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chucksfavouriteprophet · 2 years

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Healing

Dean Winchester x Reader

Summary: After a horrific experience at a bar, you blame yourself for letting your guard down and getting in the situation in the first place. As always, Dean is there to clean you up and help you get through it.

Warnings: Mention of physical and sexual assault (non-descriptive), swearing, hurt/comfort

Word count: 2,087

“You’ll call me when you’re on the way back, yeah?” you nibbled at your fingers as you knocked a stone around with your feet, phone clasped tight against your ear.

“Of course, sweetheart. We’ll probably be back before you even are, it’s a simple salt and burn. Now go have fun!” you smiled at the sound of Dean’s voice. He’d been trapped in the bunker for weeks now searching for cases. Since Jack had taken over up top things had been quiet, and you knew Dean was getting itchy. You were pleased the brothers finally had a job to keep them occupied.

As you hung up, you turned back and headed into the bar, giving a wave towards your friend sitting across the room. You hadn’t seen Ashley in ages and it was about time you had a good ‘ol girly catch up. Two hours later and your stomach hurt from laughing so much and your cheeks were flushed from the cocktails. Sure, you drank beer casually with the boys, but you’d let your hair down tonight. The band was good, the drinks were cheap, and the company was the best. But of course, you and Ashley weren’t in college anymore, and she had normal adult responsibilities. Once the clock hit 11, her phone buzzed.

“Ahh dammit Y/N, I gotta get back for the babysitter. But I’ve had the BEST time, we gotta do this more often girl!” you embraced her in a tight hug.

“You’re right, we really, really do. Give my love to Dan and the kids, yeah?” you squeezed her hand tight.

“You’ll be okay getting home?” she quizzed. You nodded happily. “Yeah, I’ll be all good to drive once I’ve had some chips and a soda. And I can always call Dean if I need to.” You gave her another hug before waving goodbye. Checking your phone, you were somewhat disappointed your boyfriend hadn’t called yet, but you supposed it was still quite early. You ordered a glass of coke and a bag of chips before settling back in your seat to watch the band finish up.

It wasn’t long before you were rudely interrupted. “Hey honey, you look a little lonely over here.” The man was short but stocky, very intoxicated and clearly in love with himself. He lent up against the table and winked at you. Gross.

“Actually, I was just about to head off. My nights over, man.” You smiled at him sympathetically before swinging your bag over your shoulder and standing up.

“Hey, c’mon now. Lemme buy you a drink.” He reached forward and grabbed your arm tight. Shrugging him off, you gave him a stern look. “I said I’m leaving, dude. Sorry.” Before he could say anything, you spun around and darted out the bar. Stupid man. You hunted monsters for a living - did he really think he could get one over on you?

Apparently, yes, he did. Just as you reached the car, you heard the crack of branches and froze. “Shit,” you muttered under your breath as you fingered your keys around to make claws between your knuckles. You knew you should never have left your gun in the car.

Before you knew it, you were pinned against the car, hand round your throat. The stubby little car key barely broke the skin on the hefty guy’s chest and only made him grip you tighter. The last thing you heard before your head thumped against the concrete was his squeaky, weedy laugh.

It was just after 12, but Dean knew you’d probably still be up. The last time he’d checked your phones location, you were on your way back from the bar so would probably just be getting home now. So he wasn’t concerned when you didn’t pick up.

“Doesn’t she always answer?” Sam questioned from where he sat shotgun. “Nah, she’ll be driving. She never answers when she’s driving but she’ll be glad to see I’ve called.” Dean tossed his phone over his shoulder onto the back seat.

“Maybe it’s about time you look a leaf out of her book, Dean. I mean, we hunt monsters for goodness sake. You really wanna go out for something so stupid as crashing the car because you were on the phone?”

Dean grinned at his brother. “Sammy, if it’s that simple, I’ll be honoured.”

You didn’t remember the drive home. You weren’t even sure how you’d got away, how you’d made it back to the car. But you had, and now you were home, back at the bunker. You stumbled down the stairs and towards your bedroom but failed to make it much further, collapsing against the wall. There were no tears yet - you were just numb. You felt stupid; how the hell had you let that happen? Why didn’t you protect yourself? He was a man, for gods sake. A normal, human, fucking man. Not a spirit, or a vampire, or a werewolf. Hell, you’d fought God, and Lucifer, and walked out in one piece. But no, it had to be a stupid human man that broke you.

Dean cut the engine and climbed out with a stretch before helping his brother grab the bags from the trunk. The first thing he did when he barged through the door was shout for his girl.

