The fact that i can see several characters getting the stern "what is in your mouth." Interaction.

Almost every time it's Ratchet asking the question. But a couple times he's heard it behind him in the most mocking tone as he holds something but needs his servos freed up.

Concept I thought of a little while ago: Cass setting up a sword duel with one of his models.

first asking them to do static poses with him, then recording some movements, eventually drawing blood (do they get a metal practice sword, or a real one?) and going "go on, actually try and defend yourself~" to someone who does Not know how to do that.

If they try and book it out of there he catches up with them, swats at the tendons at the back of their legs, mostly immobilizing them, and then hassles them about getting out of frame. walks back and retrieves the tripod with the camera.

maybe takes some standalone pictures of them trying to drag themselves away, complete with blood trail, sword abandoned nearby. then sets back up for video and finishes Handling Them.

so.

whatcha think? 💜 how'd I do on the details? cheers 💖

god, YES. Cass took fencing lessons growing up - not because his parents particularly wanted him to (they generally did not like him wasting time on frivolous hobbies), but because many of the children the same age as him that he spent his childhood world-hopping around the estates of in order to appeal to their parents for financial reasons (i.e. buying his paintings) did, and Cass was often simply . . . invited along. If instructors noticed he was a little bloodthirsty and violent, little was said, because he has a kind of natural leonine grace and ended up being very good at it.

There's something that gets him very excited about seeing a sharp, dangerous blade in the hands of someone - of course, it's more beautiful if they know how to use it, but there's something to be said about the fear in the eyes of someone who knows they're holding a weapon that could quite literally slit them open too! The models get a real sword - he strives for authenticity in all he does! Cass will happily demonstrate the poses, only to get more and more frustrated when their posture is all wrong and their grip isn't quite right. The camera is set onto a timer whilst Cass takes his place beside them with a laugh and a; "Oh, please! I'm not going to hold back; you shouldn't either, my darling!"

(He wants them to get a hit or two in on him! Give him a challenge. Make him bleed. It's so much more fun when there's something to break, and he gets to take a series of photographs in which you can gradually see the hope of escape and besting him fade from their expression).

Only to end up pinned on the floor beneath him with the sharp point at their throat and Cass breathing a little heavily. "It's a kind of intimacy, is it not?" He murmurs, very low, very quiet. "Holding your life in my hands. Knowing I could simply push the point through your skin and watch you gurgle and bleed out, and record every single moment of the light leaving your eyes. How does it feel to be at someone's mercy so utterly? Mm. That's not a rhetorical question. Tell me." His own eye is bleeding. He pushes up the patch, just a little, and they swear they can hear quiet whispering. Cass really looks like he's considering it! Poor victim is terrified.

Only to stand up again and demand they try once more. This is probably where they try and run! That's a mistake, too. The blood doesn't bother him; a couple of models have lost limbs in the past, that just makes them more interesting! And it's so much fun to watch them struggle on the floor, helplessly clawing at the old hardwood. He's still sighing and shaking his head.

They're out of shot, the light isn't hitting them right . . . but it would be a waste to not use that look of abject terror in their eyes, wouldn't it?

So yes, he ends up with a lovely collection of images of them bleeding and trying to crawl away, if he's a little perturbed that they couldn't choose to fall so that the shaft of sunlight breaking through the cracked window illuminated their face. The way they lay there is reminiscent of a renaissance painting of an injured saint, and that beam would just have added a little extra something . . .

(When he finishes handling them, on camera of course, he's careful to make sure that he twists their head just so in order to get that shot he wants! Maybe even as they slip into unconsciousness!)

Someone brave enough to still try and escape whilst he's holding an antique sword that has certainly killed before is too interesting for him to bring to an end just yet, though! When they come back around, Cass still has more plans for them. Who knows! Maybe this model will work out?

sly san who sacrifices (iv) || c.s (atz)

➳ pairing: reader x choi san (ateez)

➳ word count: 1948

➳ genre: badboy au; fluff; angst

➳ synopsis: to the school, he may be a bad boy, the worst of the worst, but to you, he’s choi san, father of three cats, your best friend and ultimately, the boy you’re in love with.

>>>

You and San sit beneath the ivy covered frames, a thick book in your lap as you flip through the pages, thoroughly engrossed in the story. Above you, golden warmth touches your cheeks and falls onto the aged paper of one of your favourite novels while San snoozes on the tabletop opposite you, head resting on his forearms. Sighing, you put your book down for a moment to look at San, admire how peaceful he looks when he’s asleep, the world slowing down and fading all around you, universe reduced to only you and him.

“I love San.”

Your fingers grip the material of your shirt, as if you could reach through your very chest and relieve the phantom ache of your heart. San is unimaginably dear to you and the truth is like a raging sea, locked deep in your body. Seonghwa had told you that San truly did love you too with every fibre of his being and you want to believe the older man so badly, but fear digs its claws deep into you and you can’t help but wonder…

What if he doesn’t love you like you love him?

That thought scares you like nothing else.

“One caramel frappe and and a mocha latte.”

You’re pulled from your thoughts by the voice of the waiter as he sets two drinks before you on the tabletop. Your eyes widen slightly at the extra order and you frown, glancing upwards to look at the waiter. “I’m sorry, but we didn’t order the mocha lat-”

“No, I did.” San cuts in smoothly and you start in surprise, you thought he’d been fast asleep. You’re stunned for a moment, cocking your head curiously to look at your best friend as he reaches for the hot drink. San busies himself with stirring the contents of the cup for a while, but your gaze doesn’t let up and he sighs, raising a hand to close your mouth for you. “Close your mouth or you’ll catch flies.”

You shut your mouth, but you’re still staring at him in confusion as you reach for your own drink. “But… we always share a frappe.” You mumble, near petulantly. It shouldn’t mean so much, it’s only a drink, of all things, but it does to you. The two of you have always shared the same drink every time you’ve come to this cafe, regardless of rain or shine, regardless of happiness or sadness. To not do so is like breaking tradition, a change that you really don’t like. San must see the unhappy look on your face, because he hesitates for a second before pressing the latte to his lips.

“I just thought... I wanted to try something different.”

Your eyebrows pinch together at his words, because as flawless as the mask San wears, you’ve known him long enough to pick up the tiny breadcrumbs in his demeanor, hidden meanings behind his words. The sentence holds more weight than it appears to, but exactly what he’s trying to say, you don’t quite understand at the moment.

In an attempt to lighten what feels like a rapidly thickening mood, you force a smile onto your face and reach for San’s hand, the charms around your wrist tinkling in the summer air. “Seonghwa and I are going to study for our tests tonight over at my house, do you want to come with us?”

He tries to hide it, but you see him flinch and panic grows, little by little.

“Nah, it’s okay. I don’t want to interrupt.” San replies a little too quickly, tone a little too cold and you find an uncomfortable feeling twisting about in your gut, he raises the cup to his lips and downs the entire thing in one gulp before rising to his feet. Dread fills you, San’s uncharacteristic behaviour is throwing you off more and more and you can’t help but worry about just what is on his mind.

“Sanshine-” You try to say, but San cuts you off quickly, mercilessly, before the rest of your words can leave your mouth.

“I need to get going, I have stuff to do tonight.” He murmurs softly, his eyes downcast; he’s not quite meeting your eye. You want to catch him by the hand, hold him close and demand to know why exactly he’s acting this way, but before you can do anything along those lines, San has already turned on his heel and left the cafe, striding out with quick, brief steps… as if you’re something he can’t wait to get away from.

“I can’t do this anymore.” You moan despondently as you grab a pillow and roll onto your back, staring at the ceiling of your bedroom. It’s decorated with stickers of little cats, placed there by San, you recall glumly. Seonghwa looks up from the biology notes sprawled across his lap across the room, leaning slightly against the edge of your desk to face you more comfortably.

“You’ve been awfully distracted the last few hours and it’s nearly nine already.” The older man says with a wry smile on his face. For such an infamous “bad boy”, Park Seonghwa is remarkably sensitive to moods and feelings, you’ve realised. “What happened today?”

“I hung out with San today at the cafe we always go to, but he was acting weird.” Your pen goes flying across the room as you take out your frustrations, Seonghwa’s eyes following its flight trajectory overhead. “After he told me he had stuff to do tonight, he just left me there! He even ordered a mocha latte instead of sharing the frappe with me. He’s never done that before!”

“Oh?” The blond sounds rather amused by your little outburst but you don’t notice, instead continuing with your little rant. “I can’t believe I just found out that I like him and he’s suddenly being all strange? What if he’s tired of me as a friend? What if he doesn’t like me anymore? What if he–”

“Calm down and breathe. San isn’t the sort of person to just grow tired of his friends.” Seonghwa soothes you gently and you catch yourself, fanning your face to get rid of the heat that has built up there. “Maybe you should visit San at his house and confront him about it, I’m sure that’ll make you feel better.”

You pause for a second to consider the idea. In all honesty, it’s not a bad one, and there’s a rampant curiosity in your chest that refuses to go away until it’s satiated with the answers it desires. “But we were studying…” You turn to look at Seonghwa with an apologetic frown, but the older boy just waves it off, smiling brightly at you.

“Your relationship with San is more important.” He says reassuringly and you nod with urgency, feeling adrenaline pumping through your veins from the excitement and anticipation of seeing San again. Snatching your wallet and keys from the table, you slip and slide dangerously on your way out of the room and nearly give Seonghwa a heart attack when you come dangerously close to tumbling down the stairs in your haste.

