#SO WASTEFUL AND BAD PRACTICE AND DANGEROUS TO CUSTOMERS AND JUST SHIT

[felidaefatigue]

y'all whats happening in the art/craft/maker spaces rn and markets and stuff....mmm...

i am feeling very old and ranty and annoyed

#i get people want to have side hustles but #yall im gunna start being angry old man yells at kids to get off the lawn #SO WASTEFUL AND BAD PRACTICE AND DANGEROUS TO CUSTOMERS AND JUST SHIT #i wANT TO KNOCK HEADS #out of love #like #you could be better and amazing #why do you acquiesce to capitalism and wallow in your own mediocrity for 5 cents #anyway #maybe im just old

[neonacity]

HYACINTHE | CHAPTER 4: JAEMIN X READER

SUMMARY: 

Na Jaemin is far from being your typical 20 year old. Instead of slaving through college, he wastes away his hours cracking safes. Weekends that should be spent partying with friends consist of illegal races on good days and small scale bombings on bad ones. 

Na Jaemin is far from being average, unless you consider being a member of Seoul’s top organized crime family normal. There is no such thing as a sense of normality and peace in his trainwreck of a life, so when he met a barista who was brave enough to call out his dangerous taste in coffee, he was like a moth to the flame. Everything about her is normal, which means she is forbidden to him, in all sense of the word. So why, then, does he always find himself at the front steps of her shop, breaking all his personal rules even if he wishes he could stay away?

A/N + Disclaimer: this is a side story to Black Daisies, my main mafia fic feat. 0T23. While the plot is based on the main story, this can also be read as a standalone fic. As usual, this is purely a work of fiction and in no way am I implying any member of NCT to behave the way I write them here. 

TW: crimes, heists, potential death, mentions of drugs and other illegal activities.

PAIRING: Jaemin x Reader 

CHAPTER 1 / CHAPTER 2 / CHAPTER 3 / 

FIC TRAILER

MASTERLIST

"Hi. Can I have one iced americano, no sugar, with an espresso shot, please?" 

 My hands froze and hovered momentarily on the drink I was preparing as I heard a male voice say that from the counter. I didn't turn around to check who it was, but my boss—who is currently helping me man the cafe today—was quick enough to dash the pit-pattering of my chest. He hooked the order slip on the board in front of me and my eyes immediately raised to read the name there. 

"One to-go, americano for Youngho." 

I sighed internally. Whether it be from relief or disappointment though, I don't really know. A part of me wanted to be in denial of my emotions, but I realized you can only go so far if the person you are trying to fool is just yourself. 

It's been almost three months since that night that I last saw Jaemin. I wish I didn't know the exact number of days that passed since then, but I do and I couldn't help it. Every little detail of what happened was still marked fresh in my mind, especially the feeling of hollowness that exploded in my chest when I woke up that morning to see them gone.

If not for the chip on the edge of the table left by Jeno as he tried to hold a half delirious Haechan down that night, I could have easily brushed off everything as a fleeting dream. But it isn't. It is a nightmare, at least in my part. 

He really meant it when he said he would leave me alone. 

There were no calls, no messages, no visits, nothing. It was like he didn't exist at all, the past year spent with him nothing but an imagined illusion. 

We were back to being strangers again, exactly like how he wants to. If you think about it, it's selfless of him to do this, but I hate it. I hate it with everything I have. 

Why? Because now I have to live through the feeling that I'm the only one suffering from all of that has happened. I couldn't watch the news anymore without thinking about him. For heaven's sake, I couldn't even get an iced coffee order without freezing like a statue because I remember him. I hate it. I hate every single moment without him, as much as I didn't want to admit it.

I placed the plastic cover over the finished drink with a soft sigh before turning to hand it over to the customer. At least I can still manage to put out my well-practiced, service smile. 

"Iced Americano for Youngho," I called out into the receiving area as I slipped a straw on the cup sleeve. A tall man looked up and walked over to me to receive it. 

"Thank you for coming to Brick and Beans. I hope you visit us again soon," I said in autopilot, my words so well-rehearsed that I didn't even have to think through while delivering them. The customer smiled at me before giving me a wink.

"I sure will. Thanks for this, sweet cheeks." He turned and left the shop, leaving me slightly confused. 

My attention was then called by my boss who had just finished wiping down the counter. The man—who really has been more of a father figure than an employer for me—gave me a warm smile and motioned me over. 

"Can we talk? I have something to tell you." 

I briefly glanced at the clock. It isn't my break time yet, but the store is empty so I guess it will be fine. I shrugged. 

"Sure."

"Grab a cake for you and me while you're at it," he nodded towards the pastry fridge before walking towards the nearest empty table. I wordlessly took two slices of basque cheesecake, his favorite, before following him. The man has a mean sweet tooth and we both know it.

He was silent for a little bit as he took the fork to take a bite of his treat. I waited patiently for him to speak, hands politely folded over my lap.

"I'm going to sell the cafe." 

I blinked and stared. I wasn't expecting that at all. 

"You're… what?" 

He sighed and leaned back against his seat. He looked a little sad over what he just said but he managed to offer me a small smile.

"I'm getting older. You know how much I love this place because I started it with my late wife, but I really can't continue to manage it anymore. My children, unfortunately, do not have any plans of continuing the business. And they've been asking me to retire, too." 

I nodded slowly, taking the news bit by bit. 

"Do you already have a buyer, ahjussi?" 

"I do. It is kind of strange, actually. Someone offered to buy off the franchise at such a perfect time. And for a very good price, too." 

That made me smile. I've had this job ever since I started college so it makes me a little sad that it's going to have a new owner, but I really am happy for him. I just hope whoever buys it off takes care of it really well. The old man loves this place to bits. 

I felt him take a hold of my hands from across the table. I looked up and was met with a fatherly smile. 

"Don't worry. You won't lose your job. The new owners said that they aren't planning to change anything here and I told them that they had to take you with them." 

That made me almost want to burst into tears. I squeezed his hand back in return. 

"Ahjussi... You didn't have to do that. I can always look for another job." Who am I kidding? I know it will be hard for me to land another sideline especially with all the financial hiccups I am already dealing with so this is really sending me over to the edge of tears. 

"Nonsense. You are part of this business. You've done so much for this place so you deserve this. Don't worry, they said yes to my condition." 

I gave his hands another squeeze and he answered back with a fatherly pat. 

"Thank you…" 

"You're welcome. Just promise me, when you become a doctor, you'll give me free checkups, okay?" 

"No, I won't. Because you will always be healthy and won't need my help at all," I said with a wrinkle of my nose. 

That sent the two of us laughing. 

"When will the new owners take over?"

"By the end of the month," my eyes rounded with surprise and he nodded in understanding. "I know, I know. It really happened too fast. I can't turn down the offer though. To be honest it was way beyond what the business is worth." 

I sighed. "Well… as long as you are sure about them." 

"I am. For now, I'll be here for a bit with you. I just need to enjoy my last days here. So just don't mind your old man, okay?" 

I grinned. 

"Only if you promise to give me a free cake every day you are here." 

He reached out to ruffle my hair. 

"Deal."

----

It was a slow day at the cafe so my boss decided to turn down the jazz music that usually floats from the speakers in lieu of the television volume. It was an odd hour in the afternoon and I found myself smiling as I watched him flip the channels over to look for a good show to watch while I dried some mugs. Just then, the overhead bell on the door dinged, welcoming with it a pair of uni-looking kids. 

My boss looked over, but I was quick to jump to action instead. "I'll take care of it," I mouthed to him, to which he gave me a smile before turning his attention back to what he was doing.

"Hi. Welcome to Brick and Beans. What can I offer you today?"

"We'll have one dirty chai latte and one irish coffee over ice. Make it to go. " 

The couple offered their names and I nodded as I punched their orders on my POS. "Would you like some pastries to go with that?"

"No, that's all."

"Got it, you can wait over there to the side. I'll have your drinks with you shortly," I said with a smile. The girl pulled the boy over into the receiving area to continue their conversation. 

"So what I'm saying is, we gotta go. Tonight is going to be epic. The bets will be high for sure. We can get some mean cash if we put it in the right car." 

The other gave a soft snort and started drumming his fingers against the wood of the counter. I let their conversation act as white noise while I worked behind the bar.

"I don't know. You're not even sure who is going to be there." 

"Jeno is in the line-up. That at least is confirmed."

I dropped the metal scooper I was using on the floor with a resounding clang. 

The three others in the room looked over to me as I hurriedly picked it up with shaking hands. I gave all parties a sheepish look before turning on my back to continue what I was doing. 

This time, I was full-on listening. 

"If Jeno's going to be there, then it is a goner. There's no chance for others. It'll be full-on suicide," the boy said thoughtfully. The girl, however, shrugged in reply. 

"They said the others might come, too. You know, to make the run a little bit more balanced," she offered. 

"You mean the seven?"

"The Four, at least."

"Oh shit."

"Uh-huh. So I'm telling you, we gotta be there man. If we can't bet then fine, but we have to see it. It’s been ages since they actually went on lane." 

I didn't really know how I managed to finish what I was doing, not with how hard my heart was beating in my chest. I'm not sure how many Jeno's there are in this part of town, but I am sure as hell that there is only one who is a member of a seven-piece 'group.' 

"Here's your order," I said thinly as I pushed the finished drinks over to them by the counter. The boy offered his card and I took it quickly, all the while thinking of what I should do next. The few seconds of me typing away at the terminal was the longest quarter minute of my life.

"Here's your receipt. Thank you for coming and see us again," I said, my voice a little weaker than usual. The couple gave a quick bow before turning to leave, drinks in hand. 

There are two ways this could go. I could let them out of that door and have my only possible chance of getting in contact with any of the boys leave with them. Or I could call after them and…

I whipped around to call out to my boss, my figure already halfway out from the bar. 

"Ahjussi, I'll be back in five minutes, sorry. I promise I'll be quick!"

He had barely looked up when I started running out the door.

-----

"Excuse me!" 

The duo looked back at me, then at each other in confusion as I tried my best to hurry up to them without landing on my face. God, why do they walk so fast? They were just a few seconds ahead when they left the shop! Thankfully, they stopped at my call, giving me a chance to skid before them as I tried to catch my breath.

"Um… Is there a problem? We paid, right?" The boy asked me with an odd look. I waved my hand before finally trying to answer. 

"Yes. I uh—"

Well, I obviously didn't plan this out clearly. How do I say this now without sounding like a lunatic? 

"I heard your conversation earlier. You were talking about Jeno."

The pair exchanged glances again, this time tinged with suspicion. It was the girl who answered this time. 

"Yes, we were. What about it?" 

"I… I just want—to maybe know where he is? You were talking about tonight's—"

"The drag race?"

I stopped for half a heartbeat before nodding. 

"Yeah. The race. I wanted to come, too, but I don't really know the address." 

The boy cocked his brow at me in blatant suspicion. It took all of me to pull out all the basics I learned from drama class back in high school to remain calm before his withering glare. 

"You know Jeno but don't know the address? That doesn't make any sense," he said as he crossed his arms over his chest. "If you've been in one before you should have been included in the text blast."

Oh shit. 

I could feel my palms growing cold from nervousness. Still, I tried pushing on. 

"W-well, I was invited before by one of them. But then things fell apart and I started not getting any of the...texts anymore," I said, not having the slightest idea of what I am saying myself. What's ironic though was that what I just blurted out was sort of a half-truth, too.

Apparently—and miraculously—it also made sense by the look of understanding that dawned on their faces. 

"I see…" the girl trailed off. She cleared her throat and looked at her friend before glancing at me again. 

"Look, I can give you the address, but promise me that you never got it from me when someone asks, okay?" She asked. The boy looked at her incredulously.

"Are you crazy? She was already shadow banned!"

She shushed him and waved her hand off to shut him up. "Look, this is a girl thing. Don't mess with it. Just go ahead to the car, I'll take care of it." 

He scoffed but stalked off towards the direction of the parking lot. 

She turned towards me again and pulled her phone from the pocket of her leather jacket. I watched as she unlocked the screen before showing it to me. 

"Do you have your phone with ya? Here, take a photo of this address." 

I swear I could almost kiss her. I scrambled to get my phone from my back pocket and didn't waste another second to take a snap of her screen.

"Thank you so much." 

She nodded in understanding before locking her phone again and shoving it into her pocket. "Hey, a girl's gotta stand up for another. Who was it? Was it Haechan?" 

"Um…" 

She didn't wait for me to finish. 

"Really, whoever it is among them, I can't really blame you. They're all cute, but they do need to be taken down a notch when it comes to girls. Those boys," she tsked. "Dangerous." 

Oh…

Oh. She thought I was an ex-fling who wanted to teach one of them a lesson by crashing the race. I let that sink in before a frown settled on my features. 

Well, aren't you one? The devil on my shoulder cackled at me sardonically. 

"Glad to have helped though. But remember, you didn't get it from me, okay?"

With a wink, she strutted off, leaving me staring at her retreating form. 

----

I told myself I simply wanted to see him again. 

I reminded myself that for the hundredth time tonight as I parked my car on a free space by a gravel road, my eyes roaming the darkness beyond. The place looked deserted, and I had to do one last check if I really put in the right coordinates on my map before finally turning off my engine. The road beyond was wide but uncemented and to its left is a half unfinished building with metal banisters reaching out to the sky like skeletal arms. I swallowed. Every little thing about the space beyond screams danger.

Which probably means I am in the right place. 

I reached out to zip up my jacket and pulled the hoodie over my head before getting out of my car. My sneakers crunched on the gravel as I made my way towards a low wall circling the building beyond. 

Just try and take a look. You don't have to talk to him. You can keep your distance. 

I repeated that in my head again and again as I approached what I assume to be the entrance. A part of me still wants to berate myself for doing this but I am too far gone to try and play the denial game again. I want, no, I need to see Jaemin's world.

The moment I passed through a crack on the wall, it felt like I stepped into a different world. It opened up into an even wider area, the shadows of a multi-lane road behind the abandoned building beyond. Milling around is a throng of people, some smoking, others sipping on red cups on their hands. Some cars were parked against the wall I just passed, their headlights on with music booming out of their rolled down windows. 

I tried to swallow the lump on my throat as I looked around. Already, I felt out of place in the crowd, but I steeled myself to push on, my hands digging deeper into the pockets of my jacket.

"Hey." 

I looked up to see a boy around my age wave at me. He was also holding a red cup and what looked like a bundle of paper. My eyes widened as that came into focus when he got closer. 

Money. 

Wads and wads of cash. 

"You put your bets already?" He asked as he stuffed the bills into a small belt bag hidden beneath his oversized shirt. He pulled his phone out then, unlocked the screen, and looked at me, waiting for an answer. 

"Uh…" 

He gave me an odd look.

"Who are you betting on?" He asked again. 

I gave the first name I could only think of. 

"Ja-Jaemin," I stuttered.

That earned me a low whistle from him as he typed away at his phone, probably to record my choice of 'player.' "I don't know, man. Dude seems pretty out of it lately, but whatever floats your boat." He stuck out his hand to me then, and it took me a few seconds to realize what he was asking for. 

"Oh," I scrambled to grab my purse. I was in the middle of pulling my card from my wallet when I saw his face. Slowly, I put it back to reach out for bills instead. 

"Cash only." 

I sheepishly handed him the last few hundreds I have. He took them, expertly flipping through each bill to count them off. 

"First time, eh?" 

I nodded. 

I watched as he slipped the money into his already overflowing belt bag, thinking that he would leave after that. Instead he nudged his head towards the direction of the building and motioned me along. 

"Come on then. At least try and get a good look at your first race." 

I blinked in confusion but ran after him as he started walking away. 

We stopped at the front row of the half ring of people that had already gathered in front of the abandoned rafters. Just then, a huge spotlight shone over the road behind it, driving everyone to erupt in cheers. Parked in a single line at the foot of the road are five cars, headlights opening one by one.

"Jaemin's the yellow one," the boy nodded towards the one occupying the third lane. I stared. I know next to nothing about cars, but I know enough to be sure that none of the ones in front of me now are something you can buy from your run-of-the-mill auto dealer. Lowered, with shining reams, and a low motor hum that reverberated to where I was standing, I could only briefly compute in my head how much each of those customized rides must have cost. 

I heard the boy beside me snort amusedly. "Your first race and you get to see this. I'm telling you, this happens once in a blue moon," he said with a smirk. I didn't say anything, my gaze never leaving the yellow car. 

Slowly though, I noticed the crowd's noise die down dramatically the same time that a petite form walked out from the building. The woman stopped in the middle of the road and raised her hand into the night sky, a small pistol in her grasp.

Everyone has gone so quiet now that you could almost hear a needle dropping. Just then, the resounding bang of a gunshot pierced the air. Few other large spotlights turned on simultaneously, revealing the snaking road ahead that was disguised under the darkness earlier. I gasped. The roaring sound of engines blared beyond and with a new uproar from the crowd, the cars were speeding ahead, leaving trails of light in their wake. 

My heart was beating so hard against my chest as I tried my best to follow the speeding cars ahead. I was only able to comprehend the real expanse of the road the moment each ride took over its lanes—the place looked more like an abandoned air dock field more than anything else. I was barely aware of my nails digging on the palms of my hands as my eyes switched from Jaemin’s car and the others, particularly on the deep red one that he was currently toe in toe with. The space between the two were a hair’s breadth away and I could almost swear their sides would collide any second. 

That went on until a curve on the road appeared. It was the last turn before the finish line and the crowd turned wilder as the nose of each car tried its best to take the lead. I didn’t even realize that I was holding my breath until the last second when the yellow one took over the inner space of the road before swerving successfully ahead.

Everyone around me erupted in cheers. I gave my own gasp, hands covering my lips before joining the rest.

Jaemin’s yellow lambo parked on the finish line, the rest of the race participants trailing behind. I watched as his door opened, revealing his beautiful wide grin and tousled hair. He was glowing, cheeks flushed from the adrenaline. I was so caught up in the image that I barely noticed Jeno appearing from the red car, followed by Renjun, Mark, and Haechan from the other rides. 

I couldn’t hear what they were saying, but I watched with a smile as they huddled over Jaemin, playfully pushing and cajoling him for his win. They looked happy, carefree.

But it seems like they aren’t the only ones who were out there in the road. My gaze moved back to Jaemin's car when I saw his passenger seat open. As if in slow motion, a girl got out of it, wearing the same wide smile the others have. The group hooted at her as she joined their huddle. 

That’s when I felt as if time has stopped.  

The smile on my face slowly faded as I watched Jaemin wrap his arms around her before pulling her into a tight hug. 

---

A/N: Hey guys! This is going to be the second to the last chapter of Jaemin’s side story! I originally wanted to finish it in one go, but I thought it would be nice to release the epilogue on Nana’s birthday! So yes, that’ll be out on the 13th, lol. Thank you so much to those who have continued reading this side fic! <3

Chapter 5 (END)

Taglist: @negincho​, @springdaybreaks​, 

#nct dream #nct dream mafia #nct dream mafia au #nct jaemin #jaemin x reader #lee jeno #huang renjun #mark lee #lee haechan #zhong chenle #park jisung #nct angst #nct fluff #nct imagines #nct au #nct mark #nct renjun #nct jeno #nct haechan #nct chenle #nct jisung #nct-writers #nct mafia #nct mafia au

[pedropascallovebot]

Let's Kill Tonight

summary: You're a bit out of practice, but being entrusted with the retrieval and return of Helmut Zemo shouldn't be too hard, right? Even if he is your old sorta-boss and you still are nursing unfortunate loyalty towards the team. You can manage. And him being... slightly more attractive than how you last left him won't be a problem.

Right?

warnings and a/n: i have.... no clue what this is if not a complete rewrite of mcu canon purely for self-indulgence. reader has a kinda shady past and in result will talk graphically about violence in later chapters and there's lots of gun action in this one. very fun, very cool! alright. i hope y'all enjoy teehee

—

The weather where you're at doesn’t usually vary much from a sunny sky, but alas, you’re absolutely drenched by the time you step inside the diner. You hadn’t expected the rain. Your usual five minute walk to work turned into a hike through muddy sidewalks and water droplets that kept hitting your eyes, and by the time you tied your apron around your waist the day felt over before it even started. Your boss gives you a closed-lip smile and glances at your empty section of tables, and you just know you’re going to be late on rent again.

For what it’s worth, Lüleburgaz isn’t the worst place to slip under the radar. It’s not underpopulated by any means, but it makes it perfect to blend in with the crowd as best you can. Honestly, you're just trying to make it a day without a proper therapist. Your roommates are great listeners, don't get it twisted- but all they really know about you is you're Sokovian and they don't really need to hear about the stuff that happened before your country was crushed by some guys in tights and iron suits. They don't ask you much, and you're grateful.  After an unfortunate five-year gap in employment (which isn’t your fault- it’s kinda hard to find jobs when you’re reduced to dust unexpectedly) you were lucky to find somewhere that was willing to hire you without a legally issued identification card and that was also willing to pay in cash under the table. You broke out the books and attempted to learn the language as best as you can, and while you're struggling a bit, you can at least understand the menu and what a customer is ordering. It was far from ideal- ideal would be completely erasing any trace of memory regarding you and your… history, so to speak, from anybody who has the potential to be a threat to you. Ideal could also be an island somewhere, maybe Praslin or Nassau, where you could swim in clear waters and drink copious amounts of fancy fruity drinks instead of whatever liquor your roomies had hiding under the counter. But until that happens, being on the sorta-run for some questionable past career choices seems to stick.

Said questionable career choices led you to be introduced to a network of interesting people, some less horrible than others, but all of them carried the same unmistakable signal of danger displayed in flashing lights above their heads. When you hear the bell to the restaurant door jingle, signaling the arrival of someone new, that weird gut feeling activates and your eyes flicker up to see a pair of high heels and sunglasses, even though the sun hasn’t been out all day. Everyone else eating their food don’t even spare a glance to the door. This should comfort you, it should tell you that you're fine and that there's nothing to worry about, but it absolutely doesn’t and suddenly you’re inconspicuously making your way to the back, muttering something to your boss about taking your break early. Ripping off your apron, you throw it to the side and let it land on the ground next to you, and you lean your head against the brick wall behind you. Your fingers are twitching as the pressing issue of impending doom continues to rise in your gut. You barely register the creaking sound of the back gate opening.

“Do you want a cigarette?” Suddenly, you’re in fighting stance as an unfamiliar voice speaks less than a foot away from your ear. You don’t recognize this new face, but she looks expensive and entirely too out of place for a diner that receives in its eggs already prepared and frozen.

“I’ll take that as a no, then,” she continues, and fishes a lighter and pack out of her coat pocket. “Good choice. These things will kill you- and so will this godawful food you serve here. What a relief that after today you won’t step foot in this place ever again, huh?”

Your mouth opens to say something, but you decide against it. Instead, you slightly lower your fists, keeping your eyes trained on her seemingly unbothered expression. She takes a long drag of her cigarette before giving you any more information. The silence is deafening, and you mentally take note of the clear path you have through the open fence and towards the street if you chose to run. Something tells you this lady didn’t arrive here on foot though, and she probably had an expensive vehicle waiting out front waiting to catch up to you if you chose to make a break for it.

“You’re jumpy- probably a little bit out of practice from the whole ex-assassin thing, right? I can work with that. I have to applaud you: as far as hide and seek spots go, this wasn’t horrible. We’ll have to improve your people skills, but-“

“Who are you?”

You grow increasingly frustrated as it starts to sprinkle again, leaving you cold and wet as your company opens an umbrella she had previously stored away in her coat.

“I don’t like being interrupted, so let’s not make it a habit, hm? My name is Valentina Allegra de Fontaine, and you’ve become annoyingly important to my cause. Come on, we’re leaving.”

She begins to walk towards the gate, but you stay put, beginning to toy with the idea of unsheathing the knife stored in your boot.

“I’m not going anywhere with you, lady.”

This makes her turn around and sigh in frustration.

“The way I see it, you have two choices. Go back and finish bussing tables so you can make an extra couple dollars, or come with me so we can talk real business. As far as I’m concerned, you’re the only one between the two of us that poses a threat. I’m not the one with weapons hidden in my clothes, am I?”

Your eyes narrow, but you don’t argue. Instead, you hesitantly join her in her path towards a gaudy car (you knew it) that looks way too out of place to be in this parking lot. For a split second you consider going back and giving your manager somewhat of a notice of your absence, but Valentina’s walking so fast that you don’t really have time to continue considering.

“By the way, I distinctively said my name is Valentina Allegra de Fontaine- I don’t like to repeat myself, don’t make me do it again.”

-

You barely have time to sit down before Valentina is barking directions at her driver and scolding you for getting rain water in her backseat. You remain silent, and a little bit uncomfortable as Val finishes her cigarette completely before bothering to inform you of whatever the hell she’s got going on.

“Tell me what you know about super soldiers,” she finally gives, crossing her legs and glances at you expectantly.

You search her face for any kind of indication that she’s kidding, but she seems serious. It kinda feels like your soul is being stared into and you want to look away but you can’t. What does she not know about super soldiers that she can learn from you and not from literally anywhere else? Admittedly, all you know is what clips of newspapers would give you. Something about rogue experimentation, something-something Winter Soldier, and then, most recently, the Flag-Smashers and the rumors flying around that they've got some serum floating around. All of this seemed to be public knowledge though. Nothing a woman who’s willing to corner people in the backlots of their jobs couldn’t find out from a simple Google search.

“I asked you a question, didn’t I?”

“I can’t say I know much.”

For what feels like the millionth time in the span of twenty minutes, she sighs, bringing out her cell phone and starts punching some buttons.

“And what about this man? Does he ring a bell?”

You do your absolute best to not look as tense as you feel when out of the corner of your eye you see a familiar face in a tiny, grainy picture. She shoves the device in your hands, and right there center of the screen is-

“Zemo, right? That was a trick question. Hard to forget the face of your old boss, I’d assume.”

Suddenly, you’re upright in your seat, the earlier feeling of danger settling right back into place. Valentina, of course, just lets out a laugh, while you’re planning on swan-diving out the damn window.

“The Colonel isn’t my boss,” you protest, and a burning sensation makes its way to your throat.

“Isn’t he though?” Valentina is now fully turned towards you, her hand reaching to grab the phone back. More buttons are pressed, and she’s reading your name from an official looking online database. “It says here you’re wanted in a lot of countries, huh? I wonder why that is- oh, look at this, would you? Seems like your name and EKO Scorpion are mentioned in the same sentence at least three times just on this page.”

Your eyes narrow, and you waste no more time in grabbing your gun from your coat pocket, and Valentina seems to have the same idea, the phone  in her hands is now replaced with a much newer and nicer pistol than you’re carrying. It’s silent in the car for a few seconds, and the driver in the front dares not move a muscle. Val is the first to break, and she lowers her weapon with a shit-eating grin you’re growing tired of seeing.

“Let’s start over. You’re associated with an elite death squad assigned to defend the interests of a country that’s no more than a pile of rubble and dead memorial flowers on the ground. You never had an official invitation, but they paid you good enough money for you to get your hands dirty for them. Too bad that without a leader, your little syndicate fell apart, didn’t it? Unfortunate, what happened to him really. And how inconvenient it must have been for you- I’m sure the law doesn’t usually side with individuals associated with terrorists. Luckily for you, you had a five-year break from being on the run.”

The urge to fall back into old form and pull the trigger at the slightest sign of trouble starts to rear its ugly head, but you take a deep breath and try to align your focus to your current situation. This doesn’t have to be deadly. She knows your history, she knows your name. She could just be blackmailing you. Easy fix, offer her better information on individuals that are far, far away from you. You’re sure you can think of something juicy enough to entertain her and fray her interest in you. This doesn’t have to end in a gunshot. She has access to all of the shit you’ve done. You don’t know what she knows. She could be from the American government. Kill her, and lessen the risk of being thrown in a prison cell to rot.You’re desperate, and you’re scared, and it’s making you vulnerable. You take another deep breath in, and lower your gun.

“What do you want?” Valentina falls back into her seat, clearly very amused by the entire situation now that guns weren’t drawn.

“The Flag-Smashers are becoming increasingly difficult as they’re forming alliances with seemingly every gang of mercenaries for hire. The serum belongs in the hands of someone who knows what to do with it, don’t you think?”

This lady is clearly out of her mind, but you’re too far in now and you don’t feel like questioning her on her morals or the ethics of this situation.

“I don’t want any business with Morganthau, and I don’t care about super soldiers. If that’s all you need me for, you might as well find someone else.”

“Who said anything about you dealing with Flag-Smashers? No, for you,” she starts, grabbing the phone once more and resuming that annoying clicking as she searches through various links, “I have a slightly less… hazardous task. No killing involved, sadly. I’m sure your lovely skillset will keep until it’s needed, but you will be finding Zemo for me, where I can pay him far too much money so he’ll kill the Flag-Smashers for me.”

It’s your turn to laugh, now. “In case you haven’t heard, Helmut Zemo is rotting away in prison for the rest of his life. How is he going to be of any help to you?”

Valentina doesn’t bother giving you a verbal response, just shoves that damn phone in your face again. You glare at her before your eyes skim over the article. Breakout. Zemo. The Falcon. Prison. You curse internally, and she lets her arm fall back to her side. You realize you haven’t been paying too much attention to where the driver was taking you both until you feel the vehicle holt to a stop, and you look up to realize you’re in a parking garage, and the faint sounds of airplanes fly overhead.

“As of now, you and I are a two-man team, but this won’t be the case for long. Zemo is with Sam Wilson and James Barnes in a safehouse in Riga. You and I aren’t the only ones looking for him, however, which makes your job a little tricky, but I don’t have much faith in the guy assigned in returning him to Berlin.”

“Who is he?”

“I assume the name John Walker doesn’t need an explanation?”

You shake your head.

“Walker can be of use to us, and we’re gonna need him- just not yet. What I need from you at the current moment is to make sure you get to these coordinates,” the driver is suddenly handing you a slip of paper with numbers scribbled on it, and you take it, “before Walker gets Zemo.”

You inhale, and Valentina gives you a look.

“I assume you have a question?”

“Wouldn’t it be easier to get Walker on your side sooner? Maybe if you could say the right thing, persuade him to bring Zemo to us-"

Valentina cuts you off with a scoff. “What? That if we tell Captain America to hand over an international prisoner so we can extract information and hire him to kill for us he’ll do it? Walker wants one thing right now: he wants that serum. Coincidentally, your friend Zemo wants that serum gone. IF we get to him first, which you will, he’ll be more than happy to oblige. Walker is at a tipping point, but he’s not useful to us. Yet. We just have to wait until he's vulnerable.”

She takes your silence as an okay to continue. “Get to Latvia, find Zemo. Use that pretty face of yours to charm him into coming with you, maybe share some war stories around the campfire. I don’t give a damn how you get it done. Walker’s already halfway there by now.”

You are really starting to question how Valentina is getting her information, but before you can say anything else, she’s motioning for her driver to slide another piece of paper in your hand. Your eyes go wide at the numbers listed after a dollar sign.

“I assume this would be enough to cover your services?”

You look up at her, nodding your head slightly.

“Half now, half when you bring him to me,” she finishes, and the driver is unlocking your side of the car. “It looks like we’re in business then.”

#helmut zemo #helmut zemo x reader #baron zemo x reader #helmut zemo x you #fanfiction #complete disregard for canon #marvel #mcu #i wrote this when i should of been sleeping

[katehuntington]

Title: Black Dog - part eight Word count: 1900± words Episode summary: When Sam gets an anonymous phone call with information about his father, Dean receives a text message with coordinates to different location. The brothers clash and split up, one following orders, the other trusting his instincts. Meanwhile, in the wilderness of Cascade Range,  Washington State, Zoë loses grip on a personal case and is forced to confront her  demons. Without back up, this might very well turn out to  be her final hunt. Part eight summary: Sam finally arrives in Nashville and is about to begin the search for his father, when an unexpected call comes in. Episode warnings: Dark! NSFW, 18+ only! Angst, gore, violence, character death. Description of blood, injury and medical procedures. Supernatural creatures/entities, mentions of demon possession. Swearing, smoking, weaponry. Descriptions of  torture and murder. Illegal/criminal practices. Mentions of nightmares and   flashbacks. Descriptions of suicidal thoughts and tendencies, depression, panic attacks, hallucinations. Author’s note: Beta’d by @winchest09​​​​​​​​ & @deanwanddamons​​​​​​​​​. Thanks, girls!

Supernatural: The Sullivan Series Masterlist

S1E03 “Black Dog” Masterlist

     Nashville, Tennessee      December 3rd, 2005 - Present Day

     With a sigh, Sam gets off the bus. The rain beats down on him straight away, but instead of being annoyed by it, he finds it refreshing. Finally, he’s in Nashville. It’s  taken him three days to get here. Three days of torture - which included waiting for his damn transport to arrive in the first place, being forced in a seat made for someone who is 4’8, and having to change twice to get to his final destination - but he’s in Nashville. 

     Of course, he could have hopped on a plane for a journey of only several hours, but he had a hunch he would have a bit of trouble getting through customs, carrying a duffel loaded with blades, guns, and ammunition. He might always be complaining about his brother’s driving skills or his collection of Metallica, Motorhead, and Black Sabbath tapes which he plays over and over again while he sings along, but seventy-six hours of traveling to get from Texas to Tennessee wasn’t a joy either. 

