frown, and then glanced down at your own cards; did you want to stay, or did you want to risk drawing another card? If Clarice had a perfect twenty-one, then she would win the round, and you would receive your first shock.

You eyed the woman in front of you, trying to find any evidence that she was bluffing. A twitch, a finger movement, anything at all to help you—unfortunately, you found nothing. To try and remedy this, you grabbed a trump card and placed it upon the table, lowering your bet down to zero. Once you had done this, you said you would stay with your current hand.

With the light now illuminating the woman across the table, she released a long breath of air before making her move. She placed not one, but five trump cards upon the table, each one raising your bet by two. This earned an amused coo from Lucas over the intercom, and you glanced over at the television to see him still grinning at the whole predicament. You heard your ticker click several times as it changed your bet number to ten, and you couldn’t stop your heart from leaping into your throat. If you lost, you were going to die. You now realized why Clarice had never used any trump cards—she was saving them for this very moment.

“Well, shit! Looks like ol’ Clarice ain’t gonna go down without a fight! Oooooh, this is so fuckin’ intense… I love it!”

You swallowed nervously, your (color) eyes darting between your cards and Clarice’s. You had no more trump cards to lower your bet, so your life, quite literally, was in your cards. You raised your hand, ready to call for another card and take what could possibly be the last risk of your life, but suddenly stopped—it was then that you heard a weak, almost inaudible whisper come from Clarice’s side of the table.

“Take it.”

You noticed Lucas staring intently at you through the television, and you took a deep breath before moving your hand slowly to hover over your cards. You immediately saw Clarice’s body tense up, and you said that you would stay. Lucas’s lips cracked into a wide grin, and he folded his hands together before placing his chin atop them as he leaned over the table.

“The winner is…”

You stared at the television screen, and when the numbers popped up, Clarice immediately cried out and broke down into sobs. A loud cackle came from over the intercom, and Lucas spun around in his chair before pressing down on something to activate the device beside you once more. You had been right in calling her bluff; her unknown card was only a one, which gave her a grand total of twelve. You stared at her as the device came down upon her hand, and surprisingly, she wasn’t even able to bring herself to scream in pain. Nothing more than gurgling came from within the cloth that covered her head, her body writhing, twitching, and wriggling as electricity ravaged it. Finally, her body went limp, and all sounds ceased from her; she was undoubtedly dead.

By the time you opened your lips and went to ask if the game was finally over, you saw that Lucas was now gone from the room he had previously been in. You furrowed your brows, but turned your attention to the metal door that was now opening beside you. You squinted as blue light flooded your eyes, and you felt the straps that previously confined your body come loose. Your hand was now free from the mechanical deathtrap as well, and you felt fingers wrap around your hand before tugging you up out of the chair.

“Y’know, I’ve seen all kinds of reactions from people playin’ this game… but I ain’t ever had someone laugh with me. I also ain’t ever had someone be so ruthless in tryin’ to beat their opponent.”

You suddenly realized who was speaking, and now that your eyes were adjusted to the new light within the room, you saw Lucas standing in front of you.

“I’ll admit, I wasn’t so sure you were gonna call her bluff or not. But, a deal is a deal. I normally wouldn’t let ya go, but… you amused me. So ya earned it.”

Lucas expected you to run for the hills after hearing his words, but instead, you did something that honestly astounded him. You moved over to the device within the room, tinkering with it for a moment before looking back at him.

“Why would I leave? You still ain’t told me how you got this thing workin’ again.”

“Now, now… hold on. You wanna stay here? You’re playin’ a dangerous game…”

You stared at him for a moment, and then a smile crept across your lips. You figured someone as smart as he was would have figured it out by now, but apparently he was still rather clueless. So, in an effort to make him understand, you spoke.

“You think I don’t know? It takes one to know one, ain’t that the sayin’? I’m a sociopath, and you’re a psychopath… and I think we’d benefit from stayin’ together.”

=Fin=

Author’s Note (1): This was a commissioned piece—all ideas and writing were given/approved by the commissioner, and permission was granted to upload publicly.

#lucas baker #resident evil #residentevilbiohazard #residentevil7 #xreader #xreaderinsert #videogames #mature #literature #my fics #my writing #commissioned work

[evenstevensranked]

#20: Season 2, Episode 14 - “Sadie Hawkins Day”

The Sadie Hawkins dance rolls around and Louis is expecting Tawny to ask him. He ends up blowing his chances with her by trying to seem desperately desirable to all the girls. He's left to go to the dance with Monique last minute.. and Tawny goes with some popular, shirtless dude Tad. Meanwhile, Ren’s stuck taking care of a pig. Seriously. So, let’s listen to some Relient K and get into the Top 20! 

This one opens with Ren getting everything settled for the upcoming Sadie Hawkins Dance. Of course she’s in charge of it. Who other than Vice Principal Ren Stevens? We see that a pig has been delivered to the school a day early, so Ren is now stuck taking care of it for the rest of the episode. Ren honestly deserves better plots. Like.. what the heck. Louis gets an entertaining, romance-y main plot -- and Ren gets... a pig. Christy Romano even said in an interview recently that working with this pig was a low point in her career, lol. Wow. 

A scene later, Tawny and Ren have a little conversation about the dance and Tawny mentions that she’s gonna ask Louis!! Yeeeee! She asks Ren if she’s gonna ask Bobby, but the melodrama strikes and Ren is all “That’s actually been over for a while...” EXCEPT!!! This episode initially aired the literal day before Sibling Rivalry, which is Ren and Bobby’s official break up episode. Seriously, Disney?! I will never understand why they jack up their airing schedules so bad. At least the order of my countdown inadvertently tackles these episodes sequentially! I’d also like to mention that Tawny says the idea of the girls asking the guys is cool, but states “I don’t do Hillbilly” with an air of disgust. I RELATE TO HER CHARACTER SO MUCH???

At lunch, 6 girls who have asked Twitty to the dance swarm him, anxiously awaiting his decision. This is one of those instances where you realize... Oh, right. Twitty is supposed to be cute and kinda popular even though he hangs out with the outcasts? Okay. Louis walks over with Tom and shouts to the girls “Hey, what’s up! I’m Louis!” The girls scatter and you hear one snicker “Yeah. No kidding! So what?!” HAHA. Louis is a little salty over the fact that not one girl has come “within 50 feet” of him, yet Twitty has 8 potential dates lined up. I think y’all know by now that if I were a student at LJH back in the day, I totally would’ve been that weird girl who asked Louis Stevens lol. Tom exclaims that the only other guy with as many offers as Twitty is Tad Taylor. Some popular dude we’ve never seen or heard of, who Disney clearly didn’t want to cut a check for because he never says a word. 

Twitty himself is shocked that the Sadie Hawkins thing has suddenly turned him into a “babe magnet.” Tom interjects “I’m like a lint magnet! I mean, how am I getting this stuff all over my trousers?!” *whips out a lint roller and gets to work.* Gee, I wonder why Tom hasn’t received any invites!! Tom doesn’t understand it either! “Why do all the really good looking guys with sparkling personalities get all the girls?!” he asks. Which is possibly one of the greatest lines in the entire series. Louis is left wondering the same thing! So, Twitty reassures him that no girls have asked him because they all assume that Tawny will. :)

Later that day, the guys are hanging around Louis’ locker when Tawny starts approaching. Twitty tells Louis “This is it! She was just makin’ you sweat a little!” and Tom says yet another gem: “Yeah, ya know. Girls are always doing that! ...................*cough* or, so I’ve read.” Tom seriously has SO MANY incredible lines in this episode. I don’t know how I’m gonna make it through this review without quoting every single one. This is probably my personal favorite Tom performance ever. 