“Good luck!” He calls after you, but he merely gets the sound of the door slamming in reply and chuckles.

The bus ride across town to San’s house is long enough for you to calm down and think seriously about what this could mean for you. Your head pressed against the glass panels of the bus window, you had wondered what his behaviour could mean, what he really felt about you. So far, you were unable to come up with any concrete answers, with San’s unabashed personality, if he did like you, wouldn’t he just have told you straight to your face?

Or could Seonghwa be wrong?

Grumbling to yourself under your breath, you stomp up the hill that San’s mansion is on, anxiety and worry twisting inside of you with every step you take. The closer you draw to your answers, the more you want to flee from them; San was always the braver of the two of you. You tuck your hands in your pockets and glance up at the night sky overhead to gain control over your emotions, but they don’t want to leave, instead nestling even deeper into you, burrowing into your chest and clinging on tight.

With a sigh, you stop in front of the iron wrought gates and, before you can allow hesitation to undo all that you’re determined to do, smash the doorbell with all the strength you have. Seconds tick by and stretch into what feels like hours, every breath leaving your lips slow and unsteady. When the gates finally do creak open, you raise your head, expecting to see San standing there, but to your surprise, it’s someone else dressed in a dark suit and a worried frown.

“Claude?” Your eyes widen and you glance around him, as if expecting to see San behind him. “Where’s San?”

“Young Master left earlier this evening, but he didn’t tell me where he was going.” Claude tells you worriedly, shaking his head. Then the butler is searching your eyes and you pull back, suddenly a little uncomfortable at his intense stare. “Young Miss, did you have a fight with Master San earlier today?”

That question doesn’t make sense to you for a moment, individual words and meanings floating around in your frazzled mind before you manage to string them into a sentence that you can comprehend. “What?” Is all you manage to say, breathless and confused. Why would Claude think that you and San had argued today? In fact, you were confused about why San seemed so unhappy around you today.

“Young Master left this behind when he went out.” Claude tells you seriously, rummaging around in his suit pocket for something. You frown, leaning over to glance over at what the older man has in the palm of his hand.

What you see shocks you.

It’s the cat charm bracelet that you and San share.

“I know it’s not much, but happy birthday, Sanshine.” You tell him happily, doing the clasp around his wrist. San raises his hand to admire the simple black band, the silver cat charm dangling from it. Satisfied with your work, you sit back on your heels and show him your own wrist with a grin. “Now we match!”

San’s smile softens as he runs his fingers along the cool metal, beaming brightly at you.

“I’ll never take it off.”

San, what changed?

Fear slams into you for a second, insecurities and worries and panic settling over you as you reach over to take the bracelet from Claude with shaking fingers. “Why would San leave this behind?” You whisper to yourself, clutching the silver charms tight in your hand. The bell hanging at the end of it tinkles cheerfully, in stark contrast to the storm of emotions you’re experiencing.

Does San… Does San not want the two of you to be friends anymore?

“Young Miss, do you want to find Young Master San and speak to him? He’s been worrying me that last few days.” Claude says grimly and for a second, you want to say no, because the signs couldn’t be more obvious, San doesn’t like you and doesn’t want to be friends with you anymore. Your hopeful heart for anything more shatters like glass, but you wipe tears you hadn’t even known were falling and look up determinedly at the stoic butler.

“I want to see him.”

You refuse to let him slip past your fingers without answers, because he’s worth more than that.

You love him, even if he doesn’t love you back.

Orphic | Preview

After moving into your own place, it seems life is finally going your way; the path to independence leading you to a quaint suburban town where even the grass seems to grow a little greener. Although a shocking encounter leads you to believe that perhaps appearances can be quite deceiving.

pairing: hybrid!jk x reader (first person)

genre: hybrid au, angst, fluff

word count: 1.5k

rating: PG-15

warnings: a scuffle ig (is that even considered a warning?), mention of blood, swearing

author’s note: preview of a fic i’ve been (slowly lmao) working on! also is 1.5k too long for a preview??? i’m a newbie and idk how this works. btw please don’t tell me it’s bad bc i might cry :(

→ next

The snapping of the lock clicking back into place alleviated some of the soreness of my overworked muscles as I took another step inside. My head fell back to sneak a glance at the ceiling, hoping to peek past the old plaster and stare into the eyes of any higher being out there.

I quickly considered whether to thank them for this opportunity of a lifetime or to curse them out for my seemingly limitless workload, not that much of my work was of grave importance.

As my eyelids slid close in defeat, an exhausted sigh involuntarily slipped out into the silence. Kicking off my shoes into the pitiful pile by the doorway to join the rest of its brethren, I wandered deeper into my rather small abode in the darkness; only my padded footsteps and the zipper of my jacket being undone resounding throughout the house.

Living in a secluded area of my tiny town had its own perks for my antisocial self — one of which being an absurd amount of land for a relatively cheap price — but the appeal of living in a bustling city wasn’t lost on me. I was simply tired of having lived in a city my whole life and desired some change.

After having a couple weeks to settle in, I’d been convinced that moving out here, away from friends and family, had been a brilliant decision. Saving up for a couple years to be able to rent out a cozy cottage with a stunning forest as my backyard was turning out to be my haven.

Albeit, the bugs were certainly not a part of that bliss.

Hearing my stomach rumble with its complaints, I made the couple steps toward the kitchen’s light switch. But, an abrupt halt came with the memory of yesterday’s optimistic plan of embarking on a trip to the grocery store after a short work shift.

Evidently, I hadn’t predicted the gruelling day I would have nor the extra hours that would be requested of me. I found that I’d been frequenting the store quite often as of late, the demand of food increasing once another mouth to feed came into question.

Nearly two weeks prior, I’d found a companion crouching in the bramble on the outskirts of the woods. Assuming it was simply a curious mammal, I’d left some canned tuna out on the porch. When I went out to check the next morning, the tuna was gone.

Much to my amusement, the bowl disappeared as well.

That instance kickstarted the daily routine of offering food to the concealed animal — hoping to coax it out of its hiding place, getting rejected, then leaving the remnants on the porch. Without a plate.

In a reluctant fashion, I pulled my jacket back up to my shoulders, knowing that the fridge was just as empty as my stomach currently was. I pushed my aching limbs back towards the entrance, pondering over whether the grocery store was even open this late in the night.

However, I was forced to a grinding halt once again as I heard a booming thump from my backyard and my blood ran cold.

I waited with bated breath as my heart rate elevated, pounding in my ears. A minute of stillness passed before yet another sigh escaped my jittery body. Another disadvantage of a remote plot included being frightened by every snap of a twig.

As a scoff passed through my chapped lips at my own cowardly antics, I began to resume my trek to the front door when another thud reached my ears. The recognition of the sound coming from the backyard alerted me that this time may be different, with the presence of an actual threat.

Following a series of gut-wrenching cracking noises, hurried footsteps approaching the wooden porch in my backyard startled me to action.

Hastily, I dashed back to the kitchen to grab an unnecessarily large kitchen knife out of the drawer and flew to cover behind my minuscule island. A quick glimpse down towards my chest revealed my shaking hands. Well, this is certainly one way to spice up my night.

Listening to the intruder fumble with the lock for a little while before it was being smashed into, I knew I couldn’t just stay cowering behind my kitchen island, waiting for this murderer to come and end my night (and all my subsequent nights thereafter). The rage behind having to buy and reinstall a new lock also propelled my need for revenge.

I took in a deep breath and steeled myself as the footsteps wandered in, coming straight towards the kitchen. A loud growl reverberated throughout my house and befuddled me further. Was the intruder simply a feral animal? The lack of a problem with my lock dismissed that thought but I couldn’t shake the feeling of a predator having sneaked into my house.

The feeling of being stalked.

I rapidly shook off that irrational thought, doubtful the stranger even knew of another presence in the house. As the intruder turned the corner — coming straight towards my hiding spot — I reared back a little before launching myself with my dull knife leading the way.

A screech made its way out of my throat as the intruder’s reflexes were evidently a lot better than mine, catching my wrist before I could inflict any damage. But, I refused to give in just yet as I attempted to smash the hard edge of my palm straight into the stranger’s nose in order to buy myself some time to flee.

Unfortunately, for me, that attack never reached its target as the intruder caught my throat in his other hand much faster and used his larger frame to smash my body against the fridge.

The wind escaped me, though I kept squirming to try whip my knee straight to his crotch as a final ditch attempt. I lightly cursed as a glimpse informed me the intruder was a brawny man.

He noticed my struggle and easily flipped me around, one hand finding purchase in my hair, banging my head against the cool metal of the fridge and the other held both of my hands pinned to my back. The knife clattered to the ground in a dangerous arc.

In the middle of wondering how the hell he gathered my wrists and disabled me in a split second, I felt a heavy growl in the shell of my ear. A cold shiver slipped down my spine, adrenaline slowing leaving my body as we both puffed out breaths of exertion.

What the actual fu-

“No hurt, need bandage and go.”

His broken English came out with a slight accent and I found myself nodding instantaneously as I tried to work out what he needed. “Okay, okay,” I muttered as best as I could with half my face smushed, “I have bandages in the big drawer by the sink. You can take those.”

I only received a grunt in acknowledgement. He nudged me with his foot to shuffle backwards with his hand still wrapped around my wrists and led me to the sink. Half curious about his motives and half accepting that I could never overpower the stranger, I followed obediently. Though that didn’t stop me from deliberating over how to outsmart the man.