“Hey baby, you home? You better not be drunk outta your head cos I ain’t in the mood to be cleaning up your vomit tonight,” he smirked to himself as he ran down the stairs and chucked the bags on the table in the middle of the room. Sam was close behind him, dropping his load on the floor and continuing on towards the hall. As he rounded the corner he jumped at the sight of you curled up in the floor and chuckled.

“Damn Y/N, you scared the life out of me. Take it you had a good night?” he laughed as he walked towards you but quickly his expression changed as he drew closer. “Y/N? You alright?” concern spreading across his face, he crouched down in front of you. You head was between your knees, arms wrapped tight around your legs hugging them close.

Something was wrong. Your hair was tangled and streaked with mud. Your jeans were ripped - not in a cool, purposeful way like they’d been made like that, but in a violent, messy kinda tear. Sam reached forward, placing a hand softly on your shoulder. You shuddered, whimpering without even looking up.

“Dean…” Sam didn’t take his eyes off you as he beckoned to his brother. “DEAN!”

Your boyfriend strutted round the corner, gnawing at a twizzler. He didn’t waste a second running to your side once he saw the scene before him, sliding on his knees as he reached you.

“Hey, hey baby what’s wrong? What happened?” he frantically tried to pull your face up but you cried out in terror and pushed him away. The brothers looked at each other in horror. “Y/N, beautiful, it’s okay, it’s me, it’s Dean. I need you to tell me what’s wrong, yeah? Are you hurt, baby?” The sound of his voice pulled you out of your trance.

“Dean…” you croaked, slowly lifting your head and peering through your hair. Fresh tears ran down your cheeks as you glimpsed his face, creased with concern. “I’m here, baby.” He glanced at Sam, who nodded and slowly stood up to give you two some space. Dean shuffled round to sit beside you, wrapping his arms tightly round your shoulders and drawing you close. “What did this to you?” his voice shook.

You tightened your human ball and buried your face into Dean’s flannel. “Not what..who…” you were too afraid to even look up at him, feeling the anger tighten his body. “I was so stupid Dean…I should’ve been more alert I’m-I’m sorry…”

“Shhhh,” Dean stroked your hair and cursed at the ceiling. “You-you don’t have to tell me if you aren’t ready, okay?” he could feel his body vibrating as his blood boiled. He had already planned out a million ways he was gonna kill the evil son of a bitch. You shook your head and lifted it up, wiping your eyes with your sleeve.

“I let my guard down. He was flirting, I rejected him, he wasn’t happy. He - he grabbed me when I walked back to the lot…I was stupid, De, I-I left my gun in the car…” you stammered as you tried not to let the floodgate open again.

“Did he hurt you? Did he…you know…” Dean couldn’t even bring himself say it. You couldn’t bring yourself to reply.

“But it’s okay…” you couldn’t meet his eyes. “I managed to smash his head in with a rock…” Dean shot up, punching the wall with a livid fist. You jumped at the sudden movement and Sam came running out to see what was all the commotion. “Dean!” he shouted before lowering his voice at his error. “She scared Dean. C’mon.” His brother nodded. Sam was right. Now wasn’t the time to let his emotions get to him.

Crouching back at your side, Dean guided you up by the arm. “C’mon, let’s get you cleaned up.” He wrapped an arm round your waist as he led you to the bathroom. Placing you on the toilet seat, he started running the bath water, adding whatever random soaps and oils he could find to create a somewhat overwhelming, yet comforting, aroma. Then, he slowly peeled off your battered clothes, tears pricking his eyes as he glanced over the cuts and bruises littering your body. He stroked your hair as he brushed an antiseptic wipe over them, trying to comfort the stinging. Once tended to, he stepped back and started undressing himself. You couldn’t help but smile as he scooped you up, his warm chest pressed against yours, and lowered you into the bath.

The water was an immediate remedy. Your tight muscles started to unravel as you lay back against your boyfriend, welcoming his wandering hands as he lathered the soap over your body. You rolled your head back to rest on Dean’s collarbone, planting a kiss on his shoulder. God knows how long the pair of you sat in the water, but once Dean noticed the goosebumps rising on your arms he clambered out and wrapped you up in a towel. Carrying you bridal style, he headed straight for the bedroom you shared and perched you on the bed. Clothing wise, he wavered over your wardrobe, before opting for one of his oversized t-shirts and pants. He knew you had a habit of stealing them when you felt unwell and figured of all times, this situation called for a bit of comfort.

Folding you into the duvet, Dean looked down at you sadly. He felt like a failure, the very worst boyfriend in the world. How could he have let you get hurt, get assaulted by some fucked up creep? He was meant to look out for you, for gods sake.

