#I generally try to avoid posting outside my set hours but my schedule's currently out of wack anyway so I might as well not keep you waiting | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

ibrahimkhalilof · 4 years

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What's the easiest way to make money online?

In this post, I am gonna tell you 10 Easiest way to make money online

1.Start a Blog

Starting a Blog is the best way to earn money online.Many bloggers earn millions of dollars through their own blogs like Shoutmeloud and Wpbeginner.You can earn through your website in many ways like: Affiliate marketing, Sell your own product, Sell Online Courses. By this ways you can earn millions of dollars through a website.Firstly, you have to Start a Blog. I have already written an article on it if you want to start a blog you can read it How to Start a Blog in 2020.

2. Affiliate Marketing

Even if you don't have your own products or services to sell, affiliate marketing gives you a chance to earn strong commissions through a series of one-time sales (or ongoing monthly sales). Online merchants provide you with an affiliate website (or a simple affiliate tracking link) and marketing support – all you have to do is promote the company with your link via social media, search engines or perhaps ideally your own website or blog (see above).With all of these methods we're discussing you'll want to be sure to build your email list so you can continually follow up with your subscribers and generate additional sales.The great thing about affiliate marketing is you don't have to create your own products, you don't have to provide any customer support, and you don't have to create your own marketing materials.All you have to do is pick a profitable market, promote the products as an affiliate and earn a commission anytime a sale is made. Affiliate Marketing is one of the fastest and easiest ways to make money online.Even if you are offering your own products and services man people choose to also promote other people's products as an additional income stream to what they are already doing.

3. Start Your Own Ecommerce Website

Another great opportunity to make money online is with an e-commerce website/store.This is where you are selling physical products from your website. The most common (and hassle-free) way to do this is via drop shipping; where you simply take the orders on your website and use a third-party source that manufactures and ships the products for you.They key thing you'll want to do is focus on one specific niche and be a specialty store that just caters to that market, don't try to be all things to all people like an Online Shopping for Electronics, Apparel, Computers, Books, DVDs and more.Speaking of Online Shopping for Electronics, Apparel, Computers, Books, DVDs and more, though you may want to tap into other websites such as, Online Shopping for Electronics, Apparel, Computers, Books, DVDs and more. As a way of reaching additional people you want to be sure that you have your own web presence with your own store so that you have 100% control over your business.

4. Online Publishing (E-books)

Regardless of your current occupation and lifestyle, there is probably a book inside of you that's screaming to get out. Amazon's Kindle Direct Publishing (KDP) platform has given thousands of people a chance to become published authors and earn money. It may also serve as a way to get noticed by more established and traditional publishers.Not only can you sell ebooks on platforms like Online Shopping for Electronics, Apparel, Computers, Books, DVDs and more; but you can also sell ebooks directly from your own website as well. This allows you to sell your ebooks at higher prices and get all of the profits.You can also repackage multiple ebooks into larger "packages" or use the ebooks as a foundation to sell higher-ticket online courses or even coaching and consulting services.Publishing ebooks is a great way to make passive income, grow into bigger projects, and establish your authority as an expert in your market.With simple to use tools, access to outsourcing graphics, cover design, etc. anybody can self-publish a book and have the same professional presence and credibility as a big publishing house.For many people, the idea of writing a book can be intimidating but keep in mind that if you are writing ebooks that you're selling on your own website or publishing to Amazon Kindle you can write shorter books that are more focused on a specific niche or issue... you don't have a write extremely long books that take months or years to crank out.

5. Online Surveys

Online surveys are one of the easiest ways to earn extra cash. Brand name corporations and market research firms are desperately seeking people's opinions on products and services and will offer good remuneration for it. Depending on their complexity, each survey can be worth five, ten or more dollars.There are many reputable survey companies to choose from, but you may want to limit yourself to 3-5 in the beginning. Stick with the survey companies that give you plenty of surveys to take and pay a decent amount and stop using the services that don't end up being worth your time.You also want to avoid illegitimate companies; as this field is widespread with scam opportunities that will take a lot of your time and pay you very little money or even scam you out of your money.Though you're probably not going to be able to make a full-time income taking surveys it is a realistic way to make a couple hundred extra dollars a month.

6. Online Freelancing

If you have specific writing/journalism skills or are adept in various IT/software domains, freelancing may prove to be a lucrative source of secondary income. Increasingly, companies are implementing a content marketing strategy and turning to outside sources for specific assignments, and if you can prove your worth there will be more work available. Even simple skills like data entry may be to your liking, provide you can offer at least 5-10 hours weekly.All you need is a computer with an Internet connection and the desire to build a respectable clientele. Chances are that these opportunities will allow you to gain valuable experience and skills that will prove valuable in your existing business and professional career.If you're already writing ebooks in a particular niche market (see above) then why not make your services available for other companies; as you already have the expertise to take on the niche writing assignments.Though it's not really a passive income stream, doing freelance work is one of the fastest ways to generate income.

7. Coaching and Consulting Online

With the low cost of communication and technology, you can connect with anyone around the world.If you're already making money selling information online via Kindle books, affiliate marketing, or your own information products as mentioned above then you definitely have the opportunity to add coaching and consulting online as a source of revenue.This isn't nearly as scary is it sounds if you've never done it before. Most people who are buying from you would love the opportunity to speak with you to answer specific questions and get personalized advice.With tools like Skype, video conferencing, and webinar technology you can offer one-on-one calls, group coaching calls, and small mastermind meetings.A simple Kindle book or ebook sale can lead to a high-end client who wants to pay to work with you one-on-one.Offering coaching and consulting is one of the highest price methods of generating income.

8. Start Your Online Business Today!

Think about it, making money online is surprisingly easy once you set your mind to specific income goals. Ideally, the activities that you choose to engage in are fun, exploit your talents and interests, are worthy of your time, and offer fair compensation.As the Internet continues to evolve, opportunities to earn supplementary and full-time online income will grow. The very definition of work in an information-based economy is evolving, with traditional full-time jobs disappearing in favor of different arrangements (e.g. self-employment, flexible schedules, changing skill sets, etc.). In this respect, giving it a try can open up new career and business options.

9. Create Online Courses to Productize Your Knowledge

If you��re already an expert in a topic—either through your current job, freelance business, or coaching—you can package that knowledge into a high-value course and sell it for years to come.And while building, launching, and marketing an online course does take a considerable amount of upfront effort, their earning potential is through the roof (especially compared to a lot of the other online ways to make money we’re talking about).Courses and other knowledge products like e-books, are what’s called passive income. That simply means that once the upfront time and effort is put in, with just a bit of regular upkeep and marketing you’ll be able to continue to sell and make money from them for months and years.So, how do you go about putting together your course? One of my favorite online course success stories comes from Bryan Harris of Videofruit, who built and launched an online course in just 10 days that made him $220,750!At the end of the day, you’ll need to attract some sort of audience to sell your online course to—and if you can do that well, you’ll be on the path to building a very long-term sustainable online business for yourself.

10. Launch a YouTube Channel to Entertain and Educate

While YouTube recently changed its monetization program, if you’re able to hit their new minimum bar of 1,000 subscribers and 4,000 hours of view time in the past 12 months, it’s still an incredible place to make extra money online.YouTube is arguably the world’s second largest search engine (after Google) and is the third most-visited site in the world. In 2017, almost 5 billion videos were watched on YouTube every single day!Rather than making money through subscriptions, YouTube channels are based on a traditional advertising system. Meaning the more viewers you get, the more you make. Once you’re approved for the Youtube Partner Program and can start including ads on your videos, with every 1,000 views, you will make approximately $2-$4. Which might not seem like a lot, but if you have 100 videos with 5,000 views a month each, that would be $1,000–$2,000 already. Just imagine if your videos start hitting millions of views!You can optimize your videos to rank higher by experimenting with attention-grabbing descriptions and previews as well as using relevant tags. You need to stand out and make people want to click on your video.As you start regularly putting out content, you’ll hopefully start to build a bit of an audience. But to start seeing real money from YouTube you need to market your videos elsewhere. Share your channel on Twitter and Facebook. Distribute videos anywhere else you can think of. Also, interact with comments and build a community around the videos you’re making so people will share it with their friends.Once you hit the 1,000 subscriber/4,000 hour threshold, you can start monetizing your videos by selecting “Monetize with ads” under the Monetization tab of your channel. While it can take a while to build up a decent following for your YouTube channel, it can be a lot of fun to do as well as become a steady source of extra income.

#Portugal Osama bin Laden AskBigSean TrumpHatesOurVeterans USOpen Serena Bowden Marshall TrumpHatesVets OBiden Kirk Herbstreit Degrassi Criti

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hispeculiartreasure · 5 years

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All We’ve Got is Time - Chapter Two | B.B.

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Female Reader

AU: If They’d Survived/Window Washer!Bucky Barnes

Rating: General Audiences

Word count: 1,800ish

Chapter 2/24

Warnings: None.

AN: One last chapter of some set-up before we dive in deep! Thanks for all the love for this series, it really warms my heart! Special shoutout to @barnesrogersvstheworld for reading over this and helping me find something that was missing. You the best, Attie.

Chapter One

Series Masterlist

The remainder of your first day passes fairly quickly between entry paperwork and an endless list of demands from your new boss. Currently he’s provided you with a mountain of letters he had clumsily typed in the time he’d been without a typist. You have the happy task of proofreading and retyping before the correspondence is mailed. The page in front of you is covered in red pencil-marks, denoting how desperately Anderson needed a typist.

Mid-circle, a fellow typist interrupts you to introduce herself and welcome you to the office. She’s bubbly and talks a hundred miles an hour, but she’s kind. The chances are low that you’ll remember her name after the day you’ve had, but you try to be as cheerful and friendly as possible.

Alright, back to paperwork. Blah blah blah, ‘looking for a person with experience amf charisma’-wait, that should be ‘and’, lemme circle that- Your hand ghosts over your desk where you last remember dropping your pencil. Where did it- under these papers maybe? No. On the floor. . . where the hell did it go, that’s the only red pencil I’ve got. God, this day needs to be over because I’m about to lose my mind. I-

A rapid tapping about makes you jump out of your skin. You hear the tap several more times, swiveling your head around the office. It isn’t until you turn to the window that you find what - or more accurately, who - is making the noise.

A window washer right outside the window - the same man who’s near-death you’d experienced this morning. He’s smiling kindly and- What is he doing?

Even though every hair is in place, he’s acting like he’s brushing a piece behind is ear. He lets out an amused huff at what you assume is your thoroughly confused expression. A finger points at you, then repeats the action.

Is my hair doing something crazy? This is embarrassing. I don’t feel anything out of plac- Oh.

You pull the missing pencil from behind your ear, having no memory of putting it there in the first place. A deep sigh leaves you, tension from the first day trying to find some relief.

“Thank you,” you mouth. He nods in response which you take to mean You’re welcome.

He holds up his pointer finger and quirks an eyebrow. You nod. “First day, yeah.”

He takes an exaggerated breath in, holds it, and releases it.

You laugh quietly to yourself. Yeah, I do need to breathe.

“Good luck,” he says silently. You nod again and share in a smile before someone calling your name takes your attention away from the window.

As the days go by, you find yourself settling into your new role. It’s an adjustment from your previous position, that you can’t deny. But there are still methodical steps to follow and the clacking of your typewriter’s keys always soothes your frayed nerves. An unexpected addition to your job has been seeing Mr. Barely-Alive Window Washer. Every day he drops down from above to wash a window on your floor.

From what you can tell from his pattern, he starts on the highest floor and rappels down to wash each window below in that column until he reaches the ground. The next day, he starts one column of windows over and descends again. Which means he came to clean one of your giant windows once a day when he was on your side of the building. And it was typically right after lunch, usually when you move from typing originals to writing up copies. More out of curiosity than anything else you find yourself sneaking glances at him.

Boy, was he handsome. The plop-him-on-a-movie-set-right-now kind of handsome. Now that he wasn’t falling to his doom, his dark hair was slicked back, perfectly styled, which only serves to highlight a firm, stubbled jaw line. He’s not the bulkiest guy you’ve ever seen but you sense a leaner strength that could only be the result of working hard on-the-job.

You catch yourself staring so you divert your attention back to the pile of paperwork you need to type up, distribute, and file. Next time you look out the window, you catch him staring. He smiles guiltily, tilting his head to the side in a Sorry kinda way. You smile back, wave, and shake your head. Don’t worry about it.

He continues with his duties and when you look over again, he’s gone.

“Whaddya say, Newbie?”

“Huh?” you rotate your chair to face the gaggle of girls surrounding Suzy’s desk.

“You didn’t hear a word we said, did you?” the redhead asks smugly, a hint of knowing in her eye.

“Sorry, got distracted.”

The blonde perched on Suzy’s desk - Connie, you think is her name - waggles her eyebrows at you. “We’re talking Captain America.”

“Connie is a little obsessed, if you hadn’t gathered.” Your eyes flit to the sultry young woman on the other side of Suzy. Her name is . . . Charity? “Went to three separate shows of his before he became an actual war hero.”

“Obsessed is a strong word. And if I was, could you blame me?” she fans herself dramatically, drawing a giggle from the group. “So, Newbie. There’s rumors that he’s back in New York for good. Ya think it’s gossip or fact?”

You shake your head. “I have no clue. From the sounds of it, you’d know better than anyone else.”

“I think he’s here. He’s originally from New York, ya know.”

“What does he have that’s here? Family?” Suzy asks skeptically.

“I wonder what his day-job is now. . .” sighs a smaller girl whose name you kick yourself for forgetting.

Connie leans in, “Well I heard he’s doing top-secret work for the government.”

Your bark of laughter draws everyone’s gaze back to you. “Come on, you can’t be serious.” All eyes are on you, no one else is laughing. “I mean, that’s ridiculous. I’m sure he’s gone back to a normal job just like everyone else.”

“There is nothing normal about that man, if you catch my drift.”

“Constance Adler!” Suzy fusses, “Settle down, Flannery will be back any minute.”

“I’m not wrong!” she holds her hands up defensively. “What I’d give for just an evening of that man’s time.” Everyone groans, several wads of paper being tossed at her from different desks before it dissipates into giggles.

“Did I miss a scheduled meeting?” a cool voice echoes in the now-silent room.

Connie jumps three feet into the air, landing on her feet. “No ma’am,” the group answers.

“Then I trust we will all be returning to our work?”

A unanimous “yes ma’am” sounds off before the group scatters to their work stations.

Flannery looks between you and Suzy before rotating stiffly on her heel. Suzy sticks out her tongue out to Flannery’s back, prompting you to bite hard on your lip to avoid being caught laughing.

Things aren’t so bad here after all.

------

Friday afternoon, you stare at the envelope that contains payment for your first week of work. While it definitely contains more than your last post had paid, you dread how you “have” to spend it this weekend. Sure, you could ignore your boss’s wishes and continue dressing like you had all week. But your gut told you that the man wouldn’t take kindly to thumbing your nose at him. It wasn’t like you dressed inappropriately. Your blouses were always crisp and neat and your pants pressed and clean. Though from eyeing the other ladies in the office, you’ve come to realize you were the only one who preferred pants to skirts. Your job in the factory had gotten you accustomed to dressing practically and safely - not to mention more comfortably. The idea that you had to go back to a life of pumps and snug dresses was daunting, but you knew you had to make an effort.

Your roommate had already promised to take you to a beauty parlor to get a fashionable cut after she had hinted that your natural hairstyle was slightly dated. Debbie was a lover of all things makeup and jumped at the chance to help you “glam up” your usual routine. You don’t usually give much thought to how you look. Not from lack of vanity, but becoming accustomed to your quality of work being a higher priority than how you looked. Now you had to accept the fact that you didn’t have that luxury. To do well in this office, you’ll have to look the part.

“You coming, Newbie?” Suzy chirps, handbag in tow.

“Coming where?”

“Flannery had a doctor’s appointment, so a coupla us are ditching early to grab drinks. Connie just has to hit up this club where Captain America’s been sighted.” You both roll your eyes simultaneously. “But there’s alcohol, so I’m in. You?”

“I think it’s a little early on in my career to be leaving work early. Maybe next time.” You smile, hoping it softens the refusal.

“Suit yourself,” she turns with a shrug. “You had a good first week, kid. See ya Monday!”

The office has thinned out through the day, only you and a few other employees are left plugging away at paperwork. Bristles scraping against glass diverts your attention from the monotonous work. Mr. Window Washer was back working on a new pane. This one seemed to be causing him a bit of trouble if you took his scrunched up eyebrows as any indication. With determination he scrubbed hard at a particular spot, continuing to add water and soap to the mix.

Armed with a smirk and a handkerchief from your handbag you join him on your side of the glass. Ignoring his puzzled look, you easily wipe the black smudge off of the inner window. “Thanks,” he mouths with a small smile before he rinses the soap and clears the window of excess water. As you turn back to your chair, he waves you back. He taps his temple twice and points at you. Smart girl.

You snort and gesture to the paperwork covering your desk. “Bored,” you say, doing your best to communicate how dull the work was on your face.

The corner of his mouth turns up and he nods with sympathy. He huffs a sigh, aiming his gaze to the rest of the windows he has to clean today. He seems tired, a little run down. From the week you had been here, you could tell he worked hard. You found yourself hoping he had a moment to rest the upcoming weekend.

He points down to the ground and shrugs. Gotta go. You wag your fingers with a smile which he easily returns before sliding down to the fifth floor. Facing your desk again, you check your watch, wishing the day would speed up so you could make it to Macy’s before they closed.

Chapter Three

Tags

@abovethesmokestacks @ursulaismymiddlename @moderapoppins @lookwhatyoumademequeue @crazinessgraveyardsandcartoons @thinkwritexpress-official @fearless2tobeme @laneygthememequeen @past-perfect-future-tense @drhughgrection @wildsageleon @promarvelfangirl @connorshero @anditwasjustus @p3nny4urth0ught5 @just-add-butter @katiemarks1942 @usernamemingmei @the-canary @thorfanficwriter @blueskiesbleakeyes @silverwing2522 @satansmushroom @nerd-without-a-cause @firewolf-marvels @reginaphlanageadams @kiliakit @forsaken-letters @bouquet-o-undercaffeinated-roses @hiddles-rose @part-time-patronus @biavastarr @ellaenchanted91 @ihopeyousteponarosepetal @thisismysecrethappyplace @palaiasaurus64 @fanfic-diaries @fangirlfiction

#Bucky Barnes x Reader #Bucky x Reader #Reader Insert #Marvel Fanfiction #Bucky Barnes fanfiction #All We've Got is Time #beka writes #Chapter Two #don't mind me i'm scheduling this while avoiding thinking about endgame #when this posts endgame will be breaking my heart #so have some fluff

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heartofsnark · 5 years

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Black Market Wonderland (Chapter One): Down The Rabbit Hole

Notes: This has been a long time coming, I never shut up about my oc and this idea. But, I’m finally posting this damn thing. This is gonna be pretty episodic and not have a lot of overarching plots, I’m gonna be stealing canon stories and adding my own spin to them as well as adding my own stories. It’s a shitshow and I hope you’ll come along for the ride.

Special thanks to @catoinette, @otomemonogatari , @d-om , @enchantedbythebidders , @voltage-fanfictions , and @piplup235 for not only reading through and giving me feedback but also being the incentive I needed to actually write and post this. Without you all, this would still be rotting on my computer.

Summary: Almost a year ago Tsuneko managed to destroy her entire life and she’s been stuck ever since. She works as a maid at the Tres Spades in Tokyo; it’s not her dream job, but it pays the bills and puts a roof over her head. Her days are spent peacefully enough cleaning hotel rooms, that is until she stumbles into Wonderland and discovers the secrets lurking within the hotel. Will this turning point be exactly what she needed or a tragedy in the making?

Word Count: 10196

Warnings: Some blood and violence, people being bought and sold (it’s kbtbb my dudes)

The colors of the sky outside her window are just beginning to shift, soft pinks and purple coming in as the sun starts to set. Tsuneko lets out a sigh and checks her phone again, still no response from Shinobu. While not surprising, disappointment settle in her chest. It’s stupid to be upset, she shouldn’t be so emotional. She scolds herself, setting her phone down a little harder than necessary. Her desk chair creaks as she leans back and lets out another heavy sigh.

Kiyohito is curled up on her bed in a position that doesn’t look comfortable. The dark sable ferret is in a dead sleep with his tongue peeking out, any hope of him being a distraction are dashed. It’s her day off from work and she’s desperate to keep herself preoccupied. Her thoughts wandering is always a danger when she has down time, more dangerous when she’s left to ruminate on the shit show that is her life at the moment.

It’s been almost a year since her life officially went to shit and she started working at the Tres Spades hotel. It’s a glitzy place, the first legal casino in Japan. She’s a maid, spending all of her days cleaning up after people richer and more important than her. And that’s the highlight of her days, besides Kiyo, because otherwise she’s in her apartment just trying to distract herself.

The job itself is fine, given her situation, she’s damn lucky to have it. Good pay, plenty of hours, employee housing, her coworkers are mostly nice, and she even has lots of chances for overtime. But, she can’t say this is what she wanted her life to be. Being a maid isn’t exactly what she dreamed of for herself. Disappointment seems to be the theme of the day and her life.

She’s done her best to be a busy bee throughout the day; her dorm is cleaned, she’s baked, done her laundry, played with Kiyo until he passed out, messed with every entertaining app on her phone, watched any video on Youtube that caught her interest, and messaged Shinobu. Maybe she could try getting in contact with Runa? Not that she thinks it will do her a lot of good, but even getting told to fuck off is more fun than staring out the window.

Tsuneko stands up from her chair, stretching her joints as she meanders into her kitchenette area. The dorms are nice, like one bedroom apartments essentially. Given how much she likes baking and cooking, a bigger kitchen area would do her some good, but beggars can’t be choosers. She grabs one of the cookies she baked and crams it into her mouth as she begins looking through her fridge. The sweet vanilla calms her nerves, if only marginally. But, she knows what will relax her most.

She groans, she’s out of booze. Of course. Her rum supply ran out last week and she downed her last bit of vodka yesterday. Looks like she’s gotta put on real clothes and stock up. A walk through the city might be nice to clear her mind anyway.

Her work ringtone echoes through the room just as she’s tucked Kiyo into his cage. She scrambles over to desk, stumbling over her own feet to do so.

“Tomori speaking,” she answers, holding the phone between her ear and shoulder so she can pick out a change of clothes.

“Yes, this is Kenzaki, I’m sorry to bother you on your day off. But, we’re short staffed for this evening, between the I.V.C and some people calling off sick. Is there anyway you could come in? You’d be given over time pay, of course.”

“I can be there shortly.” She throws on a tee and shorts, sliding on her shoes.

“Please report to Matsuda when you come in, she’ll give you a work schedule.” She rolls her eyes at the mention of Erika, the head maid has always had an issue with her, what that issue is remains a mystery. There’s still a huge pile of cookies on the counter, her coworkers might appreciate a snack, especially with such a busy day. And eating all of the cookies herself is kind of sad, something she’s done before, but still sad.

She says her goodbyes to Kenzaki as she starts packing the treats away into tupperware, stuffing one more in her mouth. Tsuneko picks out a sticky note, jotting down what’s in them in case of any allergies or dietary issues. Content, she grabs them and heads out the door, double checking her dorm is locked before she leaves.

Working during the I.V.C is like a double edged sword. On one hand, she’s extremely busy which she likes. She loves being able to bustle around and always having something to do. The International V.I.P Convention is a huge ordeal for the Tres Spades, a giant party held at seemingly random intervals where the rich and famous gather to stroke each other’s egos. Tsuneko has the lowest seniority of the maids, so she doesn’t have to deal with the V.I.P’s directly. But, it stretches the entire hotel staff thinner and the worse part is dealing with the V.I.P’s in passing. It may seem minor, but those kind of people seem to take even the smallest opportunity to be a pain in her ass. The last time she worked some man in a suit worth more money than she’s ever seen flagged her down to ask a question, then mocked her for her dialect, acting like she was stupid. And that was after some snooty woman grabbed her in the lobby to scream about the toilet paper in her suite. Looking back, that might have been the only time Erika was nice to her.

The evening air is cool on her skin as she leaves the dormitories, the Tres Spades looming just a short walk away. It stands out even in Tokyo among all the other huge buildings. She remembers seeing it when she first visited Tokyo, thinking how over the top it was with its giant impractical spade shaped cut out. Her feelings haven’t really changed, it’s just more relevant to her life now, fortunately or unfortunately depending on the day.

Her nose wrinkles, the acrid stink of smoke hitting her nose as she nears the back entrance. An older schlubby man is lighting a cigarette near the dumpsters. There are stomped out cigarette butts around his feet; has he been out here chain smoking all day? The stench of smoke seems to drift off of him in waves, like the man sweats nicotine. Who even is he? He’s definitely not a worker and guests at the hotel generally don’t come by the back entrance. And, as judgemental a thought as it may be, he doesn’t look like the kind of person who’d stay at the Tres Spades.

He starts to look up from his cigarette and Tsuneko ducks her head down to make a beeline for the door, just avoiding eye contact with the stranger. If he caught her staring, he’s kind enough not to say anything as she darts through the door.

She drops the cookies off in a thankfully empty staff room, she doesn’t wanna deal with any hassles or questions. She’ll just have to pick up her tupperware at the end of her shift, hopefully no one tries to take it, the cute Pokemon designs makes it a favorite of hers. .

The employee locker room is just as empty, so no one will question why the stink of cigarette smoke is now clinging to her clothes. She’s never been so happy to change into her uniform. Just a touch of perfume for extra measure then she ties her hair up in the neatest ponytail she can manage. She makes sure she has everything she needs for the work day on her, before taking a deep breath and venturing into the hotel lobby.

To the surprise of absolutely no one, the lobby is packed tight with people. Tailored suits and slinky gowns as far as the eye can see. The V.I.P’s bustle around and chatter, their words all blending into a cacophony of unintelligible noise. A select few members of the press are allowed in to snap photos and get quotes about the event. The party should be getting ready to move down to the ballroom, so with any luck this should be her only encounter with the V.I.P’s. Erika should be around here somewhere, given her seniority, plus she never misses an opportunity to kiss ass.

Tsuneko searches through the crowd for the familiar head of maroon hair. She carefully moves around people, muttering ‘excuse me’s as she goes, not letting her customer service smile and tone falter. Where the hell is Erika? She always seems to pop up when Tsuneko messes up, it figures, she’s nowhere to be found when she’s actually wanted.