Deciding on waiting for an opening or a slack in the grip around my wrists, I nodded my head towards the drawer I was referring to earlier and finally peered up at my intruder’s shadowed face. He wore a black ball cap on, aiding in hiding his features which were mostly guarded by the lack of light anyway.

A glance at the lower half of his visage allowed me to witness his pale lips and the small mole directly underneath them, as well as a sharp jawline leading to his exposed neck. Inconspicuously bringing my gaze even lower, I took in his matching tattered black outfit, confirming his bulky build and scuffed sneakers.

Maybe I could run to the nearest police station — which admittedly, was rather far, and provide a detailed description of the criminal. Considering if I made it out alive, of course.

With his vacant hand he swiftly pulled the drawer open, taking handfuls of bandages, gloves, bandaids and other miscellaneous items I crammed in there. The stranger stuffed as much equipment as he could fit into the large pocket of his hooded sweatshirt.

I would have found his full little pouch endearing if I wasn’t preoccupied with worrying over my own well-being.

Another awkward wobble later, we were back at the fridge. At this point, I was gathering all the courage I had left to aim for a pressure point on the criminal’s thigh that I vaguely knew the location of. I should have paid more attention in those self-defence classes, damnit.

Just as I turned to act, he bent down to pick up the discarded knife off the floor, effectively deterring my attack and forcing me into submission. He then turned to me to flash a slight smirk.

“Cute.”

Releasing his death grip on my bound wrists, he sprinted back out my now broken back door, heading off.

After a couple minutes of stewing in my thoughts, back against the cool fridge, I  struggled to comprehend the brief interaction and the dark drops of crimson littered all over my white tiles.

I still have to go grocery shopping.

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Jenny | Nico x Female Reader

This one's for the girls, I try to keep everything gender neutral but I really wanted to write something to the song Jenny. Nico x Female Reader~

You had known Nico ever since the two of you were kids. She was always just as excitable, ambitious, and talented as she was now. The way her eyes lit up when she got an idea, how she'd ramble on for hours, or request your help in the garage. You couldn't help but fall in love with her. As the two of you drove towards the phone booth Nero had rang from you tapped your fingers on the seats handle.

Jenny darlin, you're my best friend

It was a month into the Quipoths reign over Red Grave. You, Nero, and Nico have been working night and day to help any survivors.

But there's a few things that you don't know about

You had to slam your hands on the dashboard to keep your face from smashing into it first as Nico leaned out the window to chat with Nero. "No! Not that one! Next to it!" She pointed, wanting the demon part clearly. You internally laughed at how much of an airhead Nero could be, whether it was intentional or not. As Nico fashioned the new demon part into a work of art, you decided to check on Nero. The demon he took down was pretty big after all. "Fuck I need some fresh air." Nero said, waving a hand in front of his face. "Suit yourself." Nico said from her work station, cigarette lit in her mouth even as she worked. Nero grabbed your hand and dragged you out of the van.

Why I borrow you lipstick so often, or how I'm using your shirt as a pillow case

"Ow!" You hissed as he released you. "So!?!?" He asked. "So what?" You questioned, already knowing well what he wanted to hear. "You know what!" He replied with a pointed look. "You get injured so conveniently and I leave so you two have the whole van to yourself and you still don't do anything!" Nero said while crossing his arms. You did have the van all to yourselves but what are you supposed to do. Just be like 'hey I've been mega crushing on you hardcore and like I dont know if you like women but if you do then like maybe we should be together.' You cringed at even the thought of it. "I… I can't do it Nero! I'd rather just be friends… that way I won't risk losing anything." You said while pressing your back to the van and sliding to the ground. You buried your face into your knees. "I already know though, you don't need to remind me." You added quietly. The situation was already grim and some nights the thought you'd never make it back to Nico at all was overpowering. The demons were growing stronger, and at this point in time you three still thought Urizen killed Dante. Unaware he had miraculously survived. Nero sighed softly before crouching down. "Listen, you know Nico well and I know Nico well. She cares for you a lot." He said. You could tell he was being honest, but the thought of telling her scared you. Would you never be able to return to building your motorcycle with her? Would trips to the beach be awkward after this? Your thoughts spun around. The door slammed open and hit something metal. It was Nero's arm, and had he not stopped it, it would've hit you. "Hey! Careful with my-" Nico demanded before noticing you behind the door. "Shit sorry!" She said in a panic. You forced a smile and reassured her it was fine. "Alright! Come see what I've cooked up!" She exclaimed excitedly, Nero following her back into the van. But not without giving you a certain look.

I want to ruin our friendship

Later that night you took over the driving so Nico could get some needed rest. She seemed so peaceful. You didn't have any spare blankets in the van, so you draped your jacket over her instead. The phone rang, but lucky for you Nico was a pretty heavy sleeper. "Where are you?" You asked and Nero ignored you. "So!?!?" He demanded and you slammed the phone back into the holder. He was a persistent jackass and kept trying to call until you had to turn off the phone. By the time you did, Nico was awake though and looked a little displeased. "Somethin' happening hun?" She mused groggily. "No, no! Everythings fine. Nero is just being annoying as usual." You reassured in a soft tone. She nodded and searched for her glasses, unable to find them in the dark. You grabbed them from the dash and slid them carefully onto her face.

We should be lovers instead

Your hand lingered for a moment too long before you pulled away. Thankful it was night, because the dusk hid your blushing cheeks. "Sorry!" You quickly said before taking your seat again. "You can go back to sleep, I've got this. Don't worry." You said with a smile. She tucked herself back in with your jacket, which made your face burn even worse. 

I don't know how to say this, cause you're really my dearest friend

These feelings would continue to consume you the way they had for months. The first time you realized you had them was one time when the two of you were working in the garage on a truck. You always teased her, saying it looked like a toy truck. But having something that could go off road would really help with getting more jobs. The thing was her prized joy and the two of you built it from the frame up. Adding your own flare to the inside with decorations too. "We have to test it!!!" She cheered, hands clenched near her chest. It took a good half hour before she convinced you. "No crazy driving though! We still need to do a bit more work." You warned while climbing into the passenger seat. She squealed and climbed into the driver's seat. The ride seemed to be going well and was tame for her until she spotted a completely empty parking lot. You could see it in her eyes. "Nico no!" You cried as she drove over the sidewalk into it, starting to do cookies in the parking lot. Part of the tire had lost traction though and simultaneously the power steering gave out. Causing the steering wheel to become too hard to turn. You could feel the momentum and Nico let out a scream. You were quicker, unbuckling your seatbelt and moving into her lap almost. You were part demon, and stronger than her, so you had no problem turning the wheel as you flicked through the gears. When you finally came to a stop that showed no sign of tipping you let out a breath you didn't know you were holding in. Your chest heaving for air, Nico's doing the same. She was used to stuff like that, but even it had frightened her. In this moment of closeness though, your legs lightly tangled together, your noses almost touching as you looked at her. It burned in your chest. You buried your face in her shoulder as you laughed at the pure luck you had just encountered. She hugged you tightly. "You're a gift from god, you are a gift from fucking god." She sang through her breaths. Suffice to say you drove back and made a pact to never tell Nero because he'd never let you live it down. You got lost in your thoughts, recalling every good time you've had with her. 

I've been doing bad things that you don't know about stealin your stuff now and then

Nero knew about your feelings early on and joked about how Nico was blind for not being able to see them. The only reason you think he knew though was because one time you had gotten completely covered in demon gunk so you borrowed one of Nicos shirts. And you had carelessly worn it in front of Nero when he came to hang out at your house. When he offered to take it back to her you got flustered and tried to lie and say it was a gift. But he knew. Oh he knew. You always gave Nico extra attention, taking hard missions just to get her new materials. Offering to buy her food so you could see her. 

Nothing you'd miss but it means the world to me

But most telling of all was when Nicos birthday rolled around. You spoiled the girl senseless with all the attention, demon parts, and gifts you could afford. The thing she adored most though was a tiny sterling silver heart necklace you had bought her. Sure, it was a little tacky, but it was small and clung close to her neck. You knew she wouldn't want anything too fancy. Later that night all of you had gone to a club, just to dance and enjoy her special night. Nero stayed away from you two because he could see the way you laughed and danced with her. Your eyes gleaming, even in the slightly dark disco room. But the way the lights landed on Nico as she moved, you couldn't help but be mesmerized. 

I wanna ruin our friendship we should be lovers instead but I don't know how to say this because you're really my dearest friend

As your thoughts become overbearing, you gave into sleep. How you wanted to hold her right now. You woke up to the sound of Nico tinkering. She noticed you sit up immediately and dropped a wrench in surprise. "Oh my god I'm so sorry! I didn't mean to wake you!" She said apologetically. "It's fine, you've gotta be ready for the day n all." You hummed tiredly as you stretched. "Oh my god I'm so sore." You whimpered, not used to sleeping in the drivers chair. You got up and made your way to the bathroom to clean yourself up for the day. As you made your way out, informing Nico you were joining the hunt again, she stopped you. She seemed embarrassed, hiding something behind her back. "What is it?" You asked curiously with a confused expression. "C-close your eyes and hold out your hands!" She demanded. You followed her orders and tried to guess what she placed in your hands. "Open!" She exclaimed. You opened your eyes to find your weapons in your hand. But she had improved them by heaps and bounds. "Oh my gosh! Thank you!" You said excitedly, wanting to test them out. "O-of course, I've been saving up parts to make 'em really good." She said while averting her eyes from yours. "R-really?" You questioned and she nodded. "Yeah, but don't tell Nero! It's only free for you!" She exclaimed and you nodded while smiling. "Of course!" You said while offering a pinky. She locked hers with yours and nodded with a grin. "Alright, if that's all, I'll be on my way. Thank you so much!" You exclaimed, making your way to the door again but she stopped you. 