     He watches the touring car take off into the night, continuing its trip, the droplets that run down the side catching the light of the overhanging streetlights. The sound of the engine fades as the carrier merges into traffic again. Suddenly, he feels alone, left behind, and not just by the bus. It’s not the first time he experiences this uneasiness, because Sam has pondered about the fight he had with his older sibling more than once. Truth be told; he never expected Dean to leave him on the side of the road. He called his bluff, and when his brother didn’t give him an inch, he himself refused to surrender as well. If he’s completely honest with himself, he started regretting this impulsive act the minute he saw the Impala drive away, but he couldn’t let it show, he couldn’t let Dean win. He is so tired of being bossed around and being treated like a little kid. Stubborn? Maybe. Guess it runs in the family.

     Sam can take care of himself, but tracking his father will not be an easy task without Dean. When it comes to Dad, the oldest son knows him best and Sam realizes he’s going to be missing him on this search. He hopes the woman who set him on this path will call him again, because he could use a lead.

     So, what now? He decides it will probably be best to settle down in a motel and get online, see if he can find some information, then he will start asking questions. There’s not much he can do right at this moment, considering it’s 2.30 AM. It’s going to be quite a task, finding a man in a city covering 550 square miles with over 600.000 citizens. And all he has is the word of a girl he has never met, of which he didn’t even catch her name.      “This is insane,” he mutters, looking around.

     A voice of reason whispers in his ear again: go back. Dean’s words had some truth to them. What if this is a trap? What if he’s walking straight into it? Sam’s doubts will not make him turn around, though. He is here and he is not going to stop searching until he finds Dad. 

     Sam keeps his head low and buries his hand in his pockets, protecting himself from the rain as he shivers. It’s not particularly cold for this time of the year, but 39 °F isn’t anything near Texas. Raindrops bring down the temperature as well and continue to fall down on the hunter as clouds block out the moon.

     He starts to walk in the direction of what seems to be a hotel. The interstate, which lays directly next to the parking lot, crosses Highway 70. Lines of cars travel by, their white headlights and red tail lights lighting the road like it’s Christmas already. 

     Through the curtains of water, the young Winchester spots a neon sign at the entrance of the building he’s approaching. He was right; it is a hotel, funnily enough one from the same chain where Zoë spent the night in Paragould. The Hampton Inn Bellevue looks like a fancy place from the outside, and remembering the luxurious room of the huntress, he reckons this hotel will not be any different. Sam doesn’t like to waste money, but he will do anything for a decent bed after being crammed into that touring car like a canned sardine. Not that he’s planning to sleep much; he has better things to do. He has to find Dad, it’s all he can think of. 

     Right when he’s about to enter the establishment, he hears his cell phone ringing. Hastily, he takes his Blackberry from his pocket, hoping it to be the anonymous caller who tipped him off three days ago. The display announces the caller as ‘unidentified’, it might not be so far fetched. Sam picks up immediately.      “Hello?”      A relieved sigh sounds from the other side. “Hey, Sam.”

     It’s a feminine voice alright, but it’s not the ‘mysterious lady’, as Dean called the woman who passed him the information about their Dad. He does recognize the person on the other end, though. She is the last human being on earth he expected a call from.      “Zoë,” he concludes, stunned.      “Yeah… hey, listen,” she cuts to the chase. “I’m in deep shit.”

     Sam stops dead in his tracks. He thought she might be after she left so abruptly back in Arkansas, but the fact that she’s admitting that she’s in trouble means that this is serious.

     “Where the hell are you?” he asks.      “I’m just outside Darrington, Washington State.”      “Are you hurt?” Sam asks worriedly.      “Yeah, but that’s not the point.” She pauses for a moment, knowing what she is about to say might come as an unpleasant surprise. “Your brother’s here.”

     Completely staggered, Sam stares ahead with his phone still close to his ear. What did she just say? Dean is there? With her?! A million questions pop up in his head, but he finds it difficult to choose the first one to ask. 

     “What?!” is the only thing he can cry out.      “Yeah, I thought you might say that.”      “But, how the…? He went out to do Dad’s dirty laundry!” he recalls, stunned.      “Are you calling me dirty laundry?”      Sam’s eyebrows reach his hairline, remembering the coordinates John sent his brother. “You are Dad’s dirty laundry?”      “Apparently, but it doesn’t matter.” She interferes before the receiver of the call has the chance to ramble on. “Listen, Dean’s life is in danger. If he stays here with me, he’ll die. You have to get him out bef--”

     Now, it’s Zo who gets interrupted. Puzzled, Sam stares at his phone for a moment, assuming the connection might be bad. When the display shows three bars in the right upper corner, he presses the Blackberry against his ear again and listens carefully, trying to identify the sounds he hears. It seems like Zoë is fighting someone over the phone, then he hears Dean in the background.      “Give me the damn phone! Give it!”      “No! Let go!”      “Zoë!”      “Don’t Zoë me, you son of a--”      “Hand me the fucking phone!”

     The line cracks, but then the noise of static stabilizes. Dean has apparently won the fight over the device, because he can hear his voice loud and clear.      “Sam?”      “What?” he replies coldly.      “Whatever you do, don’t hang up,” Dean pleads before Sam does something he will regret later.      “I thought you were on Dad’s job?” the younger brother confronts, still angry with his brother.      “I am, this is the job. The coordinates led me to Zo,” he explains. “This is not some ghost hunt, Sam. This is unlike anything I’ve ever faced before.”

     The hunter hears the concern in his sibling’s voice and he immediately swallows back the smart response he had waiting for him.      “I need you to get over here, and while you’re at it look up everything you can find about hellhounds,” Dean demands, calm but stern.      “Hellhounds?” Sam repeats, perplexed. “As in the actual soul claimers of the crossroad demons?”      “Yep, and we’re on the menu.”      “How did that happen? You have to make a deal before they claim your soul at the arranged time,” Sam remembers from one of the lore he studied.      “They were let off the hook,” Dean claims. “Sam, you have to find out a way to kill them.”      “You can’t kill hellhounds, Dean,” Sam replies.      “No, you don’t understand. You have to find a way to kill them,” Dean repeats slowly, making sure the words sink in.

     The youngest gulps, realizing how much trouble Zoë and his brother are in. He has read some books that mentioned these creatures, but he never found anything about killing them. He turns around and stares up, letting the rain fall down on him, the water clumping his brown hair together in strands. The hunter scoffs; and he thought he made it to his final destination. He just traveled half the country to get east, now he has to travel all the way up north?

     “This better not be some excuse to get me away from Dad, Dean,” he warns.      “I wish it was, Sam,” Dean says, concerned. “Hurry it up, will ya?”      “Will do.”      “And - uh, about what happened down in Texas…”      “That’s not important now. We’ll talk about it later,” Sam replies to Dean’s unspoken words.

     Knowing they both can bury their pride and work this out, the younger brother closes his eyes as a burden falls off his shoulders. It must, for him to be able to carry a much heavier weight on them. Zoë’s and Dean’s life will depend on him.

     “One more thing,” Sam states, before hanging up. “You do know what happens when these things catch you. You don’t just die…”      “I know. You go to hell,” Dean finishes.      The young Winchester nods his head, although his sibling can’t see that. A short silence follows, after which Dean ends their conversation.      “See you soon, Sammy.”

     The line disconnects and a tone beeps in his ear, but it takes a few seconds before the young hunter actually lowers the phone and puts it away. Well, that changes things. There is no time to lose; he needs to get to Washington State and fast. 

     Determined, he stalks back onto the parking lot, observing his surroundings. No bus ride this time, he needs faster transportation. His gaze glides over the parking lot. Then he spots a silver 2005 Chrysler Crossfire Roadster amongst them. He nods, approving, knowing that the vehicle would make good time, but his conscience kicks in soon enough. He can not just connect some wires and steal a car like that! Or any car! But the thought of his brother and Zoë ending up dog food because he was too civilized to go grand theft auto isn’t something he could live with either. He’s left with no other option. 

     Reluctantly, Sam groans and eyes the vehicle, but then steps towards it while shaking his head and mumbling to himself, “I am so gonna regret this.”

Thank  you so much for reading. I appreciate every single one of you, but if you do want to give me some extra love, you are free to reblog my work or buy me coffee. Link in bio at the  top of the page.

#Supernatural: the Sullivan Series #Supernatural series #Dean Winchester series #Sam Winchester series #Supernatural OFC series #SPN #Supernatural #Dean x OFC #Sam X OFC #Dean Winchester x OFC #Sam Winchester x OFC #Dean angst #Sam angst #dean winchester #Sam Winchester #STSS #Black Dog #1x03 Black Dog #Zoë Sullivan #Kate Huntington

[fedeipox]

The Way of Time (Rdr2 fanfic) - Chapter 6 (2/3)

Part 1 here: https://fedeipox.tumblr.com/post/640021017292636160/the-way-of-time-rdr2-fanfic-chapter-6-13

Chapter 6 (2/3) - Something acceptable

Words: 3,3k

Javier watched her carefully: her face had acquired an unusual glow and her eyes were sparkling with childish enthusiasm. He wasn’t sure she was understanding how hard and dangerous it was. Planning a robbery was no game, but at the same time her presence there was a great impulse for him, and he couldn’t understand why. 

“Let’s say we get rid of the sheriff, do you think you can hold off the doctor and all the men behind that door?” she asked.

“If I take the doctor as hostage, yes, I reckon killing three or four men won’t be a problem.”

“Killing?”

Their eyes met and it was at that moment that Javier had the certainty that she had no idea of what they were going towards. Did she really think that was some kind of game?

“How do you expect me to hold off all the men inside there without killing them?” he asked.

“I don’t know but please don’t kill them” she complained.

“What if they shoot first?”

“Well… in that case you can… defend yourself, I think. But not the doctor, please. He’s innocent of all of this. I mean, he has an illegal activity, but he’s still a doctor, he helps people.”

“What if he recognizes me and gives my identity to the sheriff?”

She seemed to think deeply about it, then, just like she had received the enlightenment she looked at him and said: “do you really think he’s going to the sheriff and tell him somebody robbed his illegal business?”

He had to admit it made perfect sense. Javier took a deep sigh looking straight at her and her big sweet eyes before he gave in. Yes, the man was a healer, an important figure for the town, that was the only reason why he wasn’t going to kill him. 

“So, for the sheriff, I might have an idea” she said in the end.

...

The plan was established, they all knew what they had to do, now the problem was put it into practice. Emily was proud of her ideas, years and years of thriller movies and crime novels had taught her how to plan a robbery, how to create a diversion, and most of all that you must always have a plan B. 

Even though she kept saying to herself that steal to other criminals wasn’t a real crime, she knew in her heart that it was an excuse, and she couldn’t get out of her head the idea that what they were doing was wrong. But at the same time the thought of a crime, of doing something that shouldn’t be done, excited her like a child at the sight of a playground, and she was both ashamed and afraid of that feeling. Was she turning into a criminal? One of those people who like doing bad things?

She leant her back against the wood of the building, right next to the door of the saloon, and waited patiently for Bill to come.

It was too late now for a rethinking: here goes nothing.

They had chosen Bill for the part of the drunk surly brawler, the perfect man according to Javier. He would put on a fight at the saloon and Emily was the one responsible of calling the attention of the sheriff to said fight, while Javier had to collect the money. 

The second saloon of Valentine wasn’t as big as the Smithfield, but Emily had sweared she wasn’t going to put another foot inside that terrible place. Besides, that one had also fewer customers, but definitely drunker, which was perfect for Bill to start a brawl without making too much an effort. 

He showed up from the end of the street, sitting astride on his huge brown horse that he stopped at the post. He slowly got down and adjusted his pants with an overdramatic attitude before he tied the animal and with a heavy and swinging walk he reached the porch.

“Miss” he said touching the brim of his hat.

Emily nodded to him just like they didn’t know each other. That was part of the plan. He got inside and asked for a whiskey with an unnecessary loud voice. She shook her head deploring the man’s acting skills, but it turned out his fake high tone helped their cause because someone complained about him and after an exchange of insults, Emily heard exactly what she needed: men punching each other.

Without wasting time she ran down the steps of the porch and on the muddy street to reach the sheriff’s office. With every step her boots dipped in the mud and in her mind she blessed whoever had invented the asphalt.

Javier looked at her as she reached the sheriff’s door and walked inside. He was standing right around the corner of the doctor’s building, checking the door for unusual movements or patients. No-one. That day the apothecary had no customers, which was perfect. If everybody had done their part well, and if Bill hadn’t caused any trouble, that job was going to be a success.

“Sheriff, I need your help, there’s a fight at the saloon” said Emily walking inside the poorly lit room.

There, there were two men dressed more or less in the same way and she had no idea who of them was the sheriff, so after she said the words she moved her eyes from one to the other hoping they wouldn’t notice her ignorance about sheriffs.

“Again? This town is a nightmare” said the man seated behind the desk, “which one?”

“Keane’s” Emily answered readily.

“George, go check it” he ordered to the other man.

Emily needed two seconds to understand what was happening: the sheriff was sending the deputy, that way he didn’t have to lift his ass from the chair, which was exactly what she wanted him to do.

“No” she exclaimed making both of them look at her.

“They have guns, sheriff, and they seem determined to use them. I think it’s better if you go check personally” she lied.

He brought a hand to his face to rub his eyes and took a deep breath before standing up.

“Okay, let’s go.”

As soon as she walked out, followed by the two men, Javier turned the corner of the building, gave a look around making sure no-one was watching him and raised his bandana on his face. With that and the large hat he hoped not to be identified by the doctor.

“Don’t do anything stupid, friend. I just want to take a look at the room on the back” he said raising his handgun to the doctor’s chest. 

“Sir, please, you don’t want to get involved with them, I-I promise you.”

“Let me choose who I want to get involved with. Now open the door.”

“Okay… okay.”

Emily turned her head for a second and glanced at the apothecary wondering how Javier was doing. In her heart she hoped he wouldn’t hurt anyone. Her friend, her kind Mexican friend, who kills someone in cold blood. The idea was extremely troubling for her.

“How many men are we talking about, Miss?” asked the deputy.

“Erm, two or three. They seemed quite dangerous.”

“Don’t worry, we’ll take care of them.”

“No doubt.”

Javier followed the doctor until they reached the heavy iron door. He laid his back on the wall right next to it and with his gun still pointed at the man’s chest he made a brief nod of his head. The doctor knocked.

“Hey, i-it’s me. I-I’ve brought you fellers some food and whiskey” he said.

Javier heard the little window opening and flattened even more against the wall not to be seen.

“Yeah, it’s only the doc” said someone from the other side and then the sound of steel against steel made him understand it was his moment.

He grabbed the man from behind, pointing the gun to his head and pushed him inside the room among the confused expressions of four people.

When they reached the saloon, Emily let the sheriff and the deputy walk inside and deal with Bill and the other two drunkards, while she stopped on the porch waiting to see Javier in the distance telling her he was done.

“Hey, stop! Stop it right now! What are you doing?” she heard the sheriff shouting.

“This little piece of shit here was insulting me, I just came for a drink!” replied Bill. 

“You couldn’t keep your mouth shut, you big asshole!”

Another struggle started just in time when Emily heard a series of shots, one after the other, in the distance, and she imagined them coming from the doctor’s office. She moved her eyes from the men inside the saloon to the road, but thanks to the noise they were making, the sheriff and his deputy hadn’t heard the gunfire. She couldn’t tell the same about the people out in the street, who started looking around them suspiciously. 

Without wasting any more time, conscious that someone had heard the noise of his gun, Javier let the doctor go and started collecting all the money from the table at the centre of the room. Then, he looked inside the safety boxes, the crates, under the mattress, all under the shocked look of the doctor who hadn’t moved from where Javier had left him.

“You won’t say a thing, right?” he asked menacingly.

“Oh, n-no sir. Y-you’ve liberated me. T-they were awful, they were forcing me to do this.”

“Good, happy to help.”

After he took the last wad of cash, he walked to the back door, opened it and went outside.

“Okay, now go, and I don’t want to see your ugly faces ever again, is that clear! Or next time I’ll lock you all up for the rest of your pathetic lives!” said the sheriff kicking the three men out of the door.

Emily gave a last look down the road where Javier was waving at her before she turned around to smile at the sheriff and the deputy.

“Thank you, I was scared to death they could have killed each other” she said.

“Nothing to be scared about, Miss. These things always end with a couple of bruises and a broken nose, nothing more. Anyway, you better stay away from saloons, they’re not a place for a lady” replied the sheriff walking away.

Emily reached Bill, next to his horse, and whispered “done” before she walked down the road again to reach Javier who had left his horse behind the church. When she saw him in the distance, waiting for her with a cigarette between his lips, she couldn’t restrain her enthusiasm anymore and ran in his direction jumping around and radiating excitement.

“So, how much? How much?” she asked with a jiggling laugh.

“Shh quiet. I don’t know, I didn’t count them. Come on, let’s head back to camp.”

“How’s the doctor?”

“Still alive, but I can’t say the same about the four assholes in the room” he replied taking her form her waist and making her sit on the back of Boaz. 

“Were they armed?” she asked with a little less enthusiasm.

“Yes, and they were forcing the doctor to run the illegal poker game. He was the victim of all of that” he answered mounting up.

...

Unexpectedly, her reaction to those people death wasn’t as terrible as she imagined it to be, but she still couldn’t believe Javier had done it: the man right in front of her, to whose waist she was grabbing not to fall from the horse, had just killed four people. She was both intrigued and scared by him at that moment: what if he was one of those who enjoyed violence?

“How does it feel? When you kill someone?” she asked.

Javier didn’t answer immediately, he thought a little about it first. How did he feel when he killed a man? He felt nothing. He was aware that there were some people in the world who liked killing, who felt powerful by doing it, and other people who felt awful, but for him it was just a matter of survival. If the man who was facing him was a threat for his life, he had to kill him. Only once he had allowed his emotions to take over and he had paid the bitter price for that.

“It’s not the act of killing itself that makes you feel something, but the reason why you’re doing it” he explained.

“There is no valid reason for killing someone” she stated.

“Oh no, every reason is good for killing someone, you just have to decide if that reason is good enough for you.”

“If you put it that way, everyone could kill anybody in the world.”

“And isn’t it exactly what happens?”

“I disagree. What you do is acting like God, you have no right to do that.”

“But if I hadn’t killed those men, now we wouldn’t have the money to buy supplies for the camp.”

Emily huffed. It was impossible to argue with him, it was a tricky matter and he was both wrong and right, but what he had said made her think about something else.

“What about Dutch on that ferry? What good reason did he have to kill that girl?”

“He… we were up against the wall, our lives were in danger.”

“And killing a girl solved everything?”

“No y-you… you wasn’t there, you can’t understand.”

“Whatever you say won’t change my mind. Killing is wrong. Always.” Javier couldn’t understand: she kept saying that killing was wrong, but he had just killed four people to put some food in her belly, how could that be wrong?

When they reached camp they found Bill dismounting his horse. They parted the money in three exact parts and Emily found out she had gained twenty-five dollars and forty-five cents. Finally she had her own money and with it a part of her freedom, but to gain that freedom she had had to sentence to death someone else. 

Javier had said they weren’t good people, that they were coercing the doctor to give them the room for their affairs and obliging him to keep his mouth shut, and this, added to the fact that they needed that money for the supplies, made her feel a little less sorry for their death. Maybe what they had done wasn’t good, but at least acceptable. 

“Remember to put some in the box” said Javier before he walked away and he didn’t had to repeat it twice. 

Emily walked to Dutch’s tent where she found Miss O’Shea writing something on a paper. 

“Hi Molly” she said and walked all around the tent to reach the barrel with the box.

“Hi, how are you?” Molly asked politely.

“Actually, I’m pretty good. Look at this!” she exclaimed showing her the money.

“We’ve robbed an illegal poker game.”

“Good, so now we can make this place better.”

“What do you mean? Make it better?”

“Yes, we use the money in the box for supplies and camp improvements. Look” she said standing up and reaching her side.

“If you go to this page, you can see what everybody thinks it should be done to make this dump a little more livable. And here you have to write your name and what you are leaving in the box.”

Emily was amazed from how they had thought about everything. On the page of the improvements there were all kind of requests: from chickens, which surely belonged to Pearson, to pelts and covers to make the sleeping spots more comfortable, and there even was a joker named Mac who had written “a castle”, and right after another one named Davey - one of those who had died in the mountains, Emily remembered that - who had written “a brain for my brother”.

Emily laughed at those puns and then wrote her name on the donation page leaving on the box the spare five dollars and forty-five cents she had.

“Alright, thank you, Molly. Sorry if I interrupted you. What were you writing by the way?”

“Oh, nothing, just a stupid poem” she replied.

“A poem? Can I read it?”

“It’s not finished.”

“I don’t mind. Can I?”

...

Molly nodded and let Emily inside her tent, making her sign to sit on the cot by her side before she handed her the poem. She looked at her shyly as the girl ran her eyes on the piece of paper and when she ended her heart gave a slight jump.

“What do you think?” she asked.

“It’s great. Is this how it happened? With Dutch?”

“How do you know that’s Dutch?” she inquired.

“It’s obvious. So you came here, met him and fell in love with him, but now you feel like you gave him all you could give, and this makes you empty somehow, and this emptiness makes you feel worthless too.”

Molly kept looking at her with her mouth half open: how could she understand all of that from the poem? 

“How… how can you…”

“Can I tell you something? Don’t beat yourself up. Your worth doesn’t lie with him, your worth doesn’t lie with anyone but yourself.”

How? How could that girl so young, so innocent, so naive read inside her mind? 

“You don’t… you don’t know what you’re talking about. You’re young, you’re just a child.”

“Yes, you’re probably right. But I’ve seen too many women in love with men who don’t deserve them not to recognize one.”

“You know nothing! He loves me and I love him! Go, get out of here!”

She stood up and looked at Emily with her eyes on fire. She had centered the problem and now Molly felt vulnerable, and this weakness made her angry. 

“Yes, I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have said that” she said in a hurry and stood up in turn.

“But if you… if you want to talk, about anything, I’m here, okay?”

Molly didn’t answer, she kept looking at Emily with that furrowed brow that hid all her insecurities, and in the end Emily walked out of her tent and away from her.

#rdr2 #Red Dead Redemption #red dead redemption 2 #red dead redemption fanfiction #arthur morgan #arthur morgan x female oc #Javier Escuella #Bill Williamson #molly o'shea

[thecreelhouse]

take care of yourself

paring: Steve Harrington x Reader

Summary: you’ve been through enough shit to believe self care is building your walls high and keeping everyone out. The Universe has no problem challenging that, though. (Or: the flower shop/soulmate AU comfort fic nobody asked for)

Word count: 4,656

Warnings: mentions of past abuse (emotional/mental/physical), PTSD, language, angst

A/N: it finally happened, I wrote a reader insert fic for once! lol. I’ve been going through a rough patch with old trauma, and this is an absolute self indulgent comfort fic buuuuuut I hope whoever reads it enjoys it. Originally it was me writing out some shit to just get it out, but then it turned to a flower shop AU, and somehow ended as a soulmate AU....? Messy, but oh well lol. if you’re an abuse survivor, pls know your pain is valid but your healing is so, so very important. 💜 title is from the song ‘take care of yourself’ by the childlike empress

Build your walls up high and strong, tall and mighty. No ladder or set of stairs could reach the top. Not even the most stubborn and determined can make their way in. Make yourself more stubborn than those around you. Leave first before you’re left in the dust.

You’ve lived this way for years. It’s lonely. It’s quiet. It has its own kind of hurt, but it’s pain in your control.

You’ve lived this way for years, and you swore you’d never let anyone take advantage of you ever again. Once vulnerable, soft, welcoming, now stoic, cold, distant; you wouldn’t feel it was necessary to stay this way if people weren’t so cruel.

If you never open up, they can’t use your secrets against you. If you keep to yourself, they can’t get under your skin. If you weren’t so foolish, so quick to trust others, you could enjoy human connection without a second thought. Now, it’s second nature to keep your defenses up, and keep them up strong.

With that comes anger, defaulted towards everyone and everything, and it doesn’t give anyone new a true chance. If that means you’re safe in the end, then that’s just fine. Maybe you are cold, maybe you are bitter, but you’re nowhere near as bad as the monster that drove you here.

You’ve lived this way for years, because it’s better than being gaslit on a regular basis. Safer than a hand around your throat, just manipulating you to stay. The pain of being lonely is a dull sting compared to the pain of your first time being stolen from you, forced to become someone else’s gain, someone else’s object.

You’ve lived this way for years, why stop now?

Why let someone have the opportunity to tear you down? Rip you apart? In the end, most people just have selfish motives, and if they don’t, they’re hard to come by. Why waste your life looking for someone worth your time?

So yeah, it’s lonely. It’s lonely as fuck. It hurts. It’s a comfortable pain that soothes you to sleep every night. It’s a wound that never heals, but at least you’re the only one disturbing it.

When you moved, you just wanted to get the fuck away from anything and everything tied to him. You wanted to destroy all links, burn all bridges; nothing was safe anymore, nothing was pure anymore. You up and left because no matter how hard you tried, someone was always waiting around the corner of your next chapter in life, eager to apologize on his behalf.

“He had it hard, you know.” And “his sister abused him, he didn’t know any better. Never got proper help.” followed by, “he’s trying, he’s changing, give him another chance.”

If manipulating someone to stay under dangerous circumstances is “trying and changing”, you wanted no fucking part in that mess. You knew better. He should know better.

So you left. You packed up and left the little bit of good sprinkled throughout town behind, because it wasn’t worth running into him one more time. Wasn’t worth glancing over your shoulder in fear anymore. You knew he was powerless once you left him, but it never calmed the storm of anxieties constantly brewing within you, the “what ifs” keeping you awake at night.

Hundreds of miles from home, you stopped in a small town. Hawkins, Indiana. Quiet. Quaint. Small towns may be frustrating in the sense that everyone knows everyone, but at least it’s a fresh start, practically off the grid compared to home.

You flowed your life into the surroundings of Hawkins quite easily; a small apartment downtown with easy to find parking, a job at a flower shop a block away, working with what you loved, and you picked up as many hours as you could, keeping busy, keeping to yourself. It’s what you always did best. Friendly at work, friendly when necessary to strangers, but you never let anyone in. It’s what you simply did best.

For a few months, you kept to your daily routine. Lonely, sure, but nothing out of the ordinary for you. You called home when necessary, just to reach out and let your parents know you’re still alive, doing just fine. Things were simple, and that was just fine. It gave you more down time to focus on yourself, focus on healing, however you saw fit.

One day, though, the focus stopped short. The perfect, mundane balance you had, went off the rails in just a quick, few minute exchange. Everything you had worked so hard to protect was screaming at you to tear the walls away.

It was a normal, Thursday evening at the shop. Quiet, watering the plants as needed, the chime above the front door tore you from your safe bubble. You switched gears, getting ready to use your pleasant “retail” voice, when your eyes fell on two boys, and your balance began to unsteady itself. One was older than the other; the younger boy looked to be in his early teens, and the older boy was much closer to your age, hanging somewhere near or in his 20-somethings.

It wasn’t the boys walking in that threw you off, it was specifically locking eyes with the older boy, forgetting to breathe for a quick second. Forgetting how to move, how to act; the cold shield you kept up at all times was begging to be let down, just over some handsome, idiot stranger. Something felt like a magnetic pull towards him, but only for a moment.

Fighting through the daze, you asked, “Can I help y’all?”

The younger boy, with messy curls flowing from under a hat and gaps in his toothy grin, immediately walked up to you. “My girlfriend is visiting, and I want to surprise her with flowers, but I don’t know what her favorite flower is, and I can’t just ask her-“

“I mean, you can, you know.” You interjected, smiling at how panicked he seemed.

“That’s what I told him!” The older boy added, walking closer. “He didn’t want to listen.”

“Yeah, Steve, because your girl advice has been proven to be shit.” The younger boy mumbled back, rolling his eyes. The older boy’s face grew red.

“Hey! Even she-“ Steve gestured to you, pausing for a moment, hoping you’d introduce yourself, or he’d find a name tag, something. “- um, sorry-“

“Y/N,” You replied, unsure how to feel in this situation. His eyes searched yours for a moment too long, and you felt exposed.

“Thank you- see, Dustin. Even Y/N agrees with my advice. Maybe I don’t always have shitty girl advice.” Steve finished his argument with Dustin.

You wanted to laugh at how ridiculous they were being, how it was giving you some comic relief to a bland, boring day... but laughing meant being friendly, and being friendly was only reserved for short conversations and interactions. You felt like you could easily fall into a conversation with these two, and that was the last thing you needed right now. Trusting anyone was the last of your concerns anymore.

“Well, there’s no real wrong choice, in my opinion. Just, don’t get white lilies, or something. Those are usually for loss and sorrow, better for funerals.” You offered, sticking strictly to business. “If you have any questions, feel free to ask. I have to get back to watering some of these plants now.”

Without waiting for a reply, you walked off across the room with the watering can, hoping they’d be quick and out of here soon. A few minutes passed, and you could hear them frantically whispering to one another across the shop, not exactly clear about what, until you did hear a clear “go talk to her!” from Dustin to Steve. You felt yourself stiffen up, not wanting to be disturbed, not wanting things to grow awkward.

Sure enough, the Universe truly loves to work against you, and a few moments later Steve found his way closer to you, clearing his throat to catch your attention. You turned from the plants you were focused on.

“Yes?”

“Uh... hi.”

“.... hi?” You replied, brow raised. “Did you need something?”

“N-no, I just- are you new here?” Steve asked, tripping over his words, hands fumbling out of nervousness. “Sorry, this is weird. I just haven’t seen you around before... and I-“

“I moved somewhat recently,” you replied, keeping things vague. “What’s it to you?”

Steve’s face fell, flustered and unable to reply to that. “N-nothing. Sorry.”

With that, he walked back over to his friend. You felt bad for being short and cold, but the last thing you needed in this town were friends. The last thing you needed was some cute, nervous guy working for your trust.

A few more minutes passed in silence, aside from more awkward whispers from the two boys, and suddenly Dustin shouted out, “Thanks, Y/N! Have a good day!” before pulling Steve behind him out the door.

You were left in confusion, wondering if your attitude scared them off, and felt bad. You just couldn’t let anyone in, even with a little bit of innocent small talk. Steve probably meant well, but you didn’t want to take the risk of finding out.

The next few days went on with your regular customers, an elderly man wanting to surprise his wife with some nice flowers, just because. A mother creating a lovely bouquet to give her daughter after her dance recital that night. A call for a funeral arrangement was what shook you to your core, though.

You’ve had them before, you’ve made them before. You were the only other employee aside from your boss who was skilled in making them. You loved doing what you could to help ease the pain of loss, but it hurt hard this time, hearing the young woman lost her life to an abusive, turbulent relationship. It sent chills up your spine. She was just a bit younger than you, still close enough to relate, though. The man was taken in by authorities, thankfully, but it still had an end no parent wants to hear of their child. No friend or family member wants to ever hear they’ve lost someone to a selfish monster.

Your heart hurt for the woman, and hurt because it’s a situation you were once in. It could’ve been you, and was a sharp reminder why you couldn’t trust anyone.

Working on the floral arrangement late Saturday night, you had the shop to yourself, trying to stay tuned into your handiwork. The funeral was the next morning, and you refused to clock out until the arrangement was perfect. It wouldn’t bring this poor girl back, wouldn’t turn back time, but if it could help honor her life, then you were doing something right.

The familiar chime of the small door bell sounded off, and you didn’t turn around to face the customer. “We’re not doing any custom orders tonight, and we’re technically closed, so make your decisions quickly, please.”

“Oh. Shit, sorry, Y/N, didn’t even realize-“

You spun around at the sound of your name to see Steve, awkwardly standing just beyond the doormat.

“Why are you here?” It came out colder than you wanted it to. You needed it to be cold, though, right?

You watched Steve wince at your attitude before responding. “I- I just wanted to apologize for the other night, when Dustin and I were in here. If we made you uncomfortable. I’m sorry.”

He wasn’t wrong, you were uncomfortable, but how would he know that off the bat? He was just being friendly, and you were the one shutting yourself off.

“S’fine.” You replied quickly before turning back to your work, busying yourself once more. “I have to keep working...”

You trailed off, wanting to tell him he had to go, but a part inside of you screamed stay, stay, stay.

Steve sighed. “Yeah, of course. Sorry, again, Y/N. See you around.”

The doorbell chimed once more, and you glanced down at your hands, crushing a few lilies subconsciously. Sighing and throwing them onto the table, you walked over to the door and locked it.

“It’s safer this way.” You reassured yourself. “It’s just for the best.”

A few more days passed, and Dustin came back in. You couldn’t be as cold towards him, he was only a kid.

“Hey, what’s up?” You asked as he crossed the room to the counter.

“I’m sorry if we bothered you last week-“

“Dustin, it’s fine, really. Steve came in the other night. You guys weren’t bothering me at all.” You tried reassuring him, but he still wore guilt on his face.

“I really do need flowers, though. And I asked Suzie what her favorites are!” Dustin said, with a growing smile. It made a smile of your own begin to grow.

“And did she tell you?”

“Yep! Sunflowers! Never woulda’ guessed on my own.” He replied.