Something warm and solid slams into her side, she’s knocked to the ground with a thud. A man looms over her with a scowl, she can feel the contempt emanating off of him. He’d be attractive, if he didn’t look like such an asshole. He’s tall, especially from her current vantage point, with layered oak brown hair and hazel eyes. Silence falls over the lobby, like the world’s been stopped. Everyone’s eyes focus on them, expressions of abject horror. Hushed whispers start to fill the eerie quiet, something about ‘the king’, but she can’t make out anything more. This guy is important; she’d have to be deaf, dumb, and blind not to realize that. Thankfully, she’s only one of the three.

“I’m so sorry, sir,” she apologizes, customer service smile in place as she get back up to her feet. This doesn’t seem to appease him, he glares at her like she’s garbage. Which while not inaccurate, is still rude.

“Get out of my way,” he demands with a sneer and brushes off the front of his suit, like he’s come into contact with something vile. Tsuneko takes a tentative step to the side and the man storms past her up the stairs. What a bitch. This is why she hates rich people.

A few people stare at the man’s retreating back, but once he’s out of sight, it’s like the whole thing never happened. The world starts spinning again and the lobby returns to its former state. She shakes her head, it’s not worth another thought, she doubts she’ll ever see him again.

“Are you okay?” A familiar kind voice asks, it’s Chisato, another maid at the hotel. She’s always been nice to Tsuneko and is among her favorite coworkers.

“I’m fine, that guy was just a dick.” Tsuneko says with a shrug, the crowd is loud enough she can get away with talking shit.

”Uh,” Chisato sucks in a deep breath, brown eyes soft with worry, “do you know who that was?”

“Should I?” Tsuneko doesn’t really pay attention to celebrities or the elite types, it’s all nonsense to her.

“Just what were you thinking making an idiot out of yourself!?” Erika’s harpy screech rises above every noise in the lobby. Her hands are on her hips and her glare is trained on Tsuneko.

“What were you thinking?” The twins, Rina and Kana, chime in from behind Erika with similar expressions, contributing nothing to the conversation.

“It was an accident,” she answers honestly, she was so focused on finding Erika she forgot to keep an eye out for where she was going. These things happen, all she can do is apologize and move on.

“It was your fault, you should pay attention to where you’re going!”

”I apologized, unless you have a time machine, there’s not much else I can do.”

”You have no business even being around V.I.P’s, especially if you’re gonna get in their way!”

”Oh, cause I’m sure your banshee screeches just make them feel oh so special.” Tsuneko and Erika glare at each other, she may be the head maid, but Tsuneko has never been one to bite her tongue.

“Go drop off all the special boxes in the basement storage room for the guests staying for the spa package, everyone else is too busy.” Her sharp gaze drifts over to Chisato at the last part, making it clear she shouldn’t offer any help. The task isn’t particularly difficult, just tedious and will take the rest of the day.

“Of course,” Tsuneko forces a bright smile and makes her voice sugary sweet, “maybe we should offer them some complementary ear plugs, as well.”

She scurries off before Erika can say another word, the head maid can screech into the void for all she cares, she got her work for the evening and that’s all that matters. It’s a couple flights of stairs to make it to the basement, so the elevator is best, whoever decided maids should wear heels is an asshole.

“I can’t take it anymore! It’s over, you cheater!” A woman screams as Tsuneko rounds the corner. A couple is standing outside the elevator, the woman throws a small mask at a man in a tacky red suit and storms off past Tsuneko.

The mask bounces off his face and onto the ground, it’s small and silver with intricate details. Judging by the man’s suit and the woman’s gown, they’re here for the I.V.C, which she doesn’t recall being masquerade theme. The man picks up the mask and tucks it into his jacket with a heavy sigh.

“Now I don’t have a date,” he murmurs then looks up, his gaze meeting Tsuneko’s.

“Excuse me, sir, I needed the elevator.” She points over his shoulder.

“You just saw the whole thing, didn’t you?”

“Ah, uh, yes. Sorry, sir, I didn’t mean to intrude. I’ll just take the stairs actually.” She turns around, content to evade the awkward situation, then a hand wraps around her wrist and tugs her back. He’s pulling her towards the elevator, she instinctively tries to get out of his grip, but he’s stronger than her.

“Aw, c’mon, no reason to run away. I’ll explain everything when we get there.” He continues pulling her away, he doesn’t seem to notice or care about her trying to evade him. A part of her wants to deck him, but that will get her fired in a heartbeat.

‘Sir, leave me alone.” She keep her tone even and stern, hoping something will make it through his thick skull. One more strong pull and he yanks her right into the elevator, making her yelp. She’s met with the sight of broad back, blocking the elevator doors and button panel. He jabs a button, the doors slide close, what the hell is this guy’s problem?

“Whew, I’m lucky I found another date. There’s no way I could go to the party without a beautiful woman on my arm.” He turns to face her, entirely too close, with a smile that would be charming in another situation. He’s trying to take her to the I.V.C, the ballroom is on the basement level, so that’s not that big of a deal. She just needs to get away from him once the elevator stops.

“Sir, I am not your date, I suggest you find someone else to accompany you.” She maintains her cool, taking a step back as the weirdo inches closer. He’s acting like a desperate romantic, though he seems a little old for that kind of thing.

“What are you talking about? I was so lucky to meet a pretty girl like you.” Her back hits the wall of the elevator, he’s closed in on her completely. His hand cups her face, his breath fansn across her skin. Her cheeks feel warm, whether from anger or embarrassment she’s not sure. He’s not unattractive, an older man with shoulder length light maple brown hair. But, regardless of looks, he’s being completely inappropriate.

“Sir, I’m working, I don’t have time for this nonsense.” Her words don’t seem to have any impact, caramel brown eyes busy taking in every detail of her face.

“Yeah, you’re just my type. This is fate.”

”I’d would hope fate wouldn’t be so cruel to me, sir.”

The elevator comes to a stop and the doors open behind him with a ding.

“Let’s go, princess!” His hand is back around her wrist and he pulls her out before she has a chance to fight. She tries to step back and pull, or twist her wrist out of his grip, but she can’t manage. Punching him still might get her fired, but they can’t expect her to just let a guest do whatever he wants. Why the hell is he so strong?!

“Let go of me, now!”

The noise of the ballroom drowns out her demand. She’s never been in the ballroom. She’s definitely never been in the midst of the I.V.C like this. The carpeting is a plush red, the walls have gold etchings, and white marble pillars are throughout the room. Everyone is dressed beautifully, perfectly tailored suits and designer gowns. They talk and sip from champagne flutes as they all bustle around. Spread of gourmet food are laid out, servers intermingle with the crowd, never letting a glass go empty for too long. An aquarium at the back of the room catches her eye, colorful fish swimming through crystal clear water, a dolphin passes through. The hotel owns a dolphin? She would have liked to know that. If the whole ordeal wasn’t a pretentious rich nightmare, she’d be into it. If only for the booze, food, and dolphin.

“Micchy!” A woman yells out and Tsuneko nearly slams into Stranger Danger’s back when he stops.. He lets go of her wrist and goes off towards the woman. All of this hullabaloo just to run off, he seems more like a hormone driven teenager than a grown man.

“Hey, do you have any champagne?” A voice asks just by her ear, their breath tickles and makes Tsuneko jolt. Her face feels hot as she turns to find the source; a man around her age with strawberry blonde hair and amber eyes. She’s clearly wearing a maid uniform, not a server’s.

“I do not.”

“You do work here, right? You’re looking around like Alice at the Mad Hatter’s tea party.” His smile doesn’t reach his eyes, he’s cute, but something is off about him.

“I’m going to level with you, sir. I’m not suppose to be here right now, sorry.”

“That’s fine, hope you make it out of Wonderland, Alice.” His fake smile turns into a genuine smirk right as he leaves. Yeah, he’s definitely off. Still, cute though. She decides to shake it off and starts on her way out of the ballroom. It’s gonna take her forever to deliver those packages at this rate.

A sweaty hand grabs her wrist, bringing her to a halt, what the fuck now? The world is truly testing her today. It’s a stocky man in a garish green suit, he leers and looks her up and down, her stomach churns.

“Mhmm, I love girls like you. You wanna come with me to give me some special room service? I’ll make sure to tip you for the extra work."

“Gross.”

“What was that?”

“This is a hotel, not a brothel, sir." She’s able to break away from him much easier and starts towards the door again, he’s not deterred.

“You’re pretty lucky you met me. My net worth is 500 million,” he tells her, reaching out to touch her, she dodges him.

“Not enough for my dignity, sir." Her blood boils, at least Stranger Danger had the decency not to treat her like a prostitute. Does he really think her and the rest of the girls here are so beneath him and desperate for cash?Her hands clench into tight fists, she’s not allowed to punch guests. An unfortunate fact at the moment.

“C'mon, everyone has a price.” His hand presses against her hips, fuck this guy. She spins to face him, she needs to stop this, if she doesn't he's just going to hound every other female employee, until he finds someone he can bully into it. She’s not letting that happen.

“Look here, sir! I don't have the time, energy, or desire to deal with you disrespecting me and the hotel. I assure you, there’s not enough money in the world to convince anyone here to touch your pathetic excuse for a dick. Now, get your disgusting grubby hands off of me!” The color drains from the man’s face, when did the ballroom get so quiet? Just a few whispers, it’s like when she bumped into-

“This party is getting trashy,” a deep and sadly familiar voice rings out over her shoulder, making her jump. The asshole from the lobby was behind her, a group of women cling to and hover around him. They glare at Tsuneko, but asshole is glaring at the pervert. The look he gave her in the lobby seems downright kind in comparison.

“Uh, I'm so sorry Mr. Ichinomiya,” the pervert apologizes and runs off. Ichinomiya, that sounds familiar, but she can't place it. She rattles her brain for a moment, but she can’t seem to find it. The headache she has coming on isn’t helping. His eyes find hers, now that the pervert’s gone, the contempt has waned. It feels more like he’s looking at a fly under a microscope, like he’s trying to dissect and understand her.

“You again.”

“You again,” she mimics without thinking, her patience with the day is gone. His expression grows angrier, same for his groupies. She bites her lip to hold back laughter, normally she’d be more polite, but she just called a guest’s dick pathetic, so she might as well mock Ichinomiya, whoever he is.

“Get out of my way.” This seems to be his favorite phrase.

”Happily.”

“I hate when people don't know there place,” one of the women says as they move past Tsuneko. She forces a smile, but rolls her eyes once they’re gone and starts another attempt to leave this god forsaken party.

Her shoulder knocks into someone, making them both stumble.

“I’m so sorry.”

“Don’t worry about it,” he assures her before going on about his business, as small as the exchange is, a friendly normal person feels like a breath of fresh air. Something on the ground catches her eye, a small good luck talisman. The cloth it’s in is a bit worn, black with small white rabbits. He must have dropped it when she bumped into him.

She tucks the charm into her pocket and finds his back in the crowd, she jogs after him. Calling after him does nothing, he either doesn’t hear her or doesn’t realize he’s who she means by ‘Sir’. His long legs take him further away quicker than her stubbier ones and she sees him go out door towards the back of the room. She manages to get through the door a few moments after.

The hall that greets her is absolutely empty, her heart sinks, he’s nowhere to be seen. Doors line the hallway, did he go into one of those rooms? She’d hate it if she wasn’t able to get it back to him. It’s clear he’s had it for a while, it must mean a lot to him. If push comes to shove, she may just have to put it in lost and found, but then there’s no way of knowing if he gets it back. She walks down the hallway, the dead silence is eerie after being surrounded by so much noise.

A few moments pass and she hears soft murmurs, they seem louder in the quiet hallway. There’s a door ajar, maybe that’s where he is, there’s a bounce in her step as she nears it. She peeks into the room; gunmetal glints in the low-light of the room. Suitcases filled with cash and guns are strewn across a table. Men in suits are standing around, speaking in a language she doesn’t understand. This is illegal, this is definitely illegal. Her breath catches in her throat, she’s seriously watching an arms deal right now.

The world goes out from under her feet and she’s spun around, her back slams against the wall. She’s at least a foot off of the ground, large hands pin her in place and sharp blue gray eyes glare at her. Her heart hammers in her chest, like it’s trying to escape her rib cage.

“What are you doing here?” His voice is harsh and demanding. A part of her wants to fight, but if he’s involved with what she just saw…. There’s no guarantee he’s not armed. She’s not keen on being murdered.

“I got lost looking for someone, sorry sir.” She doesn’t let her voice break and maintains eye contact. Showing her fear won’t help anything. He lets go of her and she falls to the ground, not too gracefully.

“You have five seconds to get out of here and forget everything you saw. Otherwise, you’ll be wiped off the face of the earth.”

“Understood.” She walks away, ignoring the impulse to run. Muscle memory leads her through the floor, the storage room shouldn’t be far away.

She steps inside, closing the heavy door behind her before she sits down on the floor. Her breath is shaky and she clutches her head in her hands, nails digging into the skin of her temples. What the hell is she suppose to do now?

She’s been threatened and there’s apparently gun deals going on in the hotel. People are getting hurt, there’s no way they aren’t if guns are involved. She can’t be certain how serious that man was about killing her. But, she doesn’t wanna test it and he didn’t seem like the kind of person to speak lightly.

Reporting it isn’t really an option; she has no evidence and there’s the whole being killed thing. Even if she is believed, if the hotel gets shut down, her and all her coworkers would be left without a job or home. Is the hotel even aware of this? Does Kenzaki or the owner know what’s going on here? Who even owns the hotel again? Some sort of CEO who’s head of a conglomerate group. What was it called again? Ugh, she can’t think straight.

She jolts to her feet, she needs to focus and get her shit together. Freaking out isn’t going to help anything. She needs to deliver those packages and go on with her work day, then she’ll drop the charm off in the lost and found. Work now, panic attacks later.

Tsuneko starts stacking up packages in her arms, her movements frantic and she nearly drops a few.. Her brain is a scrambled mess, she needs a dolly, she should have brought one over before stacking them in her arms. She’ll just carry the packages to the dolley, wherever the damn thing is. She can’t even see over the pile of boxes, she tries to look around them as she moves.

Something slams into her and knocks her back, the packages fall to the ground. A heavy thud rings out through the room, the sound of shattering follows. Her ass hurts and she can already feel the bruises forming. She’s spent the majority of this day on her ass.

“Fucking hell!” There are two men, they’re frenetic as they try to pry the lid off of a crate that’s fallen. She doesn’t recognize them, they’re not in any sort of Tres Spades uniform. Maybe they’re just here to move stuff?

The lid hits the floor with a clatter and she peeks inside, it’s filled with shards of what looks like broken glass. She can tell how high quality whatever the original object was from the quality of the material. It’s pristine and the light it catches reflects back iridescent.

“The statue's been smashed to pieces!” One of the men yells, his face turning red with rage.

“I’m sorry,” she struggles to keep her tone even, “I’ll talk to the manager, we’ll get it figured out.”

This entire day has been a mess, but if the worse thing to come out of it is having her pay docked for a decoration, she’ll be okay. It may be high quality, but she doubts a statue is worth too much. It’s just nice glass.

“This was the showcase piece for the auction! How are you going to pay for it!?”

“Look, I’m sorry,” she says again, but what do they mean by an auction? The men glare at her and creep closer, she takes a step back as chills run up her spine.

“You think an apology is going to cut it? You owe us?”

One of the men makes a grab at her and she throws a punch. Her fist connects with his nose in a spray of blood. The man staggers back and she makes a run for the door. His cohort gets in the way and pushes her back, knocking her flat on her ass.

“You really think you’re gonna get out of here that easy,” he taunts, standing over her.

The crate brushes against her as she scrambles away, she grabs a large shard of glass from it and buries it deep into the man’s thigh. He screams out and a gush of blood spurts out as she twists the shard out of his flesh. She clambers back up on her feet and makes another run for the door.

A weight slams into her back, her face smashes into the ground, her scream muffled. He presses his knee down on her back, his nails dig into the cuts on her hand as he rips the glass out of her grasp. One hand keeps her wrist pinned behind her, the other searches her pockets. She writhes and twists, trying to get out from under him, but it does nothing. He tugs her phone from her pocket and throws it across the room.

“I got an idea of how we can make our money back,” the other man says.

Wheels roll across the floor, stopping in front of her. She can’t wrench her neck up enough to see anything else. The man yanks her up on her feet and her heart sinks. A large golden bird cage glimmers on top of a dolly. Her throat tightens and her stomach churns.

“Do you just have this shit on stand by!?”

“Shut up.” The man in front of her opens the cage door, the other pushes her forward. She jerks back; kicks and stomps at the man’s feet. He digs his fingers into her hand again, pain jolts through her and her scream reverberate through the room. Taking advantage, he shoves her forward into the cage. Her hand sting as she catches herself, her head nearly smacking into the bars. They lock the door behind her, tears sting at the back of her eyes.

“She’s a little damaged, but she should still be worth something.” The men share a laugh at her expense, they can’t be serious. They can’t sell her, that’s ridiculous. She can’t get a deep enough breath, her lungs burn. She can hear the pounding of her heart, feel the thump of it against her ribs.

They roll her out of the room, slowly taking her through the halls of the hotel. It’s mostly empty at first, but slowly more people start to appear, moving random things. From art to what looks like a baby leopard, it’s a mishmash of things being carried through the halls. But, no one seems to care about her. It’s like this is just a normal everyday occurrence. She shakes the bars of the cage, they don’t budge at all, she yells out for help. Nothing. No one bats an eye.

“Hey, where’s the final item?!” A young man yells from beside a pair of double doors, inside it seems to be a backstage area. Her kidnappers start explaining that there’s been a change in item.

She pries a bobby pin out of her hair, it’s mostly lose already, her ponytail coming undone in the entire struggle. Taking advantage of her kidnappers distraction, she snaps the pin into two pieces and starts trying to pick at the lock. Her hand stings with every movement and she can’t clearly see the lock, but she’s desperate. If she can get it undone, she can make a break for it.

“What the hell-” His words are drowned out by Tsuneko’s howls of pain, his blunt nails dig into her open cuts pressing into tender skin and making more blood flow. The two broken pieces fall to the ground, he lets go after what feels like hours and she yanks her hand back, holding it close to her as she presses against the other side of the cage.

Her eyes sting, a few tears stream down her face. The men only laugh at her pain, she focuses on their injuries, the man’s broken nose and the steadily bleeding wound on the others thigh. It’s a small comfort to know at the very least, she gave as good as she got.

She’s rolled through the double door and her suspicions are confirmed, it’s definitely backstage of this auction, she presumes. As pointless as it is, a part of her is still hoping that’s a joke. It seems so unbelievable, like something out of a horror movie or a nightmare. She’s tries to steady her breathing, to calm down even a little bit. But, it’s all in vain. Her heart beat is frantic, she struggles to breath, her throat feels tight, and she struggles to keep more tears from falling.

The backstage is a bustle of activity as she’s taken to just beside the stage, still concealed from the audience, but she can look out and see what’s taking place. It’s a huge crowd of people, they watch the stage with rapt attention, faces concealed by masquerade masks. A man on stage talks and moves dramatically, dressed in what appears to be a mad hatter costume. His face painted a stark white and his eyes an unnaturally electric shade of blue.

A small clang catches her attention, she looks up and one of the men attaches a hanging chain to the top of the cage. Someone starts pulling somewhere and the chain starts to lift the cage off the dolly. Tsuneko yelps, if she’s suspended, her chances of escape become slimmer. It ascends higher and higher, until she knows that even if she could manage to shake the bars lose or bust the cage open, she’d fall and break something or bust her head open. The latter doesn’t seem like a bad option at the moment, at least it might kill her.

Slowly her cage is pulled to the side, taking her to center stage. Bright lights and eyes all trained on her. She’s really being auctioned off, someone is going to buy her.

“I present to you, our showcase item of the evening! A healthy young Japanese woman. Yes, that’s you!” The hatter gestures towards her with a flourish and bile rises in the back of her throat.

“Yeah, I caught that,” she screams back at him, kicking the cage. The bars still don’t budge, the gilded cage is firm and shows no sign of busting open.

“I’ll start the bidding at one million!”

Even if she managed to escape the cage and managed not to hurt herself in the fall, she’s surrounded by the crowd. There’s no way she can avoid being grabbed.

“Keep her as your slave, keep her as a toy! Do whatever you please with her, it’s truly up to you!” The hatter continues, not caring about her distress. She kicks and shakes the bars, at this point more an explosion of anger than a genuine attempt to escape, she screams in frustration. Tears prick at the back of her eyes and she doesn’t care enough to stop them anymore.

In the front row of the audience is a stocky man in a garish green suit, the masquerade mask does nothing to hide the pervert from the I.V.C. He grins and bids on her. She looks behind her and sees a screen just above her cage, a number on it rising more and more. More money than she’s ever seen. Her stomach churns and she kicks the cage again, no budging. The most she can do is make the cage sway back and forth, nothing shows any signs of breaking.

“She is a feisty one, all the more fun to break her,” the auctioneer taunts, all his actions colored with the flamboyance of a true showman.

“If I could reach you, I’d wring your fucking neck,” she screams, her throat raw from the force of it.

“Going once, going twice, sold to seat one hundred for twenty-million!” The hatter says as a bell dings, the number on the screen behind her has stopped. She can’t make out what seats are what numbers past the first couple rows. It’s not the pervert, he’s seat number five. But that doesn’t mean it’s anyone better.

The hatter closes out the auction; the lights die down and the curtains close. Tsuneko sits and pulls her knees to her chest, her cage lowers down. It’s settles back down on the stage with a small sound, it makes her feel just a tiny bit better, slightly less helpless than she was before. Someone is still staring at her, she can feel it, even while she’s curled up against herself. Peeking up, it’s the hatter. His harlequin style hatter costume is slightly unnerving, his unnaturally blue eyes are trained on her, his expressions seemingly curious. There’s something child like to it. Someone yells out and he jolts, like being woken up from a trance and goes scurrying off.

Her owner, her stomach churns at the the word, should be coming to collect her. Maybe, this will be a chance to escape. She’s not in the best state to fight, but maybe, just maybe, she’ll be able to take them down. She kicks again, a dull ache pulsing in her toes. She wipes away at tears, holding back sobs.

Footsteps echo out, growing closer and closer. Two men make their way to her cage, the small silver masks do nothing to hide their identities. At this point she has to wonder if they truly serve a purpose beyond aesthetic. She can tell right away it’s Stranger Danger in his bright red suit and the cute but off guy from the party. If it was just the latter, she’d be able to take him. He doesn’t seem particularly strong, shorter and thinner than Stranger Danger. But, she knows that the taller of the two was able to drag her around like a rag doll.

“This way.” Stranger Danger unlocks the cage door. She gives them wary glares as she stands on shaky legs and steps out of the cage. Tsuneko hides her injured hand in her pocket, not wanting to give them an easy target if they decide to hurt her.

The men stay quiet as they lead her to an elevator, the only one that goes to the penthouse. Sure enough, once they’ve stepped inside Stranger Danger pulls the penthouse elevator key from his pocket. The doors close and the carriage lurches into movement. She knew they were V.I.P’s, but not very many people have access to the penthouse. Sakiko has mentioned some people who stay their. An artist, who’s name escapes her, and the owner of the hotel. Who the hell owns this hotel again? She’s trying to rack her brain for that name again, Ishi, something? Her brain is fuzzy from everything going on. But, if she’s being taken to the penthouse, surely the owner is aware of what’s going on. It would be hard to hide the auctions, especially at that scale, from the person who owns the damn place.

It’s a silent tense elevator ride, Tsuneko racking her brain for an escape strategy. She already knows she can’t fight Stranger Danger, but maybe she could make a run for it when the elevator opens, go for the stairs. But, if the owner is involved, she wouldn’t get far. She doesn’t exactly have anywhere to go other than the employee dorms. Waiting for a better chance might be the best idea.

The elevator dings and stops, doors sliding open. She’s never seen the penthouse suites before. They step into the hallway, red carpeting and doors along the walls. A huge pair of double doors standing out among them. The only employee she knows of that has access here is Kenzaki, even Erika isn’t allowed in the penthouse.

The pair push open the double doors and Tsuneko follows, it’s a lounge. Lavish, with plush chairs and couches. A large set of of red carpeted stairs lead up to another level, a large window covers almost the entire expanse of a wall, showing a view of the Tokyo Bay. There’s an extravagant high tech television mounted on one of the walls. Two men are in the center of the lounge; both of which she recognizes. And there appears to be man passed out on one of the couches, he could be dead, she can’t be sure. The man who threatened to wipe her off the face of the earth and the asshole from the lobby, Ichinomiya, are in the center.

Ichinomiya. He’s the owner of the hotel. It hits her as hard as she hit the floor earlier. She sassed her boss. Prior to this auction nonsense, she’d be panicking, but the fear of upsetting her boss pales in comparison to the terror of being sold.

“We’ve brought her,” the cute but off guy announces, he doesn’t seem to have a care in the world. She’d like to punch him.

Ichinomiya sits on the red couch at the center of the lounge, crossing his legs as he looks her over. Him and the man who pinned her to the wall have intense stares, but she meets their gaze with the same ferocity. She’s not backing down.

“We bought you,” Ichinomiya states.

“I noticed.” Her response seems to amuse him, a smirk plays on his lips. She’s just happy her voice didn’t crack.

“So, we ended up catching you after all,” the tall man who pinned her comments, his dark hair is slicked back and his eyes are sharp. Even without him having her against a wall, he’s kind of intimidating, or perhaps it’s just the situation making him seem that way.

“You know this woman, Soryu?” Ichinomiya asks.

“You could say that.”

“He threatened to kill me.”

“Yeah, sounds like Sor,” Stranger Danger says with a laugh, pulling off his mask and adjusting his fedora. Cute but off guy pulls off his mask as well, both completely nonchalant..

“Look, you can’t actually buy me, this is stupid,” she decides to keep talking, maybe the more she talks the more it will all make sense and she’ll be able to get out of this.

“Anything and everything’s for sale at the auctions. If there’s someone out there to buy it, you can sell it. There are no rules,” Stranger Danger boasts, no one here seems to care about the abject horror she’s been through.

“Yep, you can get stolen art, secret information about politicians, even hire a hitman,” Cute but off guy adds.

“This is actually the first time a person’s ever been auctioned off, though,” Stranger Danger’s eyes seem to soften a bit as he looks over at her, a shred of empathy seeming to make its way through.

“You must have done something pretty bad, huh?” Followed by the apathetic question of cute but off guy.

“I accidentally broke some statue, that was apparently expensive, or whatever.”