Jenny take my hand

She was holding your hand from across the counter, and before you could turn to face her she had ducked below the counter and gotten behind you. Placing her hands on your shoulder blades. It made you shudder but you kept deathly still. "Nico?" You asked, voice barely above a whisper. She wasn't one to be tender with anyone but in this moment she seemed so soft. Her arms wrapped around you from behind. Was she… Crying??? She wasn't one to cry either. She wasn't worried about the demon outbreak until you had been injured and had to stay with her in the van. The wound was pretty deep and if you were honest, you got lucky. She pressed her face into your shoulder. The past few days you had been too absorbed in your thoughts to notice how she had changed or how much she was working. "Stay safe out there." She said quietly, giving your stomach a squeeze. Slowly your rested your hands on top of hers.

Cause we are more than friends, and I will follow you until the end

"I will." Was all you could manage to squeeze out. You don't know how long you two stood like that before you peeled her hands from you so you could turn and face her. You hesitated for a moment before raising your hands to her cheeks. Rubbing away the remnants of her tears softly with your thumbs. "I will, I promise." You repeated in a more affirmative voice. She nodded before leaning in. You closed your eyes as you accepted her kiss. Her lips were soft and you could taste whatever chapstick she had used earlier. You got caught up in the moment as she leaned into you more heavily. You wished you could stay like this forever, in this perfect moment. You pulled away slowly and rested your forehead against hers. 

Riptide 7/13 CSBB

@captainswanbigbang & @captxinswans present:

RIPTIDE by @courtorderedcake Beta’d by the wonderful @ultraluckycatnd

An Enchanted Forest AU where the dark one was never released into the world in a vessel, thus causing a massive shift in timelines. The ogre wars have ravaged kingdoms, untold destruction spanning continents, rulers displaced. Even as the wars sputter to ash, the safest place to be is at sea, and that’s not very safe at all - as Emma and Killian find out, fates intertwined against all odds.

Rated: E/X - heavy content : warnings of assault, rape, noncon, just everything, I feel like the rating says enough. It’s something.

WARNING: READER DISCRETION IS ADVISED.

Read on Ao3 HERE .

Chapter IX : Shell & Bone

I can be quick and then I'm deadly,

I am a rock, shell and bone medley.

If I was made into a man, I'd make people dream,

I gather in my millions by ocean, sea and stream. 

What am I? Sand of course, dear one

- Unknown

 Emma woke next to a sudden jostle, Killian tensing above her and words, laughing words that weren’t his. The fuzzy bits of sleep fading, she could hear Killian’s voice now loud above her. “Don’t you dare touch her. I’ll kill every one of you if you touch her -”

Emma’s eyes shot open as Killian’s body was pulled away from her and the warmth of his embrace was gone. Two men were pulling him away, his hand reaching for hers across the floor.

“No!” Emma reached for him, pulling his hand into hers, fighting and kicking the other man who stepped into the space to grab her. “Killian, Killian! Let me go, let me go!” Wailing and reaching for him, his body was pulled behind hers to keep him moving.

“Ain’t it sweet? Keep struggling and I’ll give you a chance to hold your baby.” The man holding her pulled her hair, and she yelped, his other hand squeezing her windpipe.

“Emma, you have to stop struggling love, you’re going to hurt yourself. It’s going to be alright.”

They were both pulled on the wet deck with rain still falling heavily, chilling her again. James stood looking over the docks in front of them as Emma was thrown down, Killian over her protectively a moment later.

“I’ve made two decisions, for the sake of my dear little sister and her unborn.” James smirked down at them as Killian gathered her shaking body close to his. “The first is that you get to say goodbye to your beloved before he hangs. I do follow Navy protocol, after all, so you can say goodbye here and as he hangs.” Emma sobbed into Killian’s chest, both of them holding each other tightly. “And I’ve arranged for you to be delivered to a beautiful holding cell to wait for your bastard to be born. Then off you go to whatever fate I decide, and your bastard goes to a nice home.”

“You will not take my child -”

“See, the thing is dear sister, you’re not exactly in the position to make demands. Or to be a mother,” James sneered. “Now say your goodbyes.”

“Emma, I love you. Look at me love,” Killian kissed her, wiping tears away from her face in earnest. “You have to keep our child, beg them, do whatever you can. Do you understand? Don’t you dare give up, Emma -”

“I won’t but you have to fight them too, please, I know you can figure a way out of this. We have survived everything, everything, Killian. You have to see your child. He can’t grow up without you.”

Killian opened his mouth to say something more, but was stopped by James waving a hand to pull Emma from him, his fingers holding hers until the last second. “I love you, Emma.” She continued reaching for him, and he pulled against the two men holding him, continuing to try and touch her fingers.

James laughed, his continued laughter eventually drowning out Emma’s pleading.

The day he was led out to be hung was exactly ten days after his capture. He’d counted, scratching long groves into the wall of his cell with a spoon, sharpening it to carve Emma’s name and his into the wooden door frame along with a small picture of a swan. Tracing it kept him sane when he imagined he heard her cries or a phantom squall of a baby somewhere in the evenings, his body unwilling to rest.

Off of the coast of King George’s miserable land, Korumpiran, lay the island he sat in now. It was unnamed, just referred to by people who knew what lay on its rocky face as ‘Prisoner’s Keep’. Emma was somewhere in the compound, it was where people the Navy wanted to parade out with pomp to a gaggle of noble watchers were held.

Hanging was a sport, and it needed spectators.

James was in high spirits when they came to fetch him, dressed in his full regalia and grinning. As they climbed the stairs to the deck of the gallows, he whispered gleefully, “Today’s the day!”

Killian grunted.

James’s boots were a shining dark black in the noon sun, in stark contrast with the washed-out boards. As his death necklace was hung around his neck, Killian whispered goodbyes to those who would never hear them. His crew, his few friends, his child, saving the last for Emma.

James stood next to him, no executioner’s cowl to mask his glee. “Do you know what the best part of this is going to be?” James’s eyes glittered with excitement as he whispered, “My deal with you ends when you expire. You’ll have your whore and child with you in hell soon enough!” James laughed, pointing out into the crowd where several naval officers flanked Emma’s body. 

Killian struggled in his bonds, trying to get off the stage to her in blind panic. Their audience whispered in confusion as she cried hysterically. James tried to redraw the crowd’s attention, not to be outdone. “I hereby judge the pirate known as Captain Hook as guilty of crimes against the crown...” A wail went up in the crowd, pained as a naval officer started yelling, “...desertion of the Navy, Piracy...” A low moan soon followed, and one of the naval officers ran back into the base, eyes wide. The crowd began to turn and soon, the original crowd was turning towards low keening cries. 

The hair on Killian’s neck stood. 

Navy officers yelled, and James became angry. “...and stealing a ship from HIs Majesty’s fleet. The punishment shall be death, by hanging. Any last words?” James removed the rag he had stuffed in Killian’s mouth. 

“Emma, my wife, please tell me she’s alright. She’s pregnant and I can’t see -” Shouting at the crowd, he struggled, and several women covered their mouths in horror. 

It was taboo for any wife to be present for a hanging, as the gentry were prone to swooning. A pregnant woman being forced to stand privy to an act of such violence was beyond cruel, practically sacrilege, and put both her and child at risk. A scream tore through the crowd, and he could see Emma on her back, naval officers holding her as one came back with a cloth. Her mouth was a tight lined grimace. The crowd was booing the hanging now in favor of the poor woman who seemed to be having stress complications. Killian was barely aware of anything else except trying to see what was happening. Officers ran on the platform to help James hold Killian as he fought to get to Emma with every fiber of his being.

Fists landed blows on his face and a boot connected with his ribs until he knelt, bleeding on the platform’s drop door, the first real prayers to any God who’d listen running through his mind. He heard James pull the lever, and closed his eyes, unable to stand the nightmare any longer. The door below him gave way and he fell, time slowing as he heard James yell in fury. Killian’s knees connected with packed ground. The rope had snapped, cut through almost completely.

Killian’s body registered its living state before his brain, scrambling to move as James shouted orders. His blood beat in his ears to the sound of her name, every part of him trying to protect both his child and his wife. A guard caught his arm half way and shoved him, a strange movement that was neither defensive or offensive. Sprawling forward, he noticed a heavy weight in his coat pocket. Reaching in and touching cold metal, he looked up to watch the guards surround Emma and understood.

James shouted more commands as Killian pulled his hook out of his pocket, taking it in his good hand awkwardly without his brace. A few paces ahead of him, he saw Ruby adjust her stolen Naval uniform, sending a signal to however many others had infiltrated, and he realized that the ever clever crew of The Gilded Wing had each put a swan patch under their shoulder stripe.

Killian slashed through an officer with slight difficulty, continuing towards Emma as he watched the infiltrators from The Gilded Wing shed their disguises. Two guards with a swan patch held Emma's hands, kneeling as the crowd surrounding them began to realize that they were caught in the beginning of a blood bath. Men started to scream as Merida, Ruby, Rory, Phillip, Graham, Fa, Regina, Robin, Z, and others he didn’t know began to carve through them.