“Dean,” you mumbled into the pillow. “Lie with me?” your puppy-dog eyes made his heart melt. “Of course, baby.” He crawled in behind you, snuggling in close and resting his chin against your shoulder. He felt your body relax beneath him as he traced his fingers up and down your arm, humming an old Led Zeppelin hook. Minutes later, your breathing steadied as you drifted into sleep. He stayed awake all night just watching you, gently kissing your cheek each time you stirred. There was no way he was ever gonna let you out of his sight again. You meant way too much to him to lose, and it hurt him to only just be realising it now.

“Thank you, Dean,” you breathed as you woke from a strangely dreamless sleep. He chuckled, but sobered up pretty quickly once he remembered why the two of you were in this situation in the first place.

“Y/N, I know I can never understand what you’ve been through tonight, but I swear to God, I will never, ever let anyone hurt you ever again. And whatever you need to get through this, I’m here. And so is Sam. I might fuck up sometimes - hell, most of the time - but I promise I’ll be here for you. I love you, Y/N.”

You rolled over in his arms to face him. “I love you too, Dean. And no matter what - I’m here for you, too.”

#dean winchester x reader #spn x reader #dean winchester #supernatural #spn #sam winchester #sam and dean #dean winchester x y/n #spn fic #spn one shot #spn hurt/comfort #hurt/comfort #dean x reader #dean x y/n #dean winchester fic

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remuscore · 3 years

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More monster boys for the week. Today we got some cute Wolfie Remus and Roman being a dick. Patton is adorable and perfect like always tho love him <3

Warnings: probably none but tell me if you want anything or I missed something

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Remus sniffed around, holding the pouch tied to his neck of wax and flowers to his nose. Janus had given him scraps of what he needed to get and the last three towns Remus had traveled to had run out of the flowers. Remus already bought the white candle, those are always in stock and everywhere.

He stepped out into the street, stalking his way down the sidewalk, ignoring the stares he got. It wasn’t that uncommon for a werewolf to stay in their wolf form in front of humans, but it still caused stares. It probably caused even more stares considering Remus wasn’t wearing any wolfie clothes. He didn’t like the spandex. It caught on his fur too much.

“Gotta be around here somewhere…” Remus muttered, looking through shop windows as he passed and sniffing at the bottom of the doors to see if the flowers were in there. One of those doors opened suddenly, hitting him right on the head. Remus scrambled out of the way, standing on his hind legs to avoid get hit again. He grins at the people leaving the store giving him looks and gestures broadly at the sidewalk. “After you.”

His tail thumped against his leg, wagging it as a substitute for a laugh. Laughing in wolf form often frightened humans. Any growl to them was a vicious growl. Remus grabbed the door before it could close, ducking his head inside to get a better whiff of anything. He barely got to look around before a purse swatted at his nose and they pulled back outside again, holding their snout.

The woman that hit him slammed shut the door and locked it, giving Remus the dirtiest look. Remus rolled his eyes and dropped back down to all fours. Didn’t matter. He didn’t smell anything in there anyways.

They continued his search, sniffing at the ground and nudging his way through people on the street. He could still smell it somewhere. It wasn’t his petals that he was getting tricked with, there was a trace of it around.

Remus stopped hard. He raised his head high and ears pushed up in attentiveness. He knew that smell.

His tail swished through the air as he trotted across the street, barely dodging a car from nicking him. The person honked at him, but they weren’t paying them any mind. He ducked in between two buildings and continued sniffing the air. They were getting closer. His claws clacked against the pavement as he followed the scent.

Then he caught sight of the source. His tail was wagging so fast it was causing him to squirm, shifting excitedly on his paws. He threw his head up and let out a short howl.

Roman stopped in his tracks, stopping the two walking with him too. Remus could see how red the tips of his ears got from here.

He looked across the street and his face grew just as red, burning his cheeks. Remus whined and quickly made his way over.

“Hey Romy!” they barked happily, running up to their brother. Roman took a couple steps back. His ears were back and his shoulders tense, but Remus knew Roman liked to be a dick sometimes so he wasn't that worried about him snapping. And Roman would never try wolfing out and bring any unwanted attention towards himself. He completely ignored the people with his brother. “How have you been? Also, do you know where I can find Henbane? Actually wait—” Remus moved closer towards the short and stocky person next to his brother, sniffing at him generally.

“Hey!”

Roman swatted at their nose, pushing Remus back. Remus blinked, staring at the person he was sniffing. He was staring back with wide, but interested eyes, probably confused why a wolf would sniff him.