Louis royally messes everything up. Tawny was totally going to ask him, until he tried to be over-confident. “Yeah, I figured. You wouldn’t believe how many girls have been asking me out to that thing. Can’t keep their paws off me!” Since Tawny is the greatest ever, she’s immediately turned off and doesn’t ask him. Yaaaasss, gurl. 

Twitty: I said play it cool.

Tom: “Yeah, and you played the foooooool! ...Sorry. Ya know, I just like to bust the occasional rhyme.” -- I CANNOT STRESS ENOUGH HOW FANTASTIC TOM IS.

After school that day, the guys go to Louis’ house and spin a literal wheel of dates to help Twitty make a decision. We get yet another A+ Tom moment. “Big money, big money!” he shouts as it spins... and lands on DORIS!!! HIS FREAKIN’ MOTHER. The camera zooms in on her photo and it kills me. “Oh. *nervous laughter* Sorry. That... Must’ve fallen out of my wallet” is Tom’s excuse. I don’t even fully understand this comment or why the HELL Tom (or Twitty accidentally) would put her on the wheel to begin with, but it’s hilarious. Just because it’s one of my favorite moments, I have to gif it:

That zoom in is something straight out of The Office and Louis’ reaction is the best.

Just then, Donnie receives a phone call from a random girl who called to say he’s hot. Donnie tells Louis his appeal and ability to nab dates comes from giving off a “bad boy” vibe. Louis takes that information a little too far (as usual) and transforms into the most repulsive version of Louis Stevens ever: 

First of all: He’s burping here. Secondly: Yeah, Louis. Dressing like a total bum from Middle of Nowhere USA with a taped-on anchor tattoo and bag of cheese puffs is really gonna reel in the ladies.

Obviously, this attempt at being a “bad boy” did not work for Louis. It did, however, work for Tom. Who looks absolutely amazing!! haha.

“Hu hu hu, au contriare pierre!” he says as Gwendolyn, his date, appears. Are we sure this chick isn’t at least 30 years old? Is that part of the joke? No way in heck she’s in 7th grade. I always thought that was a little disturbing, lol. 

It’s weird because Louis is actually already a “bad boy” ...is he not? I mean, he’s not the stereotypical “bad boy” but it’s not like he’s a nerd. He’s always getting into trouble, always in detention, etc. I guess people like the idea and aesthetic of a bad boy instead of the real thing, ayyyy!

We get a montage of Ren trying to ask numerous guys to the dance but the pig keeps ruining everything for her. It eats one guy’s lunch, farts in front of another guy, and attacks some other dude. Which means that guy is really weak, or that pig is really strong: 

If this were a lame sitcom someone would shout “Aw, shucks! That darn pig!!” and the audience would erupt in laughter and applause.

Louis runs into Tawny in the hall and tries to apologize for acting stupid earlier by yelling "WHY DON’T YOU JUST ASK ME!!!!” assuming she hasn’t asked anyone else yet. Wow, Louis. Wow. But Tawny, being the badass that she is, tells Louis “There’s one little problem with your logic... I do have a date. Bye.” Yes. Just, yes.  Louis is left sulking on the floor when Monique approaches him. She’s trying to give him a bag of some pig food that Ren left in her locker, but Louis jumps to conclusions and is all “YESSS, I’LL GO TO THE DANCE WITH YOU!!” before she even says anything lol. Even though that wasn’t Monique’s plan, she agrees to go with him. So, in the end Louis basically asked a girl to the Sadie Hawkins Dance... that’s not how it works, Lou. 

That banner tho... “GALS GIT YOUR’N FELLERS for the SADIE HAWKINS DANCE!” 

CUT TO THE DANCE! Monique isn’t there yet. So, once Twitty and Tom arrive with their dates, Tom gives us his last great line of the episode: “I gotta say, we’re all a little worried about ya. Truth be told I had Doris on standby.” Louis is so insulted: “DORIS? YOUR MOM DORIS?! No, Tom. I’m NOT gonna go out with your mom!” -- The way Shia says this gets me every time. He informs them that he was “asked to the dance” by the head of the cheerleading squad -- Yeah, that’s a bit of a fib, Louis.. but I’ma let it slide. Louis thought he was going to the dance with a hot cheerleader.. but Monique shows up in full hillbilly mode.. complete with blacked-out teeth and everything. Meanwhile, Ren is stuck in the pig pen. She’s purposely dressed to kinda look like a young farm girl so this is one of the only times I’ve watched this show and thought “wow, Christy actually looks 14.″

Lawrence Jr. High is really dedicated to ~immersion~ I guess, because Principal Wexler gets up on stage and speaks in the most ridiculous southern accent. Like... I always wonder... How do people from the south feel about stuff like this? Wexler announces that the square dance caller for the night is STEVE STEVENS. Oh my freaking god. Steve is the best, hahaha. He pops up outta nowhere like “HOWDYYYYY” and a crowd of 30-something-year-old adult extras stare back at him, confused and unimpressed. 

Yeah, Gwendolyn probably is 30+ years old.. because apparently the majority of LJH students are grown adults. Either that or... Did these adults not get the memo that it’s a dance for middle schoolers? Why is no one concerned that adults are partying it up with 13 year olds? WHO LET THEM IN?! *shrugs* But, seriously. Disney couldn’t find some KIDS to attend the dance? Come on, now.

Monique invites Louis to square dance with her and Louis says "I'm not a square dancer, I'm more of a circular kinda guy." Idk I just kinda like that line. Tawny shows up with her date, the popular silent boy Tad Taylor. She and Louis spend their night trying to act like they’re having a great time without each other. Tawny is specifically trying to make Louis jealous and it’s pretty great. They give us these dramatic slow-mo shots of them dancing and glancing longingly at each other from across the room. I love it. There’s also a bit where Monique takes the call “Swing your partner round’n round!” a little too seriously and I can’t help but laugh: 

I will always be a sucker for a good obviously fake dummy gag. 

That crazy swing ends with yet ANOTHER Louis stunt double flying into (and destroying) the pig pen. I seriously never realized how many stunts happen on this show!! There has literally been a stunt every week of this countdown as of late! Anyway, the pig gets loose, runs to the principal’s office, and starts oinking into the intercom. That’s basically the end of the pig subplot. 

Louis is scarred from the twirling incident so he hides from Monique in a tiny, little pig house. For whatever reason, Monique looks for Louis in handfuls of hay! WHAT?! She literally holds some hay, looks at it and asks “Louuuuis???” I kid you not: 

WHY IS THIS SO FUNNY 

She eventually finds him, of course. Right around then Wexler announces that it’s hitchin’ time! While Monique excitedly asks Louis to go get hitched, Tawny looks on and decides to get hitched to Tad before them as a way to get back at Louis... and it works. He’s all depressed watching the two of them up on stage. Monique can clearly see he’d rather be with Tawny so she encourages him “Go get her, cowboy!” So Louis ruuuuuuns up there and interrupts the “wedding.” Which is something else that must be gif’d:

“If ya’ll wanna get hitched, say waaAHHH-HOOO!” I love how Margo is laughing as she shouts “waaaahhh” lol. That zoom in on her confused face as Louis runs up there is too good. 

Louis objects and claims “This whole wedding is a mockery!” To which Wexler says “Oooo! You’re a sharp tack, Stevens” as he points to a sign that says “Mock Weddin’s: 5 Cents.” That’s one of my favorite moments ever honestly.

Tawny pulls Louis off stage and out into the hallway where they end up having a really sweet talk where Louis admits to messing everything up. It’s so nice, complete with tinkering romantic piano in the background and everything, haha. I love their dynamic so much. So, yeah. They makeup and square dance the night away to royalty-free, generic bluegrass music. 

And that’s it!