Finally reaching Emma, he felt life return in full color. Wearing a ridiculous full satin gown, even in labor on dusty cobblestone she took his breath away. He rubbed blood from his face and ignored what was most likely a broken rib. Snow looked at his dumbstruck face with a small knowing smile, as Emma and Belle beamed up at him. He knelt by her side, or more truthfully, dropped to his knees.

“Emma are you? Please tell me you're alright. Seven Hells and the damned -” His wheezing questions were answered with a soft kiss as her hand threaded through the hair at the nape of his neck. She pulled away, motioning a hand to the bodice of her dress and bringing him back to the peril of their situation.

“We're fine. Help me get out of this damned thing before we all wind up dead, because that would be depriving a nice end to my dashing rescue of you. Oh, and take off your shirt.” Emma reached below her skirts and pulled out his extra brace, a cutlass, and her preferred scimitar. He pulled off his coat and shirt as she and Snow struggled to get her out of the gown. Belle stood guard, easily dropping men with a crossbow.

“You know, there's a thousand other ways to get us both naked love,” he grinned. He put on his brace with ease, relishing in the feel of the soft leather and the plush embrace of the fitting for his hook. Snapping buckles tight, he clicked in his hook. With a flourish he ripped the gown, revealing her breeches and tunic below. “When we get back, I'll show you a few of the ways I thought of on the gallows.”

“Gallows humor. That's appropriate,” Snow smirked, as he shrugged his shirt and coat back on. Helping Emma stand, he embraced her tightly.

“I love you, Emma. We'll talk about how mad I am that you are here later,” he whispered into her hair. “If I told you to stay out of trouble you'd never listen, but please be careful.”

Emma smirked, looking up at him. “I'll do my best, Killian.”

Another round of shouts began as another James appeared from the nearby doorway, screaming that the man on the gallows stand was an imposter, a wizard from the Far East.

Anyone from The Gilded Wing would recognize the slightly darker tanned skin, or the top of his ring finger missing on his right hand. But dressed in a captain’s uniform, the Navy became more confused. James sputtered on the gallows stand about his twin brother, while David shouted back towards the crowd. The Gilded Wing members took advantage of the chaos, attacking without mercy.

“Welcome to the party, Hook,” Belle said as she stood, joining the fray with Snow just behind, pulling a bow with quiver from her pant legs.

Killian kissed Emma one more time as they began making their way towards James.

Emma slashed through men easily, avoiding attacks as Killian moved faster, slicing with both hook and sword. Gunpowder filled the air as blood spilt; dying shouts heard over the smell of fire shot from Regina's hands. Robin, Belle, and Snow had taken high perches, shooting targets with keen accuracy. Men ran to get to safety.

Killian reached the platform first, and James backed away as he approached. Parrying back and forth, Killian was surprised that such a coward was actually an adept swordsman. A well aimed kick from James landed squarely in his broken ribs, the crunch and pain throwing him back on his elbows letting out a strangled cry. James raised his weapon high, the sword shining in its cruel metallic glory. Killian turned to Emma and watched her, unwilling to spend his last moments watching James’s sadistic snarl.

A shot rang out, James stepping back and looking at his stomach in surprise. Killian took no chances, digging his hook deep into James’s neck, ripping his face apart in a clean motion. Killian heard the bastard gurgle but threw him down, unwilling to give him any more attention. Looking up, Charming nodded to him over the smoking barrel of a pistol, a calm ripple of understanding coming between the two.

It was done. Men ran in all directions, fires started in several places along the keep, and cannons sounding from what sounded like several ships. Glancing at the smoke drifting off of the towers, he would swear he was hallucinating. Two dragons circled, one dark, massive, and sleek, the other a soft pearl color with somehow more delicate features. They were stunning in their fierceness.

The island was in ruins as nobles cowered, fleeing to ships that sped away from the rubble.

“Killian?” Emma called through the smoke, and he stumbled off of the deck into her embrace. She smiled and let him lean into her body, face pressed against her neck as he took a breath. “You’re heavy. As much as I -”

Rough hands pulled him aside, helping him stand fully. Charming stood next to him, propping him up. He grunted, growling out lowly, “You have legs, lean on someone who isn’t pregnant.”

Killian could feel his ribs throb as they walked along the cobbled path, Charming under his arm letting him lean and Emma by his side trying to keep him talking. His lungs burned, and he was painfully aware that breathing was becoming harder. “How did you manage this?” he coughed, and Emma looked at her brother, then away quickly.

“Will is alive. Belle took him back to The Gilded Wing, and they caught the Jolly on its way here to save us. Regina popped into my cell, letting me know the plan and helped me smuggle the things we needed. Hey, hey. I need you to stay awake.”

“And you tamed dragons in your cell?” Blinking groggily, he shook himself further awake, not realizing his drooping eyelids as his lungs tightened.

“That’s… That’s actually Z, and his, um… Friend? or Lover, I guess?” Emma said unsurely, glancing at David. 

“Mal, the blonde woman, new to The Gilded Wing’s crew. Old friend of Regina’s, and a powerful sorceress. Transformed Zorro, your Z, into a dragon for revenge and the spell accidentally hit them both. They can change forms when they’re around each other,” David grumbled.

“You know I think you’re magnificent, Emma. Did you manage a Kraken too?” Emma laughed, moving closer into his side. “Don’t laugh, love. I’m trying to share a moment with you while staving off choking. And you, my dear brother-in-law racing to save me. Now that I wouldn’t have bet on.”

“Never call me that again. Could you focus?” Charming gritted out. “If you died, I’d never hear the end of it from Emma or Snow. And,” he mumbled under his breath, “I cannot be left alone with Scarlet or Robin, who would join you in hell. I can’t be killing crew. That’s, what do you say? Ah, yes. Bad form.”

“Dave, you truly do care,” Killian groaned when Emma gently prodded him gently in the ribs, shooting him a look, but Charming actually gave a forced smile.

“Don’t make me stab you when you have cheated death thrice today, to my sister’s delight.” As they approached the Jolly in full glory next to The Gilded Wing, they were met by a crowd of crew members, Graham taking over for Charming. Before he was completely pulled away, Charming slid an elbow right into where he ached, hard enough to bruise but not to cause any more actual damage. Killian sucked in as much air as he could get through his teeth, trying not to vomit. “And never call me Dave ever again either.”

Emma helped him settle into their bed, helping to ease him down and help make something comfortable for both of them. She’d washed his face, and taken off his bloody clothing, soft touches that reminded him her finger was painfully bare of his ring. Before he could say anything, Regina had come by for more healing and a round of her truly noxious potions made to induce bones to knit together with the added bonus of making a grown man fall back into the mindset of a whiny child.

His lucidity began to fray, and Emma lay next to him quietly, looking over their handiwork on his battered body. “You’re starting to get a little bit magic sloshed. I can see it in your eyes,” Emma giggled. “You always look so intense before you let go and get lost in things.” She reached for his hand, surprised when he moved to kiss her, searching her eyes as they broke away,

“You shouldn’t have been there. If you had been hurt, Emma, I can’t... I couldn’t even watch you pretend to suffer because I thought...” His voice caught, and she held his hand tighter. “No more. Stay off your feet. I know you’ve been hiding how exhausted you are, and I’m worried for you love. I’m worried for our child.”

 “I’m ok, I promise,” she lied, and adjusted herself. Wincing, she did not sell her lie. 

“No. You’re not.” 

“Killian, I -” 

“When was the last time you ate and really rested? You were in a cell, probably not much nicer than my own. And your wound? See to it you actually get it cleaned, love,” he sighed, gathering her into his arms. “Of course.” He nuzzled into her neck, his words slurring softly as the potion helped mend his broken bones. “You could just rest with me. Help me get better. Stop me from worrying about the dragon we unintentionally signed on as crew.”

“Of course,” she whispered against his chest, as close as she dared with his broken ribs snug under bandages. “Captain's orders, hm?”

“Quite right.” he sighed.

The sky was a sickly green as rain drizzled over the Jolly, the clouds casting strange shadows through the windows in the Captain’s quarters. Emma still felt uncomfortable on her ship, rather spending her time watching Killian heal and helping out on the Jolly. Her main tasks were easy to fall into, and she enjoyed laying in his arms as his wife.

Married life suited her, although Killian’s boredom did not. He entertained himself by wrapping yarn around his hook as Maggie had taught him as lumpy blankets as soft as clouds littered their bed. He also read, and occasionally sketched her changing form with rapt fascination. She'd begun to truly show, her body suddenly ballooning everywhere as her sickness was replaced by unending hunger.

Killian still not only assured her that she was beautiful, but made it very clear that he enjoyed every bit of what he saw. Every time she left him in the mornings he’d groan, sleepily begging her to stay; either trying to ply her with his words… or other things. “You could lie here with me all day,” his voice said with a low, husky rumble. He stretched his arms around her as she sat on the edge of their bed, and she heard the hiss of pain, even as he tried to hide it. “I’d show you how well I’m healing by licking every inch of you -”

“Killian!” she laughed, as he kissed her neck. “While that’s tempting, and it is oh so very tempting, the ledgers need to be balanced to account for repairs, stock needs to be counted, and you need to rest -” “Do the ledgers here, and I promise I’ll rest,” he nibbled her earlobe and she let out a gasp. “After I taste you. You don’t understand how beautiful you look, Emma.” She pulled away from him, and his face fell.

“Mmmhm, well, we can discuss this more when I bring you lunch.” His face brightened and he licked his lips. “With Mal, for another bout of healing.” He flopped back, with a wheeze, groaning. Emma stood, bending to kiss him, and made her way to the door. “I will do the ledgers here though, to ease your suffering.” 