“Proud of you, kid. Glad you asked.” You began gathering some fresh cut sunflowers into a brown craft paper bouquet. “When’s she visiting?”

As you handed him the flowers, he answered. “Tomorrow! I’m gonna’ show her around town, maybe we’ll stop in and say hi, if that’s ok?”

“Of course it’s okay, door’s always open.”

“Great!” After paying, Dustin began to walk towards the door, stopping to turn back your way. “Do you like sunflowers too?”

Brow raised at the question, you answered without thinking much into it. “They’re nice, but I like wildflowers more myself.”

“Good to know, thanks, bye!” And with that, he rushed out of the shop, leaving you confused once again.

The question didn’t make sense until the next day, when Dustin stopped in with Suzie, and a nervous Steve trailing behind the both of them, hands behind his back.

Arms crossed and brows furrowed, you said hello to the younger teens before directing your attention back to Steve. “Wasn’t expecting you here.”

“Yeah- I’m their ride for the day.” Steve nervously chuckled, shifting his weight back and forth between his feet.

“Whatcha’ got there? Behind your back?” You questioned, curious but nervous. Steve’s face flushed red before he pulled a small bunch of wildflowers from behind his back, handing them to you. Your eyes grew wide, trailing down to the roots of the flowers, clearly sticking out, freshly yanked from the ground.

“Um- uh- Dustin mentioned you like wildflowers, and I wasn’t sure what kinds, so we picked a bunch for you.”

“He picked them, I just delivered the information.” Dustin corrected, and Steve elbowed him, pulling a smile out of you.

“Thank you.” You said, feeling your expression soften on its own, and with that, Steve hesitantly let a smile grow. “I’m going to clean these up and put them in water. You can come with, if you want.”

Your own words surprised you, wondering when you became okay with any friendliness with a guy your age. But you didn’t fight it, continuing off to the back of the store, with Steve following behind, leaving Dustin and Suzie on their own in the shop among the flowers.

Steve watched curiously as you cut the dirt-covered roots from the ends of the flowers, giving them fresh ends to drink from. Your eyes darted up to his. “You didn’t have to do this, you know.”

Steve’s eyes grew wide once you began to speak. “I- I wanted to. I still feel bad for upsetting you the other night. I really meant no harm, I swear.”

Sighing, you set the flowers down gently on a counter, leaning against it and looking towards him before speaking again. “You did nothing wrong. I’m just a fucking mess, and don’t let anyone close to me anymore. You couldn’t have known.”

“Still, I’m sorry I invaded your space without asking or- I don’t know-“

“Steve.” You crossed your arms, narrowing your eyes at him. “It’s not your fault, really. I’m sorry I came off so cold.”

“I understand, though. And don’t feel pressured to like, be friendly with me, or whatever...” Steve trailed off, struggling to find the right words. “I just wanted to at least let it be known that... I dunno.... it’s okay, I guess.”

Smirking at his attempt, you moved back to the flowers, grabbing an empty vase and filling it with water. “It isn’t. It won’t be, unless I keep my distance from people. But I appreciate your sincerity.”

“Not everyone is bad, you know.” He mumbled. “I’m not just saying that to kiss my own ass, I mean it, there are good people out there, you know.”

Feeling your grip tighten around the flowers, you caught yourself before crushing them, placing them in the vase safely. “You don’t know that. You wouldn’t know that.”

“What makes you think I wouldn’t know?” He countered, unaware of the push it caused on you.

“Why are you so fixated on changing my view, huh?” You snapped, spinning back to face him. “You think you can just come along and fix that? Fix me?”

“No, I never said that.” Steve replied, frustrated. “I don’t know you. Don’t know a thing about you. But I just- forget it.”

“What? Say it.”

Looking away, Steve mumbled, “You don’t have to isolate yourself to feel safe. I know what it’s like, okay? It fucking sucks.”

“Bullshit you know anything about that. You don’t know me, don’t assume shit.”

“Who moves to Hawkins willingly?! You’re running from something or someone-“ at that, your face fell, and he paused, searching your eyes. “You’re right, I shouldn’t care. I shouldn’t be nosy and get involved, but I know what that pain feels like, and it fucking hurts. I just wanted to try and show you that you’re not alone.”

You held yourself and emotions back as he searched your eyes once more before walking away, and you let him. A few moments passed before you heard the bell chime over the door, and you were fully alone, just like you always wanted.

You’ve lived this way for years, why stop now? Why stop ever?

For a moment, a sliver of time, you felt seen, felt understood, valid in your pain. For a moment, you didn’t feel so alone, and you pushed that away.

Weeks passed, and neither Steve nor Dustin came back into the shop since. You almost missed them, almost missed how you felt a little less lonely when they were around, even if you barely knew them. Not knowing where Steve lived, worked, or anything, you just had to patiently wait, and hope either would return, and you could mend the barely built bridge you instantly burned down.

It wasn’t until one night just before closing, a girl your age came into the shop, heading straight for the counter you stood behind.

“Hi, can I-“

“This is from Steve.” The girl interrupted you, handing a VHS tape over. “Just... watch it, okay? Give him another chance, before I go insane hearing that dingus whine about how he fucked things up.”

Leaving you speechless, she left the store. You glanced at the tape, seeing it was just a plain black VHS tape, with a piece of masking tape on the side, written on it was “for Y/N”, causing your stomach to flip a little.

Curious as to what could be on it, you rushed to clean and close up the shop, running down the block back home. Immediately after getting inside your apartment, you tossed the tape into the VCR, and hit play, settling on the floor in front of your TV.

Grain flooded the screen for a moment, before a clear picture appeared, of Steve, struggling to hold the camera up on his own, panicking, trying to find a sturdy surface to set it on. You felt a smile tug at your lips at the sight of his clumsiness.

“Uh... hi. Hi, Y/N. This is probably weird, and you’re probably sick of me annoying the shit out of you-“ Steve ran his hands through his hair nervously, before looking back into the camera. “I- I don’t want anything from you. I don’t want to upset or bother you or invade your space- and you’re right. I don’t know what it’s like, not how you do, but I want to understand... and I want you to know you’re not alone-“

“Yeah! What he said!” Dustin barged into the room, and Steve rolled his eyes, shoving the younger boy back out before continuing. “See, even Dustin cares.”

You found yourself giggling at their antics.

“I don’t want to fix anything- I just- you’re not alone, alright? Even if you don’t want to be friends, just give other people a chance, yeah? I don’t know what you went through, don’t know what you survived, but you’re not the only one who’s fought off monsters... you don’t have to do it alone.”

You felt tears at the edge of your eyes, urging to break. Wiping them away, you saw the tape cut to a scene outside, in the woods, with Steve pointing out different wildflowers along a trail.

A group of kids wandered in and out of the shot, occasionally making silly faces at the camera, or teasing Steve as he filmed.

“This for your girlfriend?” One mocked, and he sighed behind the camera.

“Shut it, Wheeler, she’s not my girlfriend.” Steve mumbled, embarrassed. It rose more laughter out of your chest.

“Steve, that footage is going to be awful. Do you even know how to hold that thing?” Dustin teased, trying to reach for the camera before it was jerked away. Dustin eventually got a hold of it, pointing it towards Steve, who smiled sheepishly at the lens, and waved.

“I’ll tell her since you won’t-“ Dustin started off, and Steve reached for the camera before Dustin ran ahead with it. “- we miss you, Y/N. We hope you’re okay. Steve is worried about you, and just wanted you to know you’re always welcome to hang out with us.”

“Dustin, give me that back, you shithead!” Steve yelled off in the distance, and Dustin sped up again, bulky camera still on his shoulder.

“Gotta go! If you want to bother Steve sometime, he works at Family Video!” Dustin rattled off, then continued with Steve’s home address, before yelling a quick goodbye, ending the tape there. The static and grain of the tracking filled back into the TV’s screen and sound.

Amused, you couldn’t help but laugh at how ridiculous the video was, just like the day they came into the shop. You knew nothing about them, they knew nothing about you, but there was something telling you deep down, maybe it’d be okay to knock some height off the walls for once. Maybe you didn’t have to be so lonely, didn’t have to fight your monsters off on your own.

It was late, so you knew Steve wasn’t at work, and you figured it couldn’t hurt to try him at home. Jumping in your car, you drove off to the address Dustin snuck into the end of the tape. When you pulled up outside Steve’s house, you began to doubt yourself, wondering why the hell you’re in front of this stranger’s house.

There was a pull, though. You’ve felt it before, you felt it now, and it was hard to ignore. How could you when curiosity towered over your fear? The invisible pull grabbed tight, and led you up the steps and to the front door, and didn’t let you think twice about ringing the doorbell. You hoped you weren’t waking anyone at this hour.

The door swung open, revealing a sleepy Steve in sweats, rubbing his eyes as they adjusted to the light above the door.

“What’re you doing here?” He asked, and you instantly felt guilty for bothering him at this hour.

“I.... I don’t have a fucking clue, honestly.” You replied, confused at things yourself. Dropping your voice to a whisper, you asked, “Did I wake you up?”

Steve shook his head, “Just been a long day.”

“Someone dropped the tape off earlier. The one you made.” You didn’t want to hesitate anymore on this. “Why did you do that?”

Steve shrugged, moving aside so you could step inside, and not carry this conversation on his front steps. “This is gonna sound crazy, but since we’ve met, I’ve had this... this... thing?”

“A pull?”

“Exactly th- wait, how do you know?”

“I feel it too. I don’t know how, or why, but it’s there, and I can’t keep ignoring it.” You breathed. “People terrify me, but I don’t know what keeps bringing me back to you, Steve.”

“I see wildflowers everywhere I go, now. I see them and immediately picture the joy they bring you, and I don’t understand what the fuck is going on, but it can’t just be coincidence.” He mumbled, running his hands over his face. “I want to give you space, but something keeps telling me to look out for you, to check up on you, make sure you’re alright. That sounds insane, probably.”

Slowly, you could feel the walls crumble down some more. “It’s not as insane as it sounds... because I’m not okay, and haven’t been for some time.”

“God, fuck, so much fucked up shit has happened here in the past few years, that this doesn’t even shock me.” Steve spoke, realizing this was just another bizarre thing happening in Hawkins once more. ”There’s a connection, somehow. With us.”

“Maybe I was just meant to end up here. You even asked me who willingly moves here, and I only did because it felt right. No other way to describe it.” You mumble, realizing how wild this sounded. “The night you came in, when I was working late, something in me wanted so badly to ask you to stay.”

“Why didn’t you?”

Jaw tightening, you answered. “Because I’m not supposed to be like this. Like that. Clingy, needy, dependent. I’ve been on my own for so long, I don’t know what is safe or not anymore.”

“You’re allowed to be needy, you know. We’re only human. You don’t have to fight your battles alone.”

“And what if they scare you off?”

“They won’t.”

“You don’t know that.”

“I don’t, but why can’t I try anyway?” Steve sighed, head spinning in circles over this. “You feel it, I feel it, why are we holding back?”

“Because I’m terrified.” Your voice cracked as it flowed out. “I have to take care of myself, and that means keeping my distance.”

“Or it just means you need to try and trust others again.” He pleaded, knowing something deeper lied beneath the surface. “Let me help you.”

Seconds that felt like hours passed before you nodded your head, covering your eyes with your hands as you began to cry. Cautious, Steve reached out to you, pulling you into a hug that felt comforting. It felt familiar. It felt like home.

“You’re allowed to take care of yourself, you know. You’re allowed to go through your feelings with someone by your side. You don’t have to do this alone.”

A peace settled within you as his words hit your ears, and it brewed a bit of courage within you too. “Neither do you, Steve.”

You weren’t sure what lied ahead, how things would unfold. You weren’t sure how the Universe connected you two together; whether romantic or just platonic, you were soulmates in some sense. In a way, you gravitated towards one another, and letting your walls down didn’t seem so frightening for once.

You owed it to your fragile, younger, naive past self back home to get through the rest of this life with love, light and hope, and allow others to help along the way. You owed it to your past, present, and future selves, to take care. Take care of yourself.

#steve harrington x you #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington au #steve harrington fanfic #stranger things x you #stranger things x reader #flower shop au #soulmate au #take care of yourself #my fics

[courtorderedcake]

Procrastination: An Apology - Apothecary Shoppe Smut (REPOST)

I did a bad thing.

Instead of writing my piece for @cssns​ that I was supposed to have done a week ago, I present to you this, as an apology. Sorry. Kind of. Maybe. Not really.

Rate E for Enticing. And Explicit. It’s fucking, because I’m not fucking doing what I need to be.

I’ll finish my shit eventually. 

NSFW art available via Pillowfort, this was uploaded in 2018 before but Tumblr flagged it. 

Working in an apothecary has its perks when it comes to magic. For Killian Jones, one of those perks happens to be the beautiful customer that seems to always be buying one thing or another.

Killian idly passed time sorting books as Belle had taught him, waiting for the clock to inevitably bring closing time. His job at the Chipped Cauldron was interesting, the place was small and quiet with only a few patrons at a time. As a discharged and dishonored warlock it was perfect work to avoid any questioning eyes, people unsurprised that a potion maker’s arm ended in a gnarled stump. 

Today had been quiet, too quiet as far as he was concerned. He’d done everything that could be done twice, now back to his third time sorting books. He wanted to go home. It wasn’t even that he had plans other than to go to his flat and drink, but he was having an off day. 

She hadn’t come in today. 

For the last 4 months or so, one Emma Swan (per her scratched signature), had been coming in twice a week to pick up various supplies, and he had found himself enjoying their talks. 

(And, well, her voice, the way her eyes lit up when she spoke about the historical constructs behind why there were so little female potion’s masters and how certain ingredients smelled so much better fresh but she would have to make do, or how breathtaking her shoulders looked when she took that red jacket off. He wanted to bite one just to see the mark against that pale skin -)

No. He frowned deeper, eyebrows furrowed. If this wasn’t his place of work that his friend Belle had painstakingly gotten him, he would pursue her aggressively like he had in bars for a quick fuck… But no, actually he wouldn’t. She seemed the type that liked gentleman, black glasses pushed up her nose again and again, simple ponytail, cardigan over a summer dress or skirt and blouse. Surprising even himself, he realized he’d court her if she showed any interest in him outside of his fantasies. 

She didn’t. She dutifully came in and drove him insane.

“Hey, herb guy!” She’d yelled at him the first time he saw her, immediately irritating him. He stomped over to the aisle she’d called from ready to give her a good shushing, until he looked up to see an angel perched precariously on a ladder reaching for a jar of gargoyle tears. “A little help? I think I broke your ladder.” 

“Oh.” he said, and regretted how absolutely stupid he sounded. “Ah, yes, here. Let’s get you down and I’ll get it for you.” He extended his good hand towards her, and she took it, stumbling down the wobbling ladder. When she stood next to him she’d looked up at him with kind eyes, and he forgot any reason to be mad at anything. 

“Thank you. It’s an ingredient Belle recommended for a spell I found in old book of Scandinavian curses. They’re heavier than I thought it would be.” She pointed to the jar, it’s tear shaped stones glittering. He climbed and grabbed it, carefully balancing on the wobbly ladder before jumping the last few steps and handing it to her. 

“Here you are. If you need anything else…” He scratched behind his ear, and nodded to his desk area. She smiled at him, and as he turned grabbed his arm. 

“Really though, thank you. Killian, right? Belle told me about you and I appreciate it.” She turned and walked down the aisle, picking up a large pile of books she had collected and placing them in a basket with various ingredients. When she was out of sight, he groaned quietly. Belle talking to people, or warning people he should say, about his irritability was a great end to his and Swan’s meeting. 

(She probably bloody well knew him as the moody, brooding Warlock that occasionally set off a stinging nettle spell to get the odd wanker back out of the shop and on his way, if he was in such a foul temper)

When she began coming in every other day for this or that, he found himself excited to see her. He subconsciously dressed a bit nicer, read books that might pique her interest to talk to him, and on braver days he’d write up signs with potions that could be made with her favorite ingredients, hoping she would strike up conversation. She never noticed him really, a quick hello and then endless torture as she perused or read in their small lounge area.

Swan also had a habit of needing ingredients she couldn’t reach, a talent that he was torn about. On one hand, when he went over to grab her chosen goods, her warm body was so close to his that he could smell her hair or perfume. 

(He was close enough to kiss her neck, or run his tongue down her spine listening to her moan -)

And that, was the other hand. She showed no interest in him, and her sweet demeanor made him feel guilty everytime those jade eyes looked up at him when she apologized for bumping him. That had almost killed him: as he reached for a container of mandrake leaves, some had slipped out and she made to grab them. As she moved up, her beautiful ass had ground against him and he resisted every urge to rut up against her.

“I’m so sorry, but I’m glad we saved these! They’re so valuable, I’d hate to waste any.” She’d smiled at him and he’d quietly adjusted himself at his desk. Lately she’d been winding down the reading and talking to him more, inviting him over to her table to quiz her on her technique or to recommend spell books for practice. He’d helped her edit recipes and directions, hovering over her shoulder while his body begged an end to its needy fantasies. 

(Her mouth in that perfect, pretty shape when she says his name, and he’s buried deep, hot and hard in her warmth -)

She wasn’t here today though, and closing was in 30 minutes. No point for any type of special signs or added charms to brighten the place. He began to lock up, unsure why her absence made him so damn irritable. The door chime went off and his ears perked up. 

“We close in twenty minutes, so please if you’re getting something make it qui - “ 

Swan came down the aisle towards him, and he felt his heart leap. She was wearing a pink dress that made her practically glow, and he was very aware in this moment that it was only them in the building at the present. His mouth felt dry spying a dangerous gleam in her eyes.

“I need to get another book, can you help me? I just went on the most awful blind date, and immediately came here because the ridiculously hot herb guy that has been ignoring my flirting would be better company. I just thought, if I’m thinking about him on dates with other men, than he should know. Bluntly. Because you’re oblivious. Is there a spell, potion, or book that could help me with that?” she rambled and he felt his heart beating in his ears. 

“It’s not that simple, Swan, I think you’re wonderful but I’m -”

“Emma. Call me Emma, Killian. Belle told me. Luckily for you, I like broody, ill-tempered, swaggering men who will only make eyes from me across the room.” she smirked deviously, and the heat that swept through him made his skin tingle. 

“I suppose you can’t read a book by it’s cover, you came in here with this… Soft and cutesy attire, besides that red jacket of yours, everything you wore was so - “

She groaned and slid a hand over her face. “I know, that explains so much. My apartment had a pipe explode and everything in my bedroom was ruined. I’ve been staying with my roommate and borrowing her clothing. She dresses like the grandmother of a Disney princess, but it works for her, just not me… However, even if I did dress like this,” she took a step forward with a grin. “I’d prefer someone who could take control.” He groaned quietly, as she pressed herself against him.

“Let me lock up. Stay here.” he rushed to the door, locking it and flipping the sign with a wave. Placing the enchantments on the building, and turning off the front lights, he practically ran back to her. 

“There, no interruptions.” He looked her dead in the eyes, then pressed his lips to hers. They started slow, and then he began kissing her hungrily, as she grabbed at his shirt to pull him closer. Her mouth on his felt amazing, it felt right, her tongue and his exploring each others lips. 

He pulled away breathless for a moment. “Emma, this… I want this, but it’s your last chance to back out if you want to. This can be a one time thing, if you want.” His voice was hoarse as he searched her face. “If you stay though, I’m going to do everything to you that I’ve thought about since you came in here that first day. I’m going to fuck you senseless, do you understand?” 

She panted into him, and nodded. “Yes, please.” she whispered and every synapse in is body lit. 

“Oh thank every star, I’ve waited entirely too long for this.” He crashed his mouth against hers, pushing her against a shelf, immediately hiking up her dress to find her clit. “God’s above you fucking siren.” She wasn’t wearing any knickers, her wetness already leaking between her thighs under the dim lights. He stroked a finger into her, listening to her moan while he circled his thumb on her clit. “That day you ground against me? If I had known, I would have pulled you into a closet and grabbed your ass with both hands, pulled you against me so you could feel how hard I was.” he took her hand and pressed it against his pants, rubbing his cock through the fabric as he added another finger to her wetness. 

Withdrawing his hand as she protested, he licked his fingers. “You’re delicious. I think I’ll have more than a taste. He knelt as her eyes went wide, letting him pull on of her legs over his shoulder. 

Killian’s first slow lick had her eyes closing, and mouth keening out a cry of pleasure. He smirked. This would be easy. He felt like a man starved, slurping and gently nipping when she bucked her hips up into his face, desperate for him to stop torturing her. When her hips shook and he felt the beginning flutters of orgasm, Killian pulled away, watching her chest rise and fall with her panting breaths. 

“No. You made me wait, made me sit there with my cock hard imagining ways to fuck you until you couldn’t walk. You’ll wait.”

Pulling her by the arm, he pushed her against a table, bent over as he pushed her skirt up again. Removing his belt and releasing himself from his trousers, he stroked himself a few times before sliding slow between her folds coating himself. 

“I love the feel of how wet you are, Emma. And, I love the feel of your arse, Gods you are beautiful. I need to bury myself in you, and I think you’d like that, hm?” He gave her ass a smack and she moaned, wriggling slightly. “Here’s the catch love: I don’t care how good it feels, and it will - Do not come on my cock. If you do, I will leave you with quite the reminder when you can’t sit tomorrow.” he chuckled darkly, before hissing and whispering a spell for protection. 

“There we are love,” He nudged himself into position, his stump against her thigh and palm pressed to the small of her back. He slid into her with one hard thrust, sinking with a deep groan as she moaned. He set a fast pace, relishing in how good she felt around him. 

“You’re so fucking tight, your quim feels like magic, fuck, Emma -”

He pistoned his hips, fucking her hard against the table as it rocked slightly. Emma’s moans drove him insane, his body bucking at different angles to illicit keening cries.

“Please, please don’t stop! Ah, Killian, that’s so good!” Her body tensed, and he let out a groan as she came on his cock, shuddering and screaming his name. She panted, and he continued languid movements as she came down from her high. Sliding his body over hers, while kissing her neck, he bit down hard on her shoulder and she cried out with a buck of her hips.

“I told you not to come.” Killian murmured, licking the mark. Pulling away from Emma and out of her heat, he smacked her ass hard, and she whimpered as she tried to press against his hips. He continued hard smacks until he was satisfied, running his nails over the reddened skin. “Turn over, love, and on your knees. That’s a good, lass.” 

Killian presented himself to her, and Emma took him in her mouth, swallowing him to his base. His eyes rolled back into his head, as he felt her hands lightly press on his thighs, her tongue swirling as he tried not to ram himself down her throat. 

Spreading his legs further apart, he wrapped his fingers in her hair as she bobbed on his length. His breath came in harsh pants as she hollowed her cheeks, his release close. 

Pulling her back as her mouth made a satisfying pop around his cock, he pulled her up to claim her mouth with his. He placed her back on the table, thrusting into her heat in one precise move that made her moan his name. Her nails clawed at his back while he ground his hips, her walls spasming as he lost himself in a few final thrusts. They panted, his chest pressed against hers as they came down. After a moment he pulled away, a quick wave of her hand and a few pieces of parchment became a set of warm wet rags. He cleaned himself, the rag incerating with a snap of his fingers. While they were still warm from the flame, he traced the line of her collarbone stepping back between her legs while she pulled down her crumpled dress.   

“That was…” Emma whispered. “As I said, it can be a one time thing, if you like.” He pushed a stray lock of her hair behind her ear. He held his breath, trying not to hope. 

“That’s probably smart.” Her eyes were downcast, and she chewed her lip. 

“Aye.” Killian sighed, stepping back. “I understand, I’ll see you out.” 

“This shop has the best selection and the most knowledgeable sorcerer I’ve met, though. Having access to him after hours might be a perk I’m willing to live with, if occasional dinners were involved.” Her voice was light, and he turned, the small smile on her face lighting her eyes like emerald witch-fire under a cauldron. 

“Warlock, darling. A devilishly handsome Warlock.” He smirked, striding forward and capturing her lips in a kiss that left them breathless. “As for dinner, there’s a diner down the street that’s open late. If you don’t have plans, that is.”

“I do now.” 

#Courtorderedcake #8th #August #2020 #August 8th 2020 #Smut #cssns #CS AU #CS FF #captain swan fanfiction #Captain swan #captain swan au #cs cocktoberfest #Originally posted a while ago #but Tumblr fuckin sucks

[erindoodless]

author: @plaindaii

beta: @rainbow-phan​

artist: @softphiily​

word count: 26894

note: hello this is my art for the @phandombigbang! i am posting the fic as well on here on behalf of the author. special shoutout to the beta and the author for being a great team <3

Prologue

Dan hurried through the crowded forest, stumbling over rocks and roots in the darkness. The moon was masked by thick cloud, only the slightest glow making it through. He navigated mostly by touch, all the while keeping an ear out for the sound of beating wings above the canopy. It was raining hard, droplets pattering against wilted leaves and trickling along the faint dirt path. His clothing was soaked and clung tightly against his pale skin, sucking any remnants of warmth from his body. At least it should hide his scent, he'd be safe once he made it out of the valley. From then on it was only a half hour walk to Nyth, he’d be safe once he made it to the city. 

He began to climb upwards, trees thinning out as the terrain grew steeper and rougher. He had to scale a small, rocky ridge before he could join the road to the city. Up there he would be visible and therefore vulnerable, so he best not dawdle. He pulled up his hood, hoping it would conceal him better against the barren stone, cringing as it sent a cascade of cold water down his already sodden back. Damn this rain. He pulled his bag close to him, feeling the weight of the precious cargo inside, putting his arms around it protectively. He couldn't afford to damage them, else all of this would have been for nothing.

He quickly reached the tree line, pausing for a moment in nervous apprehension. He scanned the cloudy sky for any sign of movement, and upon seeing nothing bar a few insects battered by the rain, scampered quickly towards the rock. He was tired, cold and to be honest a little bit scared but he damn well wasn't going to give up yet. With a few nimble jumps, he made it to the peak of the ridge. He couldn't help but turn and cast his eyes over the valley, blood turning cold as a dark shape swooped over the trees. It glided softly on the cool night breeze, silent despite its enormous size. 

He held his breath, heart beating a steady tempo as it threatened to burst from his chest in fear. He imagined it turning to face him, glowing eyes fixating on him as he stood helpless atop the valley wall. Jaws lined with kitchen knife teeth closing around his neck or cutlass claws ripping through his torso. Thankfully, however, it continued on its journey, unaware of the human that it would soon come to despise, descending carefully below the canopy and disappearing from view. 

He allowed himself a moment to calm down before quickly joining onto the main road. It was still a dangerous place to be at night, but this was human territory now. He allowed himself to relax ever so slightly as the flickering torches of Nyth came into view. A flash of lightning streaked across the slowly brightening sky as morning approached, and the thunderous rumble that followed was almost enough to mask the sickening roar of anguish which echoed eerily from the valley behind him.

Part 1

There was a loud knock on the door, ripping Dan from unconsciousness and sending his thoughts haywire. His eyes darted around the room, squinting in the bright sunlight, heart racing. It took a moment for his mind to clear and for him to force out a hoarse reply.

"Yes?”

He shifted uncomfortably in clothes that were still damp from the previous night's escapades. Why hadn't he changed out of them when he got in? When had he got in? It was all a bit of a blur,

"It's almost midday dear,” replied a friendly female voice, “I'm afraid I'm going to have to ask you to vacate your room. I have guest waiting to check-in." 

"Shit, sorry," he said loudly, scrambling out of bed. "I'll be out in ten minutes," 

"Ok, thank you dear."

Dan listened as her footsteps retreated down the hall, hurrying to his bags and tipping them out in search of fresh clothes. Whilst finding a shirt and trousers he could pull on, he travelled light and he cursed himself for running one of the few outfits he owned. He was going to have to deal with wet shoes for the next few days it seemed, although he had had the foresight to hang up his coat by the window to dry. Scanning over it, he felt his stomach sink when his eyes met a large hole in the left coattail where a decent amount of fabric had been torn off.

His coat was one of the few possessions he had that he actually cared about. Sure, the thick black fabric was far too hot in the summer and it was prone to a good soaking, but it had served him well over the years. It was smart and stylish whilst remaining practical and good for hiding in dark places, something like that was hard to find. He’d stitched on a hood when he first acquired it, and a few of the buttons had been replaced over the years, but other than that he’d kept it well. With the amount of damage he didn’t dare fix it himself, although, with the sale he was about to make, he wasn’t going to have to worry about doing anything himself for a little while.

Wait, shit, the sale. He swiped his satchel off the bed and peered inside, letting out a sigh of relief when he saw that the contents were untouched. He fought the urge to reach in and inspect them properly, knowing he was short on time. If it was nearly midday then he had to be across the city in a little under an hour for a meeting with his customer, and his customers didn’t typically like to be kept waiting.

Within minutes every possession he owned was hastily stuffed into his bag and the room was cleared. He was used to this by now with all the travelling he did, but it didn’t make it any less depressing to see his entire life shoved messily into a medium-sized travel pack. It was something he didn’t want to think about, but wormed its way into his head nevertheless as all bad thoughts tend to do. Sliding his feet hesitantly into wet shoes and pulling on his coat, he left the room, messing with his hair in the reflections of the glass protected paintings that lined the walls as he went.

Having tossed the key to the inn-keeper, who almost didn’t catch it which would have been very awkward indeed, he emerged onto the busy streets of Nyth. Market stalls lined the road, horses and carriages fighting their way through the crowds of people who stopped to look over the produce or wears. A fruit vendor called out the price of apples and pears, and a baker waved enticing treats into the faces of potential customers. Dan could feel his stomach growling, but focused his thoughts onto getting his upcoming meeting over.

Whilst the meetings were something necessary to his survival, they weren't something he was particularly fond of. They were stressful and rather boring. His customers often had expectations he could never hope to meet and rejection was something he was all too familiar with. He’d rather just avoid all human contact whatsoever but unfortunately as much as he tried, it just didn’t seem possible.

As his journey took him further and further into the Northern part of the city, the scene around him began to change. The bustling crowds dispersed and the streets widened, filled with lavish carriages transporting the city's riches. No stall dared set up shop here, not that the residents would ever be seen buying from one. The houses became more dispersed and greenery lined the roads. Ever in the flat light of an overcast day, Dan couldn’t help but admire it. If he were to ever make his fortune, this was where he might want to live. Although, settling down had never really seemed like an option for him. 

He soon came to one of the grandest houses in the city, its intimidating stone walls rising above him as he made his way down the driveway. He paused at the door, but before he could even knock it swung open and he was met by a smartly dressed butler. The butler plastered on a fake smile and ushered him in. 

"Mr. Mras said you'd be here soon sir, he's anxious to see you. I'll show you to the drawing-room," he said politely, although as he examined their guest, it was clear he couldn’t hide the disapproval on his face.

Dan stepped back slightly in surprise but did as he was told, following the servant into the grand entry hall, walls lined with golden wallpaper and delicate carvings. He felt vastly out of place here with his wet shoes and ripped coat, like the people in the gold-framed portraits were watching him with judging eyes. He was led through a heavy wooden door on the right into what seemed to be a drawing-room.

"Ah, Daniel, my favourite scavenger! Glad to see you alive, I was beginning to get worried you'd had an unfortunate accident.”

The man who greeted him was heavyset and adored in an ornate green suit. His thinning white hair was in deep contrast to his dark skin. He had a certain aura of power about him, one that made Dan a little uncomfortable.

In response, Dan forced a wide smile onto his face, one he only used when conversing with customers. He had to be confident in himself, even when all he wanted to do was run a mile. 

"Ah, you know me Mras, I always come through in the end,” he replied, trying to match the other man's cheerful tone. Mras clapped his hands together eagerly.

“So, did you find that nest I told you about? I do hope it wasn't a wasted trip.”

 Mras settled down into a great green armchair, gesturing for Dan to take the seat opposite him. In between them was a small wooden table for Dan to display his goods. He pulled his satchel onto his lap and began uploading its contents.

“Your intel is always right Mras. I never thought I’d see a nest so close to a city, but there’s a first time for everything. It was fairly new though, they haven’t been there for more than a few months.”

Mras’s face fell slightly, 

"So you didn't find much?" he replied, enthusiasm dulled slightly. Dan's lips curled into a sly grin. 

Dragons were rare and elusive creatures. The information on them varied from culture to culture, but one thing remained consistent. They were a symbol of an ancient time, of magic, but most importantly of power. Power was something that always attracted the rich and ambitious of the world. That meant, to these people, owning remnants or artefacts from these creatures represented their own power.

Mras was an avid collector. He wanted anything to do with dragons and he had the money to fuel that obsession. He’d been a customer of Dan’s for years, and that meant he knew his methods. When Dan located a nest and searched it he might come across some shed scales or teeth, a broken claw if he was lucky. The older the nest, the more he found, the more Mras could buy. That being said, he’d never found an egg before.

“Ah ah ah,” he replied loudly, “I didn’t say that. You’ll have to wait and see.”

He first pulled out his usual findings, a group of six scales ranging from the size of a playing card to a book page. They varied in colour from sky blue to a dark midnight blue, with a few being inky black. They were some of the nicest he’d seen, and if he had lost all sense of self-preservation that night he might have wanted to wait until daylight to see the creature that shed them. Mras seemed pleased, examining them against the candlelight, attempting to polish one off with his sleeve.