“You can’t just—” Roman bit back his scolding, looking over at his friends. He swatted at Remus again and led him away from the humans. He growled under his breath at him. “You can’t just howl and sniff strangers, Remus. What is wrong with you?!”

“I was excited to see you, man,” he said. His ears were lowered now, knowing he was in trouble with Roman. His tail stopped wagging and was held straight out. “Plus, I got a job now and she said to get Henbane and that guy—” they nudged their head towards the person he was sniffing. “—smelled a lot like Henbane. And a bunch of other stuff. Does he have any that I can take?”

“No, you can’t have any. Can you just…” Roman clenched his jaw and glanced back at them. He leaned over Remus, growling low. Even though Remus was at the same height as him while on all fours, Remus still ducked his head and pressed his ears back at Roman’s anger. “Just get out of here. And change into your normal self, please, you’re freaking people out.”

“I’m normally like this when I’m shopping,” Roman scoffed. Remus’ lip twitched. “Can’t you just tell me where I can get some Henbane? I need the money and also she’s kinda my landlord too on top of that so if I don't get the stuff they want I won't have a place to crash—”

“I don’t care. Find it yourself. Away from me.”

“But the only sniff of it I found was with that guy!”

“I don’t care—”

“Uh,” both the twins’ ears perked up and Remus tilted his head to look behind Roman at the same person from before. He smiled at him nervously and waved. “Sorry to interrupt, but I know a place where you can get some? It’s just a few blocks down west. Do you want the name of it?”

Remus’ tail started wagging again and he pushed past his brother over to the guy. Roman followed him and shoved him in his side so that the human and him were a comfortable distant away. “That would be helpful, yeah! You’re even nicer than you look, little thing.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” the other guy— the skinnier, but taller one that hasn’t said a word or moved this entire time— said protectively. Remus tilted his head, but then remembered how humans are around wolves and his tail picked up speed, raised high.

“Oh no,” he let a laugh slip through, startling the shorter one and making Roman elbow his side. “I’m not gonna eat him. He’s not really my type of meat, even though he definitely looks tasty.”

They winked and Roman shoved him again, pushing him farther away.

“That’s it!” Roman shoved harder. Remus’ claws tried digging into the bricks at their feet, but he stumbled. “Go! Patton, give him the name so he could leave.”

Patton quickly squeaked out the name as Roman gave another hard push that made Remus trip over his paws. He growled at his brother until his hands left his fur. God, he was being worse than usual. Doesn’t care that they haven’t seen each other in months, but no. Remus had a bit too much fur to be seen with him now. Hypocrite.

“Jesus Fuck, fine I’ll go,” he swiped a paw at his brother. Roman jumped away from it as if it was a real threat and not the same thing as a lazy wave. Remus rolled his eyes and grumbled to himself. “See ya, Romy. Bye, Patton.”

Patton waved again, but Remus was already stalking down the street.

#remuscore #remus sanders #roman sanders #patton sanders #logan sanders #monster au #fic

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halcyonstorm · 3 years

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Levi notices she looks lighter and happier and is glad shes getting used to the commander post but also notices shes getting distant and blames it on commander duties. He thinks do i miss her? Nah maybe its just habit. Buuut theeen. He then finds out about it one day during an after training drinking session with 104th at the same bar and his breath hitches in his throat. Hange all pretty in a dress very drunk laughing at something this guy said and the world stops around him. He doesnt understand what it makes him feel. He feels like shit. Terrible. He hates it. He wants to smack the guy's face but doenst understand why. 104th notices his sudden unease and follows the direction he's staring and see hange with a guy. Sasha and Armin sigh dreamily happy that hange found someone she likes and that 'this is the happiest ive ever seen her" Levi dies at that. What does that mean? He wasnt enough? What does this guy give her that he doesnt? Wait. Why does it matter why am I even comparing. She cares about me too. But not like that. He thinks. It gets confusing and he leaves in a rush leaving everyone else stunned. Except connie who laughs at how hange made him jealous. The rest is just levi childishly following hange around mocking her happiness and the guy, finding out WHY she likes him. But gets nothing the guys actually nice and cares about hange. He hates himself and accepts her happiness but falls for her even harder since now he knows what shes like when shes in love and he wants it to be him. He accepts that hes fallen for her with the help of a very drunk man next to him at the same bar to whom he spills his secret to. The story continues and pls can someone write this already before i kill myself daydreaming about it

hi anon! sorry it took me a while but I finally got around to writing this. thank you for suggesting the prompt! i hope you enjoy. you can read it below OR check it out here on Ao3.