She heard his hum of approval as she walked to the deck. He was healing nicely luckily, and would be better in a matter of days. Emma was grateful to have Regina and this newcomer, Mal, around to work healing magic, even if it wasn’t as powerful as her own. His ribs had set which was a great comfort to Emma. She had been worried with them sleeping together that she’d hurt him somehow. Regina had even suggested he could be on deck but not working as early as the next day, but Emma hadn’t told him in case they were wrong.

It was cool, the rain picking up as Emma stepped on the deck and took in a deep breath. Walking to the railing, she looked over the waves, peering behind them where the Gilded Wing followed. A hand automatically rested on top of her stomach. The child was quiet today to boot, and would be until after breakfast. Although her sickness was blessedly gone, she’d noticed how easily she got winded or tired while working. She’d learned some ways around it; eating a good breakfast, snacking, breaks to sit down, drinking water, and other small tricks. The fresh air was another trick, the sea breeze felt good in her lungs.

Will stepped over to her, handing her a bowl of sweet rice and dried fruit. “Good morning. How’s Jones?”

“A few more days. Unless he does something stupid.” Tipping her bowl, she swallowed greedily. Every meal felt like she hadn’t eaten in days. “What still needs to be done this morning?”

“Jefferson says there’s a storm about to roll in, so we need to tie off some barrels, and move some crates.” He ticked off his fingers, while she continued eating. “There’s some damage to the sails that need to be tied off, and a little damage to the rigging. I think we should be storm ready after that.”

Emma nodded, finishing her meal. “Let’s start.”

They worked tirelessly as a unit as lightning crackled close by and a boom of thunder echoed only slightly to the west. The rain began to pummel them, and Emma started to shiver; her fingers going numb as she tied things off. A tickle ran across her back, and she looked up to see a loose rope dangling. She pulled gently to tie it off on a stable weight. It wouldn’t give so she pulled harder, letting her muscles strain as the wind whipped. She let go, dizzy and winded, her body protesting even standing.

Internally, she began to panic. She hadn’t been working that long, but she was exhausted already? This couldn’t be, and she wouldn’t accept it. She’d push through.

Smee looked at her in concern. “Miss Emma, are you alright?” She nodded and reached for the rope again, numb fingers gripping to pull even harder. This time it gave and she tied it off triumphantly, panting to catch her breath.

She realized something was wrong before she saw black creeping towards the edge of her vision. Turning to stumble towards Smee, she heard his surprised question before darkness took her.

When she blinked her eyes open again, she was laying bundled under far too many blankets by candle light, a cloudless night sky laid outside the open windows wherever they were harbored. Killian sat beside her, gently stroking her hair as he read. She went to ask him what happened, but could only rasp out a questioning noise before coughing.

“Well, my darling, you’ve gotten yourself sick and pushed yourself to fainting, per Regina. She sends her regards, with strict instructions for both of us,” he whispered. Killian smiled at her, but it didn’t reach his eyes. Emma groaned. “If that’s your apology for scaring us all half to death, it needs some work.”

She coughed, trying to clear her voice. “Sorry.”

“Emma…” A look of concern and tired frustration crossed over his face. “Regina and I talked, and you shouldn’t be doing anything but light labor, if that. We’re concerned for you.”

Emma scoffed, her eyes narrowing. “No, I need to work. I’m not weak -” “No one thinks you’re weak. You’re building life, the farthest thing from it - but this was a close call.”

“I just fainted. It’s not -” Killian’s hand balled into a fist, and he interrupted her, his voice quiet, but filled with worry and anger.

“You were bleeding.” His jaw ticked, and Emma immediately felt her heart sink as she rubbed where she could feel the baby resting, stretched along her entire frame. 

“I was…?” Emma saw him soften, and he took her hand. “The baby is alright though, right? Killian, I didn’t mean to -” 

“Z carried you in, and somehow got Mal and Regina over here almost immediately. He’d noticed you were bleeding after he picked you up.” He sighed. “Regina said you just strained yourself, and you needed to rest. You need to rest. She thinks… She thinks something might be wrong, and we should get a midwife.”

Emma’s heart froze, panic rising in her tone. “Why would she think that? There’s nothing wrong with him, the baby. You’ve read everything, we’re fine. We’d know if something wasn’t right, wouldn’t we?” 

He rubbed her hand, kissing the knuckles he'd just traced. “It’s alright. She just said she was worried. The baby is rather big and your symptoms and swelling have been really severe, that’s all. A midwife is not a bad idea. We should find one just to be safe. There’s one she recommends that is available a few months from now, and another available in a month or so. How about we try the one available sooner and see what she thinks?” 

Emma nodded, tracing where she could feel the slightest movements. “Better safe than sorry. I’ll stay on light duty.”

“Good. Never a dull moment around here.” He smiled at her adoringly. “One of us is always down, it seems.”

“Oh, how are you? Did they -”

“I have been told I’m fine besides light bruising.” He laid next to her, putting his book aside. “Which is truly too bad, I had planned to keep you totally and completely enthralled during our bed stay together.”

She laughed, which turned into coughing. “Ugh. I really did get sick.”

“Aye. You were ice cold. I wrapped you in every blanket in here. I thought…” She stopped him with a kiss, pulling him close.

“I’m not going to leave you, I promise. I learned my lesson this time, and I’ll take it slow.” Burying herself in his chest, she could hear his heart race. Emma closed her eyes, letting her entire body relax into his, feeling his warmth through her blankets.

“I love you, even when you’re a stubborn woman intent on shortening my life with fear.”

She yawned, feeling another round of exhaustion settle over her. “You love it.”

“Indeed, Emma, I do.”

How is Spannenberg and Son dealing with both high demand and shortage of materials?

Remember only recently when such a large swathe of our state forests burnt down?

Worldwide timber shortage - Market Update - April 2021

The housing market continues to grow with record housing construction demand reported. With regard to certain timber supply, lead times are extending out and costs are heading north. We have read several reports pointing toward a suggested catalysts which include international demand, international freight/shipping costs and our local stimulus. Commentary from our suppliers is that some of their initial estimates around price increases will be greater than they first anticipated. This appears to be due to the impacts of a global market, coupled with other world economies, essentially “bidding” for the same materials we require in Australia. This will potentially continue to put demand on supply and inevitably continued price pressure.

Lead times from suppliers are extending beyond traditional timeframes, floor systems are running at 6-7 weeks from order. This is being factored into delivery dates and orders being placed to minimise any potential delays.

Several materials are also becoming scarce and could present supply issues. These are likely to be;

• ​ 17c Engineered beams – generally used for lintels and beams where the opening is large.

• ​ GL Primed Beams – generally used as exposed beams.

• ​ 70mm Structural Timber (70mm walls)

• ​Floor Systems (I-joists & LVL)

Increases to material costs we are aware of to date include;

• ​Structural Pine - Increase of 15%

• ​Floor Systems – Increase of 15-25%

• ​Engineered Wood Product (EWP) – Increase of 15- 25%

• ​Metal Fixings – Increase of 8%

Timing on these increases continue to range and we have price increase notifications up until July 1st, 2021. Any price rises beyond July are currently unknown.

Unfortunately, due to these cost movements we are likely to see an increase in the supply of frames, trusses and floor systems in the vicinity of 12%.

Spannenberg and Son have solutions in place to meet demand and control costs!

1/We have recently stocked up on timber including slings of timber imported from Germany, we are recycling where we can and using Australian steel from local suppliers as an alternative to timber where we can.

2/We have been gearing up for this demand and have the experience, systems and processes in place, we have employed extra staff and have arrangements with our trades and suppliers who have worked with us over many years and are up to the task.

3/Many Builders in a high demand environment may be burning the candles at both ends, taking on a workload they cannot cope with or employing staff not up to the task.

4/Spannenberg and Son only employs qualified and experienced trades and staff so that we can deliver quality and service very time.

part 17

Gee ain’t it swell when things turn out? This isn’t one of those times.

It was probably a good thing Nova never had an ambition to become a medic. As much as she disliked harming others, she didn’t have a processor impermeable enough to contain all the information one needed to retain in order to do this sort of work. The medic must have came over at least a dozen times to jump down her throat over how she wired something in Scorponok.

By the time the medic finished working on Blackout, she still had to come over and help direct Novastrike’s small digits on where to weld this, snip that, attach these new pieces here, and patch him up. Praise the bug for his patience; or perhaps praise the fact he was energon drained and tired. He didn’t offer a single wince or complaint despite Nova’s fumbling digits.

There was one thing she could do well enough for the femme to give her some space, at least. Given a pair of scalpels, she took great care removing rubbish from the minicon’s wounds and frame. Her patch work must have been sufficient too, because the medic felt comfortable enough leaving her to it in order to walk outside and speak with someone who stopped by.

Novastrike labored her audios to try picking up whatever conversation she was having outside the door, but with the reinforced walls, she was surprised how muffled the voices were just outside the room.

Chirping faintly, Scorponok shifted his frame on the berth. Nova pulled the small tools away from the mech’s frame so she couldn’t jab him as he turned slightly and lowered himself back down. Part of his side fell upon Novastrike’s legs but she was more amused than irritated or hurt by his weight.

“Feeling any better?” she asked softly, reaching over to rub the bug on the side of his helm.

Scorponok’s dull golden optics slowly moved to look over at her. He gave a click, nestling his helm against the berth to rest.