Next were a few teeth. They were long and sharp, more akin to ivory in texture than a smaller tooth. He had found a particularly large one as well, an incisor he guessed. It was just over the length of his hand but fairly straight as dragon teeth went. Whilst it would fetch a fair price, he had decided to keep it, vowing to have it turned into a dagger at some point.

Finally, it was time for the main event.

"I've never seen you look so pleased Daniel, it does worry me," Mras said jokingly. Dan smirked. 

"There is a reason for me to be pleased, and I hope you will be too," he said confidently, reaching into his bag and closing his hands around a large object within, He pulled it out with some effort and placed it carefully on the table. 

Mras’s eyes went wide and he froze as if in shock. He reached forward as if to touch it, but his nerves failed him and he pulled away quickly. Eventually, he composed himself enough to force out a sentence. 

"Is that what I think it is?" he asked breathlessly. Dan nodded, also unable to look away, fascinated. 

On the table sat a large, round object, about the size of a particularly stocky sheep's skull. It was oval in shape and looked almost as if it were made of solid obsidian, but with streaks of sapphire, ruby and opal running through it. When touching it, however, it felt more like bone; there was a strange sense of fragility surrounding it.

"You know it's odd," the older man murmured a few minutes later, having examined the egg with a face of what could only be described as awe, "Most reptile eggs are soft, like leather. I never thought I'd see a dragon egg, I always thought they'd be like that too. How did you get these? A mother never leaves their eggs unattended," 

Dan reached into his satchel and pulled out a second, almost identical egg. He could see Mras quickly losing his mind.

“I’m good at what I do,” he said simply, and whilst not entirely a lie, on this occasion he’d simply gotten lucky.

"I want 15,000 for the eggs, each. 2,000 in cash now and the rest in my vault by the end of the week. You can have everything else for 100," he said curtly, quickly tiring of the social interaction.

Although part of him did long to keep the eggs, he knew it could never happen. The sooner they were someone else's responsibility and his pockets were lined with gold the better. 

Mras pursed his lips. "That's steep," he sighed, "But fair. You know I would never turn down something like this."

He barked a few orders to the butler who had been loitering nearby, eager to get a look at his employer's new purchase. He nodded and scurried out of the room, returning a few minutes later with two huge bags of gold. Dan hauled them up into his satchel and got to his feet, he was not going to stand around and count it when he could be on his way, besides which Mras was an honest man. 

“Well, it’s been good doing business with you, I hope our paths meet again soon,” he said, swinging the satchel over his shoulder and revelling in the sound of all that gold inside.

 Mras nodded, although he seemed unable to tear his gaze away from the eggs, completely fascinated by them. “Of course,” he murmured, “I’m always looking to expand my collection. Although I don’t expect to be in Nyth for a while. The city is no place to harbour dragon eggs.”

Dan nodded, he didn't really care, and bid him farewell, a great deal of relief flowing over him as he left the house with gold in hand. He couldn’t help the smile that came to his face, 30,000 was enough to keep him going for months or even years. He could get a horse, live in luxury for a little while, and all because of a lucky break.

He should leave Nyth now, he’d heard of rumours of a forest in the far west that was ripe for the picking with all kinds of magical items, but it was a long trek. Now he had the coin, he could afford to properly stock up. 

He headed to the market, looking through the selections of salted meats and carefully wrapped cheeses, picking out some that looked the least repulsive. He took his coat to the tailors and had them sew on a patch to hide to hole, wandering around the other clothing stalls as they did so.

He came to a jeweller’s stall, running his hands over the pretty bracelets and necklaces. He liked how they glittered in the sun, he could see why they were so tempting.

“Looking for something for your lady, are you sir?” came a voice from behind the stand and Dan jerked his hand away immediately. He shook his head with an awkward smile.

“No, just curious,” he said in a strangled voice, cursing himself for his social ineptness. The jeweller gave him a strange look before going back to his work and Dan swallowed thickly.

He headed for the best inn in the city, purchasing the nicest room he dared. The innkeeper seemed a little perturbed by his arrival, he didn’t exactly look like her usual clientele, but once he produced the money it morphed into a friendly smile. He dumped his things, trusting they would be safe, and headed for the nearest tavern. He didn’t usually frequent such places, but today was a day for celebration and forcibly forgetting his troubles.

Despite the alcohol relaxing his mind, he could still feel that something was off; he felt like he was being watched. Well, he was sure he was in the tavern, locals didn’t tend to like new faces, but this was different. He’d felt it since the market, and it was becoming more and more intolerable. Perhaps if he just had one more drink it would go away.

Part 2

He felt like he’d been beaten over the head with a hammer when he came around the next morning. TImmediately the bright light streaming in through the windows was enough to immediately spark a fire in his brain and he let out a deep groan, turning over to push his face into his pillow and hinde from the world. His mouth was dry and foul-tasting, and he prayed he hadn’t vomited over any of the room's expensive furniture. He tried to push down the nausea that had settled in his stomach.

He was so stupid, he was going to feel like crap for days. At least he’d had the sense to take off his shirt, the feeling of cool sheeits against his clammy skin was a welcome change to the previous morning's damp shirt. Maybe if he just closed his eyes and went to sleep, he'd feel a little better when he woke. He wondered briefly if he shouted loud enough, he could get a member of staff to bring him some water, but making any sort of noise seemed far beyond his energy levels. He was about to drift off to sleep when he heard a cough.

His eyes shotbolted open and he bolted uprightsat up quickly, immediately feeling a horrible wave of nausea. He managed to resist the urge to heave and his eyes locked on to a man sitting in a shadowed corner of the room. For a moment it seemed as though his eyes were silver, like those of a cat when caught in candlelight, but as he blinked, they turned into a brilliant blue. He felt his blood run cold. Oh god, he hadn’t, had he? No, he wouldn’t have been that reckless, he couldn’t have been.

He made eye contact with the man, and they just sat there staring at each other for a little while. Dan was completely dumbfounded, what should he do? The man looked completely unfazed by Dan’s panic, seemingly waiting for him to make the first move. What did Dan say? Was he about to get murdered?

“What the fuck are you doing in my room?” he exclaimed, the effort causing his head to throb painfully, “Oh shit, I didn’t umm, you know, with you, did I?”

The man frowned, tilting his head slightly.

“I had to take you up to bed last night before you got yourself hurt, you were very drunk,” the man replied sounding slightly confused, “I’m sorry, I don’t know what you mean about that last part.” 

Dan let out a sigh of relief, thank god. The man had a nice voice, it was warm and friendly. Unfortunately, that didn’t make Dan feel any better as to why there was a stranger in his room, one who had apparently been there for quite some time.

“You did what? What the fuck are people going to think,” hHe groaned in response, lying back against the covers in an effort to stop his head from spinning., “Why are you still here?”

The man shifted awkwardly,

“Because I needed to talk to you. I’ve been following you for a while, I was going to try last night but by the time I got to you, well you were too far gone. You have a few things of mine, and I’d like them back,” hHe spoke in an almost apologetic tone, eyes boring into Dan. 

Dan groaned again, he knew he was being followed, but what could he want?

“Are you trying to rob me?” he said suddenly, the realisation coming over him. If this stranger was some kind of burglar, well to put it nicely he wasn't a very good one, but he’d still rather not have him be there. The man sat back, looking slightly offended.,

“What, no, the eggs. They were in my care and I know you took them. If anything you were the one that robbed me,” came his irritated replyhe replied irritatedly, a mixture of taken -a-back and firm. Dan felt his heart stutter,

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” hHe replied shakily, voice clearly giving him away. 

The man stood up, rooting around in the many pockets of his coat, an old and battered thing, clearly too big for his lanky frame. He let out a frustrated sigh as he came up short on the first few, finally pulling out a long strip of black fabric with a triumphant flourish.

“This is from your coat!” he exclaimed with a smirk, “And was also snagged on a rock pretty close to where they went missing. I watched you get it patched up. Look, I know you have them, just hand them over and I can be on my way,”

For someone who had been stolen from, he seemed to be acting pretty reasonable. Maybe there was an easy way around this.,

“And what if I don't want to hand them over?” he snapped in reply.

The man took a step forward, presence suddenly becoming incredibly intimidating. For a brief moment, his eyes seemed to glow red and teeth became sharpened and long. Dan gasped, scrambling backwards but when he looked back again it had faded, the man having closed his eyes in an effort to remain calm.,

“I really, really do not want to hurt you, Dan,” he retorted, this time tone harsh, “But you have taken something from me, and you have a duty to return it. Give. Them. Back.” 

He spat out the last three words with such focused fury that Dan thought he might snap and kill him in that moment. What was he going to do, he didn't even have the eggs anymore. And what had he just witnessed, did this man just go all werewolf on him or something, or was it just his terrible hangover? Also how the fuck did this complete stranger know his name, it wasn’t exactly something he tossed about.

“I can’t, I’ve already sold them,” he exclaimed desperately. The man raised an eyebrow at him, glaring at him is disbelief.,

“You sold them? Would you sell a baby?” hHe cried out, letting out a long groan., “Humans, all you think about is gold, I thought that was supposed to be our thing.,” 

Dan swallowed thickly. ,

“I’m sorry, I didn’t know they belonged to anyone. That was a dragons nest, it’s fair game.,”

The man threw his hands up into the air dramatically. ,

“Exactly, that nest belonged to a dragon, as did everything in it.,”

Dan frowned. ,

“First of all, how can they belong to you if they belong to the dragon, because I hate to break it to you, but you are  human, secondly stop referring to me as ‘human’ it’s weird, and thirdly, why the hell do you know my name?”

The man paused for a moment, thinking intensely.,

“I . . . work for the dragon?” he said slowly, before nodding firmly, “Yes, I am in employment with the dragon and they have asked me to retrieve them. Also, I don’t think you’re really in any position to be demanding anything since you’re in the wrong here. I only know your name because you wouldn’t stop introducing yourself to me last night. I didn’t even have to go out of my way to find you, you wouldn’t leave me alone.,”

Dan's face flushed hot. He couldn’t blame himself, the man was clearly attractive, but he needed to keep that sort of behaviour to a minimum if he was going to survive. He had a few issues with the first bit of that story, it didn’t exactly sound the most believable. Perhaps he had seen Dan on the road with the eggs and was looking to make some quick cash, then again, he had the torn bit of fabric which was left either in the nest or close to it.

“Tell me then, how does one enter into employment with an enormous magical reptile. I’m sure they don’t speak the common tongue,” Dan replied sharply. 

The man shrugged. ,

“I speak all sorts of tongues,” the man replied indignantly. 

Dan raised an eyebrow. ,

“Prove it.,”

The man huffed loudly, but walked over to the window and swung it open. He let out a quiet cooing sound and a small white and brown pigeon flew in and landed deftly on his hand. 

“This is Steve,” he said matter of factly, “Steve please can you spin around for our dear friend Dan here,”

Much to Dan’s surprise the pigeon did a clumsy spin on the man's hand before letting out another coo and flying out of the window, leaving behind a lovely reminder of its presence on the curtain. Dan sat there for a moment, mouth agape,

“How do I know you hadn’t planned this scenario in advance and had a trained pigeon on standby?” He replied finally, crossing his arms firmly, knowing full well he was clutching at straws. The man’s pleased expression fell and was replaced by a frustrated frown.

“I can call in every pigeon in the city if you’d like, perhaps a few rats as well. You can try and explain that to the inn-keeper,” The man snapped. Dan straightened out suddenly, holding his hands out in defence,

“Ok, fine, I believe you. But what do you want me to do about it? I don’t have the eggs anymore,”

The man rolled his eyes,

“You can take me to the person you sold them to, now,” He ordered, tapping his foot impatiently.

Dan let out a deep sigh, Mras was not going to be pleased with him. Still, if this man really was in league with a dragon then he really didn’t want to piss him off,

“Fine, but he won’t want to sell them back. You’re going to have to come up with one hell of an argument.

“Don’t worry,” he replied darkly, “I will,”

 Dan rolled his eyes but quickly got dressed, ushering the man out of his room as he found a shirt, it was clear he wasn’t going to on his own. He felt like shit, but he did manage to convince the man to fetch him a just of water to clean himself up in. The headache was starting to fade ever so slightly but with every demand of the man to hurry up he felt more and more like straight-up committing murder. 

It was still early, to the point where the sky was only a pale blue and the streets of Nyth remained almost empty. Chickens roamed the cobbles, pecking at the trampled hay and manure that lined them. The baker's ovens were alight but the sign on the door read closed and the market stalls were yet to be occupied. He reluctantly handed the key back to the inn-keeper, deciding not to mention the pigeon crap on the curtains.

“If you know my name I think it’s only right that I should know yours,” He said with a sigh as they headed down the deserted high street. The man tilted his head slightly,

“It’s, um, Phil,” he replied, the name sounding completely foreign to him. Dan raised an eyebrow at him,

“Are you telling the truth, or have you never introduced yourself to anyone before,” he said sharply. Phil shook his head,

“It is my name, I’m just not used to saying it with this tongue,” he said quietly.

Dan decided not to question it. It was clear by now that Phil was a pretty strange guy. He might have been more put off by his company if he wasn’t so pleasant to look at. In the sunlight, he could see just how pale Phil was. You didn’t stay that pale whilst working on a farm or travelling in the sun. Either he was very rich or a complete hermit, judging from his apparent lack of social skills Dan was betting on the latter. 

It contrasted starkly with his hair which was dark and swept up into a messy quiff. There seemed to be the odd stick or leaf poking out of it, something that Dan decided he wasn’t going to mention. What he was going to mention however was Phil’s lack of footwear.

"Eww, that's disgusting. You're just stepping in horse shit barefoot. Why aren't you wearing shoes?" he exclaimed, grimacing at a pair of long, bony feet covered in a variety of appealing substances.

Phil looked down in surprise as if he hadn't noticed, 

"It will wipe off," he said simply, "And watch your language. There might be babies listening," 

Eventually, they came to a familiar house. It was still quiet, although the odd servant scurried around in the gardens, picking weeds or trimming the heads of dead flowers. He approached the door cautiously, knocking a few times as loudly as he dared. Phil was looking about himself nervously. The door finally swung open and they were met by a familiar-looking servant. Dan cleared his throat,

"I need to speak to my client," he said quickly, trying his best to convey a sense of urgency. 

The butler looked him up and down, much as he had done yesterday, except this time without his master to hold him back, an unimpressed sneer lurking on his face, 

"It’s a little early for that. Besides, I'm afraid Mr Mras is not here, he left early last night. If you wish to speak with him I suggest visiting his representatives in Northguard, else I cannot help you," he said in an irritatingly calm voice. 

Dan gritted his teeth, fuck, he should have seen this coming. Of course, Mras said he was leaving. He just hadn't expected it to be so soon. Now what was he going to do, he was going to end up being roasted in Dragonfire. That wasn’t a pleasant way to go.

"Can't you tell me where he's going?" he replied desperately. The butler shook his head, 

"That is not my information to give," the man said curtly, "I’m sorry for the inconvenience. Have a good day," 

With that, the door was slammed in his face and he was left standing there unsure of what to do. He knocked a few more times but was repeatedly ignored. Shit, what was he going to do now? 

"I guess we're going to Northguard," Phil said quietly, voice surprisingly steady. "Come, I'm not waiting for you to let those eggs slip out of my grasp again," 

Dan stood back and shook his head, 

"No, I'm not coming with you. Northguard is a five days walk east and I need to be heading west. I've done all I can," 

Phil's peaceful demeanour suddenly became very threatening once again, blue eyes shining red, teeth growing pointed. Dan squeaked in shock, but before he had time to comprehend what was happening Phil was back to normal again, or at least what was normal for Phil. 

"I am not asking you to come with me, I am telling you. You took something from me and now you are repaying your debt. Until that debt is replayed you do as I say," the strange man said through gritted teeth. Dan swallowed thickly, 

"Yeah and what are you going to do if I don't go with you? You clearly need me if you're so desperate for me to join you," he hissed back. Phil stamped his food in frustration, 

"I don't need you, not anymore. Having you there would make it easier sure, but that's not why I'm making you come. I am trying to give you the chance to redeem yourself. If you don’t come, then you can’t be redeemed, and if you can’t be redeemed, you can’t live," he sighed. 

“What sort of logic is that,” Dan snapped back in reply, quickly feeling overwhelmed.

“The logic of a dragon, it’s the law. If you commit a crime you must do all you can to rectify the problems you have caused, or pay for it with your life,” Phil replied quietly. Dan stepped back,

“I only took a couple of eggs,” he returned helplessly, voice growing weaker.

“Each of those eggs will soon hatch into children, children that must be cared for by one of their own kind and not a human. You might not have realised it at the time, but what you did has put them in danger, serious danger. As far as dragons go, that is not a crime to be taken lightly,” Phil said gently. Dan nodded and sniffed quietly,

“But if I go with you and we recover the eggs?”

“Then all of this will be forgotten,” Phil said firmly, “You can go back to living your life having learned a valuable lesson. Dan nodded,

“Right, ok, I will help you. I have a few ideas on what we could do. 

Phil smiled, looking pleased.

“Go ahead, you know this world better than I do,” 

Dan paused to think for a moment, where would Mras have gone?

"Right, we should hire some horses and set off down the southern road. Chances are he's heading to a summer house in the country. If we're fast enough we might catch him up," he said quickly, doing his best to keep his head in order. Phil frowned, 

"Yes, but where's Northguard? That's where that servant said we should go. They might be able to tell us where he is," 

"Northguard is to the East, but if we go all the way there and find he'd travelled south then the journey would have been for nothing. We might as well check the southern road first," 

"And if we travel south and don’t find him then we'll have wasted a lot of time," Phil exclaimed, his voice becoming higher as he fought back the urge to yell. 

"Look, we agreed I know this place better, let's head south first. If we stop in and ask about him at the inns and carriage houses along the way then we'll know for certain if he's gone that way. Mras does not travel lightly," Dan returned confidently, "Come on, let's find a stable," 

In reality, Northguard would probably be the best option for actually locating the eggs, but Dan wanted to avoid it as best as he could. He prayed they would find the merchant on the southern road, else he might not only face the wrath of Phil but have some things to answer for elsewhere. How had he gotten himself into this mess?

Part 3

Unfortunately, they seemed destined to fail from the start. They had finally found somebody willing to lend out some horses to them which hadn’t been easy. People were reluctant to trust the two strangers to the city, it probably didn’t help that Phil seemed to be completely incapable of holding a normal conversation for more than a few minutes. They were fine horses, slim and built for speed. They would have been perfect if not for one major issue, Phil was completely terrified of them. 

Dan was by no means an avid equestrian but he knew the basics, Phil, however, looked as though he'd never even seen a horse before, let alone ridden one. Dan felt like screaming into the sky.

"You know you could have told me earlier that you couldn't ride," He groaned, knowing the last hour or searching had all been for nothing. Phil shook his head, 

"No, it's not that," he replied with a sigh, "I thought it would be OK," 

Dan rolled his eyes, 

"That what would be OK?" 

Phil stepped forward towards the horse as if going to mount it, but as he drew closer the horse became nervous. It shifted restlessly, letting out the occasionally frightened whinney and pulling away from its rope. It wasn't until Phil rested his hand on its shoulder in an effort to calm it however, that it completely lost control. 

It reared up, head yanked downwards by the rope that still tied it in place and let out a horrible cry. Phil stepped back quickly in order to avoid its flailing legs and the horse tugged desperately on the rope, almost throwing itself onto the floor in fear. It's breathing became more and more laboured as froth began to appear at the mouth and the whites of its eyes were clearly visible and it struggled relentlessly. Dan's eyes went wide, he'd never seen a reaction like it. 

"What the hell did you do?" he exclaimed. Phil shrugged helplessly, 

"I didn't mean to," he said timidly, “It just happens,”

"Is it going to be like that with every horse?" Dan sighed. Phil nodded dejectedly, 

“Can’t to talk to it, tell it everything is going to be ok,”

Phil bit his lip sheepishly,

“I don’t speak horse,” he said quietly

“Why the fuck would you learn to speak pigeon and not horse,” Dan groaned, burning is head in his hands in frustration. Phil shrugged,

“Pigeons always look like they’ve got something nice to say, horses are evil, I don’t trust their legs,”

Dan sighed in defeat, he would never understand this man. There was only one thing for it.

"Well, I guess we're going on foot then," 

Dan knew that their chances of catching up with Mras on without horses were slim, but he still had a little hope, at the start at least. It didn’t help their chances that the road was busy at this time of year,  busy enough for even someone fairly rich to go unnoticed. They checked in with inns and watch-posts along the way, but none could either confirm or deny that their target had passed by. Either they had been paid off to keep Mras’s travels a secret or simply didn’t care enough to notice the comings and goings of others.  Dan insisted on continuing, He did not want to end up in Northguard.

Each night they slept a little way from the roadside. It was cold and uncomfortable but Phil was determined to keep moving as much as they could, which meant staying at an inn or carriage house would just be impractical. It wasn’t something Dan was unused to, but he didn’t find it pleasant. He only had one sleeping sack, so Phil slept without, although the cold didn’t really seem to bother him. Still, Dan couldn’t help but feel a little guilty. If there weren’t so many people around then he might have suggested to share.

With no confirmation that they were making progress, frustration grew, and Dan found himself finding it harder and harder to make up excuses for continuing. They would have to travel all the way back to Nyth and take the Eastern road. Phil was right, this had all been for nothing.

“This has been a waste of time,” Phil sighed, “It’s been three days. We’re going to have to go all the way back to Nyth before we can even head to Northguard. If we’d just done what I suggested then we would have been almost there by now,”

He didn’t sound angry, or resentful as Dan had feared. A little irritated perhaps, but overwhelmingly worried for the most part. The younger man could feel the guilt rising in his chest,

“Ok, let’s head back. I’m sorry, I really thought we might find him,” he said softly. Phil nodded,

“It’s ok, I know you are trying your best,” he said with a smile. That only made Dan feel worse.

They talked the whole time they walked, it helped break up the hopelessness and pointlessness of it all, although it was, of course, all Dan’s fault. Phil seemed reluctant to answer questions about himself, often reflecting them back at Dan. He could understand why, sometimes there were things you wouldn’t want to talk about to a stranger, he had plenty of those of his own. He was happy to talk about his life for the most part, as long as certain topics were avoided.

He had lived a very interesting life, that was hard to deny. He had travelled to almost every part of the globe, met a thousand different people, done things most wouldn’t even dream off. He had seen dragons, fairies, mermaids, climbed the highest mountains and traversed the greatest lakes. He had had adventure after adventure, then why did it all seem so empty? It wasn’t he was talking about the time he fished on the Great Southern Reef that Phil finally piped up.

"I miss the sea, I wish I could go back," he said wistfully. Dan cocked his head, urging him to elaborate. Phil noticed it, raising an eyebrow at him, but dong as requested.

"I used to live on the coast. It was beautiful. On nice days the water would glitter under the sun and you could stare at it for hours. Even when the weather turned foul, safely hidden away the crashing waves were always a comforting sound," a small smile tugged at his lips as he spoke, quickly returning to neutral as more unpleasant thoughts worked their way in.

"Why did you leave, it sounds like you loved it there," Dan replied quietly. Phil nodded, 

"I did," he said solemnly, "But it was ruined by the same thing everything else is, humans. First, it was just one house, then two, then three. Suddenly there's a hundred and they really don't want you there," 

Dan didn't reply, he didn't know how to. How old was Phil? He didn’t look to be older than in his late twenties or early thirties, although there was a certain aura around him that made it quite hard to tell. Why would the people of this new village or town that popped up in his lifetime, questionable in itself, want him out? The way he used the word humans made him uncomfortable, why did he always seem to be implying he wasn’t one. He shook off those thoughts and soon Nyth came back into view after almost six days of solid walking. He couldn’t say he was glad to see it.

Dan put his foot down on sleeping outdoors that night. It was dangerous in such a large city and they needed to spend time gathering to gather supplies for the trip anyway. After a few hours of wandering around, they finally managed to find a guest house with room available. The landlord had given them both a strange look when they agreed to take it even when there was only one bed, but they were too tired to try and explain the situation. Dan was anxious at his scrutiny but Phil didn’t seem to care. Either he was completely unaware of the connotations behind it or he was simply too aloof to be bothered. 

It seemed walking long distances was not something Phil was entirely used to. Whilst he was absolutely determined to carry on at all costs, it was clear he was exhausted. The moment Dan opened the door to the room, the other man had thrown himself into bed and was snoring softly within minutes. Dan almost didn’t mind, he looked sweet whilst sleeping, hair messily askew, faced relaxed. He swallowed thickly, he couldn’t have those thoughts.

It wasn’t only the distance that they had walked which was affecting Phil, it was clear his lack of shoes was not boding well. He trod tenderly, and by the time the fourth day passed they were raw and swollen. Dan wondered how he’d gone about without them before. Sure, maybe he was used to walking on soft dirt paths, and not the hard stone of the road, but even as they left the road to sleep he still seemed uncomfortable. He’d asked, but only got a grumbled reply of something along the lines of ‘I don’t like these feet’, which he blamed on them both being pretty worn out.

It was only late afternoon and the markets were still open. Whilst what Dan wanted most in the world right now was to flop down beside Phil and sleep for a hundred years, he’d probably do better getting a head start on the supplies. He was annoyed that he had spent so much on food only a few days ago and had so little left to show for it, but he was travelling with a companion who it seemed, didn’t like to plan ahead. He wondered if Phil would have eaten at all, had he not offered. He really was very strange.

After browsing through the stalls, picking out food and other bits and bobs, he headed over to the apparel section. He picked out a large bag for Phil, so far they had just been taking it, in turn, carrying the supplies and it would be much more efficient if the other man just had one of his own, and a sleeping sack of his own as well. Hed said he wasn’t bothered by the cold, but Dan wasn’t going to let him catch pneumonia. Once again his eyes caught the jeweller's stand. It seemed diamonds and rubies were in fashion at the moment, personally he’d always preferred darker gems like jet or sapphire. Then again he couldn’t exactly be seen wearing things like that without attracting some unwanted attention so it didn’t really matter.

Finally, he came to the shoemakers. Usually, he would have a pair custom made for such a long journey, but they weren’t for him and he didn’t think Phil would deal well in such a busy environment. Therefore he would rather just pick out a pair that would be the most likely to fit his companion and hope for the best. He finally settled on a set of sturdy leather boots, they were crudely made and clearly second hand but like Dan, Phil was taller than average, so things in his size were harder to come by.

He was excited to show his purchases to Phil, he hoped he’d be pleased. On the way back to the guest house however, something occurred to him. If he were to just leave, right now, would  Phil ever find him? Sure he’d been sussed after escaping the nest, but he’d made it too easy. He’d left evidence, he’d hung around too long. If he just paid off a few guards and covered his tracks right, he’d be halfway across the continent before Phil had even an inkling of where he was heading. Realistically how long would Phil actually search for him? Eventually, he’d just give up and go after the eggs himself. 

It would be so easy, and yet he didn’t really want to go. It was stressful and exhausting, and at the end, he was going to be forced to have a very worrying conversation with Mras, but it was something he felt like he needed to do. He regretted taking those eggs, and not just because he’d been caught. He could see how desperate Phil was to get them back, and even if he was just working on behalf of someone... something else, it showed how much of an impact he’d had on other people's lives.

As much as he denied it, he’d always wanted to be liked, and being so disliked, or at least resented, for something he’d done weighed heavily on him. Phil was a little irritating at times and his thought process was something Dan would never understand, but Dan liked him. He didn’t have any friends, he travelled alone, Phil was a companion that he desperately needed. Even if he was only with him through force. Dan craved his approval, and maybe if he finished what they started, Phil would give it to him.

He was embarrassed to think about it, and a little ashamed. He didn’t usually attach himself to people so quickly, but when he did it always ended up in disappointment. He was beginning to think that his attraction to Phil was more than what was... acceptable. Sure, their conversations were easy and they seemed to click right, and if circumstances were different they would probably make great friends, but it was more than that. Dan liked being near him, it was comforting in a way. He liked the way Phil spoke, he liked how it felt when he gave him a friendly touch, or how he always seemed to listen to Dan like he was the most interesting thing in the world. If he was already so far gone after only a few days… Well, it didn’t bode thinking about.

Phil had not moved an inch, he didn’t even stir when Dan slammed the door shut behind him upon returning. Dan had been sat organising their supplies for the last hour hoping the other man would wake up on his own, but it clearly wasn’t going to happen. As much as he didn’t want to wake the other man, he did need to see if the boots fit so he could exchange them before the markets closed if they were unwearable. That and Phil was also somehow sprawled across the whole bed. Dan was not going to spend another night sleeping on the floor, not even for Phil.

“Phil wake up, I got something for you,” he said loudly, shaking the other man roughly.

Phil jolted awake with a gasp and no amount of grace. He looked startled for a moment but groaned once his eyes came to rest on Dan, throwing his arm over his eyes and pressing his face into the duvet. Dan tried his best not to feel offended.

“Let me sleep,” he sighed, yawning loudly. The younger man rolled his eyes,

“In a minute, I need you to try something on,”

Phil lowered his arm, looking curious. Dan held up the shoes and a small appeared on Phil’s lips,

“You bought me shoes?” he said softly, smile growing brighter. Dan handed them over and the other man pulled them on, clumsily doing up the laces.

“Do they fit?” Dan asked tiredly, fully ready to collapse into bed. Phil nodded looking pleased, tapping his feet against the hardwood floor,

“Yes, this is much better. Thank you Dan!” Phil exclaimed happily, pulling him into a tight hug. Dan froze and Phil pulled away upon noticing it, looking slightly disappointed and embarrassed,

“Sorry, but I do mean it. Thank you,”

Dan shrugged,

“It’s ok, I know you needed them. I’ve got you some other things as well. We might as well be prepared for the journey this time,” He said with a quiet, forced laugh, “Now let’s get some rest, I might end up asleep on my feet if I’m not in bed in the next five minutes,” 

He tried to use a playful tone, but it fell a bit flat. He had to stifle a yawn, stretching his aching legs. Phil nodded, taking off the boots. If he'd noticed Dan’s strange behaviour he wasn’t going to mention it, shuffling over so that there was plenty of space on the bed.

“I’ll wake you up in the morning,” he yawned, turning over to face the wall rather than the rest of the bed, probably more for Dan’s comfort than his, “Night,”

 Dan swallowed thickly, staring hard at the wall. His body was exhausted, but his mind was racing. He’d pleased Phil, he'd done something thoughtful and received praise for it, then what was wrong? Maybe buying someone the same gift doesn’t bring with it the same reward when you use the money you got from selling something very dear to them to get it.

Part 4

Dan woke with a start, sharp pain in his cheek. He looked up to see Phil hovering over him, finger outstretched, having just poked him with a suspiciously sharp fingernail.

“What the fuck Phil,” he groaned. Phil bit his lip and stood back sheepishly,

“Sorry, I just needed to wake you up. We should get going,”

Dan held his hand up to his cheek, which still stung a fair bit despite Phil’s touch having been relatively light.

“Why didn’t you shout at me, or shake me? You don’t poke someone in the face to wake them up,” he muttered groggily, quickly sitting up, “And you really need to cut your fingernails,"

Phil flipped his hand round to examine his nails and Dan frowned, seeing them to be fairly well trimmed. Why had it felt like being pricked by a needle? They stood in silence for a moment, either really knowing what to say, before Phil finally clapped his hands together loudly, 

"Right, off we go then," 

 . . .

“How long will it take up to get to Northguard?” Phil asked as they left Nyth for a second time. He was trying his best to remain upbeat, but Dan could tell he was anxious. Dan shrugged,

“It depends on how fast we walk. Four days? Probably five? Then of course we still have to get to where Mras is staying and god knows where that is,”

Phil bit his lip, 

“This is a real nightmare isn’t it. I feel like we’re on a mad goose chase,”

Dan tried to suppress the influx of guilt he felt. They’d only traveled South because of his own selfish desires to avoid Northguard and now they were paying for it, or more specifically Phil was.

“What’s the rush? I know Mras, he will do everything in his power to keep those eggs safe,” Dan said softly, “He’s my best customer, he will buy anything to do with dragons for his collection. I don’t think there is a single thing I’ve sold him that he’s lost,” He continued carefully in a bid to calm the other man's obvious nerves. Phil’s head whipped around,

“Oh, so this is a regular occurrence for you then?” he snapped suddenly, anger rising sharply. Dan shook his head desperately, taking a hasty step back,

“No, I swear I’ve never taken an egg before. I just go into any nests I find and look for scales and stuff. I’ve hadn’t even seen an egg before last week, and I wouldn't have taken it unless I knew there was a buyer nearby who could have taken care of it,”

Phil’s harsh expression softened but he let out a deep breath,

“So that’s why I couldn’t find anything,” He sighed, mostly to himself. Dan frowned,

“What do you mean?” 

“I needed a scale or tooth or claw, anything embedded with dragon blood for something. I thought it was odd that I couldn't find any back at the cave. Let me guess, you sold them too?”

Dan nodded sheepishly,

“I’m sorry, I didn’t know. What did you need them for anyway?”