“The statue of Venus. If it’s worth anything, it’s here,” Ichinomiya states with confidence.

“You’re reckless as always. This woman isn’t worth anything,” Soryu tells him.

“I agree, let me go home.”

“But, it’ll be fun thinking up ways to use her.” Cute but off guy is smirking, he’s a shit head it seems.

“No, it will not.”

“Who gave you permission to speak? Don’t open your mouth unless I say so,” Ichinomiya demands; she bites her lip and keeps her glare. She wants to strangle him, she wants to actually murder her boss. This fuckwit puts her through hell and doesn’t even wanna let her talk.

“If you got a problem with it, would you rather go back to number five?” Soryu asks with a smirk, at least none of them seem keen on violating her in that way, but she just glares at him. She needs to stay calm, as difficult as that is.

“C’mon now, Boss…Sor. You should be nice to girls,” Stranger Danger talks again, he’s calling Ichinomiya boss, too. He’s really the one she needs to get convince to let her go.

“Listen,” she starts, no one stops her, “there no reason to keep me. My existence does not benefit any of you in any way, shape, or form.”

“You’re just trying to lower your value,” cute but off dude chimes in, he’s getting less cute and more gremliny with every annoying word.

“Besides, a cute girl has plenty of benefits.” Any brownie points Stranger Danger earned have vanished, his comment and wink makes her grimace.

“I sincerely hope you aren’t desperate enough to waste twenty-million on getting your dick wet.” She levels a glare at him.

“Looks like she already has you figured out, Baba,” Gremlin, as he’s now being dubbed, says through a laugh.

“You wound me, princess.” Stranger Danger, Baba apparently, responds with a dramatic sorrowful expression.

“You know about the auctions,” Soryu takes back control of the conversation, “we can’t have you running off and telling someone.”

“No worries, I haven’t suffered recent brain damage.” Though her face feels significantly bruised after being slammed against the floor, Soryu raises an eyebrow at her, “Worst case scenario, you kill me and best case scenario I end up unemployed and homeless. I have no proof, police wouldn’t believe me and you’d kill me for talking. Even if they did, if the owner of the hotel goes to jail then the hotel goes under and I’m out of my job and housing. I’m not stupid enough to bite the hand that feeds me.”

“I’m not so sure about that,” Ichinomiya smirks “you didn’t seem too friendly earlier.”

“To be fair, I didn’t know who you were, so,” his glare harshens, but she’s not done talking, “look, I don’t even have a phone to call the police. I’ll sign an NDA, confidentiality agreement or whatever, I’ll give you the legal right to screw me over if I even think about telling people about the auctions. There’s no reason to keep me, I’m not worth twenty-million, I assure you.”

Soryu looks to Ichinomiya, he almost seems to be on board with her idea. Maybe he’s not that awful, if he supports getting her out of here.

“Boring!” Gremlin complains, she could wring his fucking neck, but she keeps her eyes focused on Ichinomiya. He makes the decisions here, that’s painfully clear.

“No,” Ichinomiya says as he gets up from the couch, “I determine your worth.”

“What!?” Her voice breaks more than she’d like it to, indignancy ruining her composure.

“We bought you, you belong to us. End of story. You’ll be staying in Soryu’s suite for the night, he’ll assure you don’t go running off.” He’s still smirking, despite the fact that Soryu looks absolutely pained. Ichinomiya leaves up the twisted staircase, pulling out his phone as he does so.

“Man, Soryu gets to play with Koro first, not fair,” Gremlin pretends to whine, but he’s smirking; who the fuck is Koro?

“Time for introductions,” Baba winks at her, “what’s your name princess?”

“.…Tomori Tsuneko,” she murmurs, she feels completed defeated, there has to be a way out of this mess.

“Pretty name for a pretty girl. I’m Baba Mitsunari. I’m a thief, 35, single and ready to mingle. You can call me Micchan, Micchy, whatever you want.”

“Baba it is.”

“Pfftt, rejected. I’m Kisaki Ota, people call me the angelic artist,” Gremlin introduces himself.

“You already know Boss, so it’s Sor and Mamo’s turn,” Baba says, looking at the far less enthusiastic men.

“Kishi Mamoru,” The apparently not dead guy finally sits up and lights a cigarette.

“He’s a cop or unemployed, who knows?” Baba grins, “And the tall quiet guy is Oh Soryu, leader of the Ice Dragons.” Soryu looks so pained, you’d think he was the one who was just bought.

“Ice Dragons…?”

“Mafia,” Kisaki explains, like it’s the most normal thing in the world.

“Enough of this,” Oh says curtly, “follow me, since I’m stuck babysitting you.” He strides out of the lounge without giving her another look.

“Sor’s kinda shy. You better go after him before he locks the door on you,” Baba tells her and she scurries off after Oh, who leads her down the halls towards one of the suites. She has to speed walk to keep up with his pace.

He’s stiff and rude, but if she’s being entirely honest, he’s pretty low of her current shit list. At the very least, he seems just as keen on getting her out of here as she is. His biggest concern seems to be keeping the auctions secret; she already told them she wouldn’t blab, but she gets the feeling if she steps out of line he wouldn’t hesitate to kill her. And the fact he still seems like one of the lesser evils here despite that, really says something.

She’s follows him into his suite, it’s easily five times the size of her dorm. They step into the living room, more than likely where she’ll be sleeping. The couch looks comfy, she’ll manage for the night. Oh starts pulling off his jacket, then unbuttoning his shirt. She catches a glimpse of bare muscles before she turns around, offering him something resembling privacy. It might seem naive, but she doesn’t think he gonna try anything, he seems pained by her presence let alone trying to touch her. Footsteps ring out, Oh walking past her shirtless. He’s in really good shape.

“Don’t get any weird ideas.” He steps into another room, a moment passes and then running water. Sounds like a shower, couldn’t he have started stripping down in the bathroom? She doesn’t really understand the point of the peepshow, she decides not to ponder on it too long and instead lets out a heavy breath.

She slumps onto the couch, exhaustion settling in to take the place of her anxiety. Running away isn’t an option, despite how tempting it is, the Ichinomiya Group has the power and money to find her anywhere. She’s not sure how far reaching the mafia is and she doesn’t want to find out. Even so, she has no intention of giving up. She’s got to convince Ichinomiya to let her leave. Though, clearly it isn’t happening tonight.

Tsuneko looks at her hand, surveying the damage done by the glass. It’s starting to throb and ache more. The largest mark is a nasty gash across her palm, then smaller cuts around her fingers. It hurts more when she bends or flexes them, but the slash across her palm is more concerning. She doesn’t think it needs stitches, but she isn’t a doctor, so who knows.

Something glints and catches her eye, from under the chair. She leans over to get a closer peek and her blood runs cold, it’s a gun. It’s not shocking, he was the one who threatened her after she saw the gun deal. But, she still can’t help being afraid. The potential of him killing her seems even more viable.

The water stops, doesn’t seem like a long shower, a minute or two tops. She tucks her hand back in her pocket and presses her back closer against the couch as the bathroom door opens. His hair is no longer slicked back, soft around his face, but it doesn’t look wet.

“You didn’t try to run away.” He was just testing her.

“I’m not stupid.” She can’t help the vitriol in her tone.

“That remains to be seen,” that earns him a glare, “As long as you keep behaving, I won’t do anything bad to you.”

“Got it.”

He walks around the couch to stand in front of her, she presses further into the back of the couch, he’s in her space. Oh cages her in, arms on each side of her head and hands on the top of the couch, he leans in until they’re almost nose to nose. She bites her lip and meets his glare, her face feels hot.

“I have no idea what Eisuke’s thinking, but let's make this clear. You better not tell anyone what you saw today. No matter what. Telling anyone else is the same as signing your own death warrant. Yours, your friend’s, and your family’s.”

“Got it.”

“You can use the living room and bathroom, just don’t come near my bedroom,” he tells her as he pulls away, gathering his discarded shirt and jacket.

”Understood. What about work? If I’m not there tomorrow people will get suspicious.” She’s not sure if they actually would, if any of them would care enough to notice, but any excuse to leave in the morning sounds good.

“You work as a maid here, right?”

“Yes.”

“As long as you remember to keep your mouth shut and don’t go running off, it’ll be fine. Understood?”

She nods as Oh leaves into another room, she assumes the bedroom. Tsuneko pulls off her shoes, her feet ache just a bit. He told her she could use the bathroom and a shower sounds nice, but she doesn’t have anything to change into. Plus showering in an unfamiliar place doesn’t sound too pleasant. There’s a shower in the employee locker room, she’ll wait til morning.

She curls up on the couch, carefully finding a position that won’t hurt her hand. A yawn escapes her, she needs to think of ways to get out of this, but she’s too exhausted to think straight. The whole ordeal has drained every last bit of energy she has. She closes her eyes and slowly drifts off to sleep.

#kbtbb #kissed by the baddest bidder #eisuke ichinomiya #Soryu Oh #mamoru kishi #mitsunari baba #ota kisaki #kbtbb eisuke #kbtbb soryu #kbtbb mamoru #kbtbb baba #kbtbb ota #black market wonderland

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brynandchristopher · 4 years

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Back in nam...

A lot has changed since I was last in Nam… I’ll try to explain but I don’t think you’ll get it… YOU WEREN’T THERE!

I came to Vietnam 2.5 years ago with my Father, affectionately known as Wan. Wan had a special business trip scheduled here and I was headed home from Nepal and we decided to link up. We stayed primarily in the Saigon (AKA: Ho Chi Minh City) area and farther down south on the beach. However, we did a short 4 day stint up to Hanoi and Ha Long Bay - a trip that enthralled me and was the main reason I wanted to return to this fabulous place. So here we are, exploring The North.

Since we last posted we have been in one area of the country, the Ha Giang Province. Vietnamese is a tonal language and we have learned that the pronunciations of a lot of the words, with their accents, are very much so not-phonetic. Ha Giang is pronounced more like Ha Zahn. The Ha Giang province is the northernmost part of Vietnam, on the border of China (see the map we included). The far north of Vietnam is very famous for its beautiful mountain landscapes. Sapa, the main city in the North has exploded with tourism over the past couple of decades and from what we’ve heard, is quite over-developed and has lost a lot of its cultural charm. We wanted to head up north but wanted to avoid the massive crowds and less-than-authentic cultural experiences. In the months leading up to the trip, my mother, affectionately known as Mama, linked me to some pictures of Ha Giang, noting its stunning landscapes. We looked in to Ha Giang and discovered that it hosts what many claim to be the best motorbiking circuit in all of Asia. So we came to do just that.

We took a 14 hour overnight sleeper bus from Cat Ba island to Ha Giang and arrived to the small city at 4 in the morning. The sleeper busses here are quite silly - they make them relatively comfortable and give you lots of blankets, turn off the lights etc. But the bus drivers lay on the horn the entire drive and loudly talk on their cellphones at 2am. So having half-slept we sauntered out of the bus station looking for a place to rest up before we set off - a guy named Chu approached us and asked us if we needed help finding our hotel and we explained we didn’t have a place booked. He kindly offered to let us sleep for free at his almost-completed hostel. After a few real hours of sleep, Chu and his sister made us breakfast and helped us rent a motorcycle and we were off.

We had seen pictures and were expecting this to be a really cool ride but hot damn, Ha Giang was really beyond anything we could’ve anticipated. The loop took us four days to complete, at around 80 kilometers per day up and down winding mountain passes and through little farming villages. Over and over again we were awestruck by the insane landscape views we would get from the tops of the mountains - I couldn’t get over how beautiful it was. The mountains are all made of karst limestone, that used to be submerged in the ocean some 150+ million years ago. Apparently being under the ocean, along with the climate conditions makes for super rich fertile soil because the amount of plant cover and diversity was unreal. The mountains were incredibly precipitous but hardly an inch was uncovered by wild forest or steppes cut in for farmland. Our first night it was starting to get dark and we pulled off to this little motel homestay place just outside the town of Yen Minh. The man who greeted us spoke not a single word of English. This made for a pretty funny time as we negotiated the price of the room and dinner by pointing at different bills and did thumbs up or thumbs downs. He brought us to his house just down the road for dinner where he and his wife had made us a feast. They made ginger beef, tofu in tomato sauce, fried pork and pork fat, bean sprouts in some strange sauce, mustard greens, some kind of really strong homemade soy sauce, 20 pounds of rice and 2 bia (beer). They talked to us the whole time in incessant Vietnamese and strange undecipherable hand-signs. It was fascinating trying to communicate with people who literally don’t know any common words and totally hilarious, the four of us were laughing the entire dinner. We had some green tea after dinner and were able to figure out they were 51 years old - we were unable to figure out their names.

The next night we stayed up on a hill above the town of Dong Van. This homestay was run by a nice family who we could actually talk to. We went in to the town for dinner and ate local foods, rice porridge and bamboo shoot noodle soup. When we returned a large group of people had arrived at the homestay and were staying in the upstairs dorm area. It was fun to hang out with them for a while and we even met a guy from Utah! The Ha Giang loop is not super popular with tourists yet, primarily due to road conditions and the need to be a decent motorcyclist to do it safely. These people were doing a tour with guides where they all road on the backs of bikes and locals drove them. They stayed up late singing Vietnamese covers of American pop songs and taking shots the local corn wine known as “happy water” - it was pretty funny but also very loud.

The next day was Thanksgiving, which was pretty sad for us not being home with our families. However, this was the best day of the trip view wise. We drove through Ma Pe Lung Pass which honestly was probably top 3 greatest views I’ve had in my entire life. We got a hot chocolate at a coffee bar built out over a cliff and took in the view and let the rain pass. A couple of hours later we had our Thanksgiving lunch, bun cha, one of the many variations on "noodle soup” that makes up what seems to be 50% of all Vietnam dishes. Bun Cha is my favorite of the noodle soups I’ve had here. We finished the day in Du Gia where we stopped for the night. Our homestay offered dinner and showed us the menu, which was around 15 different things. We looked at it and told them yes, we would like dinner and the choices of what we wanted, they were confused and explained to us that dinner was all 15 of those things. Christmas miracles get a lot of hype, but this Thanksgiving miracle was supreme. We made some other traveler friends from Ireland and Germany and ate our massive Thanksgiving feast family style together. We definitely missed the mashed potatoes and gravy, but the french fries and chili sauce were a good stand in :). It was our turn to drink the happy water, and the Irish gently forced us to keep drinking beers with them. It was an awesome night and softened the sorrow of being away from our families for Thanksgiving. Our Thanksgiving reflection was directed primarily at how beautiful the landscape was that day, and how lucky we were to be there, but more generally how lucky we are to be on a trip such as this. We are incredibly privileged to be traveling the world with each other, and for that we are truly grateful.

Our final day was beautiful just as the others, but was a bit more of a drag. We had been pushing through the butt pain throughout the trip but with the finish line in sight it became a more pressing annoyance. The last night’s excess of happy water didn’t help. We made it safely back to Ha Giang and took long hot showers and got in fresh clothes. We essentially packed one outfit each for the four days to reduce the weight that Bryn had to carry on her back the whole time. The next day we took two different busses south across what was nearly half of Vietnam to our current location, Phong Nha. Phong Nha is a relatively unexplored region of Vietnam that hosts the worlds largest cave. We will spend the next couple of days spelunking before heading farther south along the coast. :)

Peace,

Christopher and Bryn

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ibelieveinahappilyeverafter · 5 years

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To Land On Your Feet - Chapter 01

Bonjour, mes chers! So, near the end of March I wrote and posted the majority of this first chapter on my tumblr in response to a Popular Fic Meme post I took part in. I also, however, said that this would be continued on April 2nd, so here we are; the official To Land Land Your Feet Erasermic and Shinson story!

I meant to post this yesterday, but my body gave out on me as soon as I got home from my 11-hour school day. Hopefully you don't mind it's a touch late, but I added some more detail for those who have already read this - specifically around the fight in the second-to-last scene.

The uploading schedule for this will be a new chapter (maybe more) every Tuesday and Friday. There might be chapters outside of that, but those are the set days where you can expect new content. If this changes then you can expect me to give you a warning on my tumblr, and then with the latest chapter.

With all that out of the way...

Enjoy!

Click here to read the work on Archive Of Our Own.

⍣ I have a Patreon! Support me!⍣ ☪ I have a tip jar! Buy me a coffee!☪

Summary: Aizawa Shouta had a good life. He was a happily married pro-hero teacher, had two cats that loved to make his life difficult, and soon, if things went well, he would have Shinsou Hitoshi as a son. Thanks to an unexpected attack by a man with the League of Villains, though, Shouta is turned into a cat. While he had a fondness for cats, that never meant he wanted to be one, especially when no one seems to recognize him and his friends and family are trying to find him when he's right there.

He had been planning to find a way to change back, but instead he ends up following Shinsou Hitoshi to the foster home he lives in after hearing some worrying information from the teen himself. Shouta himself was guilty of venting his frustrations to cats, but hearing that Hitoshi would be locked outside in the cold if he was late getting home was just another clue among countless that something was wrong. He has to get back to normal, but he'd be a poor hero and a shit father-to-be if he didn't follow the kid and make sure he was okay.

Besides, quirks like this usually had a time limit. Right?

<<Next Chapter>>

Chapter One

“Shouta… I think it’s time that we had a serious talk.” Fingers twitching from where he was checking over his utility belt, Shouta looked to his husband, studying his expression for a moment before taking a deep, steadying breath. “It’s about your current batch of students.”

There wasn’t an ounce of seriousness in that man’s gaze and Shouta could see the laughter that Hizashi was fighting to hold back. “What about them, ‘Zashi?” It was an effort not to smile, himself, but Shouta knew from experience that smiling would only encourage him. “I told you not to do the lesson on English swearing.”

“Hey! Students love that lesson!” Hizashi’s complaint was more of a squawk than anything else, Shouta only humming to show that he was listening as he went back to checking over his belt. He was running low on caltrops. He would need to remember to place an order in for some more later. “A lot of them are improving, you know. Kaminari managed to get a 70 on his last test, even! A 70!”

“Bakugou has been forcing the annoyances to study,” Shouta snorted, checking the next few pouches quickly and efficiently. His patrol would start soon - hence why he was near the door and Hizashi kept trying to devise ways to get him to go back to the couch where Shouta had been happily napping before his alarm went off. “He insists that if they have enough energy to be annoying, then they have enough energy to apply themselves to their schoolwork.”

“For being a delinquent, he has pretty good grades.” It almost sounded like a complaint and, considering it was Hizashi saying those words, Shouta couldn’t stop his laugh. “I can tell when you’re laughing at me, you know.”

“I just find it rich that you’re calling someone a delinquent with good grades considering your own record.” Shouta grinned at Hizashi as the man sunk down on the couch, giving him a dramatic pout. It was even funnier considering this was the man who still held the school record for the most detentions in a single school year. He had also graduated top of the school with test records that remained unbroken. Nedzu had given him a little plaque for being an Official Pain at graduation and it was still hanging on their wall. “Stop pouting. I’ll be back soon.”

“You’re a full-time teacher,” Hizashi grumbled and whined, Shouta feeling his heart clench at the genuine worry that was hidden under those words. “Even I cut back on my patrols after a while. And with everything that’s been going on…”

Shouta couldn’t blame Hizashi for his worry. There had been an increase in villainy even before the school year started, but now with USJ, Kamino Ward, and the dorms being implemented, well, Hizashi was right to worry. That didn’t mean that there wasn’t still work to do.

“You have your knife, right?” The single question had Shouta sighing as he tugged his boots on and began lacing them up, trying to avoid Hizashi’s puppy eyes. “What about your caltrops? Juice pouches? Energy bars? Shouta, you made sure to get more of those smoke bombs, right? You said you were out last time. Oh! Did you-”

Having crossed the short distance to the couch while Hizashi was talking, Shouta quickly cut off the rapid questioning with a soft, familiar kiss, slowly working Hizashi down from his worry and lingering in the kiss until the man was relaxed and pliant against him. It was a shame when he had to pull away. “I’ll be fine, Sunshine.”

As always, the pet name Shouta had been using since high school had Hizashi flushing, a pretty pink blush spreading across his cheeks. “That’s cheating, Shou-chan.” Hizashi’s fingers curled into his costume, tugging him down and giving him another soft kiss. “You still have at least fifteen minutes before you have to leave, you know.”

“You’re so exhausting,” Shouta sighed, not meaning a word of it as he slumped down onto the couch, Hizashi sliding and bumping into him from the force and bursting out into bright laughter. It was a much better sound than his whining and complaining. “So. Students?”

“Your class is getting better,” Hizashi groaned, collapsing against Shouta’s shoulder and tugging at the thin silver chain around his neck, finger hooked in the wedding ring that Shouta hardly ever allowed himself to take off. “Suspiciously so. It looks like they’re getting advice from someone who actually knows decent English - or is married to an English teacher.”

“Strange.” Shouta kept his tone even and steady, trying his hardest not to smile as Hizashi pouted up at him. “How’s Kan’s class?”

“A little below yours,” Hizashi snorted, shoulders shaking with the force of it as he curled more into his shoulder, cheek rubbing against him. “You two are so competitive, I swear.”

“It’s not a competition when I’m winning.” Shouta tugged at the loose bun Hizashi had his hair in until it came apart, immediately running a hand through the strands and picking out whatever tangles Hizashi had missed. Hizashi was humming in delight after a few seconds. “How are the other departments?”

It took a few moments for Hizashi to answer, the man much more relaxed than he had been when Shouta had been ready to leave. “Not bad from what my minions tell me, but not the best, either,” Hizashi mumbled, tilting his head into the hand Shouta had on his scalp, Shouta smiling and rubbing gently.

“You know, most teachers call their ‘minions’ teacher assistants and adjuncts.” It was hilarious, though, the first time Yagi had heard Hizashi complain about his minions. The man had looked torn between amusement and deep concern.

“Mm, different names, same work. Although, there is one star student in the General Studies department that one of my little minions can’t stop gushing about.” Hizashi had dropped Shouta’s ring and was rifling through the papers still in his lap. Shouta knew what was coming a moment before it happened. “Apparently they keep suggesting that I allow Shinsou Hitoshi to be given second year English work.” The test being held up was filled with Shinsou Hitoshi’s loopy scrawl. There was a 103% scribbled across the top. Hizashi must have noticed his look because he gave a stifled laugh. “I give the longer tests extra credit. He didn’t miss one answer on the entire test.”

It was harder than it should have been to hold back a proud smile. Hizashi knew him far too well, however, and he was already laughing even as Shouta attacked him where he knew he was ticklish, mumbling ‘threats’ against him, “Keep laughing like that, ‘Zashi, and I’ll give you something to actually laugh at.”

“Sho- Shouta!” Hizashi’s shrieks of laughter were bouncing around the apartment and causing squeaks and yowls from their cats, Hizashi squirming and writhing against Shouta as papers fell and scattered across the floor, one of their cats pouncing on Hitoshi’s paper and then flopping down on it.

Letting Hizashi suffer for another minute or so, and taking a moment to marvel at his husband’s absolute control over his quirk, Shouta finally let up. The result was a flushed Hizashi that was heavily panting in his lap with glazed eyes and crooked glasses and was edging into a tired and satisfied smile. Shouta was really starting to think about calling in sick for his patrol.

Brushing Hizashi’s hair out of his face and fixing his glasses, Shouta bit back a smile as the other curled towards him, rubbing his cheek against his chest. He then pouted at Shouta, “Don’t think you’re getting out of this. Hey! You should invite Hitoshi over for dinner, again. He was so much fun to talk to!”

“I don’t know if talking involves quizzing him on his knowledge of languages,” Shouta snorted, pulling Hizashi to sit up a bit more while kissing at his cheek. “I don’t think he’d accept, anyways.”

“What? Why?” Hizashi was up at once, Shouta leaning into the hand that was placed on his cheek. Hizashi frowned, lowering his voice. “Hey, Shouta, what’s wrong?”

Thinking on how to phrase what he wanted to say, Shouta finally shook his head. “I don’t think anything’s wrong, but he seems withdrawn, lately. He’s always been quiet, but he’s hardly talked in our training sessions the last few days. Maybe you can talk to him, tomorrow?”

“What- Me?” Hizashi blinked, looking more startled than he had a right to considering this was Hitoshi they were talking about. “Shouldn’t you talk to him if something is wrong? You two are close, after all!”

“And you two aren’t?” Shouta raised an eyebrow, pleased at Hizashi’s silence. That always meant he was losing. “He’s less likely to tell me things that are bothering him - especially if he thinks it’ll make him seem weak. He trusts you, though, when it comes to talking about… emotions.”

Hizashi laughed, loud and bright and sudden, and Shouta smiled at the sound. “C’mon, Shou-chan, there’s no need to make the word emotions sound like a swear.”

“Present Mic is his second favorite hero, you know,” Shouta said quietly, smirking after a moment of letting Hizashi swell up in pride. “And Yamada Hizashi is his favorite teacher.” There was a pause, a beat of silence, and then Hizashi’s cheeks were flushing. “He doesn’t let many people call him by his first name, yet, if I’m remembering correctly, he’s gone out of his way to let both of us know that we’re welcome to call him Hitoshi.”

Pushing Hizashi off onto the couch in a quick, smooth motion, Shouta stood up before Hizashi could latch onto him and drag him back down. He did relent and pull the man into a kiss, though, parting with a quiet, “I need to get going.”

“Shouta,” Hizashi whined, arms wrapping around his shoulders and tugging him back down towards another kiss. Shouta didn’t even try to fight it, relaxing at the soft, almost tired kiss Hizashi pulled him in. When they parted, they were still close enough for Hizashi to simply tilt his head and kiss at the corner of his lips. “Stay home.”

“Don’t worry, Sunshine,” Shouta near whispered, grabbing Hizashi’s left hand and pulling it up to press a quick kiss to the single gold band that was wrapped around his third finger. “I’ll come home to you.”

“You better,” Hizashi muttered, flush back on his cheeks as he cupped both of Shouta’s cheeks. “Be safe. We’re having company over for dinner tomorrow and I need you alive for that.”

“We are, huh?” Shouta grinned, mirroring Hizashi’s own smile. They both knew who they were dragging home for dinner tomorrow. “He’s going to try and escape, you know.”

Hizashi grinned even wider, stealing one last kiss and then giving a wink. “Good thing I’m so good at getting surly heroes-in-training to take a break and eat, then.”

Finally letting Hizashi go, Shouta hid a sigh and walked over to their front door, making sure everything was in order. Maybe he should start cutting down on his patrol hours even more. There were enough heroes on the streets to deal with the type of villainy that was out there, after all.