I like this one a lot. Tom pretty much MAKES it, he’s so good here. I obviously adore the Louis/Tawny content as well. It’s just a fun and solid episode overall, imo. 

Question: Did your school ever have a Sadie Hawkins dance? I remember both Even Stevens and Lizzie McGuire (among other childhood shows, I’m sure...) had Sadie Hawkins episodes. So in Junior High, I remember waiting for my school to hold one but it never happened. For the longest time I was under the impression that Sadie Hawkins dances only existed on television. To this day, I still kinda believe that lol. 

Thanks for reading! Chime in via Disqus below please. :) 

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#rank #even stevens #disney channel #old school #shia labeouf #louis stevens #ren stevens #christy carlson romano #louis x tawny #louis and tawny #top 20 #review #tv review #retro review #comedy #tom gribalski #tawny dean #doris #season 2

[hemcountry]

ALWAYS HIS FATHER'S SON, BUT ALWAYS HIS OWN MAN - BARRY KIRWAN

Some might believe that having a famous parent in the entertainment business is one of the easiest routes ‘in’ that there could possibly be. Just start showing up, say your name, and hey presto, everybody loves you from the get-go and just like that, you’re a star, too! The reality, however, as anyone who’s actually in the business will tell you, and especially if they happen to be the son or daughter of a famous mother or father, is quite different indeed. A famous parent can be a help, but after that, you’ve got to put the work in just like everybody else. You’ve got to have the desire, have the will, have the work-ethic, and of course, have the talent, too.

One young man who has all of those qualities, as well as the famous dad, is Barry Kirwan, son of the one and only Dominic. And while he’ll always be his father’s son, equally so, Barry will always be his own man, too.

Barry performs on the Sunday World stage at this year’s C2C Festival in Dublin.

I had the pleasure of sitting down for a few coffees and a chat with Barry lately, and with his new single all over the airwaves, that was where we kicked things off. The song’s title alone has certainly got people talking, and if they’re honest, singing along! Barry shared the story behind ‘She Only Loves Me For My Willie’…..!

“I’ll tell ya, where I came across that song first was when I lived in Nashville for three months back in 2010. I was livin’ on Joey and Rory’s farm with my brother, Colm, and Joey and Rory asked me to do a few gigs with them. So I started learnin’ their set and and this was one of the songs that Rory sang in that set. So that’s where I first heard it. I know Paul Overstreet [one of the song’s co-writers] had recorded it too, but I’d never heard of it until we did it for these gigs. And then the reason it popped back into my head was because there at Christmas time Kacy Musgraves did a Christmas album and there’s a song on it that’s a kind of play on words about Willie Nelson [‘A Willie Nice Christmas’] as well, and Willie Nelson is actually on the track with her. I was just out driving in the car when I heard it and it just made me think, God, that Willie Nelson song that Rory sang, I haven’t listened to it in a while, ya know. So I went home, and I had all of their demo stuff that they had sent me to learn for their gigs, and I found that song. I listened to it and I thought, ya know what, this could go down well in Ireland. I mean, I did play with the idea in my head for a few days, and I asked my Dad what he thought, and did he think the radio station would even play it at all, and all of that kind of thing. So, yeah, in the end, I just thought it would be a good catchy song to get out there.”

Barry’s new single ‘She Only Loves Me For My Willie’

How did the connection with Joey and Rory come about?

“Well my Dad was managed by a guy called Robert Pratt, who was Don Williams’ manager, he’s Scottish, from Glasgow. And he had an office out in Nashville. So me and Colm were both working with Dad at the time, and Colm had been out in Nashville doin’ some songwriting and stuff. He was friendly with a girl called Brittney Allen, who was George Jones’ backing singer. She got Colm a few writing appointments and things, and Robert knew that Colm wanted to do the singer/songwriter thing. Joey and Rory had just come third in the duet competition called ‘Can You Duet?’, on CMT, and their first song, ‘Cheater, Cheater’, I think it was, went into the Top 10. They were looking to branch out and do some different things, so Robert caught onto them. He decided to do a songwriting tour for Colm, a kind of showcase, like an in-the-round, and he decide to take Joey and Rory on the tour as well. And there was another husband and wife duo also, Steve McClintock and Cathy McClintock, and there was a girl called Julie Forester as well. So everyone did that tour and that was really how we got to know Joey and Rory. They came over here as well and did a show in Glasgow, and four in the north of Ireland.”

  Joey & Rory

  To me, as a fan, Joey and Rory always seemed like the most adorable, sincerely sweet, and loving couple, and the most genuinely lovely people. Barry confirmed that they were exactly that.

“They were, they were such lovely people. They welcomed me and Colm into their house, and I stayed for three months, Colm for six before he moved closer in to Nashville. They lived about forty minutes outside of Nashville, place called Pottsville, pretty much a ranch. Me and Colm were living in an apartment which was built above a barn, and that’s all since been turned into a theatre for when Joey and Rory did their tv show which they recorded there at the house.”

Again, I know for me, as just a fan, it was heartbreaking watching Joey get sick again and everything that followed. For Barry, who actually know Joey and Rory, it must have been a really tough time?

“We were hearing news firsthand from Colm, because he was stayin’ very much in contact with them. I wrote Rory a few emails too, and in fairness, he did write back to most of them. But aye, it was a hard time. We were like everybody else in the world reading Rory’s blog. Yeah, the fact that we knew them, and knew them very well, it was tough reading.”

Barry on stage with Lauren just after she was confirmed as the winner of Glor Tire 2017.

Aside from his new single, the other big news involving Barry lately was the fact that his contestant on this year’s Glor Tire [country music talent show in Ireland], Lauren McCrory, emerged victorious, winning the competition.

“I’d met Lauren, probably about two years ago, when I was doin’ a Hugo Duncan outdoor broadcast and Lauren was on it, too. I think it was in Omagh. I heard her singing that day, so I knew she could sing! Glor Tire contacted me then about doin’ the show, and they said they’d send me the audition videos and I was to just pick from those. I think there was about sixty of them to go through. So I saw Lauren in there, and even though I already knew she could sing anyway, her audition video really stood out from all the rest as far as I was concerned. So that was it with Lauren. We recorded my show with her in November [each mentor records a full show with their contestant], and we didn’t really do anything else until the show actually aired for the first time in January. Once it started to air Lauren kept coming out to my gigs and getting up to sing, handing out her flyers, and stuff like that, just getting to meet people. And that was what we did as much as possible.”

Around the same time Barry began mentoring Lauren on Glor Tire, he was also nominated for the Best Newcomer Award at last year’s RTE Irish Country Music Awards. I wondered if Barry thought that may have confused some people, the fact that, on the one hand, he was being heralded as a mentor, but on the other hand, he himself was being seen as a ‘newcomer’?

“Well a lot of people always have a lot of things to say! [laughs]. And I did hear about some people asking how I could be a mentor when I was only just on the scene myself, and that kind of thing. But look, I didn’t care. I’d been on the scene for a long, long time. Some people think I’ve just come out of the blue, but I haven’t. I’ve been sittin’ behind a drum-kit and backing, probably at some stage, nearly every artist who’s on the scene. I mightn’t have been in their full-time bands, but I would have backed them at different concerts along the way. So I’d seen a lot of people work. And I think I had what it took to be a mentor. And we won, so maybe I did [laughs].”

Barry behind the drums

I wondered if the urge to be out front, and in the spotlight, so to speak, was always something that was in Barry?