Phil rolled his eyes and pressed his lips together,

“It doesn’t matter. As long as I get those eggs back it should be fine,”

Dan put a hand awkwardly on his shoulder in an attempt to comfort him,

“Don’t worry, we will get them back,” he said gently. Phil turned to look at him with a hard, scrutinizing gaze,

“We better,” he said coldly.

The road seemed to go on forever, endlessly stretching into the distance. The occasional cart trundled down it’s bumpy track and the trees on each side were beginning to close in on them. The sky was grey and gloomy, the recent storm still not having completely dissipated. Dan Hadn’t been this way in a long time, he had always hoped he’d never have to.

“You never answered, what's the rush?” he said quietly, anything to distract him from the monotonous trek thay had ahead. Phil bowed his head, looking uncomfortable,

“The eggs are due to hatch soon, and I need them to hatch with me and not with some human  who doesn’t know what to do with them,” he said quietly.

“Mras was quite the dragon enthusiast, I’m sure he’ll know what to do,”

Phil shook his head, giving Dan a curious look,

“Dragons are not the simple creatures you think they are Dan,” He murmured, “That is something you ought to think about. They are children, if not raised by their parents they should at least be raised by one of their own kind,”

Dan frowned,

“But you aren’t one of their own kind, you’re human too,”

Phil didn’t answer, something that made Dan feel very uncomfortable.

Maybe he was a witch. Dan hadn’t heard much of witches, but he knew they were peculiar beings, and could confer with the magical creatures of the world which seemed to fit his new companion perfectly. He thought back to the time when he had seen Phil change, the beast with red eyes and pointed teeth, had that been some sort of magic? Then again, witches were supposed to be ugly or unpleasant, and Phil was definitely neither of those things. 

After Phil’s bad mood had subsided and his anxiety was dulled slightly by their progress, he became more playful and teasing rather than intimidating and his quirks were more endearing than unsettling. He seemed unsure of talking about himself, instead encouraging Dan to open up. Dan had been quite pleased to eat first, he didn’t get the chance to talk about his adventures or share his stories nearly as much as he would like to. Who would he tell them too? He didn’t have anyone constant in his life besides his buyers and they hardly wanted a biography with every sale. It became more of a problem though as the questions grew more personal.

He didn’t want to talk about his childhood or family, they had always been difficult topics, and as much he was growing to appreciate Phil’s company, it wasn’t for him to know. For all he knew Phil could still have malicious intentions for him, and his sweet but admittedly erratic demeanour was just a plot to get him away from the city where Dan could be brutally murdered without hope of his attacker ever being caught.

“How did you come to be in the employment of a dragon Phil?” Dan said finally, sick of being interrogated. Phil paused and shrugged,

“It just happened I suppose,” he said vaguely. 

“How does that just happen?” Dan said loudly, “Did you just waltz into a dragon cave one day and hand them your CV?

Phil frowned,

“What's a waltz, or a CV?” 

Dan rolled his eyes at the obvious attempt to change the topic, but decided to indulge him nethertheless.

“A waltz is a dance, and a CV is like a document that contains all of your skills, education and past work experience for when you apply for a job,”

Phil scrunched up his nose,

“Oh, that CV thing sounds boring, but I’ve always wanted to try out a dance. How does a waltz go?”

Dan shrugged,

“I don’t know how to describe it. We used have a dance in my village at the summer solstice, my mum taught me one year,” He said absentmindedly, “I’m sure i could remember it if I were to actually do it,”

Phil cocked his head,

“Then do it with me,” he said holding out his arms. Dan stepped away quickly,

“No, I can’t do it with you,” he said with a slightly forced laugh. Phil shrugged,

“Why not?”

Dan let out a deep sigh,

“Because there are people around and if they see me dancing randomly with another guy on the side of the road, not only will they think I’m completely crazy, but also that it isn’t right. You should be dancing with a woman,”

Phil stuck his bottom lip out, looking disappointed,

“Why? Does the dance require the use of something only a woman has?”

Dan let out a short, slightly awkward laugh,

“No, I’m afraid you must be thinking of a different type of dance there Phil. It’s just how it is,”

Phil crossed arms, looking unsatisfied with the answer,

“Well neither of us is a woman and I want to know how it goes so I’m sure there is nothing wrong with us trying it,” he said quietly. Dan looked around, making sure there was nobody close by,

“You can’t just do the dance, we don’t have any music. A dance looks silly without any music,” he said, a certain fondness to his voice that worried him.

Phil smirked,

“I think you’re just making excuses,”

Dan rolled his eyes,

“I’m not, you need it to keep rhythm and stuff. How about this, if we end up in a place where music is playing and there’s nobody around, I’ll teach you how to waltz,” he sighed. Phil smiled brightly and nodded, seemingly pleased with the conversation in which he had not only managed to avoid the original question but also got something out of it as well. The cheeky bugger.

. . .

“Dan, what are your goals in life?” Phil asked softly as they stared up at the stars.

The sky had cleared for the first time in weeks as they settled down for the night. Whilst the bright, twinkling lights above made pleasant company, the absence of cloud had caused the temperature to drop significantly. Phil had by some miracle managed to get a fire going on the damp earth but the cheap sleeping sacks Dan had bought alongside Phil’s boots back in Nyth where doing little to keep in the warmth. He shivered in response, letting out a deep sigh,

“I don’t know, what are your goals supposed to be? To start a family, have children? I don’t think it’s for me, maybe I just want to survive,” He replied tiredly.

How depressing was that, his only goal was to live, but what did he have to live for? He had to shake the thoughts from his head,

“What about you Phil, what is your big dream?”

The other man shrugged, eyes still scanning the sky above,

“Maybe I’ll be a parent, if we manage to get the eggs back,” he said with a small laugh, “Otherwise I don’t know either I guess. Maybe I should get a mate . . . partner, but it just seems like too much hard work. I think I just want to go home and stay there. Where’s your home?”

“I don’t have a home, I move around a lot,” Dan murmured in response, trying his best not to delve too deep into Phils . . . odd choice of words.

“Then don’t you ever dream of having a home?”

Dan pursed his lips,

“If you have a home, there are expectations placed on you, expectations I will never be able to fill,”

Phil frowned,

“Like what,”

Dan felt like letting out a disbelieving laugh. Of course, he’d almost forgotten what a mysterious hermit Phil was,

“You have to get married, you have to have children, you have to have a regular job,”

Phil cooked his head again,

“What’s so hard about that? I’m sure you could find someone to marry and have children with. Maybe you could sell flowers, I think you’d make a good florist,”

Dan raised an eyebrow at him,

“Why would I make a good florist?”

Phil shrugged,

“Because flowers are pretty,” he said absentmindedly,

“And?”

Phil looked at him carefully for a moment and Dan almost jumped. His eyes where doing the odd cat thing again, the firelight reflected back in small silver disks,

“You’re pretty too,” he said firmly, “It would be a good match,”

Dan’s throat tightened,

“You can’t just say that Phil,” he said firmly, voice strangled slightly. The complement caused warmth to flood through his chest, but the connotations of it left a bitter taste in his mouth. Phil cocked his head,

“Why not?”

His tone wasn’t malicious, more curious, but it sent a flash of anger through Dan.

“I don’t know what backwater place you come from Phil, or if this is just some cruel joke, but the dance thing, and now this. You need to keep your mouth shut or we’ll both be done for,” he hissed in response, “Just go to sleep,”

He rolled over so he was facing away from Phil, a sickening feeling in the pit of his stomach. He could feel the other man's eyes on him, burning into the back of his neck. His gaze felt confused above all else which only made things worse. 

How could he not know that what he was doing was wrong? How could he be so naive. Before it had been friendly teasing, but now it was getting closer and closer to flirting. Dan had been too lenient, an unfortunate side effect of his growing affections for the other man and now it was going to happen all over again. All this talk of family and expercations, it was like Phil was just trying to remind him of all the things he couldn’t have.

He wanted desperately to turn back and apologize, but at the same time he wanted to get up and walk away. He didn’t want to go back to Northguard. He didn’t care that he’d brought this upon himself or that he had some sort of duty to help Phil, that place held deep, best forgotten memories he’d rather just ignore. For now though, he just wanted to sleep and forget the world for a little bit.

Part 5

By the time morning came, Dan didn’t want to move, not now, not ever. Phil had gone about diligently packing up their camp as the other man lay curled up in his sleeping bag. He had days like that sometimes, when nothing felt worth doing and he couldn’t muster any energy at all. Usually, he would be left to himself and could force him to sleep until it passed. It did nothing to help in the long run, but it made the episodes more bearable in the long run. This time, however, Phil was not going to let them wait around while Dan got himself together. He was on a mission, and the more they dithered, the more restless he became.

The clear skies of last night were once again shrouded by cloud and everything just felt so miserable. They had spent almost a week on the Southern road in vain and it was all his fault and now they were going to spend four more night on another road which would not even lead them towards their final destination. His body was tired and overworked, but worst was his mind. Why was he doing this, why was he doing anything to help this man? All it was going to cause him with pain, especially as his thoughts on him fought definitely against the cage in his mind that they were locked do firmly into.

“Are you ok? Phil asked softly, falling to the floor crossed legged by Dan’s head. Dan Didn’t answer, staring ahead blankly into the abyss of the forest. Phil examined him carefully, browning deeply.

“Is this . . . is this about last night?” he said somewhat awkwardly, “Because I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable I swear. I’m just . . . not good with people,”

Dan shook his head with a sigh. He didn’t like how Phil was looking at him like felt as though he had done something wrong. He hadn’t done anything wrong at all, or at least nothing that ought to be wrong.

“It’s not that Phil, I just feel like this sometimes,” he muttered. 

“Feel like what?” Phil asked quietly, shuffling forward ever so slightly as if wanting to comfort him, but decided otherwise. Dan shrugged,

“I don’t know, like nothing I guess. Everything just seems so pointless and bleak. What if we never find those damn eggs, and what does it matter if we do or don't," he replied dully. Phil looked taken aback, unsure of how to respond. 

"It matters to me," he said quietly. Dan scoffed. 

"It might matter now, but what about in a hundred years when we're all dead and nobody remembers us, then what will it matter?"  he snapped, immediately feeling guilty. 

"Dragons live for thousands of years, it will matter to them," Phil replied desperately. 

"Does the time frame really matter that much? You're missing my point completely!" Dan groaned. 

"I know that," Phil replied loudly, before letting out a deep sigh and trying to calm himself down. "I just don't know what else to say. I want to help you, but I don't know what to do. I don't understand these things; I don't know how to make you feel better. I can't force you to come but I need you, and I need to go. I have two children out there who's wellbeing and even possibly lives depend on me, on us. We need to help them!" 

Dan pressed his lips together firmly, remaining silent. He didn't want to disappoint Phil. The other man was genuinely upset, and it had all been Dan's fault, but he just didn't have the energy. He wasn't in the right sort of mind to be walking all day, especially to a destination he really didn't want to go in the first place. He wanted to scream, more than anything, and yet even that seemed so far from what he could bring himself to do. 

He was expecting Phil to shout at him, to get angry, or at least make some snarky remark, but instead, he just sat by his side, waiting. They must have sat for nearly an hour, Phil picking quietly at the dirt and as Dan thought. He thought of how lonely he was, how unfulfilling his life was. He didn't have a home, he didn't have a family, and he never could. He didn't even have any friends, except maybe he did. Phil was his friend, and Phil needed help. He thought about that for a long time, until eventually, he cleared his throat, 

"Are we friends Phil?" he said quietly. Phil tilted his head slightly, 

"I see no reason why we shouldn't," he replied with a soft smile. It made Dan's insides curl but in a nice way. 

"Even though I stole your eggs, well not your eggs, your 'employers' eggs. Oh, and the scales and all that crap," 

Phil sighed, 

"Yes, even though you did all that. You didn't know any better. You'd never do it again; would you?" he said gently. Dan huffed, 

"You've got that right, this has been an absolute nightmare," he muttered. Phil raised an eyebrow at him and Dan held his hands up defensively, 

"And it's morally wrong and was an inconsiderate and crappy thing to do I get it," 

They sat in silence for a little while longer before Dan took a deep breath and sat up with a groan. He slipped out of his sleeping sack and rolled it up, stuffing it into his bag. Phil gave him a warm smile as well as some bread and dried meat which he took wearily. He still didn't feel like eating, or doing anything, but had by now mustered the energy to begin their arduous trek. He ate in tiny bites, feeling as though it were merely a pointless chore despite its importance in fueling his journey. 

"I think I'm ready to go,” he said finally, picking himself up and dusting himself off.

A look of relief flooded over Phil’s face, but it was still mixed with scepticism,

“Are you sure? We can stay for a little while longer if we need to. Dan shook his head firmly,

“No, I’m ready to go. We need to go and get your eggs back,”

He tried to ignore the strangeness of that sentence and they set off again down the long road. 

Phil was quieter this time, more reserved. He seemed to be walking gon eggshells and Dan couldn’t help but feel that it was his fault. He’d let himself get worked up last night, too caught up in his own head.

“Phil, what are you going to do once we get the eggs back?” He asked quietly, anything to avoid the tense silence that had quickly developed between them. 

“Well, I guess I’ll go home,” he murmured, “After I’ve delivered the eggs back to the dragon of course,”

“And where is home for you?”

Phil shrugged and let out a small laugh,

“Wherever humans aren’t,”

Dan bit his lip, he wished he could do that. Just live the rest of his life hiding from the world,

“How do you do that? I don’t mean to be rude but you don’t exactly strike me as being someone who can rough it in the wild,”

Phil held his hand to his heart, feigning offence,

“How dare you, I am the toughest man you will ever see,”

Da rolled his eyes fondly,

“Sure you are, but seriously, how do you do it. You must have lived quite close to Nyth else you wouldn’t have found me. Do you have a house in the valley?”

Phil shrugged,

“It’s complicated, and believe me I won’t be staying near a city again. I thought it would be safe but I was wrong. Being near people, it never ends well with me,”

“Once we go our separate ways, will I ever be able to see you again?” Dan said quietly, looking down at his feet.

Phil gave him a sympathetic smile,

“I don’t know Dan; I’m not sure that it would be such a good idea. I might not even stay on the continent for much longer”

Dan frowned deeply,

“Where else would you go?”

Phil shrugged, looking up at the murky sky,

“Over the sea, I’ll keep going until I find a place where no one has ever been before, where I can make it my own,” he sighed, a slight smile coming over his face at the thought.

“Won’t you be lonely?” Dan asked in a time voice. Phil only shrugged,

“I’ve been alone for a long time, besides I won’t be alone,”

“Who will go with you?”

Phil didn’t reply, and Dan made the decision not to push. Maybe Phil had someone else, someone to share his life with. He seemed like the type of person who would casually forget to mention something like than unless directly asked, and Dan wasn’t going to do that. Then again, it didn’t matter. Dan was only staying with him until they got the eggs back, then Phil was free to bugger off with who he liked.

As they drew closer to Northguard, the surrounding got more familiar, and Dan became more and more on edge. There was like a cloud of nervous energy surrounding him, enveloping anyone who happened to get so close. Phil, who was already nervous around other people in any social capacity whatsoever, was beginning to get quite agitated by it.

“Is there a reason I should be afraid of this place?” He asked in a hushed wisher, eyeing up their fellow travellers wearily. Dan closed his eyes, swallowing thickly in an effort to calm down,

“No, there is absolutely no reason to be nervous. I’ve just not been here in a long time and it’s a place I’d much rather forget,”

This only resulted in Phil’s expression becoming a little more panicked,

“Not because anything bad happened,” he exclaimed, rather unconvincingly, “It’s just a bit of a dump,”

That seemed to calm Phil down a little but Dan knew he wasn’t helping the chances of them having an uneventful visit. They just needed to get in, talk with Mras’s representative, and get out. Then they could get those eggs back and both be on their very separate way with Phil leaving the landmass and Dan wandering around the kingdom aimlessly wondering if his only source income was morally irreprehensible or not. 

He didn’t know what he was getting so worked up about the idea of Phil leaving, a few days he’d hated the guy, and a few days before that they’d never even met. Dan had stolen and Phil was only here to get the stolen items back, they may have become sort of friends, but they weren’t exactly going to have a lifelong bond. What had Dan been expecting?

“Right you keep telling me everything is fine, but you’re staring at that tree like you want it to burst into flames,” Phil said with an awkward laugh.

“I do want it to burst into flames, then maybe it will fall and crush me,” Dan spat dejectedly. 

“Why would you want it to crush you?” Phil asked, voice laced with worry. Dan threw his hands up in the air,

“Because I hate Northguard, my feet are sore and I like being dramatic,” he snapped.

Phil shrunk in on himself, eyeing up his surroundings with a concerned expression. 

"Honestly it's not that bad, there are just some people there who I don't really like. But I haven't been here in years and they might not even still be here so I'm worrying over nothing," Dan sighed heavily. 

"I don't want you to be worried about anything," Phil replied softly, "If anything happens I'll protect you," 

Dan snorted, 

"Phil, you couldn't fight your way out of a wet paper bag, but I appreciate the sentiment," 

Phil crossed his arms indignantly, 

"I told you before, I'm tough," 

Dan gave him an exaggerated pat on the back, 

"Sure you are bud," 

As they grew closer to the city, the road became busier. Dan pulled his hood up over his head, letting it cast dark shadows over his face. The touches danced over the city walls, their flickering flame like the raging fires of hell. He didn't remember Northguard being so big. The rows of hastily built houses spilt from the historic confines of the city and even as the hour grew late people wandered along the cobbled streets. 

The inns and drinking houses were overflowing with drunks and travellers, energetic cheering which would morph into pained groans when morning came. It had changed so much even in the relatively short time he had been away. Hopefully so had the people. 

They slipped past the crowds like foxes in the night, remaining quiet and quick as Dan led them from street to street. Eventually they got to a quieter area where an Inn stood on its own, sign swinging pathetically in the wind. The bar was still occupied by a number of burly looking but it was nowhere near the hub of activity they had seen a while back. 

"Are there any rooms available?" Dan asked quietly to the haggard Inn keeper. She looked him up and down lips pursed, eventually nodding, 

"Ay, we've got a fair few. You only looking for one?" she murmured, eyes flicking to Phil. 

"Have you any with two beds?" Dan asked quickly. The keeper hummed thoughtfully, 

"I believe so, would you be wanting that one then?" 

"Yes, that would be great," 

They were tossed a key and ordered upstairs to unpack, if only for the night. The room was dim and damp, with two batter bed frames squeezed into the cramped space,"

"Why did you ask for a room with two beds, it would have been cheaper to just go for one. We shared in Nyth," 

Dan shook his head firmly, shivering slightly, 

"She would have gotten the wrong idea Phil, I'd rather just stay on the down low whilst we're here," he replied in a hushed tone. 

Phil frowned, 

"Are you going to tell me what happened here or not, because it's clearly bothering you," he said softly. 

Dan sighed, tossing his pack onto the rough, straw bed. 

"I'd rather not talk about it, but it wasn't good," he muttered, "We just need to wake up early tomorrow and find our guy, then we can be out of here and on our way to those eggs," 

"Are you sure you're alright?" Phil murmured, eyes brimming with concen, something that tightened Dan's stomach. 

"I'm just worried, I knew people here who did some pretty shitty things. I just hope that I don't see them," he sighed. Phil gave him a sympathetic smile. 

"Just know, whatever happens, I'll be there for you," 

Dan swallowed thickly, 

"Thanks Phil, I appreciate that," 

Phil flopped himself down onto the hard mattress without a second thought, barely having had time to kick his shoes off before he was unconscious. Dan could feel the weight of several days walking sitting on his shoulders like a pile of bricks, but he wasn't ready to sleep yet. He had thinking to do.

Why had he gotten so upset at the idea of never seeing Phil again? Why should it matter to him. Sure Phil was basically the only friend he'd had in ten years and he was really growing attached to the guy, but the only reason they were even travelling together was to help retrieve something he had stolen. Why were those pesky feelings of loss and longing plaguing his mind where they had no right to be there? 

Perhaps he wished they could have stayed together a little while, that for once he could have a friend, or maybe more than that. He wished the thoughts would go away, but the more he paid attention to them, the more the answer became clearer. An answer that would cause him nothing but pain, but was most definitely the truth. He had feelings for Phil. 

Part 6

When Dan awoke the next morning, he was crying, although he had no idea why. Foul thoughts danced briefly in his mind, before dissipating into the darkest depths of his brain as he was dragged forcefully from his restless slumber. Phil was standing over him, brow scrunched in needless worry. 

"Are you OK Dan?" he asked quietly, voice heavy and deep with sleep. Dan wallowed in the sound, letting it wash over him like a cool wave on a hot day, 

"Why wouldn't I be," Dan replied groggily. 

Phil reached forward, swiping his thumb across Dan's cheek so lightly he barely noticed, taking with it a single salty tear, holding it on his finger to show Dan.

"I think I was having a dream," he continued dismissively, "I've forgotten it now, it doesn't matter," 

“Are you sure?” Phil asked softly. Dan swallowed thickly,

“Come on, let’s go,” 

They left the inn, heading down the dim highstreet. The sun was rising on the horizon, but the streets were already busy. Dan’s eyes flicked from one person to another in the crowds, dreading that he might recognise one of them. He was being ridiculous, Northguard was one of the biggest cities this side of the silver sea, and it had grown enormously in the relatively short time he was gone. The chance he’d ever be recognised was incredibly slim.

“Do you know where we’re heading?” Phil asked, stopping and looking around at the numerous shop fronts that lined the streets.

Shit, of course Phil didn’t know where he could find the person they were looking for, Dan didn’t even know and he was the one pally with Mras.

“I kind of just assumed we’d be able to find them when we got here,” He said sheepishly, “Mras is a pretty influential guy though, it can’t be too hard to find his representative,”

“How about you just go wait back by the inn, and I’ll try and get some information?”

Dan snorted,

“Are you really sure that’s a good idea, you aren’t exactly the most socially adept,”

Phil rolled his eyes,

“Do you want to do it then?” 

“No, no, sorry. Don’t be too long, I’ll be waiting by the bar,”

Phil nodded and they quickly parted ways. Dan murmured a small prayer under his breath that Phil wouldn’t do anything that got himself hurt. It wasn’t that he didn’t trust him, it's more like he didn’t trust the people here to be very understanding of his eccentricity.

The bar was quiet, as it should be at the break of dawn. There was a passed out drunk in the corner and a few exhausted-looking travellers picking at a loaf of stale bread. The innkeeper frowned at him, he had only just left after all,

“Can I help you,” she asked coldly.

“I’m just waiting for my friend,” he said carefully, “Have you got anything non-alcoholic?”

“Water,” she replied stiffly.

“I’ll have a glass of water then,”

He must have been there for about an hour before Phil finally returned. A few people had come in and out, he had tried to strike up a conversation with the innkeeper once or twice, but apparently it was too early for anyone to be in a good mood.

“Thank god, did you find our guy?” he groaned, eager to leave this miserable place.

“Girl not guy, and yes. They have an office by the main market, it should be open by now,”

“Good, let’s go,” Dan replied, trying to push down the lump in his throat that formed when he thought of the market.

He was forced to squint as they emerged back into the city, sun having risen significantly in the hour he had spent uncomfortably nursing his glass of water.

“He led Phil towards the market through the twists and turns of labyrinth-like streets. They were deep into the old city now and stone buildings towered above them, casting them in shadow and giving Dan a comforting sense of enclosure and safety. Phil appeared to be a little more put off by it,

“Doesn’t it feel very claustrophobic to you? I mean I usually like clutter, but they could do with opening things out a bit,”

“Don’t worry, we’re almost at the market,”

Just as he got those words out, they turned a corner and the tight alleyways expanding out into a sprawling square, filled with colourful tents and shouting vendors. Tables were piled with everything from potatoes and apples to sparkling dresses and bundles of wool. Horses were lined up alongside them, tethered to a long fence dotted with troughs and bushels of straw for them to eat at. Each one was ladened with empty saddlebags, ready to be filled up with unsold produce once their masters decided to return home after a long day of vending.

“It’s a shame we can’t just nick a pair of those and be out of here,“ Dan sighed, nodding towards the horses.

“Haven’t you learned you’re lesson about stealing things,” Phil sighed. 

“I was only joking,”

They edged their way around the outskirts of the market, Phil eying the horses wearily as they snuck past. Eventually, they came to the correct building, knocking firmly on the door.

It was opened by a tall, dark-haired lady dressed in a smart shirt and trousers. She looked him up and down, pursing her lips,

“Can I help you?”

“We’re looking for Mras’s representative,” Dan replied quickly.

“Well, that would be me,” the women said, forcing out a small smile, “My name is Mrs Amble, you can call me just that. Do you have an appointment?”

“No, but it won’t take long,”

“That may be so, but I operate only by appointment,” she said firmly.

“We just need to know where Mras is,” Dan exclaimed, an unflattering amount of desperation creeping into his voice, “He’s a regular customer of mine, and I believe I have some items that he will be very interested in. I was told I could find is the current location here,”

Mrs Amble sighed,

“What’s the name,” she asked tartly,

“Daniel, Daniel Howell,”

She hummed thoughtfully.

“Howell? That name is quite familiar. You don’t have family around here by any chance?”

Dan shook his head firmly,

“No, it must be a coincidence. Can you give us the information we need or not,”

The woman held up her hands in defence,

“Alright, alright, give me a minute. I just have to make sure you’re on his approval list,”

Dan raised an eyebrow at her,

“He has an approval list?”

“Of course he does, he doesn’t want to be found by just anyone,” she replied, as though it were the most normal thing in the world.

She opened up a large book scanning the list of names,

“Ah, here we go. Daniel Howell, tall, brown hair, pretentious as hell,”

Phil giggled behind him,

“Seems about right,”

“He’s at his property on Enyer Island. I can arrange passage down to the coast, then you’ll have to get a ship over,” she said boredly. Phil let out a small groan,

“How long will that take?”

“Well we have a convoy leaving early tomorrow morning, then it’s a days journey to the beach, and around a day by boat if the wind is good,”

“Is there any way of getting there quicker?” Dan sighed, he didn’t like the idea of staying in Northguard for another night.

Mrs Amble shrugged,

“Not unless you can fly,” she said with a short laugh, “I can’t guarantee you’ll be able to get a boat unless you go with the envoy so I think that’d be your best bet. You can’t be that desperate to make your sale.

 Dan was about to open his mouth when Phil stepped forward,

“That sounds great, where do we meet?”

“Here will be fine, see you then,” the woman replied quickly, ushering them out, “Don’t be late,”

The door was closed and they were both left standing gout on the street,

“Why the hell did you agree to that?” Dan hissed.

“You heard what she said, it’s the quickest way,” Phil replied, frowning, “Why shouldn’t have we agreed,”

“Yes, I know,” Dan sighed, ”I just don’t want to spend another night in the city,”

“We’ll just go right back to the inn and stay in the room. What could possibly happen?”

Dan shuffled uncomfortably. He wanted to protest, but Phil looked exhausted. He had already caused enough delays to their plan. He let out a long groan,

“Fine, let’s go,”

They returned back to the inn they had spent the previous night, explaining to the long suffering that they would like another room. She handed over the key with a certain amount of trepidation and up they went.

Phil flopped down on the bed with a long sigh,

“Lord I can’t wait until this is all over,”

Dan hovered by the window, peeking out at the street below,

“It’s not been all bad, you like me right?” he replied with a slightly forced smile.

“Of course,” Phil said softly, “I’m just not used to all this. Besides, my feet hurt. Don’t yours?”

Dan shrugged,

“I’m used to it, if I wasn’t with I’d probably be on the other side of the kingdom by now,”

Phil grimaced,

“That sounds like too much work for me, once I’ve got those eggs back I’m going to sleep for like an entire week,”

They sat in silence for a little while, Dan drifting off into a daydream. His eyes became unfocused, but he didn’t feel like concentrating enough to resolve it. Besides, he was quite enjoying the beautiful blur that surrounded him. Eventually he yawned, the action causing his eyes to lock onto Phil.

The other man was looking at him with a soft expression on his face. He didn’t necessarily seem to be focused either, but it was still a little on. He straightened up, frowning. Phil flinched, as though coming back to reality,

“Sorry, I wasn’t creeping on you I swear,” he said jokingly. Dan shrugged,

“It wouldn’t be so bad if you were,” he sighed, almost to himself.

“Well, if that’s the case, I guess I was looking at you. I like your hair,”

Dan snorted, raising an eyebrow at him. He should be used to this by now, although he appreciated the complement. 

“Thanks I guess? What do you like about it?”

“It’s wavy, I wish my hair was wavy, and it matches your eyes,” he said softly.

Dan turned to face him properly. He didn’t know how to reply. What did Phil even mean by that? Usually he would have scoffed and shot him down. He was handsome, and he knew it, but he didn’t like being told it by others. It only made him anxious, but when Phil did it he didn’t mind so much.

“That’s not necessarily a good thing,” he said quietly, “I’d much rather have blue eyes, like yours,”

Phil shrugged,

“I think brown eyes are pretty, and they suit you,”

Dan tried to hide the smile that was tugging at his lips,

“Thanks,” he replied quietly, unsure of what else to say. Phil smiled in response and they slipped back into their respective daydreams.

Phil left not long after that to get them some dinner, Dan looking after him with an embarrassing amount of longing as he left. He didn’t like being left alone, especially here, and Phil brought him a certain amount of comfort. Soon the gentle chatter of people on the street outside softened and the sky grew red. It was replaced by the soft sound of music drifting up from the bar below. The melody was unfamiliar to him, played carefully on a slightly out of tune Vielle. He hadn’t heard music in so long.

He closed his eyes, humming along as soon as he got a feeling for the chorus. He almost didn’t notice Phil's return. He stood at the door looking slightly disheveled, but proudly brandishing two small pies. Dan frowned,

“Phil what did you do?”

“Nothing, I just tried to talk to the seller and he didn’t appreciate it. Apparently people don’t like outsiders around here, even if they are buying their food,”

Dan picked up the pie, cherishing its warmth.

“Some people just don’t like change,” he sighed.

"Do you know this song?" Phil asked absentmindedly. Dan shook his head with a small laugh, 

"No, I was just humming what I assumed the melody was going to be. It is nice though," 

Phil hummed in agreement, before his face lit up. 

"Wait, there's music!" he exclaimed. Dan frowned, 

"So?" 

"We're alone…" 

"Phil what's your point?" Dan groaned, taking a mouthful of overdone pastry. 

"Your promise. You said you would teach me how to dance if we were alone and there was music," he replied excitedly. 

Dan felt his stomach drop, 

"Phil I don't think that's a good idea," 

The other man's face fell, his happy grin replaced with a deep frown. It made Dan's stomach twist, he didn't like to see him look so sad. No, it was stupid. That promise was a joke, Phil had no right to look like Dan had just stabbed his puppy.

"Oh, OK," Phil replied quietly, sensing it was something that he shouldn't push. 

Dan's resolve lasted all of five minutes. He couldn't bare to see Phil disappointed. 

"Fine, I will teach you, but you have to remember that I'm not very good,"

Phil jumped to his feel, grin plastered onto his face, 

"That's fine, I wouldn't be able to tell anyway," he giggled, "What do I need to do," 

"You just stand there, I'll lead," 

For a moment Phil looked as though he wanted to object but he remained quite. 

Dan stepped forward, taking a deep breath. He placed his hand on Phil's waist, guiding his hand to his shoulder. 

"This feels weird," Phil whispered. Dan smirked, 

"Why, do you not like being touched?" 

Phil shook his head, 

"No, I'm just not used to it," 

"What about if I do this," Dan replied with a smirk, digging his hand into Phil's ribs. 

Phil squeaked in surprise, jumping away like a startled rabbit, 

"You're horrible," he exclaimed dramatically. 

"I was only messing," Dan giggled, gesturing for Phil to return back to the proper position, which he did only after ensuring he wasn't going to get poked again. 

Dan waited a moment for a new song to start, counting out the beats in his head. It was hard to concentrate with Phil so close. He could feel the other man's warm breath on his neck, and was acutely aware of how much he was sweating. His hands had grown clammy and he wanted desperately to wipe them off on his trousers. 

"Right when I tell you to, step back and I'll step forward. Then we have to move around in kind of a square pattern," Dan said nervously, quickly realising that he was in no way qualified to be teaching this. 

They got the first part right, but after that it was nearly impossible to coordinate together. Phil couldn't seem to get his lefts and rights worked out, and on the rare occasions he did get it right, his timing was all off. Dan must have stood on his toes twenty times before he gave up, and Phil vice versa. That being said, it wasn't as miserable as Dan had expected. 

Phil did not seem in the least bit dissuaded by his complete lack of skill, in fact he seemed almost delighted with it. There was a smile stretched across his face and he had taken to randomly twirling Dan around despite the other man's insistence that it had nothing to do with what he was trying to teach. Usually it would have annoyed Dan, that he wasn’t taking it seriously, but he could only find it endearing.

It wasn’t as though he wasn’t enjoying it as well. He hadn’t laughed this much in years. His grip on Phil became tighter, and he relaxed into his touch. Phil was warm, and he smelled good. Dan was tired, but he didn’t want to stop or leg go, he wouldn’t have an opportunity to be close to him like this ever again. The thought sent a sense of dread through him, their time together was coming to an end, but he wasn’t ready for that. He didn’t want to let go, he finally had a friend.