“Shouta?” Pausing at the threshold, Shouta looked back to where Hizashi was giving him a warm, soft smile. There was no Present Mic in his demeanor. The only one there was a happily smiling Yamada-Aizawa Hizashi. “Your binding cloth is in the bedroom, still.”

Going still, Shouta slowly reached a hand up to where he felt nothing except the chain of his wedding ring and the collar of suit. Giving Hizashi a slow blink, Shouta shut the door quietly and kicked his boots off before walking towards their bedroom.

Hizashi’s bright, cheerful laughter followed him the whole way.

“It would make sense. Hizashi and I both have our foster licenses. We’re pro heroes, we have a steady income, we have multiple jobs between us and yet one of us always has the chance to be home most nights, we’re closer to his school, and we have full reason to believe Hitoshi would be happier in a different home. It’s logical, don’t you think?”

A warbling meow answered his words, Shouta’s lips quirking into a smile as he offered a few more cat treats to the bedraggled stray that was purring in delight at the food. Shouta scratched behind the cat’s ears, not minding when the stray clawed his way up onto Shouta’s shoulders, surveying the world happily as Shouta stood up and returned to his patrol route.

While he didn’t make a habit of seeking out the strays in his district, he didn’t complain when he stumbled across the occasional friendly one. Besides, Shouta had always found them great listeners.

“It’s not that hard an assumption to make. Bruises have to come from somewhere.” In the beginning, Shouta had noticed the bruises on Hitoshi’s arms and legs and chest and thought he was merely pushing the boy too hard in his training. Even when keeping a careful eye on things, however, the bruises persisted. While Shouta didn’t want to jump to conclusions, it was logical to assume something was happening outside of school to give him those bruises.

Shouta was only hoping that the bruises came from disagreements with foster siblings and neighborhood punks rather than anything else. It was a conversation he would need to have with Hitoshi and Hizashi both. Tomorrow over dinner would be a good time to at least hint about it; it was already obvious that Hizashi saw Hitoshi as his own, after all. If there was anyone that loved that kid more than Shouta, it was his husband who was already trying to find out Hitoshi’s birthday.

Deciding to think about it more later, Shouta paused at the familiar sounds of a tripped alarm. Slinking into the nearest alleyway, Shouta heard low, fierce hissing from the cat on his shoulders, a glance across the street showing the broken window of a jewelry store.

“How cliché,” Shouta muttered to himself before making a clicking noise with his tongue and getting the cat’s attention. As soon as he had it, he picked the cat up and set him on the ground gently. “Go on, then. I have work to do.”

One hand wrapping around his binding cloth, Shouta pulled his goggles over his face and waited until he saw a hunched over figure stumbling out of the broken window with a satchel full of what was no doubt stolen jewelry. A quick glance told Shouta that this man was new to what he was doing and was obviously not confident in his abilities. That was good. He could deal with this, finish his route, and then go home and get some decent sleep. Hizashi might still be up, even.

Shouta backed up and couldn’t stop a snort of amusement as he saw the man was running towards the alleyway he was currently in. That just made his job even easier, he supposed.

The thief managed ten steps into the alleyway before Shouta had his quirk activated and the binding cloth wrapped tightly around his chest and upper arms, stopping him in his tracks and earning a fierce storm of swearing ending with, “You don’t know who you’re messing with! Let me go!”

“I would, but I think that store over there might like their stolen property returned to them. Thanks for tripping the alarm, too. It saves me from having to call the police myself.” The average time between a burglar alarm in this area and the appearance of the police was roughly five to eight minutes. It wasn’t too long of a wait.

“Just who the fuck do you think you are?! Let me go!” The man was squirming and wiggling around and Shouta frowned before releasing his hold on his quirk, pleased when nothing happened. The man, most likely, didn’t have a quirk suited for any type of combat. Good. Shouta might be able to end this night without a headache. “This is brutality!”

“Not really.” Loosening the bands of the binding cloth so he could better restrain the man, Shouta jerked back when the man attacked quicker than expected. Was he so afraid that adrenaline was giving him an extra boost? It was possible he had a quirk that altered his physical status in some way.

Activating his own quirk again, Shouta dodged the man’s attempt at an attack, keeping him at a distance before biting back a swear at the ensuing struggle as he was rushed. For looking so new to crime, this one seemed to know an awful lot about putting up a fight. It was minor, but it was enough to give Shouta a little extra force to his punches.

It was a short fight, Shouta scowling at the fact his goggles and belt ended up on the ground, his pant leg torn open by sharp nails in the ensuing struggle to wrap the man in the binding cloth and pin him to the ground. The fight was only a few minutes, at most, Shouta working on calming his pulse down as he kept a boot on the criminal’s back, pinning him further. “If you’re going to rob a place, at least be prepared for the consequences.”

“Like you were when you let your students get attacked?” It wasn’t often that Shouta felt himself truly surprised or shocked. He wished he could have said that now was one of those times. “Surprised? You shouldn’t be. Half the world probably knows about that shit hero school and their ‘teachers.’ You were even on the news, weren’t you? What kind of pro lets their students get captured by villains, Eraserhead?”

While his immediate reaction was to recoil and defend himself, Shouta took a moment to think on just why a petty thief would immediately know his hero name as well as what had happened at the training camp. It wasn’t secret knowledge to any extent, but to have it used against him when this man had barely, if at all, caught a glimpse of his face… Shouta didn’t like it.

“You really think those dorms at the school are gonna work forever? The kids have to go home, eventually, and that League of Villains group don’t seem like the type to leave kids alone just because they’re kids.”

A heartbeat passed and Shouta had the man on his back and tied up even tighter than before, staring into a smug face that no longer looked scared and overwhelmed by his first robbery. Something was wrong. “Is that so?” Shouta asked, ready to reach for his quirk at a moment’s notice after dropping it with a blink. “You seem to know a lot about all of this.”

“There’s two things that always manage to grab a pro’s attention,” the man said, voice sickly sweet and face completely relaxed and smug. “A cry for help and the sound of a tripped alarm.”

The realization that this was a trap hit Shouta with overwhelming clarity. Jerking his head up to quickly scan the alleyway for any possible ambush, Shouta realized that this man hadn’t been running towards the alleyway. He had been running towards him.

“Sorry, Eraserhead, but you and that quirk of yours are in high demand.” Shouta tightened the cloth and activated his quirk, but it was too late. He felt an overly hot palm pressed against the skin exposed by his torn costume and jerked as it felt like he was shocked. The feeling didn’t leave, however, even as the hand did. “I guess you should have been more careful. Hey, maybe your students will end up learning something from you, after all.”

The words just barely registered in his mind, Shouta only half aware as he went crashing to the ground, a burning, twisting, searing pain working its way through his body. It was like he had been lit on fire, Shouta biting down on the scream that wanted to tear its way out of his throat as he felt like his body was both too big and too small for all of him. There was burning, twisting, changing, pain pain pain so much pain it hurt so badly he couldn’t breathe please please please make it stop make it stop make it stop-

“...back to Shigaraki… Too soon... Fucking police-”

“Stop right there! ...hands up!”

“...Detective Tsukauchi. Seems he was in a fight…”

“...pro heroes on duty in this area…”

“Eraserhead…”

“Goggles and belt… Cat… Villain has been fully contained.”

“...Yamada-Aizawa Hizashi…”

Out of all things, it was the sound of his husband’s name that had Shouta forcing his eyes open, panting heavily as he pushed himself to his hands and knees on auto-pilot, looking around to try and gauge where he was. When he saw it was the same alleyway as before, Shouta felt himself on edge even more.

It was the same alleyway, but he was completely alone. Why go through the effort of incapacitating him just to leave him? Shouta hadn’t even bothered to take his phone out on patrol, that night, since it was going to be a short one, so there was nothing to steal from him. Had the police arrived?

He had heard sounds and words of movement, but if they were the police, then why did they leave him on the ground? One of them would have at least woken him up before trying to drag him into an ambulance.

Something was wrong. He needed to get home and check on Hizashi. If he really had heard Hizashi’s name, then it was possible something was… Paws.

Shouta had looked down to where he was on his hands and knees still, but instead of seeing hands, he saw black paws. Leaning so he could lift his right hand up and flex his fingers, Shouta watched as the paw went through the exact same motion.

Jerking his head up, Shouta looked around the alleyway - truly looked - and saw that everything was larger than it should have been. What he thought were his knees, as well, felt more like he was on his feet. It felt like he was standing on both his hands and feet. He was looking at paws and felt like he was standing on his hands and feet.

Carefully, very carefully, Shouta inched his way over to a puddle of leftover rain water that was lit by a flickering streetlight. There, reflected by a puddle of rain water, was the face of a cat Shouta had never seen before.

The cat had thick, curly black fur that looked heavy and dense, but what stuck out most was an off-white ruff that looked like bands wrapped around the neck. The only other disruption on the fur was a matted, scarred area under the right eye in a crescent shape that was remarkably similar to Shouta’s own scar.

Shouta stared at thick, curly black fur with bands of white around the neck, as well as a familiar and distinct scar; all features that reflected back up from the puddle. Slowly blinking, Shouta watched as the reflection of the cat blinked with him.

Shouta realized, with an overwhelming clarity, that Hizashi was never going to let him live down the fact that he had been turned into a cat.

#bnha #boku no hero academia #mha #my hero academia #erasermic #to land on your feet #my writing

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mikotyzini · 6 years

Text

What Defines Us - Ch. 28

Link to ff.net. I’ll work on setting up AO3 eventually...not really feeling the writing/posting vibe at the moment.

It was showtime!

Well, not yet, but it would be showtime in just a few days! Crunch time! Whatever time!

The Beacon Invite was right around the corner! Training hours and practice times would be cranked up by a factor of ten. All non-essential hobbies were now non-essential! Sleeping in? Non-essential. Watching TV? Non-essential. Walking? Non-essential!!

Especially that last one. Walking sucked.

To avoid making a fool of herself in front of a huge crowd of strangers (and the television audience), Ruby needed to buckle down and focus on getting as good as possible in the next couple days. Sure, it was only a couple of days, but that didn’t mean she couldn’t improve by leaps and bounds if she tried hard enough. She realized people said ‘Vale wasn’t built in a day’ or whatever, but she wasn’t trying to build all of Vale - just a tiny portion of it!

With her current level of determination through the roof, she was back to the grind of early mornings and late nights stuffed with training. Waking up earlier, going to bed later, and spending every moment in between figuring out how to make herself better. There was going to be pain - and lots of it - but it’d be pain that came from a hard day’s work - not the lingering pain from nearly severed hands. And one of those things was clearly better than the other.

Her new schedule was to wake up, train, train, train, train, and then temporarily get distracted whenever Weiss sent a message. Not that there was any problem with that. Weiss had already been deemed a very essential part of the day. The most essential, in fact!

But the second most essential was training, which Ruby started bright and early this morning. Well, technically it wasn’t bright at all since she was already outside with Thorn and Crescent Rose by the time the sun woke up.

Her morning training went well, but she had lots of time to regret the missed opportunities she’d had at dinner to ask if Weiss liked anyone. Seriously, she’d chickened out big time - more than once, too! There’d been so many chances to bring it up, but each time she ended up sputtering like a tugboat before asking a different question instead. It was horrible! It was like...knowing exactly what question you wanted to ask, but asking a different one instead.

Ok, maybe Ruby hadn’t asked what she wanted to ask...and she hadn’t brought up anything remotely close to the topic...but she had asked Weiss to come to the Beacon Invite! And Weiss said yes!

As an extra-added, cherry-on-top bonus, she was also coming over soon to help Ruby practice.

Essential + essential = essential squared!

Essential x essential = …she was a huntress, not a mathematician!

Either way, there were a lot of essential things happening at once. Ruby was going to train hard, and she was going to ask Weiss today. She was definitely going to. That was her daily goal, and she hated not reaching her goals. If she chickened out again...then she would voluntarily ask Yang to explain the plot of whatever show she currently loved watching. That was like five hours of punishment, minimum.

Wait, did Ruby really want to enforce a punishment that could potentially be everlasting?

Yes, she would because there was no way she wanted to listen to that! So she had to ask Weiss today. It would be easy! ‘Hey, do you happen to like anyone?’ It was only like...six words. Six little words that would reveal so much information. Like, most importantly, whether or not Ruby even had a shot.

But if Weiss replied with ‘oh yeah, this guy at my office…’ or something like that, Ruby was going to knock her head against the nearest wall to put herself back into the hospital.

Just kidding. Kind of...

‘Hey, do you happen to like anyone?’

The answer would either lead to very happy Ruby or really bummed Ruby.

Oh, it’s seven words. Well, whatever - it wasn’t many! She’d used more than that to greet her toothbrush this morning. Because who didn’t greet their toothbrush in the morning? It was only the thing that kept her teeth nice and white and clean. Wasn’t that deserving of a ‘good morning?’

Oral hygiene was very essential, which meant that Timmy-Too was a big part of her day! And he was extra special because Yang had driven around town to find him after his twin brother, Timmy, had grown a bit too old and frazzled. That had been a sad day...but now Timmy-Too was here, and there were six more Timmy’s in the closet waiting to be opened!

Humming a tune to herself, Ruby dashed into the kitchen to fill up a bottle of water for training (fairly essential - dehydration was no joke). Hearing a buzz from her pocket, she set down the partially-filled bottle and pulled out her scroll to find a message...from Weiss!

Wait, why was that surprising? Weiss was the only one who messaged her besides Yang and sometimes Blake.

Anyway, the message said...‘Is now be a good time to come over? I can leave the office in a few minutes.’

Yes! The best part of the day had finally arrived. Ruby had only waited alllll day for this very moment. Typing a happy response filled with exclamation points, she sent it off and stared down at the scroll for a second. When she saw that the message had been received, she slipped the device back into her pocket and continued her humming, adding in a few whistles to boot.

Weiss was comin’ over, yeah, yeah, yeah! Weiss was comin’ over toni-i-iight.

Reaching over the sink to fill her water bottle all the way up - whistling all the while - she glanced over her shoulder when she felt eyes watching her - and found both Yang and Blake staring at her. Blake was impossible to read, as usual, but Yang had this smile that said she was pleased to see something.

“What?” Ruby asked, shutting off the faucet and screwing the cap back on her bottle. The question made Yang’s smile turn into an outright grin.

“What’s got you in such a good mood?”

“I’m always in a good mood!”

“Uh huh…” Yang replied in a teasing tone. “So it wouldn’t be a certain short-tempered heiress that’s got you all chipper?”

“Weiss?” Ruby asked, her cheeks warming just from just the mention of Weiss’ name. “She’s not short-tempered.”

“Not with you,” Blake remarked before grinning. “And you dodged the question.”

Ruby grimaced at the accurate observation. Nothing slipped by Blake. Once, Ruby had seen the girl grab a fish right out of the water! Like...if that little bugger couldn’t slip past on its own turf, nothing ever would.

Of course, Ruby was far more cunning than a fish!

“I’m just having a good day,” she stated as nonchalantly as possible, throwing in a high-level shoulder shrug to boot. “Isn’t that allowed?”

It absolutely was allowed. It was! But the question clearly didn’t work. Instead, Yang and Blake exchanged big smiles before turning back to her.

“Ruby’s got a crushhhhhh.”

Ruby’s cheeks instantly heated up when Yang said the word in a sing-song voice and reached out to try to tickle her in the ribs.

“Come on, Yang,” Ruby said while wiggling away. “We’re just friends. It’s nice to have a friend.”

Yang nodded understandingly. “You’re right; it’s great to have friends - especially ones you can crush on.”

“We’re friends!” Ruby reiterated. Technically, she was telling the truth. She and Weiss were just friends, but that little technicality didn’t keep her cheeks from turning as red as her name.

“Are you feeling ok?” Yang asked, her eyes teasing while she faked concern. Stepping closer, she tried to press the back of her hand to Ruby’s forehead, but Ruby backed away. “Because you’re looking a little warm there.”

“It’s really hot in here!” Lifting her hands to her cheeks, Ruby could feel the heat radiating from them. It only got worse when Yang laughed and tried to reach out again, only for Ruby to knock her hand away.

“Give her a break, Yang,” Blake finally said, tapping Yang on the shoulder before walking over to the refrigerator. “Ruby, I made some lemonade this afternoon - your favorite. Want some?”

“Thank you, Blake,” Ruby replied before sticking her tongue out at her sister. “And yeah, that’d be awesome! I didn’t know you made any!”

“Sure did,” Blake replied while pulling a glass from the cupboard. “Oh, but how would you like your ice? Cubed or crushed?”

As soon as the word left Blake’s lips, Yang doubled over in laughter.

“Oh man,” she managed to say between laughs, holding up a fist for Blake to tap. “You really crushed that one.”

They were super pleased with themselves, but Ruby rolled her eyes.

“You guys are dorks.”

“Come on, Ruby!” Yang said between giggles that made Blake beam with pride. “Admit it - I know you think she’s cute!”

Pursing her lips together, Ruby refused to respond. But that didn’t stop her cheeks from burning even hotter in embarrassment. Weiss was one of the most beautiful girls Ruby had ever seen. It was like she’d stepped right out of a fairytale - a princess who was born to be pretty.

But Weiss wasn’t just a princess, and she wasn’t just pretty. She was super smart with a great sense of humor. She was generous and thoughtful and whenever she smiled, Ruby’s heart cartwheeled in her chest.

No way Ruby was ever telling Yang that though!

“I mean, I guess she’s pretty.” Ruby shrugged one shoulder and felt her blush darken. “Anyone would think that though.”

“Anyone?” Yang repeated with a grin while Ruby nodded.

“Yeah, anyone! So no need to make a huge deal about it, gosh…”

“You should know, Ruby, that your blush might as well be a signed confession,” Blake commented as she put the empty glass back into the cupboard.

“You didn’t even make lemonade??” Ruby gasped in shock. “You lied so that you could make a crappy joke?”

Blake returned Ruby’s consternation with what was probably supposed to be an innocent expression, but it was anything but.

“Hey now,” Yang cut in as she predictably came to Blake’s aid. “I’m the master of crappy jokes around here and that was not a bad one. A bad one would be something like - Ruby, your cheeks are as red as crushed tomatoes right now.”

While both of them laughed, Ruby raised her hands to feel her warm cheeks. Yup, they were definitely redder than red.

“So you think she’s cute! That’s adorable,” Yang said, wrapping an arm around Ruby’s shoulders and giving her a little shake. “I guess that means you’re finally old enough to have the talk.”

Blake let out a small snort of laughter before waving at Yang to continue. Turning her head, Ruby looked at her sister curiously.

“What talk?”

“You know...the birds and the bees.”

“Aw Yang!” she immediately whined, pushing Yang off of her.

“I believe it would be the birds and birds?” Blake asked, the question causing Yang’s brow to crease in thought before she grinned.

“Either way, I gotta give you the talk. It’s a rite of passage!”

“That’s not a thing!” Ruby protested.

“Yeah, it is! Everyone has to go through it!”

“Who gave you the talk then?” Ruby demanded. The smile dropped right off of Yang’s face as she glanced a Blake then shivered in fake horror.

“Dad did...and believe me - you’d much rather I did this than him.”

The idea of their dad giving any kind of serious talk made Ruby laugh, especially seeing Yang’s expression. Dad sucked with that type of stuff! He always used the worst things for comparison. Once, he tried to explain how rainbows worked using a teaspoon. Ruby had listened to the entire made-up spiel before Yang interrupted with the much more understandable version she’d just learned in school.

So yes - if Ruby actually wanted to learn something, Yang was the better option. But not in this case!

“I don't need any talk!” Ruby insisted instead. “I’m old enough to figure this out on my own!”

“Oh really? Ok, Miss Independent, then tell the truth - do you wanna kiss her?”

“Yang!” she shouted, her cheeks growing about a hundred times warmer in under a second.

“Oh she does,” Blake said with a grin.

“You’re blushingggg!” Yang added, gleefully poking at Ruby’s cheek.

“No, I’m - that’s not - this conversation is non-essential!” Ruby finally yelled, only succeeding in making both of her dumb housemates burst into more laughter before she rushed off to her room to find her boots. Weiss would be here any minute, and Ruby didn’t want to be stuck with those two dumb-dumbs any longer.

If blushing was an admission of how she felt...then she’d just admitted a whole heck of a lot. Curse her cheeks for giving away her feelings! And curse Yang for seeing right through her! Was it that obvious? Sure, she might have an itty, bitty, little crush. And yeah, maybe that also meant that sometimes she wanted to - yeah, Yang was just right about everything.

“But she’s a big stupid-head,” Ruby muttered to herself while pulling on one of her boots and tightening the laces.

“Ohhh guess who’s here!” Yang’s voice called out a few seconds later.

“Yang!” Ruby shouted out of her room while hastily stomping a foot into her second boot and stumbling into the hall. By the time she made it to the living room, Yang was pulling open the front door to let Weiss inside.

“Hey Weiss!” Yang said - way too cheerfully.

“Hello Yang,” Weiss replied, eyeing the girl suspiciously.

“We were just talking about you!”

Rushing over, Ruby used both hands to shove Yang out of the doorway. Not at all annoyed, Yang walked away chuckling with Weiss looked after her.

“Don’t listen to her,” Ruby said, sending a glare towards her sister. “She’s just upset because Blake didn’t make her any lemonade today.”

“Oh don’t worry, Ruby. Blake makes me lemonade every day,” Yang replied with a wink and grin that didn’t even fade from the look of disbelief Blake gave her.

“How did you manage to make that dirty?”

“I have no idea,” Yang answered with a shrug. “It’s all in the tone, I guess!”

“Come on, Weiss,” Ruby said, taking Weiss’ hand and heading towards the garage. “Those two are being super weird right now.”

“Let me know when you wanna have that talk, Ruby!” Yang called after them, her joyful laughter filtering through the garage door even after Ruby closed it with a disgruntled huff.

“They’re teasing you again?” Weiss asked.

“What else is new!”

When Ruby tried to throw her hands up in defeat, she realized that Weiss’ fingers were still intertwined with her own. Her mind also chose that moment to remind her of all the thoughts and feelings that had been rushing through her head for what felt like forever now. And that one other word that began with the letter ‘c’ - a capital one, at that.

If Yang could read Ruby’s mind right now, there’d be no end to the teasing. It didn’t help that Weiss was so pretty. Somehow she was even prettier today than when they’d gone out to dinner. Was Weiss getting prettier? Because that’d be really unfair to the rest of the world. And bad for Ruby.

When she realized she was staring, she blushed and released Weiss’ hand before moving to the other side of the workbench as if she was searching for something. Which she was! Where was Thorn? He was always a good distraction.

“Uh, so...how have you been?” she asked while opening a few drawers and closing them without looking inside.

Great. Now she was awkward Ruby. Well, technically she was always awkward Ruby, but sometimes she hid it better than others. This was not one of those times...

“I’ve been doing well - how have you been?”

Erg. Weiss had the most put together answers ever! How did she talk like that? Ruby couldn’t even convince her mind to think like that, let alone get her lips to cooperate stringing the words together.

“I’ve been busy!” she answered quickly, a rush of pent-up energy making her words tumble out faster than normal. “I got up super early this morning and ran like a bazillion miles, then ate breakfast, then trained with Thorn, then ate lunch, then read through a strategy guide on Beowolves, then fiddled with Thorn - and that’s basically it until you showed up!”

While Ruby spoke, she shoved several odds and ends around on the workbench so that Thorn could lay in the middle without anything crowding his space. Quickly pressing a couple of metal plates back in place on the back of the glove and screwing them in, she pulled it on to show Weiss.

“I added some new features!”

“Did you? Such as..?” Weiss asked, her eyes trained on the glove as if searching for whatever changes had been made. And her interest in Thorn was genuine, which made her the most perfect person ever.

“Uh, like...a tracking device!” Ruby answered while pointing to nothing more than a pinprick in one of the knuckles of the glove. “Cuz ya never know when you might need to be found, right?”

“That would be very useful if you were separated from your scroll.”

“Or if I got kidnapped!” Ruby joked, drawing a horrified expression onto Weiss’ face.

“I...I don’t even know what I’d do if that happened…”

“You’d come to my rescue, of course!”

“Well, I’d try…”

“On a unicorn!” Ruby added, grinning when the word succeeded in making Weiss look less serious about the matter. Except she still tried to look serious while dutifully nodding and hiding a smile.

“It has been a while since I’ve taken Ignacio out of the stables…”

The answer made Ruby burst into giggles.

“The unicorn stables?” she asked.

“Oh yes. We breed them, you know.”

“For racing?”

“No, they’re just nice to look at.”

Imagining a field of unicorns whose only purpose was to be looked at, Ruby laughed so hard that Weiss finally broke her serious expression and chuckled too.

“I’d love to see those!” Ruby quipped before turning her hand over and flexing her fingers. Satisfied with Thorn’s immediate response, she nodded. It was crazy to think that it hadn’t been too long ago that Thorn had felt like some alien attached to her hand. Now it was just...Thorn being Thorn!

“It sounds like you’ve had a busy day,” Weiss commented, casually resting her hands on top of the workbench.

Glancing over, Ruby grinned when the painted thorns began to glow from their proximity. That was so freaking cool. It was like she and Weiss were connected by these little lines of paint. Or...uh...Thorn and Weiss’ ring were connected by the paint, but that was essentially the same thing, right?

Subtly moving her gloved hand closer so the lines glowed even brighter, Ruby smiled up at Weiss. The smile she received in return was warm and friendly - such a big contrast to when they’d first met! There was still a hint of guardedness, but Weiss had changed a lot.

A lot of things had been changing recently, and they all seemed for the better!

“I, yeah, I was busy,” Ruby answered when she realized staring wasn’t going to advance their conversation. “But, uh, what’d you do today?”

Apparently, it was a sucky question to ask because it made Weiss’ smile disappear. Note to self...don’t ask that again!

“I worked all day. There’s a never-ending stream of approvals that I’m somehow needed for.” Glancing down at Ruby’s hand, Weiss sighed, her shoulders rising and falling from the weight of it. “I miss the days when I wasn’t involved in the family business…”

“What did you do before?” Ruby asked curiously, the question drawing Weiss’ eyes back to her.

After studying Ruby for a few seconds, Weiss shrugged and glanced away. The gesture was so weird! It was something Ruby did all the time, but for someone so proper it looked strange!

“When I was younger, I wasn’t expected to be involved due to school,” Weiss answered casually. “Those were the days.”