“It was, it was always there. Because even at a younger age I was involved in musicals, I was part of the drama group, took part in Feis Ceoils. I was an Irish dancer from the age of five. So I’ve always been on stage, and yeah, it’s always been in me. I always wanted to be a singer, but I was always attracted to the drums as well. It just so happened that I was offered a drumming gig and that’s the way it went. It’s not that I got stuck behind a drum-kit for ten years. It was a very good life, I got paid well for it. So when I took the decision to go out front [to sing], it wasn’t an easy one. I was working with Derek Ryan and had been for four and a half years, and was makin’ a very good livin’, and really enjoyin’ workin’ with Derek. I made great friends while doin’ that. And Sean Corr, my manager, still works with Derek, as his lighting man. So yeah, it was always somethin’ I wanted to do. My Dad said to me that if I wanted to do it, to be a singer, it was an opportunity he could give me by letting me go out as his support act and seeing how I felt on stage, and with the audience. I could do that and see what I thought and then take it from there. So I had to make a decision about leaving Derek. But I’m glad I did it.”

Could he remember the actual moment when he knew he had finally made that decision?

“I think it was the day I actually had to tell Derek that I was leaving. It was October, and I told him I’d be leavin’ the followin’ February. In fairness, he was dead-on about it. He backed it and said look, you’ve got to do what you want to do. So Once I got it out of my mouth that I was leaving, that’s where it became real! [laughs]. We did two nights at the Market Place Theatre in Armagh, and those were my last two nights working with Derek. That last night now, it actually really did hit me. I was thinkin’, God, Derek will be workin’ on Friday night and I won’t be there! It really did hit me hard then. It was scary in a way. I mean, what a lot of people don’t realise is to put a band on the road costs a lot of money. Which can all be eaten up pretty fast! That kind of thing was the scary part. Because when you’re a drummer, you turn up at a gig, you set up your kit, you play. You might do that for three, four nights a week, then you get handed your wages on a Sunday. That’s all you have to think about. Whereas now, the thought of having to pay five or six guys, and a band, get a manager, and you have to have meetings every so often to make sure you’re getting gigs… I mean, all that kinda stuff is what people don’t think about. Since June 2016 I’ve had a band together. Some members have come in and gone out in that time, but right now I have a five-piece band out there on the road.”

Barry had mentioned that his manager, Sean, still worked with Derek. But how important is it to have a manager, and to have a strong relationship with them?

“I think it’s very important. He’s the guy that does the talkin’ for ya, really. He’s a vital cog in the whole thing. So I think you definitely have to have a good relationship with him because if you don’t, you probably wouldn’t get anywhere. The fact that I was very friendly with Sean meant we always talked very regularly and we’re still very friendlym which is a good sign, I suppose [laughs[, and that does help. I’ve known him for the whole time I was with Derek, that’s where our relationship would have started. I would have toured around with Derek’s road crew mostly, especially in England, I was always in the band with them. This is Sean’s first time managing someone too, but it’s the same kinda thing as with me. We talked a lot when we were on the road with Derek, and Sean always had aspirations to be a manager. So it all kinda clicked in together well.”

Colm, Dominic and Barry

Without a doubt, Barry is very much his own man, and even if we were to leave aside for a moment his solo career which is still in its early days, he has a career as a drummer which anyone would be more than proud to look back on. There’s no getting away from one fact, however, nor should there be. Because it’s also something to be proud of. We’d mentioned him momentarily at different times during our chat, but how important a figure in his career has Barry’s dad, the great Dominic Kirwan, been?

“Well I was a rock drummer [first], I went to London to study music, at what was then called Drum Tech but it’s now BIMM, and it was all pretty much rock music. Dad was the one who gave me a break. I know it’s a very hard scene to get into, so I might have had it slightly easier because my dad was Dominic Kirwan. I had to learn how to drum country music. Even though I was a country music fan, I’d never really had to drum it. People might think it’s a very easy genre to drum, but it’s not. You have to have a certain feel for it. Especially for dances, because it’s all about the tempo. That was a major learning curve for me, for the first year on the road with dad. But he’s always been behind me, thankfully. And when I decided to go out on the road, I was his support act for four months around Ireland and the U.K. Every night he watched me perform, and every night he would have had somethin’ to tell me at the end. Like maybe don’t talk as long between those songs, but take a bit longer between those other two. And movement. Because of being a drummer, it’s very hard to come out from behind a kit and know what to do with your hands! [laughs]. So I had a problem with my left hand for a while there, it was just there doin’ nothin! Dad picked up on that, and pretty much stage presence generally. He’d critique me every night. I thought that movement on stage would come naturally enough. But it didn’t [laughs]. I don’t know if it was like a fear factor thing, or a nerves thing. I remember we were doin’ Newtownabbey for my first two nights as a front man, and I’d say I was probably the most boring person to watch. I think I was just like a statue on the stage, just standing there. But the more you do it, the more the nerves relax, and the more the body relaxes. And with Dad giving me the wee pointers every night, just gradually over the four months it became more natural. But there’s definitely a lot to learn. Talkin’ to an audience is a craft in itself, never mind singing to them. You have to make sure you don’t bore them, and that you keep them with you.”

Barry’s new single, ‘She Only Loves Me For My Willie’, is available now to download and to request from all country radio stations.

For all the latest info on Barry, check out his official website, barrykirwanmusic.com

ALWAYS HIS FATHER’S SON, BUT ALWAYS HIS OWN MAN – BARRY KIRWAN was originally published on HEM COUNTRY

#Barry Kirwan #Country Music #Interview #Irish Country #New Beginnings Album #She Only Loves Me For My Willie #countrymusic #countrynews. IrishCountry #UKCountry

[superbearfun]

Note to Readers– This is Chapter Six of a continuing Weekly Serial Story freely shared only here for followers of my Writing Blog.  If you missed the beginning, you can catch up HERE for the beginning and previous chapters. Follow the Blog now to be informed of every new post and update.

Pieces of glass flew everywhere as the window at first shattered and then seemed to explode from the force of a heavy, grey granite rock hurled from outside, startling everyone and causing all the bunnies to scurry in fright beneath the table to shelter from flying bits of glass.

Thump-a! . . . Bump-a! . . . Thump-a! . . . .

The rock hurtled, careened and bounced across the cabin’s wooden floor, finally coming to rest against the far wall.

Wearing boots and not wanting any of the others’ bare feet to be cut on broken shards of glass, I motioned Little Red Bear and everyone away. Carefully stepping around the larger glass splinters, smaller pieces crunched and crackled beneath my feet as I made my way across the room.

Reaching the rock, I carefully picked it up to find a message, painted in bold red letters on the flat bottom.

I held it up for Little Red Bear to see.

“LOOK OUTSIDE”

Little Red Bear quickly tossed me a broom from the corner.  I hurried to sweep up the shattered window glass pieces from seemingly everywhere, anxious to see who or what was to be found outside.

Had the weasels ganged up and overwhelmed Albuquerque while guarding the rabbits? Holding him hostage?  Worse?  Had the coyotes run wild and taken potential story characters? What had been done that they wanted us to see?  Thoughts raced thru my mind while hurriedly sweeping glass.

Before I could finish, another rock came sailing in thru the now open window space, striking the far wall and falling down in a loud “CLUMP” on the floor.  I walked over to find another message awaiting . . .

“WHAT’S TAKING SO LONG?”

I worked even faster to clear the remaining few pieces of glass from the floor and tops of tables.  

Emptying the last dust pan filled with broken glass into the trash can, I joined Little Red Bear, already slumped and frowning, at the broken window.

A short distance from the cabin, the smallest ostrich, the one whose protest sign Little Red Bear had ripped apart earlier in the day, stood with his tongue sticking out atop an upturned wooden rain barrel, forcefully waving a freshly painted new sign while wagging his head in an unhinged, wibbly-wobbly, deranged back and forth manner, taunting Little Red Bear.

RED BEAR IS SO UGLY HIS MOTHER

HAD TO BORROW A BABY

TO TAKE TO CHURCH ON SUNDAYS!