Part 7

Phil woke with probably the worst headache he had ever had in his life. Every movement sent spasms of pain through his body and the world around him was fuzzy and dark. It took him a while to realise he was on the hard wooden floor rather than the bed he was sure he'd gone to sleep in. Had he fallen out of bed and hit his head maybe. He brought his hand up to his head, finding it matted with a dark, metallic smelling substance which he assumed to be blood. Suddenly he jumped up, Dan! 

The human was nowhere to be seen, his bed empty, the duvet cast aside and one of the pillows in tatters. He stumbled over to it, vision foggy. Feathers littered the floor, spilling out of the cotton case. It had been sliced, not ripped, who could have done that? He remembered going to sleep, and at some point was awoken, but nothing after that. He hoped Dan was safe, he needed to find him! Fuck he should have listened. Dan didn't want to stay in Northguard for a reason, Phil had just been too selfish to see the danger. 

Unless...  could Dan have done this? No, he didn’t seem like the type.  Phil didn’t remember doing anything that might initiate a fight. He’d been so comfortable last night, maybe Phil had gone a bit too far again. He liked Dan, he wanted to be close to him, but that seemed to scare the human. Perhaps he’d done something wrong, perhaps this was all his fault.

It took him a moment to compose himself. The cut on his head stung like hell and the throbbing was so bad it was almost blinding. It had been a long time since he'd been able to get seriously hurt, he forgot how much it sucked. Eventually, he was able to take a deep breath, leaning out of the window and whistling. There was a flap of wings and almost immediately a pigeon came to land on the window sill next to him. It was scruffy and skinny, not like the plump, cheerful birds he was used back home. Still, it was worth a shot.

He tossed it a dried hunk of bread which it dove into with intense vigour, 

"Did you see anything strange last night?” He murmured in his best pigeon. The bird cooed in confusion.

“Did anybody come into this room late at night, or did someone leave?”

The pigeon thought for a moment, they weren’t all that bright so Phil waited quietly as not to scare it off. Finally, it cooed excitedly. 

Ok, so it wasn’t Dan. Someone was here. Why hadn’t they been stopped by the inn-keeper or even another guest? It must have been quite a racket. 

“Did you see where they went?”

The pigeon hopped up and down eagerly. Phil threw it the rest of the bread and rushed back to the bed, picking up both is and Dan’s bag. It was odd that they’d both been left behind, if it had been a robbery then they would have been taken surely?

He left as quietly as possible, not even bothering to return the keys. He kept his eyes down, emerging into the street, fear actually beginning to set in. What if Dan was hurt? Oh God, it would be all his fault. The pigeon flew from windowsill to windowsill, waiting until Phil got close before moving to the next one. Occasionally it flew over to other birds before making its decision. Hah, and Dan thought this skill was useless.

His eyes focused briefly on the darkened sky. It wasn’t long before the envoy would leave, and they were going to miss it, but in a way, he didn’t care. Of course, he needed to get those eggs back, as soon as possible, but he wasn’t going to abandon Dan. He’d grown attached to the human, a lot more than he should. It was going to be hard saying goodbye, not yet though.

Phil’s dread grew the further they got. Eventually, they got out of the inner city and the houses were beginning to thin. The pigeon went from branch to branch rather than window to window, chirping impatient as Phil hung back nervously. His eyes scanned the woodlands. He should be used to it, but these eyes were terrible. Everything was black, the dim moonlight which would have once guided his way could barely break through the canopy. It made him jumpy.

It took him a while to realise they were actually following a path. Soon a flickering light came into view. He thanked the pigeon and crept closer, realising that it was a small house. The walls were of rough grey stone with a straw roof. There was a small pen with a pig laying in the mud and a stack of firewood next to the door. Why would they have taken Dan there? It looked fairly harmless. Maybe hs informant had gotten it wrong?

He considered briefly simply knocking on the door, but he didn’t imagine it would go well. If Dan wasn’t there then he’d just be bothering a random family in the early hours of the morning and if he was, well they weren’t exactly going to admit it were they? He moved quietly around the side of the house, trying to see if there was anywhere he could peek in. There was light in the window, and he jumped back upon seeing movement.

He dropped down onto his hands and knees behind a bush, looking through the leaves as if he would be able to see anything at all. What was he going to do? He wasn’t used to this, he couldn’t deal with people at all. That was why he’d brought Dan with him in the first place. What if he fucked everything up, what if he got Dan killed, what if he got himself killed? He should have protected Dan, how could he have let this happen.

Eventually, he managed to build up the confidence to get closer to the house, peeking in through the window. At first, it seemed pretty ordinary. There were three people milling around the small room and a fire flickering comfortingly in the corner. They seemed to be deep in conversation although Phil couldn’t work out what they were saying.

He pressed his ear to the hard stone as if it would help anything at all. Upon realising that he was just being stupid, he decided it would be more helpful to try the next window. The leaves rustled and cracked beneath his feet, but one particular step the sound was different, more hollow perhaps. He frowned, bending down and carefully brushing the leaves aside, finding beneath it a small metal grating. 

It must look into a cellar of some sorts, and as he peeked in, staring back up at him was a familiar pair of warm blue eyes. Dan! Dan’s eyes went wide as if in shock, followed immediately by a flood of relief.

“How did you find me,” Dan hissed, looking about himself wearily. Phil shrugged,

“Doesn’t matter, only matters that we can get you out,”

Dan brought up his arms to show off his bindings, thick rope wound tightly around his arms and legs.

“Maybe if I can pull this grating off I’ll be able to hoist you up,” Phil whispered.

Dan shook his head,

“It’s too small of a gap. You’ll have to go in the front, maybe they’ll leave soon,”

Suddenly there was a crack of broken twigs behind him and before Phil could so much as turn around there was a cold blade pressed to his neck. Shit.

“Come to save your boyfriend have you?” A deep voice sneered. Phil swallowed thickly. They hadn’t killed him before, hopefully, they wouldn’t now.

“No Markus, don’t hurt him. I’m only travelling with him because I owe him a debt, let him go,” Dan exclaimed desperately,

“I gave him his chance,” The man hissed, “Get up, come with me or I’ll slit your throat,”

Phil got shakily to his feet and was pulled back round to the front of the horse. The door was thrown open and he was yanked inside. Without even a word to the other residents, he took Phil down to the cellar, binding his hands and pushing him down next to dan.

“There we go, reunited at last. Don’t cause any trouble, we’ve got to figure out what to do with you,”

Phil waited until the man had left, frozen with cold fear.

“Dan, who are these people? Why did they take you, what did they want?”

Dan didn’t look at him, eyes focussed on his feet, lids heavy. There was bruising on his face and all song his arms. Phil wanted desperately to vanish them away, tell him everything was going to be fine. He’d never seen the other man look so defeated.

“These,” Dan said with a heavy sigh, “Are my family or at least some of them. They threw me out when I was a teenager, said I was a disgrace. They warned me, they warned me and I should have listened. They said if I ever came back they’d find me and I’d regret the day I was born and look where we are now,”

“I’m so sorry,” Phil murmured, “I didn’t know, I should have listened. We wouldn’t have even come here if it weren’t for me,”

Dan shook his head slowly,

“It’s ok, we had a task to do, you couldn’t have known,” His voice was tired and raspy,, as though he’d been screaming for hours.

“Have they hurt you,” Phil asked worriedly.

“No, well nothing but these,” he replied, gesturing to his bruises, “But they will. You shouldn’t have come looking for me, you should have just left me behind and gone with the envoy,”

Phil frowned deeply,

“I couldn’t have done that, you’re my friend. I care about you,”

Dan laughed coldly,

“You barely know me, and after all this, you’re just going to bugger off and abandon me like everyone else so why does it matter,”

“You don’t want me to leave?”

Dan sniffed softly, leaning over to rest his head on Phil’s shoulder,

“Of course not. You’re the only friend I’ve had since I was a kid. You’re just so nice, why don’t you hate me. We only met because I screwed you over, well your boss I guess,”

“You didn’t know what you were doing,” Phil replied softly, “I shouldn’t have made you come, but I am glad we met,”

Dan sighed.

“Yeah, me too. Even if we are about to die,” he said with a pained laugh.

“I’m sure it won’t come to that, we can figure something out,”

The door to the cellar swung open and two men marched down the stairs, one taking Dan the other Phil. They were pushed up into the main living area.

“Daniel, aren’t you going to introduce us to your friend,” One of the men exclaimed, voice frighteningly light. Dan shuffled uncomfortable next to him, eyes darting around the room. The man’s amused grin morphed into more of a glower and he repeated the question,

“Did you know just hear what I said boy, tell us who the scrawny lad is or I’ll force it out of you,”

“He’s just Phil,” Dan replied, voice timid and terrified, “I nicked something off his boss and he’s just here to get it back. Let him go, this is none of his business,”

One of the men scoffed,

“Really, well you two seemed to be very chummy earlier,”

He turned to look a Phil, examining him in the flickering firelight,

“Tell me ‘Phil’, do you know why Danny here isn’t welcome in this city?” he sneered. Phil shook his head, cringing away as his face drew closer. What could he have possibly done to warrant all of this?

“He is the work of the devil, a tempter, an abomination,”

He turned back to Dan, eyes dark,

“Do you remember that young man you were so fond of, the blacksmith’s son? He’s married now to a wonderful woman, they have two lovely children. I always knew you were the one that led him astray. I bet his memories of you are field with disgust,”

Phil frowned,

“Let me get this straight. You kidnapped him in the middle of the night, dragged him all the way out here, and plan to do lord know’s what, all because he was a little too fond of a guy when he was a kid,”

The man growled,

“He brought shame to our family! Why do you think we live out here? People think we harbour heretics and evil, and it’s all because of him! We were too kind on you Daniel, we only cast you out. We should have cut you down where you stood. We won’t make the same mistake,”

Phil could feel his blood boiling. This was ridiculous. Humans and there messed up beliefs. He wasn’t going to let them hurt Dan, his Dan. How could they? The fire that smouldered behind them began to blaze a little brighter. He closed his eyes, letting out a long breath. He had to concentrate.

Soon he felt his binding disintegrate into ashes, floating softly to the floor behind him, glowing orange with heat. The man stepped back,

“How the hell did you do that? Demon,”

Phil took in a deep breath, fire turning now into a raging inferno, spewing out from the fireplace and igniting the soft straw bedding that surrounded it. 

Dan was looking at him with wide frightened eyes, but Phil didn’t have time to apologise or explain, he grabbed the younger man and ran. Their kidnappers were two reoccupied with trying to dampen the fire to pursue. The burning house illuminated the forest, casting dark shadows amongst the blazing red.

Even as they drew closer to the city, they could see the smoke rising up from the treetops. Phil felt a cold wash of dread come over him. Oh God, what had he done?

Part 8

Dan’s breathing was ragged and harsh as they pulled into a dark alleyway, confident that they had not been followed. The faint smell of smoke clung to their costs and images of dancing flames played in his mind. He looked down at his wrists and ankles, which by all logic should still have been bound, but were instead moving freely. There was a ring of white ash where the rope had once been but only the slightest feeling of warmth against his skin.

“What the fuck,” he muttered, looking about himself in a state of panic. Phil was looking back at him with those big blue adorable eyes, but the expression of triumph he might have expected given their miraculous escape wasn’t there. Instead, he had gone very pale, lips pressed into a tight line. 

Dan's breathing hitched, because it wasn't miraculous, Phil had made it happen. How had he done that, how had he burned down a fucking house? Dan's mind flashed back to back at the house, how the once seemingly harmless man's eyes had glowed ember red. What the fuck, what the fuck, what the fuck.

They stood in a shocked silence, both staring intensely at each other for a good few minutes. Dan searched Phil’s face again for any signs of the beast he’d sworn he’d seen, but there was nothing. His skin was a soft peach, cheeks just a hint of pink from the running. His soft hair was tousled and messy, and dan thought about how much calmer he’d be if he could just run his hands through it.

“You saved me?” he said, voice full of uncertainty. Phil nodded slowly, eyeing Dan as though he were a rabbit about to bolt. 

“But how? How did you do that?” he muttered, backing away ever so slightly. "What happened to you?"

"I didn't do anything, we just got lucky, " Phil murmured . Dan gritted his teeth, 

"Don't lie to my Phil," he exclaimed angrily, although it was more fearful than anything else, "I've had a shit enough day as it is, tell me what you did. Ropes don't just disappear, houses don't just burst into flames, eyes don't randomly turn red," 

"That was probably just the light playing tricks on you," Phil said solemnly, as if he knew it was useless. 

"I know what I saw," 

Phil let out a deep sigh,

“Think about it Dan,” he said softly, "Just think about it, and please don't freak out. I'm not going to hurt you, I'd never hurt you, " 

Dan recoiled as Phil reached out to comfort him, the gears in his brain whirring so loud he swore they were physically audible. What the fuck was he supposed to think? So was he magic, could he somehow control fire? Maybe he was a witch, he'd suspected it before. Would that explain the weird eyes though? He should have known something was wrong. All that stuff with the calling him 'human', the general weirdness, it was obvious. Why would a dragon hire a human anyway? That was so obviously a lie, he should have trusted his instinct. Why would he be so desperate to get the eggs back though. Unless… 

He swallowed thickly, eyes blowing wide. No, that was impossible. 

“Phil, are you a dragon?” he said quietly, voice just barely above a whisper.

Phil took his lip between his teeth. Dan felt his eyes drawn to it, immediately pulling them away when he realised what he was doing. 

“No, of course not, I’m human,” He murmured, eyes flicking down to his feet, “Well I am now,”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Dan almost yelled, "You need to tell me the truth right now or I swear to god I'm going to ram a curtain pole so far up your ass you can taste it!" 

He was breathing heavily and clenching his teeth so hard he thought they might crack.. Why could nobody ever tell him the truth, as if he hadn't gone through enough shit today. A flash of gut shot through him, however briefly and he closed his eyes trying to calm down. Phil had just saved his life, he should be pulling him into a big hug and thanking  him with all his heart, not shouting at him. Then again it was only going after Phil's bloody eggs that had taken them here in the first place. But, if he himself hadn't gotten greedy, then there would be no need to go after the eggs. 

“When you stole my eggs, I used some very old magic that I shouldn’t have done. I made myself human so I could find you and get them back. I’m sorry I should have told you. I never expected that I’d be like this for very long, I never expected to get so . . . close. I didn't want you to be afraid of me,”

There was a forlorn look on his face, and he seemed to shrink in on himself.

Dan's eyes lingered on him, mind racing. It was very hard to picture the generally bouncy but timid Phil as a great big lizard. He didn't think they would be smart enough to talk or express emotion, but it was very clear in this moment that Phil was extremely distressed. 

“Can you change back?” Dan asked quietly, unsure of what else to say. 

Phil nodded, 

“Yes, but I need something to help me with it, like a scale or claw. I think the eggs could work as well. If you hadn’t cleared out my nest I probably could have just flown to Eyer and I’d be back home by tomorrow,” He sighed with a harsh, clearly forced laugh. 

Dan swallowed thickly, picturing in his mind the slightly singed bag that Phil had managed to grab on the way out of the house and the contents within. He could tell him, he could tell him and It would solve all of Phil’s problems. But then Phil would leave him, and Dan wasn’t ready to let go.

“So they’re your eggs, your children?” He said suddenly, trying to distract himself but feeling sick to the stomach. Phil shuffled uncomfortably on the spot.

“Not quite, they belonged to a friend of mine,” he sniffed softly, “Unfortunately, she strayed too close to the human world and suffered for it. I took them on, I promised I’d take care of them,” He had to stop, voice faltering.

“I’m so sorry,” Dan murmured, tears pricking in his eyes. Phil shook his head,

“We’ve been through this, you didn’t know. Let’s just get them back yeah?” He replied quickly, handing Dan his bag. Dan took it quickly, wanting nothing more than to turn and launch it into the nearest wall. 

"You think I'm still going with you?" 

Phil's frown deepened. 

"Look, I'm not who I said I was, but it's not like I'm a different person," 

Dan crossed his arms tightly, tears forming in his eyes. He was so overwhelmed. Why was this happening to him. What had he ever done to deserve this.

"How do I know you're even telling me the truth. Is this just one great big practical joke? Was that why you forced me to come here? So that my fucking family could torment me one last time," he spat, desperately wiping at his eyes to stop those tears from flowing. 

Phil looked hurt, eyes wide and forlorn. 

"This is the truth, why would I ever do anything to hurt you. You're my friend,"

"How can I be your friend, you aren't even fucking human," Dan hissed. Phil straightened up, clearly trying his best to stay calm. 

"Well I am now thanks to you. I still have feelings and thoughts you know. Humans aren't that unique. Please, come with me. I need you. I like you Dan, you're funny and sweet, and I'm sorry so many shitty things have happened to you," 

Dan swallowed thickly, 

"You aren't just using me to get to Mras?" he said quietly. Phil shook his head, 

"No, absolutely not. I want you to come, truly," 

Dan made up his mind far quicker than he dared to voice it. If Phil hadn't just saved his life, if Dan didn't have a daunting and mind consuming crush on him, things might have been different. But he did, so the answer of the question 'will you come with me?' was a certain and resounding yes. 

He nodded and Phil's face was flooded with relief. He picked his own bag gingerly, as if any sudden mood would spook the human and send him fleeing. In all honesty Dan thought it might. 

The sun was slowly beginning to rise as they headed through the streets towards the meeting spot. Dan was beginning to calm down by now, guilt weighing heavy on his chest. It wasn't like he was wrong. Finding out your friend and traveling companion is a dragon is of course no small matter, and all that crap with his family was obviously going to scramble his head, but he still felt like he had been far too harsh. 

“Thank you again for coming to rescue me, Phil,” he said eventually, swallowing his pride and leaning in for a friendly shoulder bump. Phil turned to him and smiled weakly, “Yeah well you needed rescuing didn’t you,”  

“I’m sure I could have gotten out on my own,” Dan replied, feigning offence in an attempt to lighten the mood. Phil scoffed,

“No, you couldn’t, you needed me to come and save you,” he replied with a small grin. It stayed only briefly however before Phil forcibly returned his lips into a pressed line, as though the act of smiling was in some way inappropriate. 

“I’m sorry your family was so awful,” he said quietly, “You didn’t deserve that,”

Dan nodded slowly. This was the first time he had seen them in years, they had been willing to kill him. That was no family. For so long he had held their beliefs to heart, he wouldn't let them control him anymore, he couldn't. 

“I've always known they were crazy," he said with a strained laugh, "But I think I need to get it in my head that what they thought of me was crazy too. I won't believe them anymore," 

Phil wrapped his arm around him hesitantly, squeezing comfortingly. Dan almost melted, relishing in the warmth. His first reaction was to pull away, looking about himself in a panic, but he fought it, letting himself relax into Phil’s arms. Maybe one day he wouldn't feel so nervous. 

They arrived in the main square to a group of carriages and a slightly pissed off Mrs Amble tapping her foot impatiently. 

“I thought you were never going to show,” she announced, frowning when she spotted the state they were in. Dan became suddenly aware of the sharp stinging on his cheek, not helped by salty tears, raising his hand up to his face and hissing when it came into contact with swollen skin. Phil frowned, pressing his hand to the wound. Dan closed his eyes, expecting pain, but instead found himself humming softly as it dissipated slightly.

They perched onto the back of a goods cart, trying to ignore the strange look the driver was giving them as the horses shied desperately away from Phil. And with that they were off. 

Phil sighed deeply,

“I miss flying,” he groaned, “It’s so much easier than this crap,”

He was studying Dan as if to gauge his reaction. The human did his best to remain indifferent, but on the other hand he felt guilt flash through him.

He was deeply conflicted. On one hand if he gave Phil the tooth, he'd be off and Dan would be free, on the other hand, well, Phil would be off and Dan would be alone. Even in his fear he hadn't wanted to give Phil the means to abandon him, because deep down even then he'd known he didn't want Phil to go. 

Besides, it might end up better anyway. If he could convince Phil to stick with him, he might be able to convince Mras to hand over the eggs peacefully. Yes, it was defiantly5 for the best that Phil remained as a human. Besides, maybe if they spent enough time together, Phil wouldn’t want to fly off and leave him all alone.

“I can’t believe I never figured out you’re a dragon,” He announced, much louder than he needed to in an effort to curb his racing thoughts. Not that it really mattered, everyone was going to think they were a bunch of looneys anyway, “When do dragons just go around hiring people?” 

Phil grinned,

“I must have been doing an excellent job at pretending to be human then,” he said smugly,

“You weren’t,” Dan replied fondly, his attempt at exasperation falling flat on its face.

Phil turned to face him, eyes soft. Dan was transfixed.

“You’re taking this quite well,” he murmured softly. Dan shrugged.

In all honestly, he was finding it kind of hard to deal with. He’d known Phil was a little odd, he should have figured this out way sooner. Maybe it was the way he always felt warm and safe when they were together, how he enjoyed their conversations and Phil’s quirky personality. Maybe that’s why he didn’t want to turn and flee.  

“It does suck a little,” he said eventually, “I kind of wish I could have come and lived with you in the forest, away from everyone else,”

“You still could,” Phil said quietly. Dan gave him a strange look,

“Well not if you were a dragon all the time,” he said with a forced laugh, "I'd go mad just talking to myself," 

“I wouldn’t have to be a dragon all the time,” Phil said absentmindedly, “I could still take some time for you, in this form I mean, ”

Dan’s eyes went wide,

“Really?”

“Yeah, of course, you’re my friend,” Phil smiled, leaning into Dan’s shoulder, “Maybe I could turn you into a dragon,”

Dan wrinkled his nose,

“What? A great big, flying magical reptile?"

He paused. 

Actually that does sound pretty cool,” he muttered after a moment of concideration. 

Phil laughed softly,

“I don’t think that would be a very good idea, imagine how clumsy you would be,”

Dan rolled his eyes,

“If you could fly then so could I, you have absolutely no coordination whatsoever, "

Phil crossed his arms, giving Dan a look which was obviously supposed to come off as unimpressed, but instead was stomach churningly fond. Dan had to turn away for a moment, taking a deep breath. 

"Of course I'm not very coordinated. I'm in the wrong body. That's not my fault," 

Dan shrugged in defeat, laughing softly. 

"What is this body then, how did you get it? Like did you steal someone else's or create it from scratch," he asked curiously. If he had just nicked it then he'd certainly made a good choice. 

Phil shrugged, 

"I don't really know, I think it's just what popped into my head when I thought 'human'. I do like it though," 

Dan nodded in agreement, smile tugging at his lips. 

"I do to," 

Part 9

It didn't take long to reach the coast. Dan was dozing off in the back of the cart, sun warm on his face. He had stretched out across the hard wooden planks, legs swung over Phil's thighs. It was a bold move, but one he was willing to risk. Phil was staring straight ahead, lost in a daydream, occasionally brushing his fingers across Dan's calves. The air grew crisper, the wind stronger, leaving the faintest traces of salt across his drying lips. 

They joined the road that ran along the tops of the harsh cliffs, vegetation morphing from tall forests to tough and sparsely scattered grass. Dan was captivated by the rolling hills that had become so clear in the distance now that they were free from obstruction. He imagined standing at the top, bracing against the wind and looking down on the world below. That was the closest he'd ever get to flying. What drew the most attention, however, was Phil. 

He was looking longingly over at the sparkling blue water and it stood eerily still, despite the rough sea breeze. It sparkled with every disturbance, hinting at what lay in the depths below. Dan shuddered, it was always his fear that he’d be swimming out in the open ocean and his foot would touch something rather worrying. He hoped to god his feet could stay firmly in a dry, buoyant boat and not be plunged into the pleasant, but cold looking water beneath.

He wondered if they would live somewhere like this, slough far away from civilisation, once all this was over. If Phil was being serious that is. Dan wanted so much to believe that the future was set in stone, and not instead faintly imprinted onto the thick fleece of a sheep. Prone to disappear at the faintest ruffle, or in fact be shorn off altogether should the weather change too much.

“What do you think Mras is going to say?” Phil murmured, “About giving the eggs back I mean?”

Dan shrugged,

“He won’t be happy. You should have seen his eyes when I gave them to him, it was as though they were the largest jewels in the world,”

“More precious than any jewel,” Phil sighed.

“What if he doesn’t give them back?”

Phil shrugged,

“Then we make him, I don’t want it to come to that but I will do anything I can to get them back,”

Dan swallowed thickly, images of dancing flames playing behind his eyelids.

“I’m sure we can convince him to hand them over peacefully, I’m quite the charmer,” He said with a wink. Phil rolled his eyes, looking unconvinced,

“Sure you are,”

Eventually, the cart rolled into a small port town and they were ordered off. The houses that surrounded them were light sandstone rather than the harsh grey rock back in Northguard. The feeling was brighter, airier, Dan was almost sad they had to leave. Before he had much time for admiring they were herded onto a somewhat lopsided pier and into a fairly large wooden sailing boat with a great canvas sail. Dan looked up at it in awe. He’d never been on one of these before.

Phil sat uneasily on one of the long wooden benches, peering over the edge as water lapped softly against the hull.

“You don’t like it?” Dan asked, striding around the deck to pull at the various bits of rope that hung down from the mast.

“I’m just not used to it,” Phil said quietly. 

“Yeah well neither am I and I don’t look terrified. Surely this isn’t any worse than flying?”

Phil shrugged.

“I trust my own wings, I know they will not falter unless I falter myself. I feel like this thing could tip at any time and I would be in the mercy of the ocean,”

“Look, this ship has probably sailed this route a hundred times before, and it’s still in one piece. There’s nothing to worry about,”

He gingerly took Phil’s hand in his, squeezing gently. After a moment the let his own hand slacken, expecting Phil to pull his away. Instead, they remained interlocked, albeit loosely. Dan suddenly became hyper aware of the sailors that milled about the deck around, but tried to push those thoughts down. Phil needed comfort and he was going to give it to him. Internal fears be damned.

Unfortunately, however, it seemed that Dan had been wrong, and Phil did have something to worry about.

Almost as soon as they got into open water, and the once seemingly still water became rougher and rougher, Phil’s already pale complexion turned a sickly green. His head was resting on the outer edge of the hull, eyes pressed shut. He already emptied the contents of his stomach overboard and looked as though he was planning to do the same with his wearied body.

“How are you not dying,” he groaned, peaking an eye open to look at Dan. Dan laughed softly,

“I don’t know, maybe because I don’t get seasick. It happens with some people. Besides, they said we’d be there before tomorrow morning. The wind is in our favour thank God, it’s the only thing that ever is,”

“Don’t laugh at me, it’s not funny. You’re just lucky,” Phil sighed.

Dan shook his head fondly, giving his shoulders a quick squeeze. He might have gone in for a full hug if the other man didn’t smell vaguely of vomit.

When they arrived at the island, they were whisked away almost immediately. The house sat high on the island, overlooking the barren, windswept slopes below. A wide, winding path led up to a pair of impressive gates which they were unceremoniously shoved through. Why anyone would decide to build a holiday home here was beyond Dan.

“Finally, " Phil muttered, looking up at the house with pursed lips."It's a pretty nice, I hope I don't have to burn it down," 

They were led through the front doors after a quick and awkward frisk by one of the many guards. Actually, there seemed to be guards all over the place, he couldn't imagine why such a remote area would have to be so heavily fortified? Maybe Mras was more paranoid than he thought. They were greeted by a butler almost as soon as their feet crossed the hearth. 

"We have informed the master of your arrival, he is quite perplexed. He'll be waiting for you in the study," he said sternly. 

Dan nodded with a slight smile, but hung back, leaning in close to Phil. 

"Let me do the talking. If everything goes to shit you grab the eggs and I'll deal with Mras OK?" He whispered, eyes darting around the grand entrance hall.

Phil nodded hesitantly, face going blank as he tried to put on his best 'serious business' expression.  I wasn’t that convincing but Dan appreciated the effort. 

The butler turned, giving them a warning look.

Mras’s study was like nothing Dan had ever seen before, and he’d been forced to observe many collections in his time as the supplier of them. The room was as large as a house, open and uninterrupted by columns or walls. The ceiling was high, supported by thick, strong wooden beams embedded into the hard stone walls. Bookcases lined the walls, but instead of books, there were bottles and vials or small glass chests fastened with brass locks. In the centre, there was an enormous tree, its leaves a fiery red.

Whilst Dan gaped as the vast number of items that lined the walls, Phil’s eyes were locked on two items in particular. Specifically the two perfect blck eggs, propped up on soft silk cushions by the fire. Mras eyed him wearily, putting himself between Phil and the eggs. Phil let out an almost audible growl of annoyance.

“Why are you here Dan? Are you going to show me your new inventory or what? And who’s your friend?”

Dan turned sharply,

“I lied, I don’t have anything to sell you, rather I want to buy something back,”

Mars pursed his lips, quickly growing tense,

“I don’t appreciate being misled, nor will I indulge you by hearing you out. Get out,” 

He spoke calmly, but the undertone to his voice was deep and dangerous. Dan swallowed thickly,

“The eggs, I need them back. I will return your gold in full and you never have to see me again,”

Mras shook his head, face becoming increasingly red,

“I will not hear of it, they are my most prized possessions, I should have known nobody could give them up so easily,”

“You are right, I should not have given them up so easily, but only because they weren’t mine to sell. I must return them to their original guardian,” Dan replied calmly, fear beginning to creep up his spine. Fuck, why couldn’t something just go right for once,

“Well tough, they’re mine now,” The wealthy man stated, not raising his voice despite the veins growing ever more present on his face. He stepped forwards suddenly, grabbing Dan by his wrist and hauling him towards the door with a surprising amount of strength. He was pushed to the floor, scrambling to get up before the butler, who had been looming ever closer throughout their conversation, got his hands on him.

Phil pulled him to his feet, ushering him away from both men. Dan wasn't one to cower in a fight, but Phil would protect him,  and he was far more capable in this situation than Dan could ever be now the talking was done. He kept behind him, one hand twisted in the fabric of his shirt in both fear of being separated and the desire to let Phil know that everything was going to be okay.

"Those eggs are mine," Phil said firmly, "You can't keep them,"

Mras scoffed, 

"Called dibs on them did you? I bought them for a fair price, where they came from before that has nothing to do with me,"

"You cannot possibly care for them when they hatch, what are you going to do then," 

Mras splayed his hands, looking around his collection in all its splendor,

"Look about you boy, I am one of the wealthiest men in the known world. Who else would be in a better position to raise them, even to feed them alone would bancrupt most. They shall be my loyal beasts, a teatime to my success," he exclaimed almost joyfully. 

Phil groaned in a foul mix of frustration and distaste, 

"They aren't beasts, they are children. They belong with one of their own,"  

"And I'm supposed to trust that you will deliver them to one? For all I know you've simply found a higher bidder, and your friend here regrets being so hasty in selling them to me," 

"I do regret it, but that isn't the reason," Dan grumbled, earning a light 'shut up' nudge from Phil. 

"I have no interest in money, I just want to get those eggs back where they belong, and you aren't going to stop me," 

"Those eggs belong here, with me, and they are never leaving," Mras spat, hovering over them possessively.

Phil closed his eyes and Dan braced, moving himself away from the fire. The flames once again began to jump, but Phil hesitated, letting them settle once more. 

" What are you doing? Start the fire, " Dan murmured. 

Phil shook his head, 

"I can't, the eggs are too close,"

Dan groaned, 

"Are you telling me dragon eggs aren't immune to fire? Phil they're dragon eggs. Isn't fire your whole shtick?" 

 "Yes but I can still burn in this body, who's going to grab them when they're engulfed in flames, you?" 

Mras stepped back fearfully, 

"What are you? Never mind, I'll have you both killed for this. You come into my home under false pretences, you threaten to take my possessions, and now you threaten me. I won't stand this sort of disrespect. I have treated you well scavenger, and this is how you repay me?"

Phils hand moved down until it was finally grasped firmly around Dan's wrist, 

"I think we need to leave, right now," 

"But your eggs," Dan hissed. 

"We can deal with that later, but for now I really don't want you killed," 

They rushed past the butler who made an attempt to grab them, hand gripping at the fabric of Dan's shirt but ultimately failing to hold on. 

Mras shouted for the guards but they were already out of the door and halfway up the drive before any of them understood what was going on. A few made a feeble attempt to chance but they were weighed down by heavy armour. Besides it wasn't like they had anywhere to go. They were trapped on the island and there was no way they would get down to the Dock in time before the alarm was sounded. 

"Fuck Phil, what do we do?"

Phil groaned in frustration, 

"I don't know, there must be somewhere we can hide and wait this out, let's just be glad they don't have bows," 

Almost as if on cue an arrow whizzed past Dan's head, sticking firmly into the ground ahead, their run became more desperate as they regaled how out in the open they were. A few more hit the earth with loud thumps around them before they were able to get to the edge of the cliff, flinging themselves down the steep and poorly kept track for cover. 

They ran along the beach for a little while, arriving in a cave gasping for breath.

"I don't know how that could have gone any worse," Dan gasped. Phil placed his finger to his lips, listening intently. At first only the crashing of the waves could be heard, thunderous against the rocky beach, but slowly the sound of clanking armour and shouts became clearer. 

"They're going to find us eventually, and we'll be slaughtered," Phil murmured. 