“I know, buddy,” Nova whispered, scratching her digits along the little mech’s neck. “... Can you feel your partner at all? Is he- is he alright?”

Surprise flashed over the bug’s optics. He glanced over to what looked like the lifeless corpse of his master. More like a husk of a ship; wires trailing from his frame, a support system connected to him, the energon cubes draining into his body just as Scorponok did. There appeared to be little to nothing salvageable from the enormous mech.

An agonizing, fearful whirl came from Scorponok. He moved his helm closer to Novastrike for support, venting.

Frowning deeply, the little femme went back to patting the bug on his helm carefully. She couldn’t even begin to imagine how scared and worried Scorp was for the mech who had probably been working with him, protecting him for years, like family.

The femme medic returned then; the doors sliding open quietly as she walked in. She was carrying three new energon cubes, which she placed on the ground beside Blackout before walking over towards the two smaller Cybertronians in the room.

“That’s pretty good, Novastrike. Keep working on that shrapnel though. There’s still pieces there, there, and there, can you see?”

“Yes ma’am.”

“I’ll run a scan over him again when you’re done,” the medic said quietly, her optics growing dim with sympathy for the tiny mech.

Novastrike gave a short nod. “Of course, ma’am.”

She returned the nod with a curt one of her own, and walked over to Blackout’s broken alt-mode to attach a new energon cube and get back to work on replacing what parts she could.

~

It had been four days. The crew of the Rising Star had finished recovering anything usable from the wreckage of whatever battle had befallen this cold, dark region of space. Out of the kindness of his spark, Guard had the team check any bodies they came across for signs of life with a scanner.

There had been two living Autobots, and an unknown faction femme that they had simply... aided in giving peace to. How she was still online, torn apart as she was, nobody could figure out. But she had registered a spark reading, and with no tanks to try safely containing her spark within, they had put an ease to what had probably been a lot of suffering.

Neither Autobots made it a day.

“This one must have a strong desire to live,” the medic would tell Nova when the fear would brim in her optics as one after another the Autobots perished. She’d jack a digit over towards Blackout, offering a supportive smile and would go on: “He should have been the first gone with the extent of his injuries, and he’s not. Don’t give up on him yet.”

It fired a new determination in Nova’s veins. She wouldn’t give up on him.

Scorponok started to come around after the second day. It seemed that being low on energon had been a primary concern for him, more than the holes riddling him and scorch marks. Renewed strength returned to him, and he began moving around the med-bay, with careful supervision of the medic and Novastrike.

The medic began trusting her tiny femme assistant with more tasks, still under careful watch. With Scorponok now capable of wandering around, Novastrike’s useful small servos could get into all the teeny-tiny spaces of Satan’s armor to pull out debris, remove shattered gears, tug out twisted arrays of wires, slide small patches over protoform, and more.

“Is this okay, ma’am?”

“Yes, Novastrike, that looks very well done. Remember next time for a cleaner weld to position it more like this. And a weave bead would be better dear; doubles aren’t quite as sturdy,” the femme stated calmly.

“Yes ma’am.”

It was tedious work, but she didn’t mind. No one questioned where she was, how she was spending her day, placed other tasks upon her for the time. Some asked her how her patient was doing. Guard seemed exceptionally curious; asking every little detail.

It warmed Novastrike’s spark to be able to vent her concerns, explain her little triumphs. Guard’s face lit up joyfully just watching her joy. Without missing a beat, he’d offer his pride in her and would tell her he knew she could help fix Blackout. He was going to make it with her around.

Why the comments made her so flustered, she didn’t know, but they sure did.

“Okay, that looks pretty good,” the medic announced, catching Nova off guard. She quickly turned off the welder and looked up to her tutor.

The medic was looking over Blackout’s medical files and statics with a serious expression. She slowly turned her optics down to Novastrike, and then to Scorponok who was huddled nearby, and back.

“I think we’re ready to try turning on his t-cog.”

Nova’s optics grew wide. “Really?”

The medic snickered faintly. “Yes, really. I’m going to need both of you to step back so he has room. Now remember, he’s still in a comatose stasis state so... if anything looks uncomfortable, he likely won’t feel it.”

Scorponok gave a pained warble, scurrying back a bit in the room. He tucked his limbs partly beneath himself and settled with a concerned look in his optics.

Novastrike whole-sparkly agreed. She didn’t like the idea of he ‘likely’ wouldn’t feel it. They couldn’t finish fixing and patching everything with him like this though.

Slowly, she stepped back to stand beside Scorponok. She reached out a servo, placing it upon the bug’s side. He gave a quiet chirp of gratitude and slid a little closer to her.

They watched as the medic pulled out a thick cable and began attaching new lines and segments onto Blackout. It all looked so strange and foreign. Novastrike felt her spark sputtering in its chamber restlessly. For a second, she thought she could feel Scorponok’s pick up beneath her digits, too.

Light flashed throughout Blackout’s frame. A metallic groan and a sharp ‘thud’ resounded from him.

Armor sharply peeled back then, and parts began to shift. They paused part of the way through; revealing areas of a bot Nova had never seen. She cringed at the visible ‘entrails’, and then his armor pulsed, quivering.

“Is it working?” Nova breathed, watching as his armor began to fold back towards his alt-mod.

“Give him a nanoklik,” the medic murmured. Novastrike’s audios pricked, and she glanced at the screen displaying his vitals.

By the Well of Allsparks, his spark was dying.

Scorponok tettered forward a few steps, whining loudly.

Another flash of light brightly flashed through him from the cables, and his armor hissed. Fragments fell away from his protoform, some of Novastrike’s hard-welled patched shooting off. Energon dribbled out of reopened spots as sections and panels whacked against each other, giving a loud ‘thunk’ here and a grinding of metal there.

It was awful to watch, and dreadfully painful to listen to with sharp hearing.

Finally, Blackout’s armor finished resettling in his bipedal mode.

Nova’s optics trained exactly on where the medic’s did; on the data screen to watch the uneven, feeble pulses reading from Blackout’s spark.

“He needs healthier nanoites, and spark energy...” the medic remarked softly, glancing around. Her optics locked on Scorponok, and the bug went to stand on the tips of his pedes.

She turned her helm towards Novastrike. “Dear, I need you to leave the room.”

“I want to stay and help,” Novastrike demanded.

The medic gave a small shake of her helm. “I understand that,” she pressed, walking over to kneel down and place a servo upon Nova’s shoulder. “But if you respect him at all, you need to leave. I am only staying here because I have the medical background to make sure this goes smoothly. But he needs the help now. What he needs is a healthy spark’s energy, and the only one here capable of offering that in the safest way possible, is his partner.”

Novastrike turned her optics over to Scorponok. He wasn’t even paying attention to them, teetering on the tips of his pedes, leaning towards his master.

Venting softly, she nodded her helm. “Yes ma’am,” she replied softly.

The medic smiled. She scooped up Scorponok; the bot almost going limp in her servos as she brought him over to the extra large mech.

Nervously clawing at her arm, Nova turned and fled out of the room quickly, leaving the two to try saving Blackout’s life.

~

One jour slowly ticked by. Then another. Novastrike went from standing just outside the door to pacing, to bouncing around, and finally to sitting against the wall with her helm leaning back. Her optics slowly flickered on and off. She began to doze lightly.

The dual doors opened and she released a garble of half-asleep talk.

“Novastrike,” the medic whispered softly. “It’s safe for you to come in now.”

Yawning, the little femme reached up to rub at her optics. “Did it work? Is he... online?”

The medic gave a small smile, beckoning with her digits. “Come and see.”

Nova’s spark flipped. She jerked up too fast on her pedes, nearly fell over, and jogged into the medic’s office. Behind her, she could make out the laugh of the medic as she closed the doors and went to follow her.

Her optics went to the streaming information on the screen to the side. It showed an almost normal sparkbeat. Relief swept through Novastrike, and she glanced over to Blackout as she slowly walked to approach him.

Upon his chassis, an exhausted looking Scorponok was curled over where the mech’s spark would be beneath his armor.

“I took the opportunity to patch him up and give him some dignity while his friend here helped stabilize him,” the medic stated, placing her servos against her hips. “He’s got a long way to go, but I’d say I’m surprised how far he’s come and how he’s doing.”

“Oh thank Primus,” Novastrike whispered. “That’s wonderful news.”

“Agreed,” the medic stated proudly. “I think we should give the two some time to rest though, little one. Why don’t you go get some energon and take a walk? You haven’t had much time for yourself or to recharge for a while.”

Novastrike’s faceplate contorted with conflicting emotions. On one servo, she wanted to stay and keep her optics on her charges. On another servo, she hadn’t hit the shower racks in a while and a shower and energon sounded nice, maybe a cat nap...

“I’ll be here,” giggled the medic. “They won’t be alone, Novastrike, this is my job. Guard will understand.”

“I guess I could rest a while,” Nova finally agreed, tilting her helm to the side. “Comm me if there’s any changes, or you need anything?”

The medic smiled. “Of course.”

~

Six days came and went. The Rising Star moved further and further away from the battlefield they’d discovered. There was plenty of work underway. Patching up the ship more, fixing bots with spare parts they’d picked up, categorizing new weapons.

And of course there was energon. They’d found a shocking amount of energon. With tanks fuller than they’d been in years, folks were a lot more tolerable and their spirits lifted.