Then, aware that we had each seen the new sign, the ostrich flipped around, shaking his backside and tail feathers at us while displaying the reverse side of the sign.

AND HE SMELLS BAD!

“Sticks and stones, Red,” I reminded, trying to comfort and gently moving him back away from the window and sign message. “Sticks and stones.”

“My Mother never borrowed nobody’s baby — or cub — to take to church,” Little Red Bear grumbled in protest. “That little ostrich is just makin’ up stuff. To be hurtful. That’s not nice.”

“No, it’s not nice, Red. Don’t let it get to you. Just remember – ‘Sticks and stones may break my bones but words can never hurt me.”

“I suppose,” Little Red Bear replied, rather dejectedly, “but right now I’d like to take a few sticks and stones to that guy’s bones.”

“You know that wouldn’t solve anything and just serve to make matters worse. Just let it go and be the bigger man.  Err, bear. Be the bigger bear. You know what I mean.”

“Yeah, yeah. Maybe the next sign will be about you, and then you can be the bigger man.”

“Well, Red,” I replied, patting and ruffling the hair on his shoulder. “There’s always tomorrow. Hold on to that thought if it cheers you up. We never know what the morning will bring around here right now, so we’ll see. Maybe they’ll do that for you.”

We both laughed.

“But in the meantime,” I continued, “we have a window to patch and guests to make comfortable for the night. It’s time to get bunnies in blankets.”

“Bunnies in Blankets! Oh, that sounds good.  Let me get this here window covered and I’ll get some started and made up real quick for us!”

“No, no, Red.  Not those Bunnies in Blankets.  Henrietta’s baby bunnies — I need to round up some comforters and blankets for them to go to bed and keep them warm tonight. It’s getting late. Do you always think about food?”

“Well, not always.”

“But maybe?”

“Well — maybe.”

We both laughed again.  Little Red Bear patched the broken window with some large sections of cardboard for the night, while I prepared bedding areas for Henrietta and her family of bunnies.

“Why did they have to bring my Mother into it?” Little Red Bear called over from the window. “She’d come straighten ‘em all out in a hurry if she knew about what they’d said.”

I couldn’t help but laugh.

“Yeah,” I agreed, still laughing. “She would reset their clocks all right.  There would be nothing left but a pile of feathers by the time your mother finished with them all if she knew what they’d been saying about her cute little baby bear.”

“Watch the ‘baby’ stuff,” Little Red Bear corrected, laughing himself at the thought of his mother dealing with the ostriches. “There would be feathers flying for sure! Don’t those ostriches know not to ever anger a mother bear?”

“Good thing for them she’s not around then,” I added while spreading the blankets and comforters on the floor for the bunnies.  Henrietta gently tucked each one in with a bunny kiss on the forehead.

“Maybe,” Little Red Bear answered. One could tell that he was still entertaining thoughts of flying ostrich feathers in his mind though, by the half grin on his face.  Then he unexpectedly burst into a fit of hearty and loud laughter.

“Wouldn’t those ostriches be sad to find out that after all of their efforts to make us mad and hurt our feelings, we were still inside here laughing and not crying into our pillows?” Little Red Bear managed to get out, between laughs.

Henrietta’s baby bunnies, snuggled in their blankets, were all giggling too, because laughter is contagious, after all. Henrietta shushed them, of course, while chuckling to herself.

“Yeah well, that’s what it’s all about, right?” I responded. “Not letting them get to us or ruin our day? It’s up to each of us whether we choose to be happy or give over control of our thoughts and happiness to others.  And with you laughing so loud right there beside the broken window, I’m guessing the ostriches might know.”

The prospect of the ostriches being aware that they had not affected him seemed to delight Little Red Bear still more, and he laughed even louder.

In a little while, with the window patched and bunnies nuzzled and settled in, Little Red Bear and I headed upstairs, deciding to call it a night after what had been another long and trying day.

We all awoke the next morning to find the sun peeking up over the treetops. Soon it was shining brightly, warming us on Honey Hill and burning off the night’s fog in Hoppers Holler below; with clear, cheerful blue skies overhead.  A beautiful Sunday morning.

Heralding spring, dandelions were popping up thru what open ground was left unoccupied by the encampment surrounding the cabin. Pink and white dogwood trees were in bloom, scattered thru the woods over the hillsides. The delightful sounds of birds singing, chirping, whistling and warbling filled the air.

There were many birds singing, in fact. The trees were chock full of them, all having come to see for themselves what all the uproar was about in the neighborhood. The encampment of wildlife had grown larger and even more spread out over the hillside as late-comers had continued to arrive all thru the night. Apparently, word of the ostrich protest and goings-on was still spreading over the mountains and thru the hollers.

This morning’s light revealed the construction of a rather large treehouse in the grove of trees on the hill slope out back. Raccoons can be just as busy as beavers when they set their minds to a task. Uncomfortable in their hastily constructed lean-to shelters with so many of Farmer Turner’s contentious hounds encamped nearby, Cooter’s raccoon platoon had constructed an imposing treehouse structure overnight, complete with a swing for the young-uns.

Speaking of the beavers, they completed and already rented out their second and third lodges, with new work begun on a fourth and fifth, with “For Rent” signs of course. Construction is booming it appears.

After spotting what the raccoons had accomplished overnight with their magnificent treehouse, the beavers, considering themselves to be highly skilled carpenters and builders not to be outdone, decided to try their paws at treehouse construction, as well.

Of course, the beavers needed to also construct a nice ladder in order to reach it, not having the natural ability to climb trees as do the raccoons.  A good number of trees would remain upright in the woods if beavers could climb, and not have to chew and fell trees in order to secure out-of-reach twigs and branches for food.  But they don’t, so they do, so to speak.

Little Red Bear and I both agreed the beavers’ treehouse resembled more of a traditional beaver lodge with a second story added than a true treehouse, but if you have a winning design why change it, I suppose.  And we certainly cannot argue with their success, having already rented the new unit out before work was even completed.

Securing the ostrich’s permission to cross the picket line, a family of enterprising chipmunks set up a Farmer’s Market on our front porch and yard. With the help of some beaver carpenters they had quickly assembled stands displaying and selling a large selection of various acorns, nuts, seeds, grains, berries, fruits, vegetables, mushrooms, earthworms, bugs, corn, juice, milk and eggs. A veritable little “Nature’s Wildlife Grocery Store” for the campers.

Critters have been filing in steadily to replenish supplies and to do their grocery shopping. Chipmunks are renowned for their food-storing habits and to their credit recognized a ready market for their warehouse of stores and supplies, but I didn’t ask them where they obtained the fresh produce, milk and eggs. Sometimes it is just better not to know. But with all of Farmer Turner’s hounds camping out back, I have a sneaking suspicion where at least some items may have come from.

Dealing with enough issues right now though as it is, and we were running out of food to distribute to everyone anyway. The chipmunks and their market were a welcome sight, to be honest. I will cover whatever is missing from the neighboring farmers after all this blows over. Though, it may get costly if this Ostrich Crisis goes on much longer.

I suppose the ostriches realized too, that it was best for all of us if the assembled friendly and so far, merely curious crowd of onlookers remained that way, and did not turn into an out-of-control hungry mob, so allowed the chipmunks to cross the picket line and set up shop.

Newspaper circulations and revenues are up substantially for both the owls and squirrels. And word has come to me that the weasels are still managing to clip unsuspecting visitors now and then for “camping fees” on the outskirts of the area.

It seems everyone is making money off the ongoing Ozarks Ostrich Crisis except those truly involved in the affair – Little Red Bear and the ostriches. And me – the meat in the sandwich caught in the middle as work has come to a screeching halt on new stories. Isn’t that always the way, though?