Slowly dread began to take hold of Dan. He never thought this was going to happen, was he really going to die. Surely Mras had some humanity, or had his obsession over those damn eggs stripped it all away? 

Phil stepped forward, bringing him into a strong hug. Dan buried his face in the dragons chest, relishing in his warmth. 

"I won't let them harm you Dan, even with a sword though my heart I'd stand for you. Don't cry, please don't cry it's all going to be okay," 

There was nothing he could do, Dan knew that, but it didn't stop the words from bringing comfort to him. 

"If we get out I'm going to come and live with you, I hope you meant it seriously when you said I could. We can have a nice house by the sea, so far away we'll never be bothered by anyone else," 

Phil smiled, holding him tighter still, 

"Yes we will," 

"I like you Phil, like I like. I don't care that you aren't human, or if you don't feel the same, I just think you ought to know," 

Phil placed a kiss on top of his head, 

"I like you to," he said with a grin, "If only we weren't having this revelation in such a dire circumstance," 

"I know," Dan groaned, giggling slightly , "Such a cliche."

In that moment he almost didn't care that they were about to be murdered. And then he realised he didn't have to. The tooth. 

Part 10

"Phil please listen, and don't be mad," Dan said suddenly. Phil pulled back, looking concerned. 

"I think I have a way out of this. How long does it take you to complete the spell that turns you back into a dragon?" 

Phil shrugged, 

"A couple of minutes, don't need much for the reversal. I don't have anything relating to my past self though, nothing I can use to complete it. Else I would have done it a long time ago don't you think," 

Dan but his lip, trying to push down the guilt that was steadily rising in his stomach. Maybe it was just best to die with the knowledge that he might have had a chance with Phil, rather than ruin it all so soon after it had begun. Then again that would also lead to Phil's death and that simply wasn't fair. Besides he didn't want to die,  it now he had hope for the future. 

"I'm sorry, I lied to you as well, I didn't want you to just leave. Please you're the only friend I've had in years," he said quietly, words sticking in his throat, thickening into a vile sludge that choked him. Phil frowned, 

"What are you on about?" 

Dan let out of drawn out sigh, 

"I didn't sell everything, I kept a tooth. I thought if I gave it to you, you'd abandon me. I'm sorry," 

Phil stood mouth agape, 

"What the fuck Dan, we could have saved so much time. I would have taken you with me anyway you idiot. Give it here," 

Dan handed it over, resisting the urge to grovel at Phil feet for fear of wasting time. 

"You stay here, find somewhere to hide, lie down and don't move until I come and get you," Phil said sternly, storming out of the cave, tooth clutched in hand. 

Where was he going, he was going to get himself shot. Dna began to run after him, hesitating by the opening in the rock. It was all going to be OK, everything was going to be fine. It had to be. God this was all such a mess. 

Suddenly the crashing of waves was smothered by a terrifying cry, deafening and inhuman. He recognised it deep in his heart, it was the same awful noise he'd heard all those nights ago when he thought it would be a good idea to pluck two eggs from the safety of their nest. 

So Phil had done it, he was a dragon again. That meant they'd be safe, right. Almost immediately after that thought flashed across his mind an arrows slammed into the rock a foot or so from his head, splintering upon impact and sending shards of wood pattering onto the stony floor. Fuck, he should have been hiding. 

He ducked behind the opening, contemplating his options. Either he waits in here for someone to come in here and slaughter him like a pig in a pen, or he makes a break for it and hopes for the best. If there's an enormous dragon flying overhead surely he isn't going to be top priority? It didn't take him long to make up his mind. 

He darted out of the cave, quickly taking shelter behind some nearby rocks. There were two guards hovering on the beach, occasionally looking fearfully to the sky. Their bows were drawn, ready to hit anything that moved. Dan could sense their fear from here, in the way they held themselves and their quick movements. He imagined they would not be in the best state for making good shots, but then again he didn't really want to risk it. He cowered behind the rock, praying they had not seen him leave the cave. 

They continued to approach the entrance, repeatedly detracted by the cacophony of noise sounding from the cliff above. There were shouts of orders, crashes that shook the very earth he stood on, punctured every now and again by that awful roar. It left his ears ringing, yet he had yet to lay eyes on the creature who made it. 

A man appeared on the edge of the cliff, calling down to the two guards, gesturing for them to come up. They nodded in agreement, drawing their swords, and sticking their heads through the opening of the cave, reading to cut the throat of anyone hiding within. Upon seeing that it was empty, they turned and began to scramble up the steep grass track to join the rest of their squad. Dan let out a long sigh of relief.

He sat there for a little longer, until the cacophony became muffled and the ground stilled. Had Phil won, what was going on? What if they'd killed him, oh god what if he was dead. The fear continued to creep through him as he forced himself to wait, eventually becoming too much. He stood up, legs cracking after so long crouched in the same position and crept towards the path. 

Eventually he was able to stick his head over the edge of the cliff, nostrils filled with the stench of smoke. The house was aflame, the study gone, reduced to rubble. There were burnt patches in the grass covering the island, although thankfully it appeared to be free from casualties. The soldiers huddled in a small cluster, Mras at their centre, and towering above them was a magnificent blue dragon. 

His scales shimmered water under a bright sun, eyes a flaming red. It did not seem however that he had gone completely untouched by the fight, arrows pierced the thin membrane of his wings, a few others were still lodged into his legs and belly, wedged between scales. Dan watched as one by one the guard's nerves failed, fleeing the group until only Mras remained, carrying in his arms the two eggs. 

Dan got up from his position, moving towards the dragon and his target. Perhaps he would be able to convince Mras to stand down. Phil had clearly avoided hurting anyone, had he willed it the earth would have been littered with corpses. It wasn't like the rich man had any other choice, he had to see hy now that he couldn't hold onto those eggs for much longer. 

"Mras give up," Dan exclaimed, stumbling over the rough, charred ground. 

"This was your doing?" the merchant sneered. 

"Does it matter? Hand over the eggs and we'll let you go," 

Mras shook his head desperately, 

"I can't, I need them. I will only spend the rest of my life dreaming of them if I give them up. Don't you see, I am their guardian now, " 

Phil growled, wings flaring, silhouette blocking out the dimming sun and casting them both into shadow. 

"No you aren't, you never were and you never will be. We don't want to hurt you Mras but you must give them back to us," 

"Never," Mras growled, clutching onto his precious cargo with such fervent possession that Dan worried he might crush them under his grip. 

Suddenly there was a searing pain in Dan’s foot and he let out a strangled cry. He looked down with horror to find an arrow sticking out from his foot, having hit with such force that it had gone all the way through and embedded firmly into the soil beneath. A frightened guard hovered on the fringe on the field, darting away as Phil turned to face him, teeth bared. 

Mras took his opportunity to run, as if it would do him any good. He made it maybe ten feet before being  engulfed in flame. Dan might have screamed in horror as the man collapsed to his knees, grieving for a life he did not necessarily like but ought to be there just the same. Instead he fell to his own knees, vision going foggy as the pain in his leg became unbearable.

He could feel every pulse of his heart, his boot was quickly becoming sodden with a steady stream of warm blood. He lifted his foot, snapping off the arrowhead which sent a wave of agony throughout his entire body. Then he grasped the wooden shaft, yanking it out in one quick movevent. He’d hoped that once it was gone the pain would ease, but blood only continued to flow. He was quickly becoming weaker and weaker. The last thing he saw before blacking out was the great blue dragon approaching. Maybe he’d be put out of his misery.

When Dan woke, it was with the worst headache he’d ever had to endure. He felt like he’d been out drinking for seven consecutive nights and every hangover and rolled into one. The surface on which he lay was cold and flat, although a thin blanket had been wrapped tightly around him. He tried to sit up, immediately letting out a long groan as his head turned fuzzy. There was a sligh grunt to his side and he turned to see Phil lying next to him, looking equally awful, although surprisingly in his human form. 

“Shhh, don’t try to get up, you lost a lot of blood,” he murmured, voice hoarse.

Dan looked down to see his foot tightly wound in strips of cloth, already soaked with blood. He grabbed his forehead, desperate to stop the pounding in his skull,

“What happened, where are we?”

Phil shrugged,

“I don’t know. You fainted and I didn't know what to do. There were so many guards still around, I just picked you up and flew as far as I could. I took a quick look round, there isn’t anybody for miles and miles,”

Dan nodded slowly. They were close o a beach, he could taste it on his lips, and the sun was bright and warm as it shone down through the canopy of the trees above. The trees were strange, with broad leaves and thick, fibrous trunks. He could see fruit on some of them, flowers on others. It was a beautiful sight.

“I’d take you back to the mainland, but I'm too weak to fly right now. You don’t mind waiting do you?” Phil yawned. Dan frowned,

“No, I don’t want to go back, I want to stay here with you. You said I could, you promised,”

Phil’s eyes were on the floor, shoulders hunched,

“You saw me kill someone Dan, you watched me burn someone alive and you still want to be with me?” He said softly. Dan shrugged, but in his kind he hesitated.

Ok, so Phil had murdered Mras, a long time customer and seeming okay guy, but it hadn't been without reason. The merchant had ordered their deaths, he was the reason Dan was shot.

“To be fair I was quite distracted,” he replied with a forced laugh, gesting down to his bandaged foot. Phil gave him a look that pierced Dan right through his soul,

“You didn’t have a choice, and what’s done is done,” He said softly.

Pil nodded slowly, still looking unconvinced.

“What do we do now then?” he asked quietly. Dan shrugged.

“You’re the one who knows how to live it out here rough, I have no idea about all this surval crap,”

Phil rolled his eyes fondly,

“I can sort all that out, I meant what do we do about us? Do you still . . . like me?”

A grin spread across Dan’s face, despite how crappy he felt.

“Of course I do, you just saved my life for a second time, how could I resist such a hero?” He exclaimed dramatically, although completely sincerely.

Phil smiled brightly,

“Really? Well, I like you too,” he smirked. Dan yawned, laying his head down onto the compact earth of the forest floor,

“Haven't we been through all of this before?”

Phil nodded,

“Yeah but I was just making sure. Everything is changing so fast, we only met two weeks ago but it feels like months,”

Dan sighed, 

“I know, it’s been mad. Are the eggs safe?”

Phil nodded with a smile.

“I won’t steal them this time,” Dan said weakly, earning a light and joking slap from Phil,

“Don’t you even dare. I just need to sleep,” he groaned.

“God what a mistake that was,” Dan sighed. 

“Not that much of a mistake, you got me afterall,” Phil replied with a wink. Dan rolled his eyes,

“Not so hung up on it now that they’re back are you,”

“Shut up, I’m making the best of a bad situation,”

“You’re ridiculous did you know that?” Dan yawned, feeling his eyelids growing heavy.

“Well you better get used to it,” Phil smirked. Dan hummed in agreement. Yes, he probably would.

Epilogue 

The sky was blue and clear, the air humid but not so much that it was oppressive. Dan sat on the beach, the soothing crashing of the waves washing over him as he absorbed the warmth of the summer sun. His hair blew in the wind, falling down into his eyes. He should probably ask Phil to cut it for him, or maybe not. He didn't exactly trust the man with anything sharp, especially so close to his face. He remembered when he would have had to visit a barber, or sit in front of the mirror in a dank old Inn room. He didn’t miss those days.

Curled in his lap was a bundle of red scales, tail twisted tightly around his thigh, sister bounding about by the sea, dipping her little claws into the swash and flicking the water back onto the sand. They'd hatched not long ago, in fact they didn't even have names yet. Dan kept suggesting them but Phil wasn't all that impressed, apparently simply calling them Red and Blue wasn't good enough. They'd figure them out on their own soon is what Phil kept saying. Dan wished that humans could choose their own name, although he dreaded to think what he would have called himself in his teenage years. 

Speaking of Phil, he was off hunting, which was why Dan was babysitting. Dan had tried a few times, but had always returned empty handed, or empty clawed he supposed. Evidently it was going to take him more than a few months to figure out all the intricacies of occupying a body with a y-axis. So for now he let Phil deal with it. 

Suddenly an unexpectedly large wave crashed against the beach, soaking the sister and sending water so far up the beach it almost wet Dan's trousers. She squealed in horror, scampering over to Dan sand hiding her head beneath his arm. Dan cooed, picking her up and rubbing her gently. They hadn't gotten their flame yet, it was very important to keep them warm. 

The sound of flapping wings came behind them, kicking up sand which swirled into the air like it had just been hit by a tornado. Before Dan could even turn around, Phil was in his human form, standing over the enormous fish he had just plucked from the sea. Dan grimaced, admittedly the food out here wasn't great, but he could live with it of it meant his family's safety, 

"Well done, successful trip," Dan smiled, giving Phil a quick peck on the cheek. Phil grinned, 

"Indeed," he exclaimed happily, sinking down onto the sand next to his mate. 

The sister joyfully leaped into Phil's lap, settling comfortably against her guardian. They preferred him in his dragon state, but were slowly getting used to him staying as a human more and more. It was only temporary of course, once Dan got more comfortable in his other body they would split the time in each form more evenly, but Phil was understanding in time it might take. A lot had changed for Dan. 

The sun slowly began to set on the horizon, bathing them both in its orange glow. He wondered how many more sunsets he would watch from this beach, thousands almost certainly, even millions if he was very, very lucky. He didn't mind that. The children would grow, eventually leaving to make lives of their own, but with Phil's magic Dan would not whither as a human would. Then it was only the case of what to do next. He had a long time to figure that out however, and a thousand sunsets to watch in the meantime. Whatever the future had planned for him, he didn't care. As long as he had Phil by his side, every sunset would be as beautiful as this one. 

#pbb #pbb2020 #phan #dnp

[the-darklings]

—𝒃𝒍𝒂𝒄𝒌, 𝒏𝒐 𝒔𝒖𝒈𝒂𝒓;

pairing: detective loki x reader

word count: 1.8k

summary: “Are you always…” he begins slowly, pausing to search for a world that won’t make him sound like a complete asshole. “...like this?”

notes: Never let it be said that I am not an absolute fool!!! This is set pre-movie so no spoilers for the film itself. 

‘black coffee’ drabbles: ... | 02 |

The coffee is good. 

That’s why he keeps coming in. The diner also has that typical, cosy American feel to it and is, in fact, one of the busiest in town. Certainly more busy than the Chinese place across the street he likes frequenting sometimes. 

Coming here has become an odd habit ever since the Chinese place had to be closed for the day due to a burst pipe in the kitchen. He’d been hungry, sleep-deprived, and trying to solve a case and with no other option than to go to the nearest open establishment to escape the harsh October rain.

He came in because he didn’t have much of a choice. He stayed and kept coming back because the coffee is good. 

He’s also become rather fond of his little booth at the back too. Sometimes he would come in and sit here for hours, pouring over reports and case notes, trying to connect all the little dots and make sure bastards that deserve to rot did exactly that. 

“The usual?”

He pauses, his hand lifting from the notes he was scribbling in his notebook to glance up at the source of the voice. Your face is familiar because he sees you around the diner often—practically every day, if he comes in that often which he often does, even if only for a takeaway.

Truthfully, it’s hard not to notice you. You bounce around the place with a smile and a warm greeting to everyone who steps through the door. Like somehow working endless shifts in this shitty diner that could be paying no more than the minimum wage was somehow the height of living.  

Fake.

That’s the first and logical conclusion that came to mind the first time he saw you. There is no way someone can be genuinely this happy and upbeat all day round and mean it. It’s like you’re dialled up to 200% at all times and it’s almost irritating but—

“I have one of those?” he questions slowly, squinting at you, “The usual?”

Your head tilts slightly and a faint smile lingers around the corners of your mouth, knowing and cheerful. From where you stand, it does look genuine but he still has his suspicions. People would do anything nowadays for a good tip. 

“You’ve been coming in daily for almost two weeks, detective,” you reply amiably, twisting the pen between your fingers. “Of course you do.”

His eyebrows jump slightly and he scoffs under his breath. “And that would be?”

Your feet shuffle—nervous?—and you stare at him for a beat of mutual silence. You haven’t missed the slightly condescending note in his voice then. Good. 

“Coffee: black, no sugar,” you say pleasantly, tapping your pen once against the notepad in your hand, and eyes moving towards the ceiling like you’re visualising the order. “For breakfast, you enjoy bacon and eggs. Though I do recommend our buttermilk pancakes. Joey adds magic into them, I swear. Lunch would be a cheeseburger and double fries. Oh, and for dinner, hmm, meatloaf which I didn’t take you to be the type.”

He’s not sure if he should be worried or pleasantly surprised. 

“Are you always…” he begins slowly, pausing to search for a world that won’t make him sound like a complete asshole. “...like this?”

You laugh; a warm sound, pleasant too, if a bit too loud. Your grin stretches and you simply glance at your notebook, fingers fiddling absentmindedly.

“Well, I guess my coworkers would say yes,” you admit, a touch embarrassed. “I would say that anticipating customer needs and making them feel appreciated is a sign of good customer service.”

Huh. 

He wonders if it’s really as simple as that. But every time he comes in, he does notice how you flutter around the dining room, interacting and chatting with everyone who wants to have a conversation. You do try your hardest to make customers feel welcome. Even if it’s nothing more than a job, he can at least acknowledge the dedication you have for a position most people would consider inconsequential. 

“Coffee. Black,” he states after another moment of silence between you, having to fight back a smile at the way your eyes jump to him, amused. “And I’ll try those, uh, magical pancakes. Thanks.”

Your smile is of pure delight and you hurriedly scribble the order down—almost like him somehow taking your recommendation on board just made your entire day. 

“Comin’ right up, detective.”

. . .

The coffee is good.

He can’t help but think it again—both in genuine appreciation and delight. Most places that sell coffee in this town only sell some weak, washed-out shit that’s a piss poor substitute for caffeine. He might as well add some salt and cement and mix it with water for how good or effective it is.

But as he sips on the scalding content in his cup, he can’t help but sigh. He can almost feel the dull twinge against his temple lessen. Fuck, how long has it been since he slept? He should probably try and catch at least a few hours before Captain tears into him again—though that worry has lessened with each new case he closes. As long as he makes the department—and especially the Captain—look good, very little matters outside of that. 

He just wants to get to the new case and the case after that—not much else exists for him outside his work. He’s good at it. He likes it. What more could he ask for?    

“Hard case?”

His eyes lift and he sees you approaching his booth with a plate of steaming, fluffy pancakes in hand. He’s not much for sweets but even he has to admit that the pancakes look rather good. 

“No,” he answers, lowering his cup slightly, “Not really.”

Not for me.

It goes unsaid but the way your mouth twitches slightly to the side tells him that you likely picked up on the unspoken meaning anyway. He regards you critically, accessing, as you lower the pancakes in front of him.

“You work too hard, detective,” you tell him, expression and voice empty of accusation or judgement. It’s simply a statement, and he even notes the slight, worried furrow of your brows. “You need to rest to be productive. Besides exhaustion can place your life in danger.”

He draws a deep breath, peering at you as he blinks a few times, squinting, “That’s rich coming from someone who I see here every day,” he points out mildly, fingers tapping against the rim of the cup with that slight edge of annoyance he can’t quite quell fully. “Today is your eight-day in a row.”

Your face creases with surprise—almost like someone noticing anything about you is somehow shocking, and perhaps it is; you are as invisible as you are seen in this place—and this time around your smile is softer, almost melancholy. 

“Well, we all gotta eat, right?” you ask, but he gets a sense that you’re not really looking for a reply so he keeps quiet, silently observing you because—perhaps—he is a touch more curious than usual. “Besides, I’m saving up. See, I really want to open my own place. Nothing big, just enough space for a kitchen and maybe ten customers—definitely something manageable. Somewhere where I can make fresh food, and stand back and watch people enjoy what I made for them. There would be kids and lots of sunlight and laughter. It would be warm. Someplace I can call my own. Don’t get me wrong, I do like it here—I mean I grew up in this town, so it goes without saying but…”

You trail off and the fond, dream-like tilt of your voice fades too. For a split second, he feels almost disoriented because for a moment he saw it too. You would greet all guests and know them all by their first names. You would be working every day but you would adore every moment of it. He could see you in a tiny kitchen, dancing around and creating to your heart’s content, putting all your positive energy into the simple art of creation. 

“Sorry,” you mutter weakly and clear your throat. “You’re busy and I shouldn’t be bothering you with this type of talk. But yeah, if you want a good thing, you have to be prepared to work hard for it. I will make it out of here one day.”

No, you won’t. 

It’s a cynical thought—and after hearing your dream he almost feels bad for thinking it—but he knows he’s right. If Huntington thought him anything is that life has a way of gobbling up dreamers like you and spitting them back out mangled and broken beyond repair. Time will pass, you will not leave: be it money, family, or whatever else is holding you back from going right this second. Eventually, you’ll be empty of hopes and dreams, living one day at a time in a cycle that’s like a noose around your throat. 

He should know. 

Your joy will grow into resentment, and your drive will sour into bitterness. All that’s left will be someone unhappy with their life and all they could have done with their wasted time. 

It’s a shame though. 

At this point, he can at least admit to himself that perhaps he was too hasty to assume you were playing pretend. Just an endless optimist. It will be a shame to see a fire like yours slowly dim with time. Because given time, you will wither like so many others have.

“Will I be getting a discount at this new place of yours?” he wonders idly, stabbing the fork into his golden pancakes as he takes another slow sip of coffee.

Your embarrassed expression eases, something warmer and happier taking its place, and you suit it a lot more than a frown. Some faces aren’t made for unhappiness. Tragedy and pain become rawer when reflected in them. That’s why happy people are always the hardest to deal with on cases—they don’t know how to hide their suffering the way others do. 

“That will depend entirely on how much sleep you get before coming in,” you say, something joking and teasing twisting your voice. “I would hate for those bags under your eyes to scare the little ones away.”   

His lips twitch into a surprisingly genuine smile around the rim of his cup, and he turns his head slightly as if considering your words.

“You should also smile more, detective,” you add, voice pleasant, thoughtful, “It suits you.”

His eyes lift to look at you but you’re already walking away, waving at random customers as you pass with few passing comments in between. 

His expression twitches and he blinks quickly a few times, but his gaze stays on you till you disappear behind the kitchen door.

. . .

an: anyway I love one stoic, broody detective and giving him someone happy and positive to deal with is so damn funny. hope you guys enjoyed it. this was a fun little exercise (especially writing from Loki’s POV oppose to Reader’s) so I hope you all liked it. might write another few parts for this because I had so much fun but we shall see since I still need to finish Unbecoming. thank you for reading! <33 

#detective loki #detective loki x reader #prisoners #detective loki imagine #jake gyllenhaal #fic: black no sugar #i'm taking the self-imposed 'kat write all jake roles 2k19' challenge to heart

[stanskzseungmin]

Operation Miroh | Stray Kids Mafia! AU ~ Chapter 8

Sorry this one took a while. I was trying a different more disjointed writing style to try and create the imagery for this chapter. Took a while because I trashed and redid this chapter like 4 times lmao. Hope you enjoy it <3

~Masterlist~

Chapters:  0.1, 0.2, 0.3, 0.4, 0.5, 0.6, 0.7, 0.8, 0.9

1 , 2 , 3 , 4 , 5 , 6 , 7

The atmosphere was tense.

The heavy stench of death lingered.

There were so little activity yet it felt as if the dead were back with a vengeance.

~

Heavy panting can be heard as a pair of hands grab at the screen before them.

~

The pristine beach is now a mass grave.

The beautiful clean sand that almost seemed to glow and glisten breathtakingly under the hot sun on a clear yet cloudy day.

~

Somewhere else in the meantime.

It was dark and silent. There were barely any lights. The only lights presents were blinking and on the verge of dying.

The air that once permeated with mutual content and comfort that a family shared, was now tense as a chill traveled up all of the building’s inhabitants' spines. There was no loud yelling. No laughter. No pitter pattering of feet. Just a dark and silent home where ten lived in harmony. 

But of the ten, two were not present: one on the verge of death.

~

The sea sparkled a brilliant blue hue, The dark color perfectly complemented the clear blue sky.

~

The silence was distrubed by a loud metal clattering. There were loud exhales and gasps of disbelief. The medic/engineer collided with the metal cart of supplies behind him as his hands frantically grabbed at the cool metal to maintain balance. His eyes were blown out in shock as panic and fear wracked through his system as it got harder and harder to breathe.

~

The clean beachside front is now polluted and littered with rubble and residue, The tan grains of sand now dyed and stained a brilliant red. The pristine clean and clear water is now filled with lifeless corpses, the bodies floating and swaying with the waves as their faces remained frozen in a silent scream and dead eyes. 

An explosion can be heard in the distance. A demolitionist was in full sprint towards the so called “Paradise.” As he ran, he was pursued, but the pursuers were quickly disposed of by the demolitionist dropping homemade pocket C4 like breadcrumbs.

~

The medic/engineers stared at the third screen down on the left column in horror. The once vibrant green screen signifying excellent health now glowed a menacing red. A sharp contrast to the eight greens surrounding and a singular almost as worrisome orange. 

The red screen.

리노

The heartbeat monitor displayed with a brilliant flashing red orange light has a singular word displaying on the lower left corner of the screen. 

DANGER

With haste, the medic/engineer barrelled out the room and down the hallway. The name of his leader erupted from his throat repeatedly as the inhabitants of the rooms past sprung out of the rooms appearing in the doorways ready, alert and worried. 

~

The demolitionist stood before two unconscious bodies. A pool of blood surrounded the pair as his shoes stepped into the darkening pool staining the dirt beneath him. 

He delicately pried the smaller body off the toxin specialist and very carefully slung both bodies over either shoulders.

||

“Seungmin! Put me down!” You exclaimed lightly hitting his back lightly with your balled fists. 

The chemistry student merely smirked at your immature antics.

The two of you weren’t friends per se, but you wouldn’t go as far as to call the both of you enemies. You were a bit of a goody two shoes and always go out of your way to report all suspicious activity on the campus. You had caught Seungmin picking on Jisung again and went up to the chemist to write him up. As per usual, Seungmin wasn’t having it. He never would.

And here you are now, pathetically slung over his shoulder as he carried you away. You knew where he was taking you. He took you there every time.

Seungmin pulled open the door of one of the more deserted janitor’s closet. It was so out of the way that it’s hardly any janitor’s first choice and it most definitely have a lack of nearby students. Hardly any students passed by here due to the shady and creepy atmosphere.

Even though the walled in city was safe, the paranoia of the dangers outside still lingered. The deserted hallways felt as if it had a distorted reality. There was no present danger but any who walked by without the proper constitution would get so wracked by paranoia where the imagined dangers seemed real. 

In the dark dusty room with a singular hanging bulb, Seungmin would toss you onto the ground. Your bottom met the floor ungracefully as Seungmin closed the door behind him quite harshly. The impact sent vibrations through the walls that would unsettle the dust as vision would slightly get hindered by the particles. You let out a small whine from the stinging pain radiating from the impact. Before you can protest or chide him, Seungmin would kneel before you and pull you into a bone crushing embrace and nuzzled his face into the crook of your neck.

Your arms protest, grabbing and pushing at him and sometimes digging your nails into his shoulders in a dire attempt to make him let you go. Seungmin would let out a small puppy whine and pouted. You felt your defenses weaken at the sound and wanted nothing more but to let him in. Before you even had a chance to raise your arms to return the embrace, Seungmin would pull away with a shit-eating smirk as he brought his index finger to his lips ordering your silence. 

Seungmin was already out and gone with the door shut as he left before you could properly register what just happened, your mind still puddy from your lowered defenses. 

A soft click echoed through the silence.

Every time.

Seungmin got you every time.

And everytime you still lowered your defenses to let him in.

Only for him to leave you alone like a deer in headlights.

~

You swore Seungmin only existed to make your life a living hell. You always thought it was a waste of talent for a practically math genius Seungmin to pick on people. You knew blackmail when you see it.

Doesn’t mean you had immunity towards it. Not towards Seungmin at least.

You noticed how Seungmin and two others hanging around one of the campus’ empty buildings. You recognized the two being top students in their respective subjects.

They were definitely doing shady stuff.

Today however, looks as if it was only Seungmin that’s present. You never saw the other two from your not so discreet hiding spot under the shade of a tree with your nose pressed into a book. 

You rushed to follow Seungmin into the building once you see him disappear behind the closing door. 

You didn’t take that long to enter after the boy. You made it in before the door closed completely, but it seemed as if Seungmin vanished into midair.

Sighing to yourself, you began walking down the dimly lit hallway and peeked into every passing door’s window pane. You noticed how the hallways cameras were all facing down, the led next to the lens were off.

Why were the cameras off?

You also noticed the smoke detectors were also disabled. 

Your thoughts were cut off when you heard a loud explosion ripped through the silence. Your ears rang lightly as it seemed as if the world was moving.

“Seungmin?” You breathed out. Panic bubbled deep within your chest. “Seungmin? SEUNGMIN!”

“Wow, you can’t leave me alone, huh?”

You whipped around to see Seungmin himself in the flesh perfectly fine and uninjured just his attire and visage covered in dark soot. You let out a loud sigh of relief as you ran up to him wrapping your arms around his frame in a bone crushing embrace.

“Alright, dummy,” Seungmin chuckled patting your back lightly. “Did you really have that little faith in me that you genuinely thought I was hurt?”

Seungmin rubbed your back in circles as his other hand rested gently on your waist. You mumbled softly into his shoulders. “Absolutely not. Not at all. You’re totally bonkers, insane. You’re going to scale this building and I’m going to have to write you up. Or worse, writing an autopsy report.”

“Thank you,” Seungmin whispered into your ear resting his chin on your shoulder.

“I wasn’t serious.”

“I was.”

You pulled back slightly in confusion to see a genuine smile on his face with his eyes show a loving and touched emotion. You felt your lips twitch upwards upon sight of him looking so vulnera-

“Now stop stalking me, dummy creeper.”

You would most definitely hear a pin drop from the silence that followed.

You fell for it again.

~

“Wow [by 3RACHA], you actually came,” you perked up from the bench you were sitting on.

“Of course I did, dummy,” Seungmin smiled, putting his hands into his black hoodie pocket.

“No fucking with Felix?” you jested with a smirk playing on your lips.

“Do you not realize who I am?” Seungmin scoffed. “Let’s just say Felix won’t be leaving detention without being griefed.”

“You customized an exit denial device didn’t you?”

“Ooooh yea,” Seungmin chuckled. 

“It’s not an ice bucket above the door is it?”

“Lame.”

“Oh dear,” you hand went up to your cheek in worry for the freckled Australian.

“So how am I going to get up there?” Seungmin pointed to the roof, his eyes never leaving yours wearing a face of disbelief.

“Uhh… parkour?”

Seungmin quirked an eyebrow.

“Sorry, I didn’t think that far ahead...” you looked off to the side rubbing the back of your neck nervously.

“You give me a boost and launched me up there?”

“Bad idea.”

“I stand on your shoulder and you stand up?” Seungmin suggested slinging his arm around your shoulders while pointing upwards with his index finger.

“Even worse,” you shrugged off his arm.

“So what do you suggest?” 

“Just get on my back, I’ll carry you up.”

“Your noodle arms can carry me?”

. . .

~

“I hate this place,” Seungmin mumbled. His arms were loosely wrapped around your shoulders with his legs finding purchase hooked onto your waist, his chest flush against your back. 

You let out a loud exhale as you gripped on the window sill. You looked back to see Seungmin gazing longingly at the wall. That damned wall.

“What do you want to do?” You whispered as you continued your climb.

“I want to destroy the wall.”

Your hand reached over the edge of the roof one after another as you pulled the both of you up.

“You do know what is out there, right?” you settled down on the cold roof, bringing your knees to your chest,

“Yea,” Seungmin sat next to you pulling you into his lap as you both gaze at the wall. At your vantage point, you can see beyond the tall concrete walls lined with barbed wire at the top. 

“The walls protect us from dangers outside. So many mafias and gangs. So much corruption. That doesn't include all the murders and kidnappings.”

“But what if the true dangers aren’t what is out there? But in here? Those mafias exist for a reason. What if they’re rebelling against something from inside? The people here are hardly people anymore. They’re sheeple that can be herded by the shepherd called the government.”

“I don’t want to become like them,” you whispered. “What if the schools existed only to turn us all into sheeple, brainwashing us into the same system. Schools only exist to condition people to work 8 hours a day. I don’t  want to be like them. I don’t want to lose my humanity.”

“You won’t. I promise,” Seungmin whispered into your hair. “You see past the wall, right?”

“It’s dark and empty.”

“I know. Dark, so we won’t be attracted to the government’s light like moths only to discover it’s a flame and empty, so we could be free without any restrictions.”

“Wait, we?” you whispered, shock evident in your voice and you broke free from his embrace to face him.

“Of course, dummy,” Seungmin smiled genuinely. “I promise.”

Seungmin thought to himself right then and there, ‘I’ll get you out of here, I promise.’

“This better not be one of your stupid blackmails again, Shit-min.”

. . .