Novastrike witnessed no change in Blackout. Sure, his statistics said he was healthier. He was more alive than he had been, but the silence remained. They patched where they could, fixed what they could. The medic tried stirring him from stasis to get an idea how bad it was, and got no response. She claimed this was normal, but it didn’t ease Novastrike’s concerns.

Scorponok no longer left his side. He’d move out of their way as they worked but only to find a new spot nearby the mech to settle.

“He’s fine,” the medic said every time. “Just concerned about his partner.”

Aren’t we all, Novastrike wanted to snap impatiently. But she didn’t. She knew better. The medic was trying her best. This wasn’t her fault.

They continued working. Novastrike welded patches and fetched tools and parts that she was able to carry. Apparently though, her dreary mood was a bit off-settling to the medic.

“Why don’t you see about fetching up some help getting energon, Novastrike?” the medic said gently, reaching out to place a servo upon the smaller femme. “For us and to help fuel big-n-scary here.”

Slowly, Nova turned her dull optics to the medic. Her audios lowered considerably, and she released a heavy sigh.

“Yes ma’am,” she muttered.

“That’s a good femme. Shake yourself off a bit. We’re doing just fine, and so is he,” the medic stated. “Recovery takes a long time, don’t push it.”

Novastrike could only roll her shoulders in a shrug. She pushed herself up on her pedes and shambled out of the room. She felt numb inside. Was he ever going to come out of stasis? And if he did, were their efforts enough? The medic seemed pretty confident he was doing better, but would it be enough?

Her thoughts sloshed around in her helm. Gnawing on her lip, she walked down the hall and slowly headed towards the region of the vessel where the energon was stored. If he didn’t make it...

No, don’t think like that.

Novastrike lifted her helm, venting as she spotted the door to the energon room. She paused, audios quivering. The door was closed and locked, but for the first time, she didn’t see any mechs or femmes keeping watch of the room.

That wasn’t right. Even after retrieving all that energon, Guard had still kept some of his most faithful supporters at the doors to make sure no one took more than their fair share.

Picking up the pace, the small femme hastened down the hall and towards the bridge of the ship. There were few bots just walking around, she noted. The halls and rooms seemed almost deserted.

The doors to the commander’s room opened up before Nova as she approached them.

There were bots jammed all around. Femmes and mechs alike, faces drawn up with worry. Novastrike squeezed around the legs of the assembled, her spark fluttering with fear.

Sure enough, she spotted Guard and Neutroboost at the front, staring out the window.

And a ship, come in from the right.

“Sirs?” Novastrike inquired; raising her voice above the mutterings of the crowd.

Guard turned his helm down towards Novastrike. His face showed his own concern.

“Novastrike,” he acknowledged gently. “I’m sorry, we’re a bit busy right now-”

“What’s going on?” Nova requested.

“It’s an Autobot ship,” Neutroboost interrupted with a growl. “We spotted it further out two days earlier, but it's been steadily heading in our direction. They’re starting to get in range of us now. Even burning our thrusters hard, they’re fast and gaining, coming straight at us.”

“Coming straight at us?” Novastrike repeated. “Why? What could they possibly want from us?”

“Energon, perhaps,” Guard guessed. “Maybe they’re just as desperate as the rest of us. Weapons, maybe-”

“It’s me.”

Everyone in the room turned their helms to the door.

Novastrike’s optics brightened with delight and with shock to see the silhouette of a dark shadow in the doorway with dark red optics. He had a servo pressed against his side. Beside him, the much smaller femme medic was trying to fuss over him and insist he follow her back to the med-bay.

“It’s me they’re after,” Blackout rumbled quietly. “I’m what they want.

Assessment Of Waste Paper Market Week (02.22-02.26)

Review Of Waste Paper Market Week (02.22-02.26)

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What Is A Traditional Bathroom Design – How Can I Get One?

Modern materials bring this classic bathroom into the 21st century without losing any of its age-old appeal.

Traditional bathroom design doesn’t necessarily mean you’re recreating a historic space. In fact, in the modern world it is a blend of proven traditional elements and contemporary styling. When looking to add luxury, elegance and a bit of romance to a Madison WI home’s bathroom, a traditional approach makes sense. Combining traditional with modern creates a distinctive personal space. Inspiration often comes from Victorian and colonial architecture – styles that abound in the Madison area. But traditional need not connect to any specific era. Define traditional by what it is not – it isn’t sleek or “glitzy.”

Overall, traditional interior design often reflects the following:

Detailed woodwork and molding

Graceful lines with sturdy furniture and cabinetry

Free-standing bathtubs and vanities

Highlights like framed wall decorations and fabric window treatments

Neutral colors with brighter color left to accents

If there is another thing today’s traditional bathroom renovation is not that would be predictable. Your personality shines in creating a traditional bathroom plan. Traditional design is said to represent order and symmetry. However, traditional does not mean boring. It is a realm where timeless elements like clawfoot bathtubs, marble countertops, crown molding and gold hardware share the spotlight.

Embrace Traditional Bathroom Design

Another way to think of a traditional approach is to call it “classic design.” It reflects simple, proven combinations of element like marble tile, creamy-white paint and decorative fixtures – think brass, gold or black for lighting. For faucets and shower heads look at the era-inspired iron, copper and rubber bronze finishes. Vintage-inspired ceramic or porcelain tiles and wood accents complete the scene.

While the neutral palette is “in” for walls, bold color is never “out.” There are many colors carrying a history in design and decorating. Royal Blue got its name for a reason. Bold, bright colors add depth and accent to small rooms. They can be reflected in accessories, paint and tile. The many unique tiles available today promote everything from a jewel-like surface to mirrors and metal.

The free-standing bathtub is replacing built-in versions. The age-old clawfoot tub has been reborn in many styles. Never really out of style, modern reproductions are in demand. Modern versions come in colors. If you’re making a statement with accents, does a black tub fit in?

Tile plays a huge role in modernizing a traditional look. It’s low maintenance and comes in a style to fit every taste. Texture in a traditional setting adds to the uniqueness of the design. Mosaic tile on the floor, hexagonal shaped tiles, penny tiles and hand-painted tiles are a few choices.

Classic Bathroom Elegance

Like walking into another era, this traditional bathroom makes the most of classic subway tiles, wood-look floor tile planks and fashionably “old” window treatments.

Sophistication and old-world elegance is obvious in basic traditional styling. Bathroom vanities made to look like classic furniture – a dresser with a sink, etc. – are great choices. Who can argue with good looks plus excellent storage? In addition, vanities that appear to be free-standing provide extra room for more accents.

A hundred year ago there would be a pitcher and bowl set atop that dresser making it a wash stand. Today there are exceptionally high-end bowl-like sinks doing the same thing coupled with high-tech faucets. You can bring back a bygone era with a hammered copper patina or a porcelain-like sink. When adding furnishings remember, there is beauty in contrast. Dark-stained wood offset with white accents for example. Little things like the hardware on cabinet doors and drawers made to look like vintage glass sets a mood.

Lighting is important. Wood-framed windows are classic representations of early homes and natural light is very important. Adding the touch of stained glass to a window brings back old-times.

In a new classic, traditional bathroom, large or small, simplicity is the key to success. A custom vanity topped with white marble, a wall-mounted “medicine cabinet,” a wood-framed mirror and subtle paint colors are the basics.

Include Convenience In Bathroom Remodel

You may want a traditional bathroom design but that does not mean you have to leave out modern technology. A hand-held shower head or overhead rain shower head and easy-to-maintain shower tiles give you modern touches. You’ll find them in finishes to complement your design goals, too.

Modern technology makes it easier than ever to recreate vintage appearances with the latest materials. Would you ever consider lining the walls of your walk-in shower with reclaimed barn boards? Of course not, they’d be destroyed in weeks. But you can get the same impact with plank-like wood-look tile. You can add wainscoting, pedestal sinks and retro fixtures to get the vintage image without sacrificing technology.

You’re creating a timeless, simple yet functional space with a stylish look. There’s no reason to leave out modern conveniences, is there?

Bathroom Tile Plays A Special Role

Tile in the bathroom was an afterthought in days gone by. It was assumed there would be tile. Usually, something like the style now called “subway” tile. Square or rectangular. There might be small square tiles on the floor, too. Today tile is an artistic accent as well as a functional basic in the bathroom.

White subway tiles remain popular and are easily enhanced by contrasting wall paint, countertops and windows. A growing trend is to include black-framed windows in traditional bathrooms. White has long been a popular choice but newer colors are creeping in – gray is hot as are darker shades of blue and green. Glass tiles and painted cement tiles also find a place in classic recreations.

Combining traditional tile patterns and colors adds a cheerfulness to the bathroom. Yellow has always been a classic “bathroom color.” Adding texture and matte finishes gives the old style a contemporary flare.

Put Your Mark On Traditional Bathroom Design

You can create a traditional bathroom that is really “you.” There is no absolutely right or wrong when it comes to picking elements you like. Don’t be afraid to put your unique twist on things. It’s your bathroom, right? Then it should be what you want!

A traditional design reflects a timeless appeal and looks back to simpler times. Can you incorporate the KEEP IT SIMPLE concept in your bathroom plans? DC Interiors can. We understand what it takes to blend the demands of daily living with a dream interior design. When you are ready to upgrade or change, give us a call or email us.  DC Interiors is ready to create a plan for your bathroom, large or small. Looking for inspiration, view our portfolio on line. We’re proud of our work. Let’s plan to create a perfect traditional bathroom design for your Madison WI home.

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https://dcinteriorsllc.com/what-is-a-traditional-bathroom-design-how-can-i-get-one/

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