But thinking about it, somewhere in there may lie the grounds and basis for a future settlement to resolve all of this, perhaps. On the other hand, it doesn’t seem the ostriches have cared much about anything other than disruption of our writing work so far.

It is amazing how far down the wrong bumpy road one poorly chosen little word or comment can send us sometimes. Case in point – Little Red Bear’s ‘flightless’ comments to the ostriches.

Have said it before and will undoubtedly say it again – words are like toothpaste. Once squeezed out, toothpaste is all but impossible to get back inside the tube again. And thoughts and words are the same way – good or bad – and seem to take on a life of their own once let out.

Having been spoken and let loose, words are out running around on their own for all to hear, and then we must deal with the consequences because they cannot be unsaid. There are no ‘Cancel, Clear, Delete’ options on speech. We can be sorry and apologize for the poorly chosen ones right off, but the words are still out there floating around in the air, and hiding in folks’ memories looking to cause trouble at a later time.

Think twice, speak once. Or better yet sometimes, not at all.  My advice everlasting.

And in Little Red Bear’s case, the consequences of an off-hand comment came immediately in the form of picketing ostriches and an abrupt stoppage of work on his stories. Of course, how could any of us have predicted the ostriches’ reaction to being questioned about their useless wings? Ostriches are indeed “flightless”, after all. No secrets there. Little Red Bear was merely seeking information, even if not in the most delicate way, perhaps. Maybe the world is simply getting a little too sensitive, seeming to almost seek out things to be offended by at times.

Regardless, due to poorly-chosen words or over-sensitivity, the ostrich crisis lives on. New onlookers and campers are still arriving every hour, a steady stream of woodland shoppers keeps the chipmunks’ new market hopping, and the picket lines encircle and wind around the cabin.

Getting back to the ostriches, having observed that the encampment of observers had encircled my home, the ostriches decided that their picket line should also. Just so no one missed out on seeing their protests, I suppose. Instead of merely parading with their picket signs back and forth across the front as they had been the first days, they had by Saturday worn a path around the whole cabin, having taken advantage of the packs of coyotes and weasels to lengthen the picket line.

Today’s new development was discovering that a second circle of picketing ostriches, coyotes, and weasels had been added to the non-stop picketing parade around the cabin, marching in counter-clockwise fashion to the clockwise direction of the first, a circle within a circle rotating in opposite directions. Dizzying to watch.

With so many signs marching in different directions, it seemed that no matter where Little Red Bear went inside the cabin, he inevitably found himself at a window when a “LITTLE RED BEAR IS FAT, UGLY, AND SMELLS BAD!” sign paraded past.

Little Red Bear’s restraint to this point, although measured at times, has been admirable. I wonder myself, for the ostriches’ sake – how far do they really want to torment and agitate – a “bear”?

Thinking it might be time to draw the window shades and blinds before things get more out of control. As gentle and good as he is, even Little Red Bear’s tolerance level has limits, as do we all.

With tomorrow being Monday and the start of a new work week, if all goes well a sizable number of the spectators may be packing up and leaving to return to various woodland duties and jobs for the week, perhaps easing the uproar and potentially enabling some meaningful dialogue on the issues with the ostriches tomorrow.

The beaver lodges and the raccoon’s treehouse present an interesting legal quandary. They each constructed them using their own materials, but they are on our property without our permission.  I wonder if the beavers and raccoons would allow me to sub-let the new properties when this is all over? Getting ahead of myself there, probably. This all needs to be resolved first. Peacefully if possible, but with coyotes and weasels involved that’s never a sure thing.

At least, thru the efforts of the enterprising chipmunks and wildlife grocery though, everyone is getting fed now. And that’s always a good thing.

Except, the coyotes and weasels, who have displayed no interest whatsoever in the chipmunk’s market.

That is a worry. Weasels and coyotes are always a worry.  Hungry – doubly so.

But right now, I have to deal with a little piggy who appears as though he’s made one too many trips to the market.  I thought the chipmunks had only set up produce and dairy departments. Apparently there is a section in the back I may have overlooked.

Some critters seem to be enjoying the ostrich protest and events a tad more than others, it would appear. This fellow looks drunk as a skunk.  I had better go outside and get hold of this party animal before Albuquerque the Sheriff pulls him over under suspicion of SWINE – Shopping While Intoxicated Nearly Embalmed.

Gotta go.

To be continued . . . .

Thanks as always for following along and visiting with us! If not doing so already, Follow the Blog now to be informed of every new post and update.

As a special ‘thank you’ for everyone, Little Red Bear has included the Pinterest Recipe for Bunnies in Blankets that he mentioned earlier in the story, a nifty little appetizer featuring Caramelized Baby Carrots in Crescent Roll Wraps, just for fun.  You didn’t really think that we would be harming baby bunnies, did you? Find this recipe and much more on my Pinterest Boards.

Be sure to check in next week as events continue to unfold in the “Ozarks Ostrich Crisis”, a continuing weekly serialized free story available only here on the Writing Blog.  See ya then!

Kindness costs nothing.  Be kind whenever possible, while keeping in mind that it is always possible.   Be the reason someone smiles today!   — Jim  (and Red!)

“Where there is hatred, let me sow love. Where there is injury, pardon. Where there is doubt, faith.” – St. Francis of Assisi

“Anger helps straighten out a problem like a fan helps straighten out a pile of papers.” – Susan Marcotte

“The Adventures of Little Red Bear” Short Stories on Amazon.

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About an Uncommonly Special Bear and His Friends.

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Celebrate Earth Day Every Day!    Think Globally — Act Locally!

  Chapter Six of The Ozarks Ostrich Crisis: “To Market, To Market” Note to Readers-- This is Chapter Six of a continuing Weekly Serial Story freely shared only here for followers of my Writing Blog.  

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[the-instituterp-blog]

Vince (10)