“I miss being a kid too. All play, no work!” Pausing for a second, Ruby wrinkled her brow before chuckling. “Although I guess that’s kinda what I do now…”

“I wouldn’t call training all day ‘play.’ Especially not how you do it.”

“Eh...I guess…” Ruby wasn’t entirely convinced, but it was nice of Weiss to try to make her feel better about not doing any sort of work. Her ‘job’ was to get healthy - that’s what Yang always said. “But soon I can go on hunts again! Yang said after the Beacon Invite we’d go on another one. My choice this time!”

Smiling, Weiss remained uncharacteristically silent after Ruby’s words. And after a few seconds, she glanced down at their hands resting on the workbench, appearing almost uncomfortable with what had just been said.

“You’re totally invited to come, if you want!” Ruby quickly added. To her, it seemed like a foregone conclusion that Weiss could come with them on any hunt, but maybe it wasn’t as clear to Weiss. That’s why Ruby had asked Weiss to join their team! Then there wouldn’t be any confusion or uncertainty.

But it made sense that Weiss was a very important person at work and wouldn’t be able to make that type of commitment as easily as someone like Ruby could. Maybe one day though...that’d be super cool.

“I’d love to come with you, if you still want me to...at that time,” Weiss finally answered with a hopeful smile that made Ruby let out a scoff of disbelief.

“Are you kidding me? Of course I’ll want you there! Nothing’s ever gonna change that!”

When Ruby beamed, Weiss only met her eyes for a split second before turning away.

Weiss was talking like a crazy person though! They hadn’t known each other that long, but they were already so close. So close that Ruby was feeling things for Weiss that she’d never felt for another person before.

Coughing lightly into one hand, Ruby’s cheeks decided to preemptively heat up when she realized that now might be a good time to ask the question. It was an ok time, right? She could ask - she would ask. It was only six little words. No, seven. How was she going to ask again??

“Hey, so I’ve been kinda wondering…” she managed to say, gaining Weiss’ attention only for crystal blue eyes to make her even more nervous. But she could do this - she could ask right now. Right now.

Seriously, ask now.

“Uh, you know, I’ve been wondering...do you happen to...like anyone?”

Ok, that was way more than seven words. But yay, she’d done it! Although from the look on Weiss’ face, that wasn’t at all the question she’d been expecting Ruby to ask. Not in the slightest. Unless Weiss’ ‘pure shock’ expression was the same as her ‘was totally expecting that’ one.

“I-I mean, it just seems like, you know, you’d have a ton of options - i-if you were interested.”

Ruby sputtering like a fish out of water did little to wipe the shock from Weiss’ gaze. Maybe Ruby should’ve thought of something to say after she’d asked the question. Or she should’ve talked to Yang about this first because she had absolutely no idea what she was doing.

“Well,” Weiss finally responded, pausing for a second to clear her throat before continuing. “I...like you…”

“Yeah! Of course.” Ruby chuckled nervously while her cheeks blushed even harder. “I mean, I know that cuz we’re friends n’ all. I was more wondering like...uh, like more than that?”

With each second that passed with Weiss stared in open surprise, Ruby grew more and more embarrassed.

“You totally don’t have to answer that!” she finally said when she realized that she shouldn’t pry into Weiss’ personal life. “It’s really none of my business.”

“No, I...Ruby -”

“Ruby!”

At the sound of Ruby’s name, both of them turned towards the house - where Yang poked her head through the garage door a second later.

“Hey Ruby,” Yang said with a smile. “Can you help me with something real quick?”

Glancing at Weiss, who gave a half smile and nod, Ruby turned back to her sister.

“Uh, yeah! Sure!”

Meeting Yang at the door, Ruby looked over her shoulder before they left the garage behind, but Weiss was staring down at the workbench.

“Sorry, Blake - what did you need?” Yang asked as soon as they walked inside. Sitting on the sofa with one hand covering her eyes, Blake lowered it slowly and looked at them with a blank expression.

“Oh, nothing...was just trying to get your attention before you went out there…” she muttered before burying her nose in her book.

“As soon as Ruby helps me with this, my attention is all yours - promise!” Yang replied happily, taking Ruby’s shoulder in one hand and guiding her down the hallway towards the backyard.

The two of them navigated down the narrow hallway before Yang pushed open the back door and held it for Ruby to walk through.

“Sorry to interrupt,” Yang said as she hopped off the porch step and grabbed Ember Celica from the ground. “I’m having a little problem clearing a cartridge and thought I should ask you for help before I blew my good hand off.”

Chuckling, Ruby took one of the gauntlets from her sister and looked it over. Of course it was the right one having issues again. The right one had been the problem child for the longest time now...it didn’t make any sense either! Ruby fixed it all the time, but then it miraculously broke itself again.

“How did this even happen??” she asked, poking at a severely jammed rotating cylinder.

“I was...ya know...trying out those DEBs Weiss gave us. Blake told me not to put the red ones right after the blue, but I did anyway and mucked it up.” Running a hand through her hair, Yang let out a big sigh. “I guess I should’ve learned by now to always listen to her…”

“Probably should,” Ruby mumbled in the midst of her analysis. “You’d get in trouble less.”

“Yeah...but you know why I can’t? Because doing that would be admitting that all the years of school we dragged ourselves to was for nothing! Why did we go through all that torture if we were just gonna let the women in our lives tell us what to do anyway?? If I listen to Blake all the time, I’m admitting I wasted my life!”

“I would listen to Weiss,” Ruby replied. “She’s way smarter than me!”

“She’s not. She just thinks she is.”

When Ruby rolled her eyes, Yang continued.

“Ok, ok. So I’d say that Weiss is right a lot, but Blake is always right.”

“For your safety, I won’t tell either of them you said that,” Ruby joked, making Yang laugh. Tugging one more time at the gauntlet she was holding, Ruby dropped her arms and sighed.

“I’m gonna need some tools to get this out,” she concluded. “Won’t take long, but I don’t want to blow my hand off either.”

“Cool. Thank you!” When Ruby turned towards the house, Yang’s hand reached out to stop her. “But hey, before you go...how’s it going in there?” Nodding in the general direction of the house, Yang grinned.

“With Weiss?” Ruby asked after following her sister’s nod.

“Yeah - you two having fun?”

The question sounded innocent, but Yang’s expression was a dead giveaway that she wanted to tease Ruby again. Maybe. Sometimes it was so hard to tell! Maybe Yang wanted to tease, or maybe she was curious because she’d sensed the extreme wave of awkwardness wash over the house when Ruby attempted to find out if Weiss was already interested in someone.

“It’s fun! I like when Weiss comes over!” Ruby responded truthfully. “And I’m glad you two aren’t mad at each other anymore.”

“Me too, kiddo, me too,” Yang replied with a genuine smile, patting Ruby’s shoulder before turning to head inside.

Apparently, that hadn’t been meant as an opportunity to tease, but now this might be Ruby’s only chance to ask Yang for some advice.

“Uh, Yang?” Ruby asked, the question causing her sister to turn back to her.

Did she really want to ask Yang about this? Her sister might use the knowledge to tease her until the end of time, but Yang was also really good with people, so…

“I was wondering…” Ruby began slowly, her cheeks blushing from merely thinking about the topic. “If you, like, do you happen to know - or maybe have an idea - or something, uh…”

Yang’s expression grew more amused the longer Ruby stuttered. But how did she want to ask? And why were these questions so dang hard to get out??

“How do you know,” she tried again. “Or how do you guess, or, ya know, have some sort idea if - if another person -”

Groaning, she put her head in her hands. This was so embarrassing!

“I hope the ends of these questions are good,” Yang finally said with a light chuckle. “What’s up, Ruby? What’s got your tongue tied in knots?”

The friendly reaction immediately put Ruby at ease. Yang always had that way about her - if she sensed that something was difficult for another person to get through, she found a way to make it easier with nothing more than a few short words or a little laugh. People skills...Yang had gotten all of them.

“Ok,” Ruby attempted a third time, now feeling far more assured in her decision to seek Yang’s advice. “How do you know if someone...uh...likes you?”

Blinking once in surprise, Yang tried to stop a growing smile - failing miserably, by the way.

“Are you talking about -?” Pausing, Yang nodded towards the house, and Ruby felt her cheeks grow redder.

“Um...yes?”

Laughing, Yang pulled Ruby in for a big hug.

“Of course Blake likes you!” Yang said while ruffling Ruby’s hair. “You’re practically her sister!”

“Yangggg!” Ruby whined, shoving her sister away and straightening out her hair. “You know I mean - you know…” Looking around as if someone might be watching them, she ducked her head and lowered her voice. “I mean Weiss.”

“I know. Just wanted to hear you say it,” Yang replied with a grin. “Because you like her, don’t you?”

“Maybe…” Ruby muttered, making Yang reach out and tickle at her ribs, forcing her to laugh.

“You do, don’t ya? Come on, spill, Ruby! You gotta tell me!”

“Yangggg!” Ruby squealed while wiggling in her sister’s grasp. “Ok - ok, yes! I do!”

Letting go, Yang beamed in satisfaction while Ruby straightened her shirt and huffed in indignation.

“There - are you happy now?”

“Yup!” Yang replied, not at all perturbed by Ruby’s pretend agitation. “Ok, how to tell if someone likes you...well, normally if someone doesn’t like you, they’ll try to punch you. At least that’s always been the case for me.”

When Ruby rolled her eyes, Yang dropped her grin and kept talking - finally taking on a more serious and thoughtful expression.

“I guess it’s more of a feeling...or a hunch. It’s kinda hard to describe, but I guess the easiest way to find out is to see if they treat you differently than other people.”

“Differently how?”

“Like...maybe they make eye contact with you more, or they laugh at more of your jokes, or when they’re around you, you can just feel that they like being there.”

“Like how Blake laughs at your jokes even when they’re not funny,” Ruby teased.

“Ha ha - very funny,” Yang replied cheekily. “I’ll have you know that Blake thinks I’m hilarious.”

“Uh huh…”

“That’s only one part though!” Yang added, quickly changing the subject. “You can compare how they act with you versus other people. That’ll tell you most of the story, right? But honestly, Ruby, the easiest thing is just to tell her how you feel.”

“Just...flat out tell her that I like her??” Ruby asked in surprise. It had been nearly impossible for her to ask if Weiss liked anyone - how could she ever spill all these feelings out into the open??

“That’s the fastest way. And then hopefully she’ll tell you how she feels in return.”

Thinking about Yang’s words, which were not as wisdomous as she might’ve hoped, Ruby could already feel her nerves growing second and third cousins. Yang was wrong - the easiest route was to secretly and slyly figure out if Weiss liked anyone, then figure out who that person might be. Scratch that. The easiest route was actually to do nothing, and maybe Weiss would eventually ask Ruby who she liked. What Yang was suggesting was the opposite of easy.

“But that sounds impossible!” Ruby wailed.

“Yeah, I know,” Yang replied with a reassuring smile and nod of understanding. “But that’s the best way to know for sure. Like with Blake...I thought she might like me, but I wasn’t sure until I bit the bullet and asked her out.”

“But you at least had an idea that she might like you first!” Ruby pointed out, which made Yang nod again.

“Sure, there were hints. Like how she seemed like a loner, but then she stuck to my side like glue. She refused to stop reading in the middle of a chapter for anyone, except for me. Like seriously, if you interrupted her before she got to the end of a page, she could kill you with a glare. But, for some reason, I got special treatment. And then the more we got to know each other, the more she opened up about her past - her hopes and dreams and failures and fears...things she’d never told anyone before, she told me.”

Briefly pausing, Yang looked towards the house - where Blake was probably still sitting on the sofa with a book in hand.

“I kept her secrets,” Yang continued in a soft tone. “I protected them. Treasured them, even. That was what made me special - and that was a feeling unlike anything I’d ever experienced before. For this guarded, mysterious girl to trust her darkest secrets with me, of all people…”

Finally turning back to Ruby, there wasn’t a drop of humor left in Yang’s eyes.

“Do you feel like Weiss treats you differently?”

“I’ve only ever seen her around you and Blake…”

“Yeah, but does she treat you differently than us? Does she kinda gravitate more towards you?”

Furrowing her brow, Ruby tried to decide if that was true. Weiss did seem to stay closer to Ruby than Blake or Yang, but that could have more to do with them than with Ruby. Especially when Yang hadn’t been very welcoming for a while.

“I guess…” Ruby replied, even though she wasn’t entirely convinced.

“Does she trust you with things she hasn’t told anyone else?”

“I think so? Or she’s tried…” Ruby mumbled, remembering the conversation they’d had in the garage when she’d first looked over Myrtenaster. Weiss had been guarded, but it seemed like she’d made an effort to open up. It hadn’t been entirely descriptive or detailed, but she’d allowed Ruby to see a bit of the pain she almost always hid from view.

“And when she turns those pretty blue eyes on you, do shivers go up and down your spine?”

“Yang!” she whined at the unexpected tease. Still, she couldn’t help but smile when Yang chuckled.

“You know what I see, Ruby? I see a girl who goes out of her way to make sure you’re happy. Even if it makes her uncomfortable or if it’s something she doesn’t think she can do, she does it for you. Everything she does seems to have you in mind.”

“Do you really think so?” Ruby asked, earning a nod in reply.

“You can tell her,” Yang said, setting one hand on Ruby’s shoulder and smiling down at her. “She’d be crazy not to like you too.”

Yang might be the master of bad jokes, but she was also the queen of pep talks.

“Thanks, Yang,” Ruby replied, relief beginning to swirl through her. “And, uh, you don’t think it’s weird or anything? Since she’s your friend?”

“Do you think it’s weird to be friends with Blake?” Yang asked in return, causing Ruby to pause for a second before shaking her head.

“No, I guess not...”

“And you know I’m even less likely to be weirded out by that type of thing, so don’t worry! But...if she says she doesn’t like you or makes you sad, I’m going to beat up on her a bit.”

“Yangggg.”

“Ok, ok, I won’t! But if you’re crying, no promises.”

After sharing a grin, Ruby leaned into her sister’s shoulder for a firm sideways hug and kiss on the head.

“So when ya gonna tell her?” Yang teased, making Ruby let out a big sigh as they walked back into the house together.

“I have no idea…”

It had taken her an entire day to work up the courage to ask a somewhat related question. How long would it take her to come right out and tell Weiss how she felt?

‘Hey Weiss, I kinda, sorta, maybe like you. Like you, like you.’

When they walked into the living room, Ruby saw that Weiss had come in from the garage and was talking to Blake about something. Maybe it was the sound of footsteps, but something caused both of them to turn towards Ruby and Yang at the same moment. Leaving Ruby behind, Yang walked right over to Blake and pulled her into a loving hug, burying her face in the crook of Blake’s neck.

“Oh, hey there,” Blake murmured in surprise before lifting a hand to gently run through Yang’s hair.

Weiss didn’t seem to notice the two. Instead, her attention was solely for Ruby as she stared with clear blue eyes that seemed to finish the incomplete smile resting on her lips. Chills ran up and down Ruby’s arms, and her skin tingled with happiness for no other reason than that Weiss was right there - within reach. The best part was that Weiss looked just as happy to see Ruby too - as if they’d been apart for a really long time even though it was only a few minutes.

And suddenly...Ruby understood what Yang had been trying to explain.

Holy Grimm...Weiss might like her.

“I need to fix this! I’ll be right back!” Ruby said quickly while holding up Ember. Weiss barely managed to nod in response before Ruby raced into the garage and closed the door behind her. Taking deep breaths, she braced her back against the door like she might blow away in the nonexistent wind, while her heart threatened the beat out of her chest and run a few marathons unsupervised.

Weiss might like her though! Her! Ruby - the awkward one? Yeah, her. How had that happened? Who cared! If it was true…

If it was true, then Weiss liked her - and Ruby already knew that she liked Weiss - so they liked each other! Ok, so what was supposed to happen next?

Ruby needed to tell Weiss how she felt. Ah, shoot. Did that mean she should start thinking of some elaborate plan to ask Weiss out - like what Yang had done with Blake?

Did this mean that Weiss wanted to...kiss Ruby too?

Someone must’ve glued wings to Ruby’s feet because she nearly flew over to the workbench to fix Ember Celica. Tossing Yang’s weapon down, she found the proper tools to pry it open and started unscrewing some of the parts to fix the jam. By now, she’d taken the gauntlets apart and put them back together so many times she could probably do it with her eyes closed. Which was good because her mind was reeling at the moment.

Ok, one thing at a time. Just one thing at a time. First, she’d train as hard as possible for the Beacon Invite. Then, after the Invite was over, she could plan a way to ask Weiss out. Or to just confess all of these butterfly-y feelings fluttering through her chest.

What if Weiss asked her first???

Focus, Ruby! Beacon Invite first, then Weiss. Maybe she could invite Weiss to the Invite.

Lame. She should keep thinking. And maybe stop smiling like an idiot.

Or just keep thinking.

#RWBY #White Rose #Weiss Schnee #Ruby Rose #What Defines Us

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elfnerdherder · 5 years

Text

The Unquiet Grave: Chapter 14

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Chapter 14:

The phone rings approximately seven times before Dr. Lecter answers.

“Hello?” There’s a pause as Will paces listlessly across the hand-woven rug with little feeling and emotion behind it. Lecter’s voice carries along after him, and he catches the purposefully casual air to it. “Agent Crawford, hello. No, you’re not disturbing me.”

Dolarhyde’s file sits open on the desk, alongside his own with its blank pages and cryptic warning. Hannibal had read it with the same intensity and focus that he did everything else before setting it aside to think.

“Agent Graham? Yes, he’s here.”

He sets the phone down on the desk, on top of Will’s files and turns it on speaker phone. Will deviates from his swaying steps and walks towards the desk, hesitating by the front of it in order to stare down at the display –to better avoid the expression he supposes is on Hannibal’s face. Better now than never, in truth, for him to warn Jack about Will’s actions.

“I invited him to my home for dinner after our session,” Dr. Lecter explains, and he sits down in his leather chair, folding his hands across his chest. “Is everything alright?”

“Your house?” Jack’s voice is tinny, echoing.

“Yes.”

The line crackles, then goes quiet. Jack lets out an aggravated laugh, then, “You know, he’s surprising me more and more every god damn day.”

Will spares Hannibal a glance, and they share grim smiles.

“I may safely agree, Agent Crawford,” Hannibal replies. “Is he needed for work? We’ve only barely sat down before you called.”

“No, no, don’t worry about it. He barely gets out enough, I’ll let him enjoy your fine cooking for a night before I pester him tomorrow.”

Hannibal smiles, and it suits his eyes. “The least we can do.”

“Yes, of course. Good bye, Dr. Lecter.”

“Good evening, Agent Crawford.”

The line goes dead, and silence settles back into the room. Will’s pace doesn’t cease; rather, it seems to persist with a fixated vengeance until Hannibal clears his throat. It disturbs his stride and focus, and he jolts before looking back to Hannibal with an expression much like the one he’d given when they first met, when Will realized that there was nothing at all normal about this Lecter person, no matter how hard he looked at him.

He thinks back to how close Lecter held him, and it solidifies his suspicions.

“If I feed you, I can’t be called a liar.”

“I’m not hungry,” Will replies.

“Aren’t you?”

Will is, but he isn’t quite sure how to say it; how he hungers for something not quite tangible, not quite able to be felt. He wonders if it was the hunger that did Hobbs in, not necessarily the fantasies that prompted it.

He looks to the grandfather clock that stands regally against the wall beside darkened cherry wood. It’s close to dinner time, and most people kept their meals on a schedule. Most people eat three meals a day and eat them around generally the same time.

Most people, when doing their job, don’t stick their nose so far into things that it exposes their neck.

“I don’t trust your eating habits,” Dr. Lecter decides, and it pulls Will from his thoughts, disjointed as they are. He can feel his walls, now, crumbling. Not large boulders that tumble, crack and smack together, but grains that dust away with the persistent wind. Things are loud, in Will Graham’s head. He wonders if Francis Dolarhyde’s mind is quiet, or if he feels bombarded by the screaming.

Can you see?

“Is there much you trust about me?” Will asks, humorlessly. He allows himself to be guided down an austere hallway of elegant drapes and refined paintings. He thinks of the hunger he’d felt, bare hands pressed to the pages of Blake’s work.

He wonders just what it is that Hannibal Lecter is hungry for.

“I believe that at your core, Agent Graham, you want to help people,” he replies, and he flips the lights to his kitchen. “That tells me that at that same core, you have good intentions. I can work with those.”

“I can’t.”

“You can,” Hannibal replies with ease.

Will is deposited onto a stool as dinner is prepared ‘as quickly and painlessly as possible.’ It’s vegetarian, and Will tastes nothing in the soup, more basil than tomato and richer in cream than the normal canned version he’d personally buy for about .79 cents each.

It’s nice, though. It gives him time to compartmentalize. The flavors won’t allow him to dwell on his real problems.

The guest bedroom is accented in bold ocher and gold threading in the tapestries that adorn windows closed against the frosted edging. A couple of hours later, Will sits on the plush blankets and presses gloved palms to the duvet, wondering at the thread count he’s about to sleep on. To say that Hannibal Lecter’s personal living quarters are lavish is an understatement, and although Will certainly doesn’t live in squalor, government wages aren’t exactly the lap of luxury.

He thinks of how careful Hannibal was to steer the conversation away from Jack Crawford’s phone call during and after dinner. He didn’t make mention of it, and Will was quite fine to set the situation aside for the evening.

Just enough to rest. God, that was all Dolarhyde wanted for him, wasn’t it? He just needed some fucking rest?

He lays down, and he closes his eyes. Behind his eyelids, marked by a gaze seeing yet unseen, he watches small grains of his walls crumble with each gust of worry that bursts against him.

When he dreams, he dreams of walls sturdy and strong. Thick layers of cement hold them, carefully weighed and measured, fitted to exact specification. They sit two feet thick, and try as he might, Will can’t see the top of them, for all the world they keep stacking higher and higher. The air around him is light, the grass beneath his feet warm. Within his walls is a glade, and a stag moves about it, as at ease with him as he surprisingly is with it.

Where the bricks come from, he can’t see, but something about them is familiar to him, a touch as soft as his own and equally yearning. With his back to the stag, he presses fingertips to the stone, then palm, then forehead.

Hannibal broaches the topic of their next step at breakfast.

“About an hour ago, Jack Crawford called this morning to give me more information regarding his call yesterday,” Hannibal confides, pouring Will a glass of espresso.

The fact that he even has an espresso machine isn’t lost on Will as something that ordinary neurotypicals don’t typically do, but the man also has a bidet in the guest bathroom. Eccentric seems to be his thing.

“What’d he say?”

“He informed me that Dolarhyde attacked one of your fellow agents just this past evening, and when he couldn’t get a hold of you, he became concerned. I informed him that you decided to finish work early yesterday in order to meet me for dinner to discuss something I posted in the journals.”

“They know,” Will reminds him, quietly. Breakfast is sweet, and he spoons a small helping of pomegranate into his mouth.

“Yes, but it is the power of how much they know, Agent Graham. Your six-month evaluation is coming up, according to Dr. Bloom. How are your walls?”

He’d stared at himself in the mirror, earlier in the morning. The only eyes he couldn’t seem to see into were Hannibal’s, and his own.

“They feel…sturdier.”

“I’ll take this moment to remind you the importance of stable friendships. Stress isn’t always so stressful when you have a strong outlet for your emotions in times of trouble.”

“It’s not my emotions that I generally struggle with,” Will retorts dryly, but something stops him from entirely laughing, and he turns his spoon over, studying his oblong face in the back of it. It reminds him of the house of mirrors, and he quickly spins it around once more. “Friendship. Is that what you’d call us? Friends?”

Hannibal is quiet, and Will glances up to his face, studying the curve of his lip as he smiles. It’s faint, and Will wonders how easily he sees it, that he is used to looking so intently to find it.

“What would you call it?” Hannibal wonders.

“You’re my therapist, but it’s a work-mandated therapy. You accompany me in my work, so that counts as both colleague and babysitter.” Will ticks them off on his fingers, propping his elbows onto the table. “You watched my dog while I was gone, so that is either a fellow church member, or at the least an acquaintance.”

“I have no membership to a church, although I have several Sunday masses under my belt,” Hannibal assures him.

“You have met me for coffee a few times outside of therapy or work-related business, so that adds the potential for ‘old high school acquaintance’.”

“I don’t have a pyramid scheme to sell, though.”

“And you’re currently abetting an empath in committing several felonies, so that’s somewhere within an emotional spectrum. Maybe friends, maybe enemies. I think either one illicit enough of an emotional response to count.”

Will wouldn’t quite say that that sobers Hannibal, but he is contemplative as he polishes off his juice. Will isn’t quite sure how to steer away from that topic of conversation, nor is he sure the thoughts running through Dr. Lecter’s head. Abetting a felon. A felon that isn’t quite known yet as a felon, but a felon none-the-less. He wonders if he’ll have a matching black hoodie like Dolarhyde’s, soon; if he’ll have to go and find his own chloroform so that he can question mentally unstable empaths within the confines of a musty hotel.

There’s something relaxing about the ease of Lecter’s house, the rooms and walls that look untouched because out of all the places Will walked through, Hannibal is the only one to live in them. After breakfast, he is left to his devices as Lecter gets ready for work, and he takes his time admiring the paintings on the wall, the instruments in a small parlor adjacent to the study.

He is tempted, if but for a second, to take his gloves off and roam throughout the kitchen, where Hannibal’s work, passion, and emotion is most obviously prevalent. He wonders if that would be inappropriate, though; if Hannibal’s hardened resolve would crumble in the wake of a nosy empath whose hands touch what was never theirs to own.

He did take them off in the guest bedroom, but that was to sleep. Hannibal had ensured no one else’s skin had touched that pillow, let alone the covers, and Will had rested surprisingly well despite not having to lay his jacket down to protect the bone arena of his skull. He wonders if he’d ever slept so soundly at the EBAU; if dreams were so tangible within such a public and scrutinized space.

“I’m fond of you,” Hannibal finally says in response to Will as he’s dropping him off at the FBI HQ. It’s a casual statement, but the weight of it sits on Will as the cement walls loom behind him, grey and imposing. Hannibal glances to him, and that same faint smile flickers. No thoughts. No intrusions. Just his words and his smile. “We’ll start working on your walls in our next session.”

“You’re fond of me,” Will repeats, and it sounds more like he’s clarifying rather than parroting.

“Yes.”

They stare at one another. Will swallows, hard, and he tracks the steady pulse in Hannibal’s neck, the same steady beat that he’d felt when they were locked within his wardrobe, cheek pressed to wool as a killer lurked just outside. Steady. Dr. Hannibal Lecter, in all things, seems steady.