#stray kids #stray kids mafia au #stray kids angst #stray kids imagines #stray kids x reader #skz #stray kids chan #skz chan #bang chan #stray kids woojin #skz woojin #kim woojin #stray kids lee know #skz lee know #lee know #lee minho #stray kids changbin #skz changbin #seo changbin #stray kids hyunjin #skz hyunjin #hwang hyunjin #stray kids han #skz han #han #han jisung #stray kids felix #skz felix #lee felix #stray kids seungmin

[365daysofsasuhina]

[ 365 Days of SasuHina || Day Three Hundred Nine: Quick Exit ] [ Uchiha Sasuke, Hyūga Hinata, Uzumaki Naruto ] [ SasuHina, blood, vulgarity, smoking ] [ Verse: Oil and Blood ] [ AO3 Link ]

In the middle of the morning, Hinata snaps awake, eyes wide and breath curt with a gasp. She was having the strangest dream about an old warehouse, and a gunfight, and -

...oh. Right. That was just her day yesterday bleeding into her dreams.

In spite of herself, Hinata goes slack atop her bed. What a day it was. In fact, what a few weeks it’s been, now. Saving a member of a yakuza, having to dodge his attempts to repay her, and then the firefight yesterday when a rival faction mistook her as someone actually important, and kidnapped her in hopes of getting information on their enemies.

Meanwhile Hinata was completely clueless, dragged into a turf war she had no real business in.

And now, well...she has no idea what’s going to happen to her.

She got the day off from work, thank the gods. And Sasuke is likely still downstairs guarding her apartment from any unwanted Senju guests. Now he owes her even more than he did for saving her life, getting her mixed up in all of this.

In all honesty, Hinata would be fine with them just...leaving her alone! But she knows it won’t be that simple, now. Though the Uchiha saved her the only way they could - by storming the hideout - that likely only solidified her status as some kind of target. Even if the Senju assume they only came for the doctor dragged in with her...Hinata knows there’s little escaping them.

Especially since their leader Tobirama now knows who she is. Or rather...who her father is. She’s not the important factor. If he still believes her worth something to attempt to blackmail Hiashi, she might not be safe, regardless.

Of course...she highly doubts Hiashi would cooperate, anyway. He disowned her years ago for her defiance against his business dealings. She’s likely worthless to him. He might still have some feelings for her as his daughter - some semblance of loyalty or parental love. But given that he basically dumped her on the street for questioning him...she won’t hold her breath.

So...where to go from here? She has no idea. All she does know is that - as of yesterday - there’s little chance of getting her old life back. Not that it was much of a life, working a base-pay job that both stressed her out and collided with her morals. And otherwise lurking at home when not working behind her company’s back.

...maybe Suigin-san could hire her if she gets fired. She doesn’t know much about the medical in practice, but...maybe the doc needs a receptionist. It’s not like she’s not familiar with how the insurance works.

Sighing, she brings an arm up over her eyes. The little bit of leftover takeout she gobbled the night before is already digested, if her stomach’s pining for food is any clue. But she doesn’t have much in the way of supplies...she’ll have to make a grocery run. But is that safe…?

Bringing a hand to her comm mod, she dictates a text for Sasuke.

I need to run errands. Am I free to leave?

In the interim, she abandons the clothes she simply fell asleep in, having lacked the motivation or energy to change the night before. Tugging on her pants, she receives a reply.

I’ll go with you.

That gets her to blanche. Don’t you need a break?

Took one last night - someone covered me overnight. Came back this morning, I’m fine.

Hinata hesitates. Does she really want to be seen in public with him…?

...of course, she’s already pretty much a known associate by the people who are the biggest threat, so...what else does she have to lose?

...okay. I’ll be quick. Sorry for the inconvenience.

It’s either this, or sit here and do nothing while the others figure out what to do with you.

...oh. She hadn’t considered that.

Putting on a jacket and making her way down to the ground level, she finds him leaning idly against her building nearby the door and smoking a cigarette. He does indeed look rested, and his outfit has changed. Which...is good, given there’d been some blood on what he’d been wearing before. Makes sense, given his...activities. “...ready to go?”

“Where we headed?”

“I usually just go to a place down the street…”

“You don’t do delivery?”

“Some things I like doing the old fashioned way,” is her reply, which to her surprise earns a chuckle. “...what?”

“Nothing. You’re just...weird.”

Her cheeks puff a hair in a pout. “What’s so weird about that?”

“Just not what most people do. Hell, even I typically have things dropped off. Feels like a waste of time, otherwise.”

“I don’t know, I just...like to look around.”

“Mhm...like you said, old fashioned.”

A bit ruffled, Hinata stuffs her hands in her pockets, leading the way as Sasuke falls into step a bit behind her. “...so, um...have you heard anything about w-what happened yesterday?”

“Bits and pieces. We dealt a decent blow, and Tobirama’s scrambling. Apparently he’s pretty pissed he’s failed at killing me twice now in so many weeks.” At her curious glance, he expounds, “My father leads the Uchiha...sort of. His father, Madara, is still around and calls shots...but Fugaku’s still de facto leader. Madara and Tobirama - and Tobi’s brother Hashirama - have some pretty bad personal blood between them.”

“...I see.”

“As for what’s going to happen to you,” he goes on, knowing that’s what she’s really curious about, “we’re still talking. See, Suigin’s an asset. She directly benefits the gang, and she gets paid. But everything with you is less...official. You saved a member’s life, but you’re not a member, nor are you on the gang payroll like she is. So figuring out what you’re supposedly allowed in terms of protection and all that is a bit...up in the air.”

“...oh…”

“But either way,” Sasuke continues, pausing for another drag, “I’m going to take care of it.”

“But -?”

“But nothing. You saved my ass, and I repaid you by almost getting you killed. Least I can do is keep you from getting killed for a while, whether my father wants me to or not. Yakuza might do some shitty things, but we still have honor in some regards. And debt is one of them. Until we’re square, you’re stuck with me.”

Hinata gives a quiet sigh. “...I guess there’s no c-changing your mind…”

“Nope. I know this is all gonna affect your life and livelihood, so...we’ll have to hash out the details. Obviously your job might be at risk if people start noticing me hanging around...but at the same time, that’s the only way to keep Senju off your ass.”

“Yeah, I was...w-wondering about that.”

“...guess if it comes down to it, I’ll find you a new job.”

“Wh-?!”

“Cuz that’ll be my fault, too. And I’ve got connections.”

Hinata bristles. “This is getting r-ridiculous!”

“Well, it’s that or we could have you moved, your identity changed...the whole shebang. Up to you,” he offers, giving her a glance and drawing from his cig again. “...being yakuza tied is tough business. Guess I should have warned you, but...well, I don’t think either of us imagined it ending up quite like this, huh?”

“...no.”

They reach the store, Hinata stepping through the automatic doors with Sasuke behind her. Activating a cart, it glides alongside her as she starts quickly stocking up on the essentials. Because apparently...she might be on house arrest for longer than she imagined.

All the while, Sasuke stands casually behind her, hands in his pockets and the butt of his cigarette between his lips.

“...want anything?”

“Huh?”

“You’re here, you might as well get something,” Hinata explains, setting several instant ramen cups into her cart.

That earns a snort. “I’m fine.”

“Want a...candy bar or something?”

“I don’t like sweets.”

“What?!”

Eyes narrowing, Sasuke then tugs her back around the end of the aisle, her cart following like a puppy. “...hold up.”

Oh for goodness’ sake, now what?!

Stock still, Hinata listens as a few more customers walk through the door. It’s a rowdy group of young men their age, Hinata curiously leaning out to peek.

“Don’t do that.”

“But we can’t -?” Turning to look at him, she sees Sasuke staring out oddly...and then it clicks.

Right. Rinnegan model. Instantly bypasses just about any surveillance security and grants access to nearby cameras. He doesn’t have to look...the store’s doing that for him.

“...damn it.”

“What? Senju?”

“Sort of...long story. I know the blond. He’s a pain in my ass.”

“Is...is he dangerous?”

“...no. But I don’t need him seeing me. It’ll just stir up more trouble. I need to make a quick exit…” He then glances to her, Rinnegan turned in its socket. “...think you can handle checkout? I can meet you outside.”

“...yeah, I’ll be fine.”

“Just buzz me if something goes down.”

“Okay…” Watching him slink around the back, Hinata takes a moment to breathe before heading to the front of the shop.

The group of men is still there, browsing the cheap tablets bearing various news and articles...among other entertainments. Eyeing them warily, she starts running things through the machine to tally up her total and remove the security on the items.

“Whoa, hold up…”

Tensing, she keeps going, avoiding eye contact as one approaches.

“...Hinata-chan?”

Jolting, she looks up, finding a nostalgic pair of blue eyes. “...Naruto-kun…?”

Wait...blond...is this the one Sasuke was…?

“Holy crap! It’s been ages! You, like...totally vanished after school!” the Uzumaki goes on, grinning widely and clearly excited to see her. “You look...kinda different. Where have you been?”

“Oh, just...w-working. You know...boring life stuff…”

“Dude, I’d love to catch up sometime! You live local?”

“Er...well…”

“Oi.”

The pair both turn to see Sasuke standing nearby. Naruto stiffens, Hinata just looking warily between them. “...Sasuke…?”

“Leave her alone. She’s clearly trying to get her shit done and leave. You’re holding her up.”

“Wh-? This long since you’ve seen me, and that’s how you say hello?”

“Who says I want to say hello? You’re holding her up.”

“What do you care?”

“Because I’m waiting for her, dumbass.”

Blond brows furrow. “...you know her?”

“In a manner of speaking. We’ve got places to be, so save your sap for some other time.”

“Good to see you’re still an asshole,” Naruto mutters, stuffing hands into his jacket pockets.

“Like I give a shit what you think.”

“Look, guys...p-please,” Hinata cuts in, lifting placating hands. “It...it’s fine! Naruto-kun, um...here, I’ll...give you my contact info. We’ll talk later, o-okay? Really. It’s okay. But I...I really should be going.”

Still glowering at the Uchiha, Naruto replies, “...yeah, sure…”

Transferring the proper data, she gives him a strained smiled. “...it...it really was nice seeing you again.”

“...just take care of yourself, Hinata-chan,” he offers, eyes still trained on Sasuke. “Don’t want you getting mixed up in the wrong crowd.”

“...I...I’ll bear that in mind. Have - have a good day!” Things bought and bagged, she gives a nervous grin before fleeing, Sasuke on her heels. “...what the hell was that?”

“Long story,” Sasuke mutters. “...but he’s got Senju ties.”

“...is he…?”

“He’s not yakuza, but he benefits from them. Vague family ties...like I said, long story. As you can imagine...that doesn’t make us best friends anymore.”

Her ears perk at that. ...anymore…?

“Anyway...let’s get you home. Sorry for butting in, but...I wasn’t sure if he’d have heard about you.”

“...that’s okay. Um...I hope that wasn’t too...inconvenient…?”

“I’ll get over it. Mostly it’s just a stroke to my temper. Good news is he seemed clueless...but he might not stay that way, so...keep your guard up with him, okay?”

Hinata gives Sasuke a glance. He has a point, but… “...okay. I will.”

“Good.”

                                                           .oOo.

     (This is a sequel to days 250, 254, 269, 300, and 303!)       More cyberpunk! I am so falling in love with both this little series and this genre, it's just so cool xD      And now we have a new player on the field: Naruto! And given his ties to the Senju...this might get rather...interesting. How? I...don't know yet, but we'll figure it out as we go, as we always do with these, lol      Buuut yeah, I'm...uber tired as usual so I'll call it there - irl is a WEE BIT stressful today and will be for...a while :'D So I'll sign off for now. Thanks for reading!

#sasuhina #uchiha sasuke #hyūga hinata #uzumaki naruto #gun // #blood // #vulgarity // #smoking // #oil and blood [ au ] #365daysofsasuhina

[newluddite]

World run by Ignorance

Today’s rant is about the US SPACE FORCE.  Cue heroic music.  Dah ta da daaaa.

The Trump Klan has announced they are going to militarize space.  Well it sort of is now, with the US Air Force leading the way.  They have spy satellites and navigation and communication which works pretty well. No weapons up there.  They do have weapons to shoot down the other guys satellites though.

I am sure Trump and his loonie bin team think space stations and space fighters stationed in orbit like any one of many Science Fiction movies.  Ironic that those particular people hate science so much.  They are even attending a climate change denier convention in New Orleans.  Last chance before that party city goes under water.

It is further ironic that as of today August 2018 the USA does not even have a rocket certified to fly humans into space.  If they want to get astronauts into orbit they have to hitch a ride on Russian space ships.  It hurts that they are so FN stupid.  Maybe if they pray hard enough Jesus will lift things into orbit for them.  Probably not as Jesus seems unable to protect children from maniacs with machine guns in half a dozen US States.

There are a couple of projects to get American rockets for people and heavy lifting developed.  Ironic also that the best available rocket built in the US uses surplus Russian (Actually Soviet developed during the cold war) engines.  Mix that in with Trump wanting to cut the NASA budget while asking them to go to Mars. 

The US does not even have an up to date space suit.  Again getting to the space station Americans wear Russian gear.  Once up there they use left over stuff from the Apollo program.  Developing Rockets and new space suits and all that stuff is VERY expensive.  Cutting budgets in the face of such demands just does not work.

It would take the cost of a Nuclear Aircraft Carrier to put a station in orbit and that would have only a tiny crew.  A Carrier can move freely all over the world.  An orbital station is basically locked into a permanent predictable track and cannot be moved to a new one or hidden.  A military sitting duck. Right now the US does not have a rocket capable of lifting even a part of a space station.  The one that is up there was done with the space shuttle and it don't fly no more.

How did he get so rich if he can’t do that simple math?  Threats and theft by refusing to pay most likely.  I met a man who had to stare him down to get paid for expensive work completed before he would sign a document Trump needed to occupy a building.  He knew if he signed it before being paid he would never be paid. This was standard Trump business practice. There was a lot of screaming and threats directed at him.  He won.  He never did work for Trump again, but he did not want to.  He had plenty of paying customers.

Being unable or just unwilling to think is the definition of stupidity and ignorance. Shouting loud seems to work just as well for them.

Things in Orbit are useful to essential.  That stupid map on your phone or in your car uses a cluster of satellites orbiting at 18,000 mph around the planet.   Lose them and that stuff stops working.  The Chinese the Russians and the Europeans all have their own clusters.  There are a lot of them. It is crowded up there.

If they start shooting at things up there we may lose access to things in orbit for a few centuries.  Exploding things in orbit makes a lot of debris.  Tiny flecks of paint traveling at orbital velocity are more dangerous than a 45 caliber bullet.  Chunks of metal from explosions would fill the sky and be deadly.  They would collide with other satellites and space stations and punch them full of holes.  Just like that other movie with Sandra Bullock.

Actually they have been shooting at stuff.  China did a test where they blew up a satellite and that cloud of debris is still up there making travel dangerous to the point where even China realizes it was a bad thing to do.  The US has also blow up satellites to prove they can do it.  Not as messy though.

If they do this shit in low earth orbit there is a chance that debris will eventually burn up in our atmosphere.  Above that it will never go away.

No more GPS. No more easy to move spy satellites. No more space stations. Geosynchronous communication is safer as they orbit at relatively low relative speeds and in formation.  So you may keep your TV, maybe.  And replacing them would require armor plated space vehicles.  But they are safer from debris, but not from targeted strikes.

The US Air Force does keep track of debris in orbit using radar and telescopes, but they can only see things larger than a certain size.  They track the cloud from weapons tests and bits of rockets used for launching and tools dropped by the astronauts.  They do “weather reports” that are used to avoid collisions, or just to have the people in the space station wait in protected chambers waiting for the threat to pass.

If there is a space war in orbit there will be too much debris to avoid.  We may lose access to low earth orbit all together.  That would be bad and an excellent justification for a treaty to prohibit it completely.  But the Trump Klan cannot negotiate treaties as nobody trusts them to keep promises cuz they just don’t.

It will all be a waste anyway.  He is likely to be out on his ass in 2020.

#Trump Klan #ignorance

[douchebagbrainwaves]

MADE IN 13 SENTENCES

If you do well, you will probably raise a series A, there's obviously an exception if you end up raising more than they originally intended. The Lisp that McCarthy described in 1960, would anyone have wanted to use them, rather than having brilliant flashes of strategic insight. None of them are run by product visionaries, and empirically you can't seem to get how different it is till they do it. The reason is that he likes the way source code looks. More can be stolen by things that are a little more closely related, like games. But after the talking is done, the decision about what to do has to rest with one person. The classic yuppie worked for a small organization.1

The press may be writing about them as if they'd been about to. If you pitch your idea to a random person, 95% of the time, fretting over the finances and cleaning up shit. My relationship with my cofounder went from just being friends to seeing each other all the time and we got better at deciding what was a real problem, my friend would have known about this cyst her whole life and known it was harmless, just as, for me at least, eating a steak requires a conscious effort to insulate the other founder s from the details of the process. You're all smart and working on promising ideas. I think so. It's like we're married, but we're not fucking. But wait till that point. Let me mention some things not to do is expand it. If you're so fortunate as to have to declare variables before using them, for example, we'll need libraries for communicating with aliens. If your valuation has already been set.

When someone did, unexpectedly, take this paper and translate it into a working Lisp interpreter, numbers certainly weren't represented as lists; they were represented in binary, but this would be an optimization, not part of the economy will balloon in the usual fractal way. A painting is never finished, you just stop working on it can't be preceded by but. You can see the general-purpose language underneath. I'm not including domain-specific little languages. Not the length in characters, of course, but the probability that an investor will say yes, but the overall experience is much better than the nightmare UI we had to deal with employees, who often have different motivations: I knew the founder equation and had been focused on it since I knew I wanted to start a startup as a giant experiment. Not only does a society get the best investors as partners. Within a generation of its birth in England, the Industrial Revolution happened. That's what these ideas say to us.

But it would be if they did. C, Lisp, and Smalltalk the fact that the founders of Octopart, they seemed very smart, but not like it used to. Usually phase 3 fundraising has to be good. What made oil paint so exciting, when it first became popular in the fifteenth century, was that you got practically all the users. Think about where credentialism first appeared: in selecting candidates for large organizations. Here's the thing: If you pitch your idea to a random person, 95% of the time, intended to be implemented at all. Parents will die for their kids. With a startup, then if the startup fails, you can tell when you get an acceptable offer, take it.

You can use the cram schools to show you where most of the difficulty of fundraising, that should be: and the reason I say this is optimism: it seems that, if you want to apply to multiple incubators, you should get people to pay you significant amounts, the company starts to feel real. Making a new search engine means competing with Google, and Google was in the search business. And since the danger of raising money at too high a valuation is that you look smug. You can't afford the time it takes to talk to all potential investors in parallel and push back on exploding offers with excessively short deadlines, that will usually be enough to set things rolling. The same is true in the arts, but I don't think universities will disappear. One is that it will be that bad is that my model of work is a job. But it didn't spread everywhere. Why do people take too long on it or raise too much money. Startups are still very rare. While you shouldn't chase high valuations, you also don't want your valuation to be set artificially low because the first investor who commits. When I see a more exaggerated version of the change I'm seeing. Over-engineering is poison.

This could lose you some that might have made an offer if they had more time. It's a far more intense relationship than you usually see between coworkers—partly because their motivations are obscure, but partly because they want you to sell them more of your software will be reusable. A lot of what we try to do in the application process is to weed out the people who just make exactly what the customers tell them to. But in the US, of ambitious people who grew the ladder under them instead of climbing it. When you start fundraising, everything else grinds to a halt when they switched to raising money, that becomes the problem you think about as you fall asleep at night and when you expand, expand westward. The results so far are messy, but encouraging. There are almost two distinct modes of fundraising: one in which founders who don't need money take some to grow faster than they are now. There are only a few things we can say with certainty. A search engine whose users consisted of the top 10,000 hackers, the route is at least the one about which individual startups' paths oscillate.2

When you spend time having fun, you know you're being self-indulgent.3 Are there zero users who really love you, and startups run on morale.4 It's hard to beat this limitation? If you can just build something that you and your friends genuinely prefer to Google, you're already about 10% of the way to use these languages as because, if we're lucky, we'll use languages on the path from this point to that. You can use the cram schools to show you where most of the time. That problem is irreducible; it should be hard. Angels are a bit better than VCs, because they know that as you run out of money or a critical founder bailing. But they were competing against opponents who couldn't change the rules on the fly by discovering new technology. Semantically, strings are more or less a subset of lists in which the elements are characters. I didn't understand or rather, remember precisely why raising money was so distracting till earlier this year. Feel free to make it to ramen profitability in a few months ago we replaced it with an iMac bolted to the wall.

Which almost always means hiring too many people. It might seem that instead of accepting offers greedily, your goal should be to get the money you raise in phase 2. The future is pretty long. But it would be an interesting result. Tomorrow a big competitor could appear, or you could get to the point where everything could be done by collaborators and design can't? Be nice. And now that I've written this, everyone else can blame me if they want. Intel can no longer give us faster CPUs, just more of them.

Notes

Ditto for case: I should probably fix.

The philistines have now missed the video boat entirely. He, like movie stars' birthdays, or the distinction between them so founders can get done before that. There are situations in which many people mistakenly think it was raise after Demo Day, there would be easy to write legislation that distinguishes them, if you repair a machine that's broken because a there was nothing to grab onto. It would have.

If they were going back to 1970 it would have disapproved if executives got too much to seem big that they are public and persist indefinitely, comments on really bad sites I can establish that good paintings must have been a waste of time, is that they've focused on different components of it. On Bullshit, Princeton University Press, 1965. Viaweb at first, but at least on me; how can I make the hiring point more strongly.

In any case. It is a variant of the tube. You have to rely on cold calls and introductions. And what people mean when they buy some startups and not end up making something for a patent troll, either as truth or heresy.

Thanks to Geoff Ralston, David Hornik, Ben Horowitz, Eric Raymond, Dan Bricklin, Trevor Blackwell, Patrick Collison, and students whose questions began it for the lulz.

#automatically generated text #Markov chains #Paul Graham #Python #Patrick Mooney #schools #fundraising #ideas #startups #problem #version #part #libraries #sites #sup #characters #US #code #someone #money #thing #time #movie #distinction #Ralston #yuppie #Which #result #case

[flauntpage]

The Phillies Batting Practice Pitching Auditions are More Entertaining than the Team

If you’ve ever wanted to be a part of a middling baseball franchise that’s gotten off to a horrendously depressing start in what was supposed to be a vastly improved season, then, my friend, do I have some news for you.

The Phillies put out an interesting call on social media last week, asking for YouTube-submitted applications from left-handed fans who were interested in tossing batting practice during home games this season. Let embattled meathead coach Gabe Kapler give you all the bold details himself:

Are you a lefty with (somewhat of) a cannon arm and a dream of being in the big leagues?

It’s not too late – @gabekapler is looking for a left-handed BP pitcher to throw to our guys at CBP all season!

Apply for this once-in-a-lifetime opportunity at https://t.co/fxo2LtFVpg. pic.twitter.com/bJgPBNokU9

— Philadelphia Phillies (@Phillies) March 28, 2018

Alright, this is pretty cool. The Phillies are giving fans the opportunity of a lifetime to toss BP at Citizens Bank Park and interact with some of their favorite athletes. Neat! Of course, this is also a great opportunity for bloggers, since all submissions had to be posted on YouTube for consideration, giving cowards like myself the opportunity to shit all over someone’s dream (basically the internet in a nutshell) from the safety of my own living room.

Before we delve in, though, I know what you’re thinking; this guy is going to be a huge asshole to these poor people when all they did was put themselves out there. They’re taking a big chance, right? Maybe he should put his money where his mouth is and let us see an audition video of his own?

Let me assure you that if I were left-handed I would undoubtedly submit a video and dazzle YouTube viewers with an array of crafty off-speed pitches, pinpoint location, and filthy heat that would have Gabe Kapler reaching for his well-worn jar of coconut oil and THANKING GOD that the Lord created an arm such as mine.

Unfortunately for the Phillies, and for baseball fans throughout the world, I’m not a southpaw, and thus ineligible for the job. My talents are wasted because the franchise refuses to accept a right-handed pitcher. It’s an out and out case of prejudice and it makes my soul weep.

So it will have to be someone else.

The Contenders

All good submissions! I’ll be the first to admit that the majority of videos on YouTube aren’t bad! These three are a good microcosm of what I generally found… all left-handed, all with decent velocity and control…. any of these would be a good addition for the Phillies.

Of course, if they are selected for the position they’ll run the risk of finding themselves on the big league roster and in the bullpen by May 1 with the way Kapler uses relief pitchers.

The Rest

This may be my absolute favorite. Thomas DiGiralomo (spelling?) I salute you my friend! His “tryout” consists of him throwing one AND ONLY ONE pitch from conservatively 10-feet away into a steel folding chair. His buddy recording the tryout could not do a worse job of tracking the pitch and misses every instance of it traveling through the air. I have so many questions…. was this the best pitch they were able to record? Why did they only record one pitch? What was he saying before the video cuts off at the end? I can only imagine the discussion the two had before posting the video on YouTube.

DiGiralomo: (gasping for breath after one pitch) “Did you get that?”

Buddy: “Not really. I got a good shot of the steel chair falling over though.”

DiGiralomo: “Ok, not optimal, but did you make sure to open the recording with a shot of my feet and the walkway, and then awkwardly pan up and over to the left to get me in frame like we discussed?”

Buddy: “I did, but I really think we should shoot another pitc-”

DiGiralomo: “No it’s fine. Let’s go to the Tap and Kap for a beer.”

Look, I’m no expert, but if you’re going to submit an application to be a pitcher for the Phillies than maybe your video submission should actually show you PITCHING? Just one little pitch? Even Thomas Digaralimononono up there gave us one. It’s evident to me that Marc Kay just aimed his iPhone at a PowerPoint presentation of his trips to Phillies fantasy camp over the years. I don’t think a lone slide in your presentation of you in a windup with the label, “You’re out!” effectively shows off your pitching abilities, Marc. Sorry.

Yet ANOTHER submission where the applicant doesn’t even bother to pick up a baseball.

BOLD CHOICE to film your application as you recklessly drive to the office, not even giving a cursory glance to traffic as you careen down the roadway. If you’re as serious about pitching bullpen practice sessions as you are about putting the lives of everyone in the proximity of your vehicle at great danger, then you’re hired my friend.

I don’t have much to say about the pitcher, but my god look at the glorious specimen in the batter’s box. It’s like the pitcher and catcher picked him up on the day of his release from prison, stuck a bat in his hands, and dragged him to the baseball field. Check out those calves, carved from grecian marble, triumphantly reflecting the afternoon sun. A classic Delco specimen if I’ve ever seen one.

If I didn’t know any better, I’d 100% say that’s famed Philadelphia comedian Big Jay Oakerson, but he’s not wearing fingerless gloves so I doubt it’s him.

Right handed. DISQUALIFIED. Points off for not paying attention to Coach Kapler and getting lost in his six-pack abs and dreamy blue eyes. I’ve been there. I get it.

CH Meili. Opens with a “Happy Easter” to the camera, making sure to keep the true reason for the season in everyone’s mind. Has a customized jersey with his own name on the back of it, effectively saving the frugal franchise a few dollars, making him the front runner for the job.

Greg Gonet! My personal pick for the position, his audition video at the time of writing this post sits at 56 views. I’d wager 55 of them have been from me. I’ve studied this footage more intently than Earl Warren watching the Zapruder film. IS THAT A SECOND PITCHER BY THE PILE OF USED CLEANING SUPPLIES?!

This son of a bitch throws in jeans, without a glove, and in what looks like well-worn Skecher’s Shape Ups. Filmed in a modified bus hanger that most likely holds the decapitated body of the athletic gentleman who was originally slated to star in the video, Gonet looks like he tops out at a respectable 35 miles per hour. Unconcerned with editing out NUMEROUS pitches that would have struck a batter’s head (0:19 and 0:23), Gonet wings arching lob after arching lob over a bed of Rocky music as an odd lackey dutifully hands him baseballs out of a plastic shopping bag.

He’s no worse than Geoff Geary, Phillies, and you employed him for five seasons.

Give it to the man from THE BOLD NORTH and let’s get this Phillies season kicked into high gear.

The Phillies Batting Practice Pitching Auditions are More Entertaining than the Team published first on https://footballhighlightseurope.tumblr.com/

[douchebagbrainwaves]

BUT IF YOU DON'T DO IT NOW

They find the VCs intimidating and inscrutable. Which one of these conclusions do you actually believe? Because the list of n things. Nearly every startup that fails, fails by running out of money at any moment. The way you get taught programming in college would be like teaching writing as grammar, without mentioning that its purpose is to communicate something to an audience. My friend Robert said his whole research group at MIT recently bought themselves Powerbooks. Kenneth Clark was a star in his day, thanks to the documentary series Civilisation. The custom of a startup depends on the answer. No doubt Bill did everything he could to steer IBM into making that blunder, and he tells the reader explicitly what they are.

Hackers & Painters. And the startups where they have to be small? The angel investor cheerfully surrenders his board seat. Overlooked problems are by definition problems that most people who got rich by creating wealth did it by developing new technology. Maybe you can be the first generation whose greatest regret from high school isn't how much time you wasted. Though this election is usually given as an example of whatever paradigm might succeed the Standard Model of physics. McCarthy alone bridged the gap.

For example, a seed firm should be able to help with technical as well as money, there's power. Governments may decide they want to watch the news afterward. Now I would guess that practically every Stanford or Berkeley undergrad who knows how to program computers, or what life was really like in preindustrial societies, or how to draw the human face from life. Why can't defenders score goals too? Bear in mind, simply to learn from them again as one might when rereading a book. So if the company is still just an idea. Suppose you are a little, nimble guy being chased by a big, fat, bully. Technology trains leave the station at regular intervals. I was rarely bored. And you can take more risks, because no startup can be the first time in history that a committee has designed a good language. It only lets you experience the defining characteristic of essay writing, when done right, is the technical term.

This was what made everyone want computers. This is an astounding number, because I find new books to read en route. And yet when they started startups, they decided to build recipe sites, or aggregators for local events. Poverty implies you can live cheaply, and this bit of the startup's paperwork would probably be replaced, as if the company were being founded anew. But while the investors can admit they don't know—gives them lots of new ideas. Some angels might balk at this, in part simply by having high standards. This picture is unrealistic in several respects. So being cheap is almost interchangeable with iterating rapidly. If you throw them out, you find that open source operating systems already have a dominant market share, and the living expenses of the founders in a startup hub.

But the students writing them don't realize they're using the same structure as the articles they read in Cosmopolitan. For example, one way or another it will be hard to get into grad school in the fall with all the other seniors; no one regards you as a failure, because your occupation is student, and you don't have them. A lot of the reason VCs are harsh when negotiating with startups is that they're telling the truth: there are just not enough great programmers to go around. They make a new kind of computer called a Sun that was a serious Unix machine, but so small and cheap that you could make your products beautiful just by hiring a great designer to design them. Historically, languages designed for other people to use have been bad: Cobol, PL/I, Pascal, Ada, Visual Basic, the IBM AS400, VRML, ISO 9000, the SET protocol, VMS, Novell Netware, and CORBA, among others, Tim O'Reilly. Bottom-up programming suggests another way to partition the company: have the smart people work as toolmakers. It is true that all they really care about is doing interesting work. If they know they can't fire the founders, he'd lose any unvested stock unless there was specific protection against this.

And yet also in a way that seemed to reflect the personality of the city. Offer surprisingly good customer service is that it proves your initial idea was mistaken. In the meantime founders have to treat raising money as a dangerous process. And I'd be delighted, because something changed, and no particular connection between them. When I ask people what they regret most about high school, I let myself believe that my job was to be a general consensus about which problems are hard to solve, and what constitutes a good solution. I realized I'd been holding two ideas in my head that would explode if combined. Sam Altman, John Bautista, Trevor Blackwell has made a handy calculator you can use this information in a way that seemed to be nothing more than that to make as much money as he has.

Actually this is hard to do on demand, or b use them only to fill up a larger round led by someone else. I'm going to start with what goes wrong and try to trace it back to the root causes. Why? Here is a brief sketch of the economic proposition. Historically metals have been the beneficiary of one of the founders quits. And you don't even get paid a percentage of it. Which means local TV is probably dead. The one universal rule is that the founders will no longer have complete control. On the hacker radar screen, Perl is as big as Java, or bigger, just on the strength of its own merits. Consulting, as I mentioned, the biggest danger right here.

In fact, it's just as well to make the investment in the form of a convertible loan. I'm uncomfortably aware that this is concealed, because what other people thought of it, like music, or tea, but I smelled a major rat. I'm interested in how things feel within the company. The most powerful sort of aptitude is a consuming interest in some question, and such interests are often acquired tastes. The market doesn't give a shit how hard you worked. The suburbs of Pittsburgh in the 1970s. The thing about languages, though, that there would soon be a computer with an Internet connection, b has an incentive to figure out what a subject is to be learned from whatever book on it happens to be controlled by a giant company. Fifty years later, startups are ubiquitous in Silicon Valley in the last 50. So, I think, because they're given a fake thing to do, or know, things you're not supposed to. Seattle owes much of its position as a tech center to the same cause: Gates and Allen had decided to wait a few years down the line. But in her novels I can't see the gears at work. Reading novels isn't.

#automatically generated text #Markov chains #Paul Graham #Python #Patrick Mooney #people #Powerbooks #Civilisation #percentage #quits #Altman #b #MIT #novels #computer #book #market #blunder #computers #machine #Sun #company #definition #John #connection #board #structure #Gates #time