[9/14/16, 4:00:07 PM] Jak: the figure gathered itself and stood up, brushing off the dirt from the floor. He stared at the door for a moment before finally turning around to face the rest of the gang in the room. it was Jak, a 3 month older version of him that they were used to , but it was him. His hair was trimmed up. He was sporting a long white over coat, standard issue of the institute. Probably contained some kind of tracker on it. Jak stepped out of the darkness to reveal himself, speaking in a deeper, just puberty broken voice " Guys?? [9/14/16, 4:00:47 PM] Robin: Robin spins around to get a closer look. [9/14/16, 4:01:16 PM] Forge: Forge rolled over slowly, eyes red and brows raised high Jak? That you, boyo? [9/14/16, 4:02:05 PM] Jak: Jak looked around the room, clenching his head tight " fuck , which of you is screaming right now?" [9/14/16, 4:02:49 PM] Robin: “Jak?” [9/14/16, 4:03:25 PM] Jak: he looks up as best he can, ignoring the massive headache and rush of everyones thoughts " aye." he smiles at them [9/14/16, 4:03:54 PM] Robin: Robin runs to him and hugs him tightly. “You bastard, where have you been?" [9/14/16, 4:04:31 PM] Dagda: Dag glances up. "We'll look at that..." He murmurs with a wave, opting to stay sitting [9/14/16, 4:04:54 PM] Azuna: Azuna eyed Jak with an air of suspicion. "Good to see you." He said. He didn't get closer, merely stood back and stared at Jak's new attire. [9/14/16, 4:06:22 PM] Jak: Jak returned robins hug, a bit tighter then he intended, it had been long since he had contact with another like himself " They, snatched me the day we got out of the simulation. Guess they Didn't know I could do the thing with the mind that I can do. They added me to some list, some, threat list and I was monitored, for a long ass time. But I guess I did something right if I'm allowed back" [9/14/16, 4:06:53 PM] Azuna: "Guess so." [9/14/16, 4:07:20 PM] Robin: “What’s this?” Robin gestures to his coat. [9/14/16, 4:08:31 PM] Jak: " oh, OH" jAK GETS A LITTLE EXCITED " See., its flame retarded? is that the word? anyway, it prevents me from burning my clothes. My fire got stronger. watch." Jak lights a burning blue ball in his hand [9/14/16, 4:09:11 PM] Robin: “Flame retardant, hun.” Robin smiles at him. [9/14/16, 4:09:48 PM] Azuna: Azuna snorted quietly. That was more like the Jak he knew. [9/14/16, 4:10:17 PM] Forge: Forge, a little revitalized by the return of a fellow firebug, chuckled and watched Jak fiddle with his flames Aye, but did they make yer hair flame proof? I'd be more concerned with that, boyo. [9/14/16, 4:11:02 PM] Jak: " No" Jak sighs " that's why I needed it trimmed to be honest. " [9/14/16, 4:11:15 PM] Azuna: "Maybe they should make Dag more fireproof, given his magnetism to the stuff." He muttered, just loud enough to be heard. [9/14/16, 4:11:33 PM] Robin: Robin laughed. [9/14/16, 4:12:01 PM] Jak: jak looked around at everyone " Why is there so much yelling, btw?" [9/14/16, 4:12:28 PM] Robin: “We’re all a little… conflicted.” [9/14/16, 4:12:58 PM] Azuna: Azuna let out a quick, jarring laugh. It sounds empty. "That's an understatement." [9/14/16, 4:13:00 PM] Dagda: This message has been removed. [9/14/16, 4:14:27 PM] Jak: " No, I get that robin, but, Why... are you, guys all yelling at once?"  Jak still hadn't really gotten a grasp on hearing others thoughts [9/14/16, 4:14:59 PM] Robin: “We’re not yelling…” [9/14/16, 4:15:35 PM] Dagda: "Just makin' and ass of myself as usual Jaky boy" Dag says with forced cheerfulness. [9/14/16, 4:16:25 PM] Jak: Jak walks around the room looking around " No seriously, you guys are very, aggressive right now? Did something happen?" [9/14/16, 4:16:51 PM] Azuna: "I'll give you three guesses." [9/14/16, 4:16:58 PM] Robin: Robin is silent, watching Azuna’s reactions and realizing what may have happened. [9/14/16, 4:17:03 PM] Azuna: "No, I'll give you one guess." [9/14/16, 4:18:04 PM] Jak: " no reason to be rude, I just don't see why theres so much hostility towards me"  Jak picks up on the feeling of distrust [9/14/16, 4:19:07 PM] Robin: Robin is still silent, scared to bring up more conflict. [9/14/16, 4:20:23 PM] Azuna: "Forgive me, it's been a long three months, we're all a little high-strung. And in you come, dressed like you've joined the Institute A-Team. What the fuck is that about?" He was half-shouting by the end of this sentence. [9/14/16, 4:20:58 PM] Robin: Robin touches Azuna’s arm. [9/14/16, 4:21:31 PM] Jak: " Like I said, Az, It's flame retarded. It prevents me from actually killing myself when I light up a fire" Jaks voice is a little raspier now, breaking every other word [9/14/16, 4:22:22 PM] Dagda: Dag watches the exchange, his eyes narrowed. "Yeh do seem to have been treated a bit better than us though." [9/14/16, 4:22:29 PM] Azuna: "They could easily have given you something that didn't make you look like ONE OF THEM!" Azuna was practically shaking with rage at this point. Maybe it was unfounded, maybe not. [9/14/16, 4:23:40 PM] Robin: Robin’s grasp on his arm tightens slightly. “Az…” [9/14/16, 4:24:53 PM] Jak: " Look. I get it. But, don't you everEVER, say I've been treated better then you." Jak flinches towards robin and can tell that everyone is thinking the same thing. "traitor" pops up a lot in his mind [9/14/16, 4:25:42 PM] Robin: “We don’t know how he’s been treated,” Robin whispers. [9/14/16, 4:28:13 PM] Dagda: "Just sayin' that he dresses a bit smarter than we do. Also been given more chances to practice from what it looks like." [9/14/16, 4:28:20 PM] Azuna: Azuna's eyes turn cold. "All I see is another fucking white coat." His words are dripping with so much venom, he wouldn't be surprised if he started spitting the poison out. [9/14/16, 4:28:48 PM] Dagda: Dag frowns. "That may be goin' a bit far fearless." [9/14/16, 4:29:29 PM] Jak: Jak, being the asshole he usually was, flipped his coat inside out protruding a black lined inside. , but revealing many scars that weren't on his arms before, as he quickly covers back up and grins " better Az?" [9/14/16, 4:32:17 PM] Azuna: Azuna rounded on Dagda instantly, completely ignoring Jak, hissing his words. "I have absolutely no idea what he's been doing these past three fucking months. You know what I've been doing? THE SAME SHIT I'VE BEEN DOING FOR THE PAST 18 FUCKING YEARS. Every. Fucking. Day. Sleeping on the fucking floor, barely eating, acting as the walking pincushion. He spat this last word with hatred. [9/14/16, 4:34:13 PM] Robin: “Calm down, Azuna.” Robin’s gentle demeanor turned cold. [9/14/16, 4:34:41 PM] Jak: " Youre.. mind, is, stronger?"  Jak notions towards robin [9/14/16, 4:35:30 PM] Robin: “You’re not the only one who has neurological powers, kiddo.” Robin turned to Jak. [9/14/16, 4:36:33 PM] Dagda: Dag's frown deepens. "I ain't yer enemy darlin'. Don't make one of me." He murmurs to Az [9/14/16, 4:36:47 PM] Azuna: Azuna clenches his hand into a fist, and attempts to put it through the window in their chamber. Not even a crack. Blood could be seen dripping down the glass, his knuckles split. [9/14/16, 4:37:18 PM] Azuna: His form softened slightly, and he half-slumped against the window, breathing heavily. [9/14/16, 4:37:58 PM] Robin: Robin sighed loudly and held his fist in her hands, her eyes flashing green as she healed the wounds. [9/14/16, 4:38:21 PM] Jak: jak clenched his head again when Az slammed into the mirror " can you please, PLEASE not shout into oblivion az? " [9/14/16, 4:39:17 PM] Forge: Forge sat quietly in his corner, left exhausted both physically and emotionally from his previous encounter with Dag. He looked sadly towards Az and shook his head All walls crumble in time... He muttered [9/14/16, 4:39:40 PM] Dagda: "Well, if everyone wants to start playing the pain Olympics then by all means let's show off our scars, but I think we have better things to do with our time" Dag drawls, "like workin' out that plan we were talkin' about earlier." [9/14/16, 4:40:43 PM] Jak: Jak sits on the ground and just observes everyone as he tries to get a grip on his headache [9/14/16, 4:41:44 PM] Robin: “What do we have to go off of, exactly?" [9/14/16, 4:42:52 