“Do have a pleasant day, Agent Graham,” he says, and he gives enough time for Will to take his cue and step back onto the sidewalk, lest his shoes get run over.

I’m fond of you.

The air is crisp and cold, although the sidewalks are swept clean from snow. Salt clumps in small piles where the automated doors slide open.

I’m fond of you.

“Agent Crawford is waiting for you in his office, Agent Graham,” the receptionist, a Dreamer, informs him at the front desk.

I’m fond of you.

“Good morning, sir,” a security guard greets by the elevator.

I’m fond of you.

“Jack’s on a warpath,” Beverly warns him as she passes by him with a purpose, hell-bent on the labs.

I’m fond of you.

“You can head right in, Agent Graham,” the EBAU’s clerk chirps.

I’m fond of you.

Jack’s waiting beside the desk when Will walks in, poised like he’s been waiting for this moment since the day before when he called Hannibal.

I’m fond of you.

“Morning, Jack.”

I’m fond of you.

“Morning, Will.”

I’m fond of you.

Will studies the room, and it’s not lost on him that there is another man sitting neat and tidy in the corner, quietly content. It takes another scan of the office for Will to realize just who it is that’s sitting tucked away, and when he does cold sweat breaks out on his back, a dotting of it just along his forehead, too.

I’m fond of you.

“Morning,” he greets Agent Jackson, slowly.

Agent Jackson’s expression yesterday when he first came across Will at Gateway Corp. was the resigned look Will no doubt often had when doing a particularly unpleasant part of his job. The second, surprise. The third, fear, blinding and all-consuming. Now, though, his face is pleasantly blank, a slate wiped clean of anything that ever made somebody something. His clothing looks much like someone that’d slept in it, and when Will looks to the space just at the side of Jackson’s eyes, he’s dismayed to see nothing much at all, like passing by a doll in a toy store with plastic parts and nothing of importance tucked away inside.

Agent Jackson blinks at Will, once. His smile is distantly vague, and when Will looks back to Jack, three things become incredibly obvious at that moment:

First, Agent Jackson is no longer the man Will found in the bathroom at Gateway Corp.

Second, Jack is trying to see whether or not Will is realizing just that.

Third, if the EBAU knows that he weaponized his gifts, he’s not leaving HQ alive.

“What’s wrong with him?” Will asks, and he thinks of Hannibal’s words, how they echo and bounce about with wild abandon within mildly sturdy walls. They bounce soft, though. They know the sort of danger he’s in.

It is the power of how much they know.

I’m fond of you.

“You think something’s wrong?” Jack asks.

Will lets his lip curl, but only a little. “I think that even neurotypicals could see something’s wrong with him, Jack.”

Jack relents after a moment, but his shoulders are still taut. He circles the desk to come around and stand beside Will, too close for comfort. “Found him at Gateway Corp. Can’t see anything on their cameras, but looks like Dolarhyde dropped by for a visit.”

“Evidence he wanted to hide?”

“From this guy, or from us?”

Will frowns down at Jackson’s stupidly placid face. “Maybe both. Do you…do you want me to see?”

“Do you want to see?” Jack asks.

It’s the staged look of it, Will decides much later, that determines what he does. Jackson purposefully positioned away from the main portion of the room, Jack close enough to touch but not close enough to feel. Jack’s office isn’t small, yet they’re sequestered far enough away from the main angles of the cameras that the look of it isn’t quite damning.

Yet.

“Jack, what’s going on,” Will prompts, softly. “What’s wrong.”

Jack lets out a slow breath, something speaking of the years between them and all of the work Will’s done in his time. The RA’s under his belt. The killers crowding his head. The whisper that one day, maybe one day, he’ll be right alongside them, dead. This time, Will isn’t entirely tempted to try and glean secrets from his boss. There’s something in him, something persistently needing, that whispers that maybe, maybe Jack will give him more than just death.

Maybe.

“Tell me your whereabouts yesterday, and I’ll tell you why I’m worried about it,” Jack says heavily.

Will looks from Jackson to Jack. He fixes his gaze onto the curve of his cheek, where his jaw determined years ago that no matter the expression on his face, Jack would always appear mildly aggressive in nature. It’s a bone he’s being thrown, Jack allowing Will to fill in the gaps first. He doesn’t miss the opportunity, and he doesn’t let it pass him by. He wets his bottom lip, tucks his hands into his pockets.

“Shit, Jack, you know I’m feeling the heat,” he says. “I called Dr. Lecter.”

“You called him?”

Will nods. “Yeah, I called him. I wanted to talk about his articles.”

“Bloom says you have a fixation on his articles.”

“I do.”

I’m fond of you.

“So you call him?”

“He invited me to his house, I go, we talk about his articles. He invites me to stay for dinner, and I do. He said you called.”

“You didn’t answer my calls.”

“Phone died. It was charging at Lecter’s, but I hadn’t turned it on yet.” He allows a pause to flutter about, awkward, before he plunges on. “Do you…you don’t think I did this, do you? Jack?”

Jack laughs, but its humorless. “I don’t think you did, but you’re the only E-3 not institutionalized, Will. It spooks higher ups when something…well, shit, something like this happens. You look at that man, you tell me what you see. Feelers couldn’t get anything off of him, so it’s making Purnell nervous.”

“So it’s a show, then. I’m humoring you,” Will clarifies.

“Humoring the bureau,” Jack replies. His expression is just as humorless as his laugh.

Will isn’t quite sure how to voice it in a way that makes sense, but seeing what’s come of Agent Jackson is terrifying on a personal level. The man doesn’t so much as blink when Will puts bare palms to his temples, and when Will looks into eyes vacant, trusting, and open, there’s something that breaks inside of him, to see just what he’s capable of.

I’m fond of you.

There is nothing. Where thoughts, panicked and frantic in the face of Will’s ambush used to rush, fleeting and wild, there is silence. Walls of memories hold doors laid open, the feeling like a house newly modeled and ready to sell. The white picket fence isn’t peeling. The door is wide open, and there is a sense that no feet have walked through the foyer, no hands that have touched the dry wall and claimed it as their own. Will trembles, touching Jackson’s shoulders. He can see inside, but there is nothing to see, and it’s like what he imagines the Perkins house to look like, now that someone’s had the time to paint over the screams.

He inhales, and he smells Dolarhyde.

It’s not the end table that dumps Will unceremoniously onto the chair opposite of Jackson’s, but a small ottoman. It hits the back of his calves, and he crumbles onto the cushion with hardly a resistance. He thinks of chloroform pressed to his nose, how everything smelled like gasoline and dread. He thinks of Dolarhyde across from him, gun trained to him yet eyes begging him to just fucking see.

“What do you see?” Jack asks after Will has caught his breath.

He feels something bitter, like biting into a bad almond on his tongue as he replies, “Dolarhyde.”

Jack bows his head, and there’s quiet in the room. Agent Jackson is a blank slate, never-ending, and Will for the first time truly understands what it is to fear the power an E-3 could hold, should they ever decide weaponize it.

I’m fond of you.

#LiaS scribbles #The Unquiet Grave #empath!will #hannigram #someone help will graham #hannibal x will graham #hannibal au #hannigram au

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lockmedown2021 · 3 years

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Shoot Day One - 20th April

After months of preparation, castings, and meetings, we've finally begun shooting!

We met at the shooting location and began set dressing, sticking up the newspaper and arranging furniture. We were not able to do this yesterday as it is a flat which is currently lived in and we did not want to cause too much disruption. We were also all able to meet our cast for the first time in person, and they were able to meet each other. Whilst we were set dressing and arranging the cameras ready to begin shooting, Will (playing Ryan) and Marisa (playing Beth) signed production the releases and paperwork, exchanged notes on their characters and the script, and generally got to know each other, which was important as they were going to have to believably convey a strong bond on screen :

The call sheet for today lists the shots needed, and the expected sunrise/sunset times, and was distributed to everyone via Whatsapp yesterday :

The shoot began well, we got all of the shots for the montage scenes with relative ease, and Will and Marisa had both brought enough outfit changes to provide variation and a sense of change in time between the shots. We were also able to film the post interception scene, adapting it for the lack of a post box on the front door and working creatively to fit all our crew into quite a cramped space in the corridor!

However, not everything went so smoothly as the first few shots. When it came to using the gimbal for the scene in which Beth takes a phone call, we were completely unable to operate the gimbal. For an unknown reason it would not stop jittering and spinning on its axes, rendering itself completely unusable. We tried finding help videos, consulting manuals, setting it up how we had done the day before but there was nothing that seemed to be working. This was frustrating, as I did not want to come across as unprepared or unprofessional to my fellow crew members or to our cast, but at the same time we were working on a time limit and couldn't afford to be wasting precious time (and daylight) on trawling through the internet looking for a solution. In the end we decided to just keep the camera handheld, attempting to keep it as steady as possible, mounting it on to the tripod if necessary. This worked, but I plan on researching the gimbal when we finish shooting this evening, so as to hopefully fix this problem tomorrow.

Me trying my hardest to hold the camera steady

Because of the several hours spent on working out the gimbal difficulty, our schedule for the day had been thrown off a bit. This meant that we had to prioritise the outdoor shoot of the shopping scene whilst we still had daylight, and move the interior scenes of the diary scene and first announcement to later in the day. It therefore meant that our finish time was going to be later, but we made this aware to the cast and ensured that they had food and rest, and were happy to continue shooting.

What was difficult about filming the outdoor shot was that, whilst COVID restrictions have been long over in the world of our film they were very much not over in real life. This meant that we had to film from angles that would not show people wearing masks or display any sort of pandemic-related notices in the backgrounds of our shots, which is tricky when filming around a supermarket in the city centre, as both masks and notices are required to be everywhere. We found a way around it though, shooting from ground level near the shop and only shooting faces as we were further away. We cleared it with the shop's security guard, and ensured we weren't getting any members of the public in frame, so as to protect their privacy, even when a crowd of enthusiastic first years requested to wave for us!

What was also causing issues was the battery life of the small camera batteries we booked. They can only hold charge for about 30 minutes when filming at the definition and capacity that we were filming at, and so we were constantly having to rotate them on charge. The battery we had to work outside with was our last one with charge whilst more were charging, and so we were working under time pressure, having to get the right shots before the battery died. Fortunately, due to good communication and efficiency, and Will and Marisa being wonderful cast members, we were able to get the shots just in time.

Once we returned to the flat we were back on course, putting the small battery on to charge and moving on to the first of our large battery packs so as to continue shooting. The announcement scene went well, and we were able to use the lighting strip that we thought would emulate a laptop screen accurately. After that we only had the diary reading scene left to go. It was getting quite late by this point and we were pretty tired, but we managed to get it done, packed up the equipment so as to keep it safe and minimise disruption to the flat's residents, and made our way home ready to film again tomorrow.

All in all, I think that today went quite well. The gimbal trouble threw us all a bit, but we managed to pull it back and I am going to research a solution to the problem so as to avoid this tomorrow. However, I am proud of the way we responded and adapted to the issue, and managed to continue to work well and stay on target.

#production

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yourlifefun · 4 years

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Get fit for tramping

Oh fitness, my beautiful frenemy. At only our relationship status is “It’s complicated”, mainly because I cheat you with Netflix. Often. From the surface, it probably looks as if I’m bounding up steep mountain slopes with limitless energy. But that, my friends, is a lie. My family knows the reality – which I’m often not fit enough for tramping/hiking. That I find yourself hobbling around the house post-adventure looking like I'd quite a full body cast.

(My husband just nodded sagely while reading this and said “you do” during a tragic way).

I’m not an expert when it involves fitness, so that’s why I reached bent quite my friends to assist write this text. Penzy Dinsdale was President of the Otago University Tramping Club back once we were both at uni, and has competed within the toughest adventure race in New Zealand (twice!). She also takes beautiful shots of her adventures over at Southerly Storm Photography. Ruth Nicholas, one among my lovely colleagues, has also checked over the article to form sure I’m not leading you all astray. She added some really helpful tips from her combined experience as a physiotherapist and tramper. Many thanks, such tons to you both for sharing a quick time and expertise!

Why is it important to train?

SAFETY

Let’s be Debbie Downers for a second (sorry Debbie) and consider the worst-case scenario in terms of your fitness:

You’re nowhere near fit enough to tackle the tramp you’ve begun on. You can’t complete the tramp and need extraction by Search and Rescue (SAR). Alternatively, it takes you tons longer than planned to know your destination, necessitating risky travel within the dark, or exposure to the weather for extended than you have the gear for. It sounds ridiculous, but it happens more often than it should.

REDUCTION OF INJURIES

Being fit enough for tramping also reduces the danger of injury. Tired and weak muscles are more likely to provide away, or not compensate over rough terrain, causing soft tissue injuries or worse. Add an important pack to the mixture, and balance comes into play also.

ENJOYMENT

If you’re not fit enough for a visit, I doubt that you’ll be enjoying it the utmost amount you'll. I don’t always love slogging up hills (let’s be honest, I rarely enjoy that), but I hate it less when I’m fitter and it's like “I’m overcoming a challenge” instead of “Why am I voluntarily doing this? It’s like I’m dying!”

TARGETED BENEFITS

Lastly, specific training for tramping adventures means you’ll target all those muscle groups and special sorts of fitness you'd like for adventuring within the wilderness. Getting to the gym every day doesn’t mean you’ll be ready to carry a 13kg pack over rough terrain for 6+ hours every day for 3 days. You’d wish to make up endurance, balance, strength, and stamina (both physically and mentally) before you’re fully ready.

Right, you understand the importance of coaching, so let’s get right down to it – what should we be doing to rearrange for our tramps?

How do I buy fit tramping?

I’m very sad to mention there isn’t a magic solution where you get to eat all the chocolate you'd like, work your 9-5 office job, binge-watch shows on Netflix then be fit enough to travel on adventurous hikes within the weekend (take this from personal experience). You’ve to place within the work – although hopefully, you'll find the due to form it fun so as that it doesn’t appear to be work.

First off, exercise could even be a very personal thing. Body types, metabolism, base fitness, general health – all of those factors and more can drastically differ between people. With Penzy and Ruth’s help, I’ve popped some general advice and tips here, but if there’s something that’s not working for you or doesn’t suit your lifestyle, that’s completely fine – training possesses to work around your body and your life, not the opposite way around.

SET GOALS

We normally say “don’t run before you'll walk”. In tramping lingo, we could change this to “don’t continue an overnighter before you'll do an extended day walk”. You’d wish to start out slow and build up – this might assist you to enjoy your trips far more, and help keep you and your group safer.

Start with the subsequent two questions. If the answers to them are drastically different, then it’s time to undertake to do something about it and acquire training!

• What’s your current level of fitness?

• What level of fitness is required from your future trip?

If you’re a relative beginner then it is often really hard to gauge how suit you purchased to be. Finding the answers to those further questions might help:

• How long will you be walking each day? Time is usually a more helpful measure than distance, because it takes under consideration distance, terrain, and elevation change, although it's subjective. Remember to seem at several resources as you'll find times on a given adventure vary wildly counting on the person. Penzy’s advice is that you simply can calculate around 4km per hour on a satisfying track, plus 10 minutes for each 100m of elevation gain.

• is that the trip uphill or flat? To be fair if you’re in New Zealand that question answers itself – there be hills. So better questions are: what's the elevation gain? How steep is it? (Will you'd wish to be using your upper body to tug yourself up the mountain, also as your legs?)

• Will you be carrying a pack? How heavy will this be?

• How fit are the opposite people you’re going with? Do they need to wish breaks or do they need to only smash it out? Are they like Penzy and should are training for an occasion where you don’t even stop to eat or drink? (Shudder)

• What’s that the weather likely to be? Extremes of either hot, cold, or sun/wind/rain exposure can make trips harder and drain.

Use these inquiries to line your goals. As an example, if you’re getting to be walking up a steep track, then you’ll want to be focussing on your leg strength (and potentially arms counting on how steep!), core, and cardio. If you’re getting to be carrying an important pack, then you'd wish to be training with a pack. If it’s an extended trip, you’ll want to figure on endurance.

Goals are often great motivators, so they’re important to the line. Please reach bent me if you've any questions on this – you'll leave a comment below or message me over on Instagram. Penzy is additionally happy to field questions on this – you'll get in-tuned in conjunction alongside her on her Instagram or her website.

Just remember that you simply won't always be ready to reach your goals because of factors outside your control (weather, people, breakdowns, etc.). Knowing when to bail is more important than proving you're fit enough or than reaching the summit. Don’t risk your life and others’ to prove some extent.

EXERCISE

Now that you simply know what you’re working towards, what do I want to try to assist you to get there? Here are some exercises to assist you to get fit tramping without equipment – you'd wish to be ready to do most of those at or around the home. REI also features an impressive specific training schedule here with samples of exercises.

• Warm-up

Before you're doing any exercise, remember to limber up your muscles to avoid injury. This might mean just going for a walk on flat or sloping ground. Or it's going to mean starting your exercises with reduced weight or intensity.

• Ankles

I’ve been noticing after lacing up my tramping boots for the primary time in over 7 weeks and walking up quite 10 meters of incline, that my ankles are weaker than I’d like. They’re also a typical injury for trampers so don’t overlook them.

• Legs

Your legs are getting to be what takes you from Point A to Point B. they have to be a key focus of your training. The sole because of getting fit tramping is honestly to travel tramping. Start with small half-day walks and work your high from there. However, there are some cases where it's going to pay to undertake to slightly more training, particularly if you’re getting to be tackling some steep elevation gain.

If your next trip involves 2,000+ steps (looking at you Mueller) or a steep climb (*cough* French Ridge) with a pack then it pays to extend the strength in your legs. Squats, lunges and stair climbs (especially the jumping kinds) are my sworn enemies, but they're bread and butter for building strength in your legs. Adding a weighted pack to the mixture will simulate real tramping conditions. This might additionally further increase your strength and balance.

If you’re stuck for time, find an area hill, and challenge yourself to steer up it at speed with a heavier pack than you’ll wear the trip (obvious build-up to this). This might need you ever feel like you’re flying when you’re next call at the particular hills.

If you've known weaknesses, now is the time to figure specifically on these so that they won’t slow you down on your trips. For Penzy, it’s her glutes, although quads are equally important, particularly for shielding your knees. For me, it’s an old knee injury that may get stiff post-adventures.

Be careful of your joints, particularly your knees, when you’re completing these exercises. Be especially cautious when adding quite just weight or doing the jumping versions. If you’re having difficulty, don’t dip as low, or use extra supports quite wall sit. If you experience any pain, see a registered professional quite physiotherapist to assist guide you.

• Hips

I often get achy hip muscles after a tramp, especially when rising steep terrain with a pack sitting on them. There is often a selection of reasons for this (including inferiority or ill-fitting boots and pack). Sometimes after a couple of trips your body adjust, but how you'll prevent this is often by strengthening your glutes and core, also as your hip flexors. Backpacker.com has some awesome exercises here that you simply can work on before heading out.

• Core

Your core helps provide your stability and strength when it involves tramping. Bicycles, leg dips, and planks are key exercises here. You’ll find modified versions of those online to combine things up and keep your exercise interesting. This is often probably the foremost important area to think about, after your legs.

• Upper body

Working on your arms and shoulders are often useful when you’re getting to be taking an important gain / off, using your arms to climb up steep slopes, or using hiking poles. There are some weight exercises that you simply can easily do reception, like push-ups. I find my elbows get rather sore doing these, so I tend to refill 2L water bottles with water and use them as make-shift weights instead.

• Balance

Balance is important when it involves tramping. Running or walking on rough terrain will help, but you'll also work on this with specific exercises reception if it’s something you struggle with. Stand on one leg in conjunction alongside your eyes closed for a flash or more at a time. Once this gets easier, start doing leg swings in conjunction alongside your other leg (start with eyes open for this one) and standing on slightly uneven terrain. Remember to alternate your legs.

• Cardio

Strength alone won’t get you up those hills without puffing slightly a touch just like the massive Bad Wolf. Performing some quite cardio will help your aerobic fitness. This might be whatever you prefer; running, briskly walking up hills, stair climbs, swimming, biking, dancing, gym classes, etc. Whatever works for you and your lifestyle? I like swimming because it helps my breath control, also as toning my muscles. But that’s just a private preference – pick what works for you and blend it up if you’re becoming bored.

• Stretch and rest

Remember to stretch after exercise and provides yourself adequate rest. Hear your body. If it’s feeling not so great at some point, take it easy and inspect again the subsequent day. If something doesn’t feel right or is causing pain or strain, stop, and reassess. You’ll need to hunt guidance from a registered professional to assist with any underlying issues that you’re experiencing.

ACCOUNTABILITY AND MOTIVATION

It’s impossible to remain motivated 100% of the time (if you disagree, please let me in on your secret). the sole way I’ve found is to a) have goals to figure towards, quite a specific tramp or adventure, b) have someone to carry you accountable, and c) mix it up.

Penzy’s training for GODZone helped her try an entire quite different sports as training. She says that once you modify it up, training stays interesting and it’s easy to stay motivated. Changing exercises also reduce the danger of injury to any particular muscle group (although you'll discover weaknesses you didn’t know you had).

Another top tip from Penzy that I wholeheartedly accept as true with, is that the sole training for tramping is: tramping. Regardless of how well you’ve been training, you’ll always find the primary trip after slightly of a brief day off are becoming to be an adjustment. So don’t be too hard on yourself if the primary day isn’t quite as easy as you’d hoped.

TRAINING TIPS

Wear the gear that you’ll be wearing on your tramp. Meaning boots, socks, the pack, everything. These all add weight and alter how your body moves. This is often also an opportunity to work out any potential gear failings before the particular trip. Do your shorts chaff? Does that boot and sock combination provide you with blisters?

Make sure your gear fits well. If it’s causing pain or strain, go and acquire it re-fitted. You don’t want it to be causing issues when you’re out enjoying your tramp.

If you’re getting to be hiking with a pack – train with weight on your back a minimum of quite the time. It makes an enormous difference.

Sometimes you'll desire you’ve put the all add like you’re fit enough, but that you simply still aren’t having a powerful time when tramping. Try subsequent trouble-shooters:

• confirm you're giving your body adequate nutrition and hydration during and after exercise – this is often the foremost important beginner mistake.

• If you aren’t taking any rests, try taking a 5-minute rest every hour to wish a seat down, rest your muscles, and re-hydrate and eat.

• Stretch out after you reach the hut or the carpark before you sit down and your muscles cool.

• Consider your mental fitness and resilience (more thereon if you retain reading). Determination and thus the will to succeed plays a huge role in tramping.

How do I STAY fit tramping?

The trick to staying tramping fit is to … keep tramping. It’s that easy.

For many people however which may not be feasible all of the time, especially over winter. Or motivation might start to wish successful and suddenly you haven’t gone on a tramp in 4+ weeks. What then?

The trick I’ve found to staying tramping fit is to hunt out some quite exercise that you simply enjoy doing. On behalf of me, that’s swimming, orienteering/rogaining, and certain group exercise classes. If you enjoy doing something, it’s less of an attempt and you’re more likely to continue exercising. Other examples are:

• Running, particularly trail running or stair running

• Walking over rough terrain

• Cycling

• Gym work: stair climber, elliptical, etc.

• Dancing

• Yoga

• And much of others!

You can also make the foremost of incidental exercise – take the steps, park slightly further away, or incorporate your exercise into your daily routine. That way it’s not a chore or an “extra thing” you've to accomplish within your day. it would be as simple as standing on one leg while you sweep your teeth or do your hair, or walking/biking to figure rather than driving.

If lack of motivation is your problem, connecting with other like-minded people can help. Your local tramping club is great for that, as is Meetup, need to Get Out, and various other local groups. Watch some wilderness videos or read some outdoor blogs, keep the stoke levels high!

There also are various challenges that may help boost motivation. Below are some that I love, but there are many others online or on exercise apps that may assist you to stay motivated and supply daily or weekly goals. Let me know if there are any others that you’d like me to list!

• The Himalayan Trust features a summit challenge where you climb the peak of Everest over a month while raising funds for Sir Edmund Hillary’s cause.

• The spastic paralysis Society runs September – where participants walk 10,000 steps each day for September.

• Many fitness apps like Strava or Fitbit have weekly or monthly fitness challenges you'll check-in for.

What about mental fitness?

No matter how physically suit you're, if you don’t build mental resilience then you’ll find tramping diligence. I’m often pleasantly surprised by friends I combat trips who I don’t think are that fit or experienced, but who take it beat their stride with seeming ease. An enormous area of that (I believe) is their mental fitness; their attitude and determination.

Alternatively, I’ve also taken fit friends on tramps who didn’t love the experience and who got really on the brink of bailing out. They lacked the mental fitness, instead of the fitness, to form it to absolutely the best.

Penzy has had many equivalent experiences with this, which we had slightly of an interview around why this might be.

We both think that a huge and area of mental fitness is true right down to people’s expectations. If you enter a visit with unrealistic expectations (e.g. this 1,000m steep climb goes to be a breeze), then you’ll find it tons harder to cope mentally (and physically) than if you were fully prepared. Set realistic expectations and be prepared. Some people like Penzy (and myself) also got to have a solid idea of what proportion more walking we’ve got and thus the way big subsequent climb goes to be. If it’s bigger or longer than expected, we struggle (hence why we both wish to trip plan, so we'll figure this all out before time). People don’t seem as bothered by this; they’re just walking and it doesn’t matter whether we are rising or down or by what proportion.

Another part is true right down to general personality, if you’re the sort of 1 which can slave and ignore some temporary discomfort for amazing gains, then you’ll probably love tramping. I hate walking up hills, but I slightly a bit like the very best result – the views, sense of accomplishment, and thus the way it makes my body feel afterward – so I buy it done, even when I’m not that fit.

So once you desire your legs are on the brink of subsiding. When your lungs are burning and sweat is stinging your eyes. When you’re on the brink of hand over. That’s once you dig deep. And keep going. It takes practice. You’ll still get to take breaks, confirm you've enough food and hydration, and ensure it’s safe to stay happening. But you'll keep going if you'd wish to enough. Besides the discomfort is comparatively temporary and thus the reward should be quite worthwhile once you reach the hut or the gorgeous view!

You can do that. Believe yourself. And erupt (safely).

Let me know if you’ve found this handy, or if you've any tips I should add. Better of luck, be kind to yourself and your body, and go get tramping fit! You’ll do this!