PM] Dagda: "Nothin' but theory and a whatever bullshit scraps of hope we can dream up darlin'" Dag snickers, "but sounds like more of a grand time then sittin' here and bitchin'." [9/14/16, 4:43:56 PM] Jak: " You're referring to a break out?" Jak looks at robin, no one said it particularly yet, but , he can pick up certain sounds from peoples thoughts, not very effectively yet but enough to hear some things [9/14/16, 4:44:32 PM] Robin: Robin says nothing to confirm or deny. [9/14/16, 4:45:58 PM] Azuna: Azuna sat against the window. "From what I've seen, outside of this room it's pretty much the same as how it was in that machine. Only difference seems to be the hallway directly outside of this room." He turned to look out of the window again. "And outside...It's completely different beyond the immediate forest. I wouldn't even know where to start." [9/14/16, 4:48:21 PM] Jak: " You know, You really just need to take out the glass there. Theres a direct line to another hallway through that and you wouldn't even be on camera. At least not until you reach the other hallway":  Jak pipes in half minded [9/14/16, 4:48:30 PM] Robin: “We can’t escape while we’re under their watch. I don’t want any risk of us being caught in another fucking simulation.” [9/14/16, 4:53:45 PM] Azuna: "Should we risk trying what we did the last time? Granted, we were given quite a good opportunity then, so I'm not sure." [9/14/16, 4:54:11 PM] Azuna: "Only time we'd have is if we take them by surprise, which is why we need to know the route beforehand." [9/14/16, 4:54:58 PM] Dagda: "And how are we meant to find that out?" [9/14/16, 4:56:30 PM] Azuna: "I don't know." Azuna threw a hand up. [9/14/16, 5:03:24 PM] Robin: the queen of calling updated the group picture [9/14/16, 5:07:49 PM] Azuna: The door hissed and clunked open yet again, the massive tumblers within retracting. A much smaller figure than Jak was thrown into the room, grunting as he hit the floor. The light out in the hallway had either burned out or was shut off, throwing the hallway beyond the chamber into almost pitch black darkness. It was a wonder how the scientists could see in such low light. This new figure, was not one our group had met before... [9/14/16, 5:13:13 PM] Vince: The figure stands up quickly, to start dusting himself off. He grumbled to himself, curses being heard under his breath. Letting out a sigh he turned to face the others in the room, nearly jumping out of his skin seeing the amount of people. [9/14/16, 5:14:16 PM] Forge: Forge raised an eyebrow and called out Evenin'. Good ta see a fresh face... I think... [9/14/16, 5:17:10 PM] Jak: " Hey there, no need to be afraid of us, well maybe except for az over there"  Jak speaks , noticing the uncomfort in their thoughts [9/14/16, 5:19:54 PM] Vince: A look of confusion walked across the kids face, as he starred at the other man. He wasn't exactly used to being in a room with this many people, well with this many people who aren't scientists. [9/14/16, 5:20:47 PM] Jak: " Oh don't let the coat fool you..."  jak looks at az " Im not one of them. Names Jak. " [9/14/16, 5:21:57 PM] Dagda: "Fuckin' fabulous," Dag mutters, looking the kid up and down, "babysittin' time." [9/14/16, 5:22:25 PM] Jak: " lay off dagster"  jak chuckles, cracking his first joke since he's been here [9/14/16, 5:25:25 PM] Vince: He raised an eyebrow at Jak, looking up and down at the other judging to see if he was a threat or not. "Vince." [9/14/16, 5:26:36 PM] Dagda: "Call me that again darlin' and yeh'll be scoopin' yer insides up off the floor with yer hands" Dag replies cheerfully. [9/14/16, 5:29:07 PM] Jak: " Finally, some cheer out of you losers. "  Jak nods to vince " so , what you here for? They didn't throw you with us bunch so we could make a new friend" [9/14/16, 5:34:48 PM] Azuna "Maybe they did. I'm Azuna. You can call me Az, if you want." Az stood and offered Vince a hand. [9/14/16, 5:35:23 PM] Tony: " oh. friendlier to him huh az?" jak chuckles [9/14/16, 5:35:42 PM] Azuna: Azuna merely shrugged. [9/14/16, 5:36:45 PM] Forge: The Scotsman piped up from his corner and gave an idle wave Forge. [9/14/16, 5:39:10 PM] Dagda: "M' Dag," the lanky Irishman chimes in from his spot on the floor. His smirk still in place, but still off compared it's normal state [9/14/16, 5:39:41 PM] Vince: Vince paused, taking Azuna's hand, giving it a quick shake. "um hello, nice to meet you." [9/14/16, 5:45:14 PM] Azuna: "Indeed. If only it were under better circumstances." Azuna returned to his spot in front of the window, and sat back down. [9/14/16, 5:45:59 PM] Jak: " don't mind az dude, hes an azhole" Jak grins [9/14/16, 5:46:41 PM] Azuna: Azuna sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose with his fingers. "One of these days I'll get used to those." [9/14/16, 5:49:51 PM] Vince: Vince nodded, watching Azuna return to the window or what seemed to be a window? he couldn't tell with the other blocking it. [9/14/16, 5:51:50 PM] Jak: " So I hate to be the nosy type nut, what do you do man?"  Jak asks genuinely intrigued [9/14/16, 6:03:49 PM] Vince: Vince crossed his arm's and raised a brow at the other, attempting to make himself bigger and more defensive than his small framed allowed him. "No offence but I don't really wanna be showing what I can do to people I don't really know." [9/14/16, 6:04:43 PM] Jake: " What ever man, suit yourself"  Jak lights up an impressively large flame in his hand and tosses it passed dag playfully [9/14/16, 6:05:55 PM] Forge: Forge scoffed and chuckled incredulously at Vince, shaking his head Ya best learn to share quick 'round here, bucko, Ye'll be with us fer at leas' 2 weeks, minimum. [9/14/16, 6:06:52 PM] Dagda: "Not to mention we all have to start gettin' real friendly with those lovely little gifts of ours" Dag adds [9/14/16, 6:09:57 PM] Azuna: "Maybe a lot longer, if what we're planning works." Azuna mused aloud. [9/14/16, 6:11:35 PM] Jak: " Oh did I show you guys these?"  jak pulls out matching fire resistant gloves " these are also fire retarded too" [9/14/16, 6:15:43 PM] Forge: That's fire retardant, Jakaboy. The Scot smirked, leaning back against the wall [9/14/16, 6:16:44 PM] Dagda: "Lovely toys they seem to have given you darlin'" Dag calls from the floor as he lays back down, head aching from the beating that had occurred earlier [9/14/16, 6:27:22 PM] Vince: "Toys? they seem useful?" not understanding the harshness towards Jak. [9/14/16, 6:36:03 PM] Dagda: "Not sayin' they aren't kiddo," he replied tiredly, "just admirin' them.....not everything I say is meant to be a fight." The last part is muttered and slightly sullen. [9/14/16, 6:37:55 PM] Azuna: "Of course not." Azuna replied, seeming to regain some of his humanity. "We've just had a lot of those lately." [9/14/16, 6:43:00 PM] Vince: "I see" he replied, taking a seat on the ground still farther away from the others. Making I clear he didn't trust them yet, finding it best to keep his distance [9/14/16, 6:59:36 PM] Azuna: "We've...been through quite a bit. You'll have to forgive the harsh attitudes around here. We'll mellow out, just give it time. Tomorrow we can get back to you on something we've got in the works currently. Might even need your help." Azuna looked up, towards Vince. He shrugged, half a smile on his face. [9/14/16, 7:08:56 PM] Vince: Vince leaned against the wall he was closest to, uncrossing his arms to get more comfortable. "it's fine, I can't blame you guys for being tense. I mean we aren't exactly in paradise." [9/14/16, 7:10:50 PM] Azuna: Azuna looked around, as if seeing the room for the first time. "Huh, you're right." His tone had an air of teasing about it. [9/15/16, 11:55:06 PM] Robin: Robin smiled warmly at the new captive. “We’re glad to have another one on the team." [9/16/16, 6:06:11 PM] Azuna: Azuna cleared his throat, regaining his composure, and continued. "Indeed. The more the merrier, after all." He nodded. [9/16/16, 6:24:05 PM] Robin: “The more to help us break out of this place,” Robin added. [9/16/16, 6:35:02 PM] Vince: Vince nodded, starting to fiddle with the loose fabric on his jeans to keep his mind busy.