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ive-always-been-a-pirate · 7 years

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The Other Prince + A CS Modern Royalty AU [Chapter 8]

Modern Royalty AU: HRH Prince Killian has grown up in the shadow of the crown while enduring tragedy and the burdens of being the spare to the heir. With a desire to escape his past, he agrees to play host to the visiting general’s daughter in exchange for an eventual life outside royal bounds. Moving on is never that easy though and he quickly learns that being the ‘other’ prince is even more difficult when you find yourself falling for the girl everyone wants your brother to marry.

Catch Up On Previous Chapters: One, Two, Three, Four, Five, Six, Seven Also on FF.net and AO3.

Word Count: 9,063

This totally spiraled out of control and that’s my only excuse for taking forever to finish it haha. Thank you to @optomisticgirl for being a lovely beta and for listening to me whine and second guess everything constantly :] you’re a gem, my friend. There’s more to come (including some stuff with Liam, Brennan, and others) in the next one! Enjoy! XOXO

The street was busy as Emma stomped along the sidewalk, her black rain boots slightly damp and her mind in a fixed state of stubbornness. The weather had been shifting back and forth all day, the sky calm one moment but the sharp wind blowing the next. It wasn’t a huge surprise that a light rain had finally started to sprinkle and it was easy to be thankful for the warmth of the light, mesh-lined gray jacket she had zipped tight around her frame. As she took a moment to glance back down the winding road she’d just traveled by foot, Emma realized the durable material keeping the storm off her skin was currently the only thing she could muster any gratitude for.

It was likely she was acting a bit dramatic and definitely a little selfish, but she also firmly believed she had grounds to be both. The not so casual conversation she’d been blindsided with just before dinner hadn’t been a true betrayal or a major deceit, but it had certainly been unexpected and frustrating in a way she wasn’t ready to discuss with anyone. The news her father had announced a few hours earlier was an annoying reminder of just why surprises were not high on her list of favorite things.

No, Emma liked plans. Well, except the new one her family now had - the one that included staying in London for the next two weeks.

The splashing of car tires through the puddles was a rhythmic distraction and her feet continued to carry her down the shop lined road as she pulled her hood up over her head. She wasn’t really sure how long she’d been walking - it wasn’t like she had left the palace with much of a goal in mind. Glancing up at the dreary sky, she merely hoped that maybe the walk would help her ignore the echo of her father’s words in her head.

“I know you aren’t the biggest fan of metropolitan London, Em, but I have to be here - at least for now. The countryside has been kind to our family and I’ll miss it too, but it was never meant to be permanent. This job is a big change for all of us, but I have to give it a chance and I need you and your mom with me on this.”

She knew he was right - now that he’d approached what might qualify as total recovery, there wasn’t much left for any of them in the quiet confines of the Yorkshire property. Sure, the move there had required a lot from her, but it wasn’t as if she had a whole lot - or anything, really - to go back to now. She let out an exasperated sigh as the drops of precipitation grew larger, her steps slowing as she reached a street corner. He’d looked so honest when he made the hopeful request for her support and as irritated as she’d been, denying him the opportunity to save his career wasn’t the right thing to do.

“Can you just….try, Emma? Just for a few weeks while we sort out a schedule?”

Watching her breath hang briefly in the cool air, Emma recalled the nod and weak hug she’d given him. Sacrifice was the name of this recently recurring game and for now, she had to keep playing it.

Looking quickly to the left, she caught the appearance of a small establishment crafted in gray bricks trimmed with deep red paint. The door was solid mahogany, hanging on black hinges that had definitely been well tested. The rounded windows alight with a warm glow seemed to call to her and while the overhead posted name of The Round Table didn’t immediately tell her what the building’s purpose was, the handful of tipsy patrons stumbling out onto the sidewalk certainly did. A place like the one she’d paused in front of was probably well known for its gin or assortments of well crafted lager, but her addled mind immediately went the one indisputable option.

Alcohol - and she honestly didn’t care what kind.

Reaching forward to prop open the heavy door, Emma ducked inside the apparent pub without a second thought. As she looked around the instantly easy space and noted the surroundings - a weathered bar counter, occupied pool table, a soccer match blaring on a distant flat screen, and amusingly accented population - she knew this was the perfect place to toss back a beverage or two. Few people seemed to give her much notice and nobody appeared to realize just how out of place she definitely was.

Thank god, she thought as she approached the row of stools just below the wood bar top.

“Evening, m'lady,” a dark haired bartender greeted, his smile framed by a thick beard. “Braving the storm, eh?”

“Oh, umm - yeah I guess,” she said in return, hoping she didn’t look too nervous about venturing into unknown territory. “It’s not too bad out there yet, actually.”

“Well, tumultuous enough that you’re seeking-” he returned, reaching for a glass and narrowing his eyes pensively. “-a little whiskey, I’m guessing.”

“Wow,” Emma laughed. “Am I really that obvious?”

“I’ve been at this a long time is all,” he grinned. “On the rocks or neat?”

“Not picky,” she shrugged. “I don’t need anything fancy.”

“Nonsense, lass,” he disputed with a wave of his hand. “After all, you’re only in London….well, not often, right?”

“Ah, very transparent I guess,” Emma sighed, accepting the glass tumbler he set down in front of her. “I should probably work on my local dialect.”

“Nah, I say you own it. It’s not often we get Americans in here.”

Emma smirked at his little reassurance, taking a sip from her drink and feeling the whiskey burn in the best way as it slid down her throat. She decided not to refute his assumption that she’d come from the states since she sort of did courtesy of her college experience. She hadn’t expected to find any sort of company when she’d left the palace - after all, the intended endgame had been to avoid pretty much everyone. It was relaxing to be in this environment though and the lumberjack type of guy making conversation seemed easy enough to talk to.

“I have to admit I haven’t been to an actual bar in a while. This seems like a place for regulars.”

“Well, some of them far too regular, but I guess anyone who’s been pouring drinks for nearly ten years at the same pub would say that,” he explained. “Kind of a hazard of ownership I suppose.”

“Wait, you're….”

“Arthur Pendragon - proprietor and long standing pun,” he smiled. “Hence the, uh….the name.”

It took Emma a moment to piece together what he meant, but once it clicked, her face lit up with realization he’d likely witnessed many times. The subtle shake of his head and barely embarrassed eye roll told her he’d ceased to see the endearing charm in Camelot cliches long ago.

“Well, I can’t say I’ve ever been served whiskey by the once and future king,” she replied cleverly. “I take it the name wasn’t your doing?”

“Definitely not,” he confirmed, tossing a coaster on the bar as a resting place for the glass she’d yet to put down. “My wife’s actually.”

“My compliments to her wit then.”

“I’ll be sure to mention that next time I talk to her,” he said with a hint of melancholy. “She's….not been around for a bit.”

“Oh, I'm….sorry,” Emma returned, her cheeks rosy with regret for bringing it up. “I just assumed-”

“Not your fault, lass,” he told her kindly. “It’s okay. I suppose most relationships are tested in one way or another at some point. Sometimes it just takes a bit to sort itself out.”

“Yeah, I-” Emma said with familiar understanding. “-I know what you mean.”

“But, enough about my sob story. I’m the one who should be offering an ear - part of the job description after all,” he deflected, a bit of his happier demeanor returning. “What brings you to Victoria Street this evening, Miss America?”

“It’s Emma actually,” she said in amusement, tapping the sides of her glass. “I guess I just….needed to take a beat.”

Truly, she didn’t have a real purpose for why she’d all but stormed out of the palace earlier that night - well, not a fair one, anyway. The quarters at Her Majesty’s abode were beautiful and vast enough that she’s managed to find plenty of personal space while also avoiding running into a certain prince. Emma knew he didn’t actually reside at the building currently accommodating her and her family, a detail that had been learned from a late night internet search instead of a recently bought book she'd already misplaced. Still, she couldn’t stop wondering when she might stumble into another awkward encounter with him - or who’d be doing the literal stumbling this time.

She wasn’t sure she wanted to chance finding out and that had been a decent reason to slip away for a bit - or at least, that’s what she kept telling herself.

“Well, when the world’s got you down, a drink never hurts,” Arthur continued. “Sometimes a chat with a stranger is helpful too. That is, of course, if you’d like to talk?”

Emma exhaled, biting her lip as she tried to decide just how honest she should be. She didn’t know this guy - or anyone else in the area, for that matter - and perhaps it was best to keep it that way. Getting used to being in London seemed wrong, especially since she was still hoping her stay wasn’t permanent. The whole idea of her being at the bar was suddenly a bit surreal. Though she’d wandered into this hole-in-the-wall tavern on a whim, she had felt more relaxed in the past twenty minutes than she had in days. It was likely a beginning side effect of the alcohol, but it was also the fact that this place was different - simpler and secluded to a degree she was truly appreciating.

Still, she needed to stay beneath the radar for now and being too candid with the hospitable bar owner currently pouring her another glass of Irish whiskey wasn’t going to help her quest for anonymity.

“I guess I just needed to avoid responsibility for a few hours,” Emma offered, her voice vague as he tilted his head in amusement. “Is that awful?”

“There are worse reasons to imbibe-” he countered with a nod toward one of the rowdier corner tables. “-and I hardly doubt your venture here will be as unacceptable as the display that group of sodding fools tends to put on.”

Peeking over her shoulder in the direction he’d just gestured, Emma caught a glimpse of the pack of rather obnoxious men he had just mentioned. They’d clearly been indulging in a high bar tab long before she arrived and their frustration over the display of athleticism on the screen in the corner was plenty loud and quite profane.

“They certainly don’t like whatever team is winning,” Emma commented. “Are they always like this?”

“More or less - but usually more,” he grumbled, tossing a bar rag off to the side. “I’m rather sure they don’t realize that this was actually televised almost a week ago or that it’s a preseason game, but it’s likely they won’t be pleased to find out. That said, I ought to make the rounds. You’ll be okay for a moment?”

“Oh - yeah, I’m fine,” she assured him with a grateful smile. “Thanks for the drink.”

“On the house, lass,” he said in return with a good humored salute. “Stay as long as you like.”

Emma felt her shoulders relax at the welcoming reception she had managed to find. She knew as she held the glass firmly and glanced around the dim space that she could get used to the solitude of a place like this - at least while she had to remain in the confines and close vicinity of royal world. She realized this bar could be her sanctuary of sorts - and so it was only fitting she tried it out again the following night as well.

Arthur had been glad to see her return the following evening, her escape from the palace aided by a very helpful Marco just after she said goodnight to her parents. Neal had returned to school earlier that day, a fact that made sneaking out a bit easier. She’d been somewhat sad to see him head back into one of the many buildings at Eton, but he’d given her a huge hug and a small stack of rather suspicious documents before doing so. She stuffed them into her jacket when he’d offered her that one line of explanation followed by a wink.

“Just in case you’ve yet to truly make up your mind about the next step, Em.”

She hadn’t dared decipher what he meant by that until she arrived back in the secluded bedroom she’d been set up in at Buckingham, but as she dug the stapled papers out of her zippered pocket, it was clear what he was trying to do. There were a variety of the unexpected documents, their professionally bold headers and traditional logos making it immediately clear that they were brochures for higher education. She smirked to herself while flipping through them, noting that Neal had done his best to cover all the bases when he’d likely swiped them from one of the offices at Eton. There was information on a few universities - Oxford and Cambridge, both of which she was positive she'd never be admitted to - and also a couple of others that gave details about institutes like King’s College and Imperial. She’d skimmed the text in acknowledgement of her little brother’s thoughtfulness, but eventually stowed them away in the concealed pouch of her lightweight parka. The pamphlets remained there, hidden alongside her accepted reality that completing her degree wasn’t in the cards any longer while she downed a quick glass of top shelf bourbon at that same pub.

She told herself she could deal with the brochures, Neal, and everything else later - a decision that perhaps sparked her current and third trip to the cozy bar a few blocks away.

“Anything good on tap?”

“Well, there’s a frustrated face if I’ve ever seen one.”

Though the voice was equally happy to welcome her, it didn’t belong to Arthur. This one was full of the clever kindness she’d learned was all Ruby - the girl who was a few years her junior and one of the regular weeknight bartenders. They’d met on the first night Emma had ventured into the building when Arthur had stepped out to take a phone call from the estranged wife who still seemed to have a hold on him, a fact that Ruby had explained while pouring them each a shot of something she definitely hadn’t requested.

That had become somewhat of a theme in Emma’s life recently - accepting things she hadn’t asked for. If she was going to have to keep doing so, she decided that it was probably okay to use a little alcohol to help it all go down easier.

Taking a sip of the offered liquor hadn’t been too difficult - a brand of vodka bottled in France, she eventually learned - as she kept perched on the stool just across the bar top from the long haired brunette with the fiery personality. They’d chatted sporadically for a couple of hours, sharing small details of their lives and laughing over battle stories they’d encountered through years of travel and relocation.

Ruby was from the Great Lakes part of the states and had grown up in a small town surrounded by the tall trees of some very remote woods. She’d been in the care of a single mother until she hit junior high, but had then moved to live across the Atlantic with a very traditional grandmother in the European countryside. Ruby claimed the loving elderly woman had saved her from herself after some rather promiscuous years and had entertained her endlessly with tall tales about sorcery and werewolves. She’d left the old cabin a few years earlier when her grandmother passed, bouncing between a few nearby countries before landing in England. Ruby had quite the colorful past and while Emma thought the girl’s adventures were far more interesting than her own, she couldn’t help but be glad they’d met and bonded - even if it all might be only temporary.

“So,” Ruby started, grabbing a glass from beneath the counter and raising her eyebrows. “What’s got you down, Goldilocks?”

“Really? What’s with the nickname?”

“Hey, I call it like I see it and right now-” Ruby responded as she searched the top shelf for a bottle. “-I see a disgruntled blonde who has come to this Camelot inspired oasis to soothe what troubles her.”

“Very poetic,” Emma acknowledged, setting her jacket aside. “But perhaps we better stick with ‘the pissed off traveler who just learned her plans have gone to hell’.”

“Ah, I like mine better,” Ruby laughed, tapping her chin. “But you know, I think there’s a specific drink for the type of person you’re describing.”

Emma made herself comfortable, something she regretted the moment her new friend plopped a bottle of cinnamon whiskey down between them. Ruby’s red lipstick outlined mouth curved up into a deviant smile that immediately had Emma shaking her head.

“Not happening, barkeep.”

“Oh, come on,” Ruby coaxed. “We don’t get a new shipment in until tomorrow so most of the decent brands are running low anyway. That is, unless you’d rather forego the hard stuff and I can crack open a bottle of that shitty home brewed beer Arthur has been trying to get everyone to buy.”

“I think I’ll pass on the Crimson Crown Ale, thanks,” Emma replied. “But I’m pretty sure shots of that firewater aren’t the best alternative-”

“No, no - no shots, but an exclusive cocktail mixed by yours truly,” the girl told her as she grabbed a few other labels of booze. “You’ve gotta live a little, Emma.”

“Or die of alcohol poisoning,” she countered, her eyes warily regarding Ruby. “What’s in this drink anyway?”

“That’s yet to be totally decided,” Ruby grinned as she grabbed a jar of cherries from below the counter. “I do have a few name options workshopped already though.”

“Oh, yeah?”

“I’m thinking maybe like 'Big Bad Something’ or 'Sweet Little Sleeping Curse’,” she carried on, illustrating the ideas with finger quotes and snatching a nearby shot glass. “I vaguely remember learning how to make this drink called a 'Red Riding Hood’, but it’s got a certain vodka base and Arthur prefers to hoard that stuff in the back. I’m pretty sure it’s fuel for drowning his sorrows after last call.”

“Cute, but I have no idea why you’d go with such a whimsical theme,” Emma replied. “I don’t remember the hangover from that stuff being anything remotely like a fairytale.”

“Yeah, I gotta say I don’t either,” Ruby said, a small laugh escaping her as she shoved the random ingredients aside and looked toward the fast opening main entrance. “But, if this was one of those classic storybook tales, we’d now have the role of evil villains filled.”

Her nod toward the door was brief as she grumbled some below the breath remark. It was a shift in the girl’s demeanor that made Emma wonder and she couldn’t help but peer over her shoulder in curiosity. It didn’t take long to pinpoint just who had suddenly put her new friend in an irritated mood - the raucous and rather ignorant group of men she’d been warned about the first time she’d sat upon her current stool. She tried not to stare despite their loud attempt to gain the room’s attention, a disruption that made Ruby sigh loudly as she downed a bit of the spicy alcohol they’d been debating.

“Why don’t you guys kick ever them out?”

“Well, despite their generally asshole behavior, they’re good for business,” Ruby explained. “Sure, they can be annoying, but their bar tab climbs much higher than any other band of idiots who wander in regularly.”

“So this happens a lot?”

“Just a few times a week so it’s manageable for the most part,” she continued while counting napkins. “I’m going to grab that last case of cheap beer from the back really fast - lord knows they’ll probably be over to order some any minute now. Hang out for a bit?”

“Yeah, of course,” Emma smiled. “Planning on it.”

Ruby returned her grin, tying her hair back as she headed for the hall that must have led to the back storage room. Glancing around, Emma soon found her attention falling back on the rowdy men now chatting over a pool table between their rants regarding the game still playing on the television. She was so busy trying to decipher just what made guys like them tick that she failed to notice one of them slink up to the bar at her side.

“You-” he started, his almost predatory stare zeroing in on her as he tapped his fingers on the bar. “-aren’t from around here, are you?”

“Ah….good call,” she replied casually, silently praying that he’d leave her be. “Just stopping in for a quick drink before I hit the road.”

“Hmmm,” he smirked. “Where might a fine woman like you be going on a night like this?”

Emma felt herself shift away ever so slightly from the smell of fading alcohol hanging on his flirtatious breath. She was really in no mood to spell it out for him, but as he held her involuntary gaze, it became apparent that he wasn’t about to take a hint.

“Back to where my family’s staying - I’m on a trip with them,” she tried, biting her lip as she made an obvious glance toward the clock. “In fact, I really should get going-”

“Oh, come on, beautiful - it’s still early,” he replied as he inched closer. “Have a drink with me.”

“Ummm, thanks….for the offer, I mean, but I-”

“No excuses,” he cut in, his words wrapped in an unsettling whisper. “Have a drink with me.”

Emma felt her shoulders straighten as she fixed her eyes on him, cataloguing his appearance like she’d need to describe it accurately to the police later on. She wasn’t sure if it would be because he’d crossed a line with her or because she’d beat him senseless as a result, but she was extremely certain that everything from his suspicious eyes to his thick black coat made her very uncomfortable. Cowering when confronted was never a road Emma liked to travel though and despite the way he was making her skin crawl, she couldn’t back down from his proposition without a hell of a retort.

“I’m not sure if that’s a request or a demand,” she returned firmly. “But I can promise you that I'm not interested.”

“You really can’t say that yet though,” he chuckled. “You still haven’t heard my offer.”

“I’m pretty sure I haven’t given you any indication that I’d like to.”

“Just one drink, beautiful….or two, and then I assure you that I-” he drawled as he reached for her glass. “-can make you forget all about your family.”

“Okay, pal, I know we just met and all, but I’m going to need you to back the hell off.”

“Hmmm,” he persisted as he traced her arm. “You’ve got a little fire in you, don’t ya? I have to admit I kinda like that.”

“I said-”

“I believe the lady said no,” another strangely familiar voice cut in. “Step down, mate.”

Emma realized quickly that it wasn’t Arthur and her head swirled with confusion - why did she recognize this voice? Her boundary crossing opponent turned briefly, letting out a hearty chuckle before slamming his half empty beer bottle down on the bar. Emma chanced a look at the other man and though she was somewhat irritated at the 'white knight’ status he apparently wanted to earn, her guard dropped rapidly the moment she learned just who was attempting her rescue.

No way, she thought as her mouth parted. What the hell was he doing there?

She zoned out for a minute, her eyes hooked on just who had an interest in defending her honor. The few words exchanged between him and the persistent jerk at her side were ones she didn’t fully catch as she tried instead to sort out why of all the pubs - or perhaps even gin joints - in the world, he had to walk into this one. It was a thought similar to one once vocalized by a handsome actor in some black and white film her mother loved and she was attempting to recall which one when two fateful words from the protective man a few feet away cut through the haze.

“Try me.”

The chaos that followed was rapid and it took Emma a few moments to realize that a fight was breaking out, but as she watched the guy who’d been hitting on her take a hard punch to the jaw, it became quite clear that she was about to witness exactly what drunk and disorderly truly looked like. She froze for an instant, her view moving back and forth between the fists being thrown as she gasped at the scene. She hated merely standing by in disbelief, but getting dragged into diffusing a situation she didn’t totally understand wasn’t wise.

It was obvious that getting out of there would probably be the safest choice, but as Ruby’s pleading eyes found hers, Emma stepped forward to do….well, something. She just didn’t know what.

“Get the hell out of here, Gideon,” Arthur growled as he managed to shove the instigating man back out the way he’d come in. “Take your crew with you.”

The onlookers were almost too quiet as they watched and Arthur took a deep breath before turning on his heel, announcing there’d be a free round courtesy of himself. The distraction gave Ruby enough time to pull the unsuspecting opponent of the bar brawl into a secluded hallway, but not before waving toward Emma in a last ditch request for assistance. Her feet moved automatically, navigating her through the throes of people elbowing their way up to the bar. The dark haired girl Emma had come to know as an ally was huffing for air by the time they met in the back door corridor.

“Hey, can you….take him to the back? Arthur is about to pour out a handful of apology shots and he’s gonna need help,” Ruby asked, trying to keep him upright. “I just need like fifteen minutes.”

“Yeah - of course,” Emma agreed as she moved closer. “Whatever you need.”

Ruby nodded gratefully and bolted, leaving Emma to observe the aftermath quickly over her shoulder before glancing back toward the disheveled haired prince - a choice that soon caused her flabbergasted reaction. His eyes were a wild blue and wrought with anguish as he steadied himself against the wall. The cut just below his brow was already swelling and had started to bleed in a way that mirrored his injured left hand. His fingers were deep red with knuckles that would likely bruise and he heaved for air with jagged, deep breaths. The way he briefly looked at her was riddled with embarrassment as he appeared to realize who she was as well.

“Hi.”

Her voice was timid upon offering the out of place greeting, but she had no clue what else to say to this man - the one she’d been avoiding who was now cloaked in muffled anger and a spirit that was much less than that of most royalty.

“Hi,” he breathed, his mouth trying on a weak smile before he ripped his sight away again. “Didn’t expect to see you here.”

He lifted weak fingers to his face, touching his cheek and realizing there was blood making a path down his cheek. He sighed with frustration before glancing back toward her and Emma fought to find some….any reply.

“The surprise is mutual,” she managed. “Are you okay, Your High…uh…”

“Killian,” he responded, defeat heavy in his reminder. “Just Killian, lass.”

Dammit, Emma thought as her mind clouded. This was sure as hell not how she’d hoped her night would go.

Killian couldn’t remember the last time he’d felt quite this exhausted by his birthright. Well, perhaps that wasn’t the total truth. He’d felt similarly tired the morning Liam had confronted him about his behavior at the bar, but somehow, even that head splitting scolding hadn’t stopped him from returning now to that very same place a few hours after sundown. It had been days since the bar scuffle the greedy tabloids had still managed to pick up on and as soon as he had managed to escape the presence of his observant brother, Killian had felt the familiar urge he’d been prodded with several times over his adult years - the need to feel normal. He’d wondered silently as he snuck down the several shortcut alleyways toward The Round Table if the solitude of a quiet establishment and a stiff drink might offer just that, but he hoped even more so that he might still be welcome at such a place.

His Converse sneakers plodded the pavement as he recognized the fact that he’d likely never be totally banned from the tavern he was headed for. After all, if anybody could knock him off his royal pedestal with a glass of rum and a few honest words, it was definitely Arthur - the man who was his reluctantly understanding confidante and older cousin by about three years.

They were related through the belated princess with Arthur’s father being his own mother’s oldest sibling. The restrictions placed on the royal family had been tested many times by Katherine’s insistence that her young sons maintain a solid bond with her side, especially the several cousins they had through her bloodline. Killian had always been grateful for that. Arthur seemed to comprehend the struggle both he and Liam faced when it came to the crown, even though he’d never know an obligation like that himself. It was a relationship unmatched by many others and despite the fact that Killian hadn’t always made their pact of family all that easy, Arthur had never shut him out - though he had every right to on several occasions.

It wouldn’t have been the first relative to lose faith in the spare to the heir, but fortunately, things had never turned out that way with the bartending man he somewhat resembled and truly loved. Killian knew that as difficult as it might be, he once again needed to make things right while he could.

Liam had been busy when he decided to slip away from Buckingham Palace, his regal and slightly inconvenient home away from home. He understood why his older brother felt it necessary to keep temporary quarters at the grand building while the admiral’s family was visiting, but Killian’s own reasons for staying in one of the lavish guest rooms was something not even he could totally explain. Perhaps it was for some unknown desire to not be the only prince lingering on the Kensington grounds or maybe it was a need to stay in the know about whatever military changes might be underway, but deep down, he knew his hope that he might run into a certain blonde was definitely part of it.

For the record, he hadn’t seen her - and it was driving him crazy.

Sure, the royal property his grandmother lived upon was huge, but not so much that he shouldn’t have caught a glimpse of the green eyed girl over the few days since the afternoon at Eton. He’d speculated that she might be avoiding him and while he wasn’t totally sure why, he had to admit that he’d been a little nervous to locate her - and that had everything to do with the book he had concealed beneath a pillow on the four post bed he’d been using for some constant tossing and turning.

He blinked rapidly as he paused outside of the door, tugging a beat up flask from his pocket and taking a quick swig. He’d never been great at dropping his pride to offer an apology, but he knew this was important - and he could only pray that his quick dose of rum would allow him to remember that once he entered the building

“About time you showed up.”

Killian had barely stepped inside the dimly lit space and entered the back room office when he was greeted with chiding words from the owner himself. He deserved the taunt he supposed, but it didn’t keep him from tossing Arthur an automatic eye roll. The man was busy penciling something on an order form, but the task didn’t prevent him from holding the upper hand in their bantering exchange.

“I suppose I ought to be a bit more welcoming as the owner of a small business and all, but-” his cousin offered distractedly, finally peering toward him with a raised brow. “-I’ve only recently had that glass out front repaired.”

“Aye,” Killian sighed with a slump against the doorway after he set an envelope next to the paper. “I’m hoping this might cover that - and if not, that you’ll let me know.”

Arthur almost instantly slid the folded paper pouch back across his trademark desk in the direction it had come from. Killian lifted an eyebrow before returning a steadfast stare, but it was soon apparent that his relative wasn’t about to accept the gesture of a few higher end bills. It truly was a pathetic way to attempt making amends and one that definitely shouldn’t be necessary. The healing battle wounds that were finally fading from his own guilty face were proof that he owed Arthur at least that much - even if he’d known from the start that the proud bar owner wouldn’t take it.

“You know that royal salary of yours has never been worth much around here,” his older relative told him. “I’m merely stating the hope that we won’t have to have this endearing conversation again for a while. I mean, the chairs around the tables opposite that new window do need replacing, but I’d rather-”

“Got it, mate,” Killian nodded, pressing his lips together. “For the record, I’m sorry-”

“I know you are-” Arthur smiled. “-and that’s the only thing that makes it okay.”

He still wasn’t totally sure why this man tolerated him, but as Arthur flipped his pencil toward the doorway in salute, Killian reminded himself to stop taking that for granted.

“Now,” the man sighed as he found his feet. “How about some rum and ranting? Sounds like we both need it.”

“Aye,” Killian agreed. “You have no idea, mate.”

“Well, I’m excited to learn then,” he returned, slapping the envelope of cash against Killian’s chest before heading for the hallway. “You’re buying - oh, and grab that bin of clean glasses on your way up.”

Killian smirked to himself as he lifted the box, his feet trailing after the owner. He’d entertained the idea of a life like this many times before - how it would be to swap out kegs and care for a humble business like the one his cousin had built from nearly nothing. He had always appreciated the way Arthur could assimilate him with a simple comment or a thoughtless instruction. Sure, most royals wouldn’t stand for a world centered around menial tasks, but Killian thrived on the idea of being ordinary.

It was an odd envy he held for people like Arthur, but it was also a desire that was very disrespectful to the crown - which is exactly why he chose not to mention it to anyone.

“So, how’s your brother? Still constantly worrying about you?”

“Among other things,” Killian shrugged as his cousin took the rattling crate of fragile glass. “You know Liam - saving the free world one weary soul at a time.”

“Aye,” Arthur laughed as he turned toward the shelf housing a few bottles. “I suppose it’s a hazard of such an authoritarian job. What else is new with you?”

Killian halted with a sigh, his eyes scanning the bar instead of conjuring up an answer that wouldn’t raise suspicion with the man who’d just asked him a casual question. Arthur knew all about the upcoming royal events courtesy of his bond with Liam and he wasn’t one to often seek out small talk. He knew his cousin was attempting to learn what had taken him so long to wander back by the corner pub and while he wasn’t sure that lying was the best route, he knew one thing for sure - he couldn’t tell Arthur about Emma and the way her presence as well as absence seemed to be consuming him.

There wasn’t much to tell anyway, he thought quietly. She was just visiting and she’d be gone eventually so divulging what little information he had seemed futile. Bottling it all up for now was the best plan - and lord knows he’d gotten good at that over the years.

“Just trying to fill a few roles for Gran,” he offered vaguely. “Mostly little stuff - taking over her rugby patronage and attending a charity thing later this week.”

“Good for you,” Arthur nodded, pouring them both a glass of the bar’s best rum. “Liam mentioned you have some palace visitors currently?”

The color drained slightly from Killian’s face as he cleared his throat before taking a swallow from the fresh drink. He wasn’t sure how much his annoyingly honest older brother had said, but he instantly wished Liam had for once kept his mouth shut. His sight drifted toward the opposite end of the room, finding Ruby soon enough and wondering if he might use needing to catch up with her as an excuse to avoid this conversation. It took only seconds of watching to realize the dark haired girl was busy tending to another patron, one he almost recognized. Long blonde hair, nervous posture, a laugh he could barely hear….

“Anyone you know?”

Killian had been so briefly entranced by who he imagined the girl sitting at a fair distance could be that he almost thought that’s who Arthur was referring to. Of course he wasn’t though - he was inquiring about Admiral Nolan’s family. Killian straightened his shoulders as he tried to focus on the discussion at hand.

“No, it’s, ummm, just a….family from up north,” Killian answered, tearing his eyes away from what was obviously a half-assed hallucination. “They’re leaving soon I believe.”

“Oh - that's….not what I heard.”

He was about to ask Arthur what the hell that meant when he caught the sound of a voice he was truly in no frame of mind to deal with. He was relieved that the tone wasn’t directed at him, but slightly unsettled that its usual venom laced accent had been replaced by a pathetically sultry one. Such seduction was often aimed toward Ruby - who was perfectly capable of putting the man who caused frequent commotion right back in his place - but this time, the heavy flirtation was aimed toward the girl Ruby had been chatting with. His eyes narrowed as he watched for a moment and his blood seemed to simmer without explanation. Sure, it was beyond annoying to see Gideon strutting around like he owned the place - though Arthur had told him many times that wasn’t the case - but for some reason, this particular display was even more infuriating.

“Shit,” Arthur said as he pieced together what was happening. “I didn’t think he’d be in tonight.”

“It’s fine,” Killian assured him, biting his lip as he tried to convince himself of that as well. “Who’s Ruby talking to over there?”

“Ah, you mean the blonde? Lass from across the pond somewhere,” his cousin answered. “She’s been in a few nights this week.”

“Has she just recently become the object of Gideon’s affection?”

“Hey,” Arthur said quickly, shaking his head. “Not worth it, Killian.”

“What?”

“You know what,” he stared, lifting his brow. “We established long ago that Gideon is an idiot and though his intentions likely aren’t the best, I’m quite positive that girl can take care of herself.”

Killian glanced the girl’s way once more, trying to find the belief that the man behind the bar was correct. He wasn’t about to jump in and fight a battle that might not be necessary, especially given how his last scuffle went, but he knew standing idly by while Gideon acted like an arrogant casanova wasn’t something he could manage. There were really only two plans of action and since the first one hadn’t panned out so well in the past, he opted to take the second as he finished his rum.

“I should head out,” he told Arthur, dropping the envelope on the counter and rising to his feet with a smirk. “For your trouble - or perhaps the kind I caused you.”

“Smart ass,” Arthur grumbled with a shake of his head. “Be safe, mate.”

Killian nodded once before turning toward the door in brief contemplation. He could easily leave through the back, sneaking out the hidden exit as stealthily as he’d entered. It would probably even be for the best since any attention he and Gideon might pay each other probably wouldn’t be the positive sort. He tried to remind himself of all of this as his feet carried him toward the main door, a path he regretted the second he noticed just how close the other man had moved to the girl he felt he needed to guard.

Maybe it was the way she appeared to be so uncomfortable in the close confines his nemesis had trapped her in or maybe it was the blatant refusal he heard her offer as he passed by. Maybe it was even simply Gideon’s failure to yield as she continued to push him away. Whatever the cause was, Killian felt his grip pause from reaching for the door handle and his body abruptly turn back around.

“I believe the lady said no,” Killian stated in a low tone, his glare full of warning as his rival looked up. “Step down, mate.”

Surprise filled Gideon’s face as a cunning grin took over his mouth, a sure sign that this wouldn’t be civil in the least. Bloody hell, Killian thought as his skin prickled. He didn’t need this tonight.

“Well, look what the palace spit out,” Gideon sneered. “Back for more, are ya?”

Killian felt his breath hitch as he clenched his fists, trying to quell the anger that was tempting him to end their exchange of words with a swift right hook. The feeling was a well known one - he’d never gotten along with the man who was trying his hardest to pick a fight. Gideon Gold was an abolitionist with a penchant for drinking, gambling, and taking cheap shots in rugby matches. Their dislike for one another had been ongoing for years, but the feud they’d once endured had only just come back into play with the recent fight. Killian had tried to hold back that night, but when Gideon had decided to drag the royal family’s name through the mud, he’d snapped.

He couldn’t let that happen this time though. He had to walk away - pride be damned.

“No,” Killian replied, clipped and firm as he refused to break the man’s stare. “I’m not here to fight you, Gideon, but you best not give me a reason to think twice about that.”

“Well luckily, you won’t need to, your highness. When we’re through here, you won’t be doing much thinking about anything.”

The challenge was there, thrown between them with the threatening curve of the man’s smirk. Killian felt his temper spike as his defenses rose, his lips pressed together as he tried to brace for whatever came next. He hadn’t come here to start a war, but he also hadn’t expected to see the girl he couldn’t stop thinking about stuck in the line of fire. He couldn’t let Gideon win this one - and it was that conclusion that pulled two very bold words from his mouth.

“Try me.”

It all happened shockingly fast - the sound of glasses breaking and a gruff yell of Ruby’s name that sounded urgent. The dark haired girl dropped the box of beer bottles instantly and bolted to where Arthur had suddenly appeared, his cousin’s arms fighting to shove him back toward the hallway. He’d barely gotten in a solid hit when he realized he’d taken one as well, his feet carrying him backward weakly as his thoughts blurred. Killian realized then that he’d lost sight of the girl during the commotion, a detail that wasn’t helpful even though the vague observation of Arthur pushing his rival out the door was. He managed to hobble back toward the office courtesy of Ruby and his back hit the exposed brick wall with a thud while he tried to right himself. He was attempting to do that much when he was joined by Ruby and another girl - well, the girl.

Emma, he thought as his heart pounded violently.

He didn’t hear much as the dark haired lass usually manning the bar spoke to the blonde he truly didn’t want seeing him like this, but when Ruby sped back down the hallway and left the pair of them alone, Killian realized he didn’t have much of a choice. She peered up at him with questioning eyes, taking a few steps forward with caution.

“Hi.”

Her gentle greeting was shy, her teeth pressing against her bottom lip as she waited to gauge his response. He felt truly miserable, but it wasn’t fair to act like an ass when she had opted to stick around for this.

“Hi….didn’t expect to see you here.”

“The surprise is mutual,” she answered after a moment. “Are you okay, Your High…uh…”

“Killian,” he assisted, not feeling the least bit worthy of a royal title - not that he’d ever want her to address him as such anyway. “Just Killian, lass.”

“Right,” she started in a nervous tone, clearing her throat. “So….the back?”

“Over-” he barely nodded, his head gesturing toward a dark room. “-there.”

She took his arm gently, her touch a light brush of fingers that created a loose grip around his bicep. Trying not to lean into her, Killian took the several stumbles that would land them in a storage area he’d only seen a couple of times before. The overhead lights flickered on, forcing him to squint as he took in the new environment. It was mostly boxes stacked high alongside a wine cabinet his cousin kept well stocked. The letters on the labels came into focus after a moment and he tried to read a few, his efforts eventually halting when she ushered him toward a lone chair by a sink in the corner.

“Sit down,” she told him with a tilt of her head. “Your hand is cut-”

“It's….fine-”

“No, it’s not,” she argued, her voice direct but caring. “Now, sit. Let me….just let me help you.”

He gave up rather fast, closing his eyes to avoid the glare of the fluorescent bulbs burning far too brightly before the sound of running water forced his exhausted stare back to her. She’d pulled a light blue towel from some box behind him and had started to wet the material, obviously intending to assist him in cleaning the blood and shame off his face. She’d probably be good at the former, her insistence in doing so making him think she might be even more stubborn than he typically was. It was the second part that she likely wouldn’t be able to help him with.

“Here,” she offered, lifting the cloth toward his eye. “Chin up.”

He did as requested, inhaling sharply at the feel of a damp towel on his fresh wound. She seemed to find his reaction a bit entertaining and it poked at his crumbling pride just enough for him to respond.

“You’re not supposed to be here.”

He realized almost instantly how misstated his words were. The quiet scoff she offered told him so too as she rinsed the rag quickly before returning her attention to the large cut. He truly had no right to set boundaries on whatever she chose to do within or outside palace walls and he was reminded of that as she swiped the cloth along his red stained cheek a little harder than was needed.

“Well, if my conclusions are the tiniest bit correct then-” she retorted, pausing when he hissed a low sound of discomfort. “-neither are you.”

“Conclusions?”

“I’m observant enough to know that wasn’t your first fight with whoever that was,” she clarified, her sights now studying his hand. “In fact, I think I remember seeing a recent photo of you that proves that.”

“Ah, I must say I didn’t think you’d be a tabloid reader,” he replied. “You know that’s the same old publication that would have you believe the Queen is a frivolous drunk.”

“Yeah, while using the gossip column as a news outlet can be very interesting,” she laughed, scouting out a cotton bandage roll from the first aid kit below the sink and setting it aside. “I’m also just….good at reading people.”

She wasn’t lying - he could tell that much as he watched her eyes decipher the current situation. It scared him on some level to think that she might understand him more than she was letting on, but the soothing movement of her touch as she tended to his hand made his insecurity a little easier to ignore - at least for now.

“There,” she said softly as she looked up for a sign of validation. “Better?”

“Thank you,” he nodded as he regained some sense, his eyes falling carefully on the way her fingers and the bandage curled gently around his hand. “But you know you don’t have to do that.”

“I don’t mind,” she assured him. “After all, this is kind of indirectly my fault.”

“It wasn’t,” he disagreed. “I just didn't….well, you shouldn’t have to deal with Gideon Gold - and I guess the idea of being a gentleman lead me to being a bit rash.”

“Oh, so now you’re a gentleman,” she smiled, looking down at his wrapped knuckles. “Is that what we’re calling this?”

“I’m always a gentleman,” he grinned in return. “But I guess I haven’t proved that much in the past.”

Killian bit his lip as her smile shifted to a smirk, the feel of his teeth on the minor wound reminding him that his choice was a bad one. The past, he thought briefly - did they even have one of those? Their interactions up to this point hadn’t been totally honest or all that coordinated, but it was still something.

He wondered quietly if she felt that way too.

“It’s okay,” she said after a moment. “But for future reference, I can take care of myself you know.”

“I suppose I should have recognized that.”

“Well, in your defense, we don’t exactly know each other,” she replied, shaking her head immediately. “I mean, we don’t really-”

“Aye,” he cut in with a smirk. “I should apologize for that too.”

“For the balcony or for bumping into me?”

“Both,” he shrugged. “Not my finest moments.”

“Or….mine, I guess,” she told him. “But maybe, we should just….start over?”

“Hmmm,” he sighed, lowering his hand. “How’s that?”

He was having a hell of a time not staring at her. Her hair hung loosely in waves that shifted on her shoulders each time she moved and the constantly changing expression on her face kept him guessing despite the throbbing in his rattled skull. This wasn’t the first time he’d noticed how beautiful she was, but the close proximity they’d now found themselves in seemed to magnify this attraction he had to her. Starting over was probably the best offer he could hope for given their rather odd beginning and he waited to hear just how she planned on initiating that, his gaze analyzing the curve of her lips in the meantime.

“Emma Nolan,” she said with a rather adorable half smile. “Nice to meet you, Your Highness.”

He grinned slowly, the slight stretch of his lower lip testing the scar that was likely forming there from the last battle with Gideon. There was something so casually innocent and sweet about her actually offering a real introduction that he couldn’t help but play right into it.

“Aye, a pleasure, lass-” he countered, slightly raising his eyebrow. “-and Killian will do.”

“Okay then-” she finally conceded. “-Killian.”

Her eyes were even more green than he’d originally concluded, the deep emerald hue of them paired with a hint of forgiveness he truly hadn’t earned. The pain brought on by his recent conflict in the bar seemed to fade ever so slightly as he held her gaze with a fascination he didn’t understand. There was something about her - something so guarded and beautifully hidden in her eyes - and he let a goal of unmasking it form in his weary mind. The fact that she’d be gone soon prodded him and he felt his shoulders shrink with the cruelty of that knowledge.

Why had he wasted so much time? Why had he been avoiding this? Why in the bloody hell did she captivate him in such a vexing way?

“God, there you are,” Arthur gasped, his sudden presence causing their staring contest to lapse. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah….yes - fine,” Killian answered, trying to pick the right words. “Look, I didn’t know he would….I’m sor-”

“It’s alright, Killian - that wasn’t you,” Arthur assured him, looking toward Emma curiously before resuming his breathless speech. “Glad you’re fixed up. Can you stand?”

“Aye-”

“Okay, good….and I hate to add insult to literal injury, but while that wasn’t pretty, things are about to get a lot worse,” Arthur warned, his eyes anxious and filled with concern. “Your brother is on his way. We need to get you out of here.”

Tagging some friends: @xpumpkindumplingx, @jennifer-morrison, @spartanguard, @laschatzi, @kat2609, @eala-captian, @allietumbles, @andiirivera, @kmomof4, @galadriel26, @timeless-love-story, @msres, @harryandthecambridges, @thesschesthair, @its-like-a-story-of-love, @lovelycssefan, @hooksheroicheart, @cat-sophia, @gonzothegreat90, @rebelcxptain, @prairiepirate, @yesplskillianjones, @jennjenn615, @heomomka, @fckyesroyals, @lenfazreads, @cherrywolf713, @lucasxdorothy, @lifeinahole27, @hollyethecurious, @fairytalesandtimetravel, @pirateherokillian, @shipsxahoy, @onceuponarelm, @winterbaby89, @captain-k-jones, @weall-l00k-the-same-inthe-dark, @shady-swan-jones, @captainswanparrilla, @ilovemesomekillianjones, @princesseslikepirates, @sherifffjones, @deathbycaptainswan

#cs ff #cs au ff #cs modern royalty au #prince!killian #cs fic update #captain swan #killian jones #emma swan

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awkwardlyamusing-blog · 5 years

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How to Introduce Your New Dog to Your Old Dog

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How to Introduce Your New Dog to Your Old Dog

Looking back now, I see that the crisis was largely driven by my own hubris.

After failing spectacularly at raising a wild little husky puppy named Ari, I wrote a book about my foibles and the inner workings of a dog’s brain. I interviewed canine behaviorists and certified trainers and read every book I could find on operant conditioning. I was convinced I had become an expert.

I managed to maintain the delusion after Ari’s death three years ago. I continued the misapprehension in the months following, when I adopted Leka, a 14-week-old shepherd mix rescued from a ditch in Mississippi. Leka, unlike Ari, attended a fantastic day school for puppies and became the ideal trail dog—an enthusiastic partner for any backpacking or running project.

She has her quirks—like screaming at the top of her lungs when we visit the vet or try to bathe her—as well as a general distrust of dog biscuits and physical affection and toddlers. But these idiosyncrasies aside, Leka is mostly a happy, social dog. So this spring, my partner, Bill, and I assumed that Leka would be thrilled to play big sister to an adopted canine sibling.

In preparation for the arrival of our new rescue puppy, Maddox, we shifted Leka’s feeding schedule and scooped up all her favorite toys, replacing them with neutral ones about which she’d feel less possessive. We bought Maddox his own beds and dishes, along with baby gates to separate the dogs whenever they needed alone time.

Maddox, a gangly mixed breed, arrived late on a Thursday night. He was as sweet and gentle as his foster mother had promised. Bill and I watched with relieved gratification when, a couple hours later, Leka engaged him in a gentle game of backyard tag. We congratulated ourselves whenever she sat outside Maddox’s crate or shared a toy.

But as the first week of our blended family came to a close, Leka’s satisfaction with this new arrangement dissipated. She began to sigh whenever Maddox would steal a stuffie or help himself to her treat. She began slinking out of the room whenever he entered. By the end of that second week, Leka’s condition devolved into what can only be called a full-on panic attack. That Friday afternoon, I sat on the couch with a shaking 45-pound shepherd panting in my lap, her heart rate fast enough to detonate any electrocardiograph. Maddox, meanwhile, prowled around below our feet, alternately chewing and peeing on a once lovely area rug.

And I? I sat, surveyed the scene, and began to cry. The house was a disaster. Bill and I were both sleep-deprived. Maddox was a feral hyena who desperately missed his siblings, and Leka was in the midst of a nervous breakdown.

Clearly, I had ruined everyone’s life.

Eventually, Bill returned home from work and sequestered Leka in our bedroom. They spent the evening sharing snacks and enjoying the collective peace afforded by a closed door. Meanwhile, I stopped crying just long enough to clean the rug and take Maddox for a walk. Outside, in the clarifying summer twilight, I was finally willing to admit my own ignorance.

I didn’t know nearly enough about introducing a new dog into an existing one’s life. It was time to summon some more experts. So I reached out to five leading animal trainers and behaviorists to figure out where we ran off the rails.

We’re finally back on track, and Maddox has been a part of our family for two months now. Would I do it again? Absolutely. But not before heeding the following advice.

(Kathryn Miles)

Start with Some Soul-Searching

A lot of people are under the misapprehension that dogs are pack animals, but that’s just not true, says Melissa Bain, a professor of clinical animal behavior at the University of California at Davis School of Veterinary Medicine. “Dogs are social animals, like humans,” she says. “That doesn’t mean they always want to be around other dogs.” Her own pet is more than content being the only dog in the house. It’s important to have a sense of whether your dog shares those introverted proclivities. If your dog hasn’t spent a lot of sustained time around other dogs, consider borrowing a friend’s pup for a weekend or arranging well-monitored playtime at a dog park or other off-leash area to get a better sense of how it behaves in social settings.

Play a Little Hard to Get

There are so many dogs in need, it can be tempting to jump into a new relationship based on a photo or sad story. But it’s imperative to know whether or not that dog’s temperament is a good match for your existing canine, warns Sue Sternberg, a canine trainer and an author of multiple books on dog interactions and aggression. Ask questions of the rescue organization or shelter; oftentimes, words like “energetic” and “devoted” can be codes for behavioral issues. If a trial period is possible before adopting, take it. “The worst thing that can happen to a resident dog is for them to live in a house where it’s violent,” she says. “It’s like telling your partner you’ve rented out a room to Hannibal Lecter, but don’t worry, he won’t use our bathroom.”

Take It Slow—Super Slow

You’d probably advise against a good friend going on a monthlong vacation with someone they just swiped on Tinder. It’s no different in the dog world, says trainer and puppy specialist Diana Logan. “There’s a reason blind dates usually take place over dinner and a movie,” she says. “Brief, activity-driven interactions build comfort and prevent us from going too far down a bad road.” She recommends taking your resident dog and new dog on what she calls “parallel walks,” where the dogs are close enough to smell and observe each other but not interact physically. Back at home, use crates and baby gates to keep the dogs separated for all but limited, supervised interaction.

Solve Your Resident Dog’s Bad Behaviors First

A new, younger dog is going to look to your resident dog for guidance, says Sternberg. “If your current dog barks at other dogs on the street, he will teach those behaviors to the new dog,” she explains. Ditto, she says, if your resident dog bolts every time you open the door or tears apart the house whenever you leave. If you’re working on issues with your current dog—especially aggressive behaviors—now isn’t the time to add to the family.

Be an Advocate

A new interloper in the house is a big and often unpleasant change for even the most social dogs, says Katherine Pankratz, a clinical behavioral-medicine fellow at the North Carolina State College of Veterinary Medicine. Some resident dogs may become possessive and aggressive; others, like Leka, may grow increasingly meek and anxious. The trick, says Pankratz, is to be ready to respond. “Be open and compassionate as well as ensuring safety.” In the case of Leka, she says, I probably would have been better off returning her toys to her to give her more confidence that her place in the house was secure. If Maddox kept taking them, I could have separated him to give Leka time with her stuffies in peace. After talking to Pankratz, we started feeding Maddox in a separate room, and Leka became a lot less frantic about having her dinner stolen.

Avoid Playing Favorites

When my friend Kate adopted a second dog, she was so worried that her resident dog would feel sad that she didn’t spend much time bonding with the new addition. I was so worried baby Maddox missed his siblings that I neglected Leka. Both, says animal behaviorist Ken Ramirez, are common mistakes when building blended canine families. The key to success, he says, is to make sure both dogs get individual time with you, either on solo walks or during play sessions. During training time, use a baby gate to separate two rooms, and use that barrier to your advantage. “A lot of times, I’ll literally straddle the gate and train both dogs on either side,” he says. “It’s a good way to help them learn not to be jealous with one another.” Or he’ll train one dog on one side while giving the other dog a favorite toy or chew treat to enjoy. “A dog can learn really quickly that positive interaction is almost dependent on the other dog being around.”

Know the Warning Signs

That sounds like a no-brainer, says UC Davis’s Bain, but a lot of pet owners don’t know the early signs of anxiety or aggression. One of the most common misconceptions Bain encounters is that dogs are happy whenever they wag their tail. “I always tell my students: no one’s been bitten by an animal’s rectum,” she says. “You need to look at the face and see what’s going on there.” Averted eyes, a fixed lip, or panting are all examples of discomfort. They’re subtle, says Bain, so familiarize yourself with charts like Sophia Yin’s downloadable poster on fear and aggression in dogs. “Too often, by the time a person has identified that there’s a problem between the dogs, they are five days too late,” she says.

Remember Those Childhood Car Rides

Growing up, my younger brother and I hated being in the back seat together. I’d draw an imaginary line down the middle and demand he respect the boundary. He made a point of doing anything but. When I finally hauled off and shoved him, you can guess who got in trouble. The same thing happens all the time when a new puppy enters the house, says Sternberg. “Again and again, I see people punishing the wrong dog. That’s just going to make the resident dog more anxious and stressed, while it gives the new one permission to take more advantage.” You never want to allow physical aggression to get out of hand, but it’s also OK for the resident dog to scold or correct the puppy when things start to escalate: a dirty look, a warning bark, or a quick growl are all useful feedback for the younger dog. Just be ready to step in if that warning isn’t heeded.

Make De-escalation Fun

Even the best behaved dog can get overstimulated and lose impulse control or start ignoring cues from other dogs. When a play session starts to get heated or one dog looks like he’s making bad choices, it’s time to reroute everyone’s energy and focus. Logan recommends “interrupting picnics,” in which you call both dogs into another room, ask them to sit, and reward them with treats while they stay. “Don’t underestimate the value of teaching even simple skills, like attention and eye contact,” she says. “The more skills they have, the better they are set up for success. And you always want their attention returning to you.” If a picnic isn’t working, tether the dogs so that they’re in the same room but can’t physically interact with one another. This also teaches the puppy he can’t necessarily get access to every toy or human he wants.

Don’t Go It Alone

We know to take our dog to the vet when she’s sick, but too few people know to consult with a professional when a dog is in distress, says Ramirez. He recommends working with a certified trainer who specializes in positive-reinforcement training from the start of any new relationship—both with your resident dog and your new dog. If problems start to arise, contact your veterinarian for advice or additional referrals. “Every dog is different,” says Ramirez. “The best thing you can do is come into the situation knowledgeable and ready to help them find a new normal that feels safe and secure.”

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