Title: Get Your Shit Together, Levi!

WARNING: ANGST

note: this is gifted to @tundrainafrica. i hope this satisfies your angst cravings. i hope you enjoy as well <3

Levi and some members from the 104 went out to a bar one night. It was a warm, summer evening and the sun had just begun to set. They all had a long day training out in the field, and Connie somehow convinced Levi to go out with them. Perhaps it was because Connie batted his puppy-dog eyes at Levi in such a way where if Levi didn’t, he thought Connie would break down and cry. Besides, Levi had asked Hange and she declined stating she had other plans. The bar was hustling and bustling that evening. They sat in a booth: Levi, Sasha, Connie, and Armin. They all ordered food, Sasha ordering herself more food than she looks like she can eat. The kids talked amongst themselves. After all, who was going to talk to Levi? He was their superior, almost like their parent who disappeared for years before showing up unexpectedly, expecting the kids to take him back. Armin made some small talk with Levi, but no one knew much about Levi. They knew two things for sure: he loved to clean and he loved tea. He usually hated alcohol, but somehow managed to down an entire beer glass before receiving the food. He was exhausted from the day, as was everyone else.

Suddenly, a loud laugh caught his attention. It wasn’t just any laugh, but a familiar one. A laugh that sent shivers down his spine and his heart to throb hard in his chest. It was Hange Zoe’s laugh. Had he known she were going, he would’ve invited her to avoid the awkward socialization with his subordinates. He looked to where the sound was coming from and was shocked. Other plans, huh? She was sitting next to a dark skinned man with a buzzcut and a beer glass in one hand. He was laughing too. She was laughing at something he said. The sight of her took his breath away. She never wore a dress like that before, but tonight she wore an emerald green dress that went a bit past her knees, exposing her muscular calves. The neckline of the dress cut low, exposing her collarbones. Her hair was in a ponytail but was neater than usual. Was she on a date? The realization caused Levi to feel as if his heart was being squeezed by a fist that was wringing out all the blood from it. Squeezing it so tight Levi thought he was going to die for a brief moment. He rubbed his eyes and looked again to make sure he could believe what he saw. He could. There she was: Hange in her beautiful emerald dress, talking and laughing with the dark-skinned man. They were sitting across from one another at a table-for-two. Their faces were close to one another as they spoke and laughed, drinking glasses and glasses of wine. Why do I feel this way? He asked himself. But he knew why. This feeling was familiar. It happened a few times before, specifically with Hange. It happened when she gave Moblit all her attention, gushing over how competent he was as her assistant, and now. Seeing her face to face on a date with this man who was much more attractive than himself: honey brown eyes; aquiline nose; plump lips; big, strong hands; a deep voice; and most importantly, he was much taller than Levi. He saw her date place a hand on hers, making Levi’s rage fester even stronger. I’m gonna slap that man, he thought. Why was he touching her? And why does she not mind it?

Levi had been staring for a long time, longer than he thought, before Connie nudged him from across the table. He was clearly drunk.

“Leeeeeeeeeevi,” he slurred with a cheshire cat-like grin. “Gawking, are we?” Levi rolled his eyes, taking his beer glass from him.

“You’ve gotta stop drinking,” he ordered, finishing whatever was left of Connie’s beer.

“Are you looking at Hange?” Armin asked, turning his head left to look at Levi. Armin could tell right away that was what Levi was doing. He shook his head no.

“She looks soooooo happy!” Sasha chimed in, dreamily gazing at the couple. Levi felt his face contort into a wretched grimace.

“She does. I haven’t seen her look so happy in a while,” Armin added. He quickly regretted it though when Levi threw him a harsh glare. Armin looked through his glare after a moment. Levi had a look in his eyes that Armin never saw before: hurt. Levi was hurt. His eyebrows were knit together, expressing a look that one may give when they’re about to cry.

I am not enough for her.

Armin felt his heart strings tugged, hesitantly placing a comforting hand on Levi’s bicep. He knew how much he loved her, despite his harsh tone. Hange was the only one who truly understood Levi and his words. Armin was able to observe Levi with Hange one night.

It was a cool March evening and Hange was working hard that day. She had been cooped up in her office sorting through and reading stacks and stacks of papers. She never came out for a meal that entire day. He saw Levi knock on her door with a plate of food in one hand and a blanket folded over his arm. She didn’t respond, so Levi allowed himself in. The door was shut behind him, but Armin could hear him softly talking to her before leaving the office. She must’ve fallen asleep so Levi draped the blanket over her shoulders. He must’ve left the food on her desk. That was the moment Armin realized Levi loved Hange. He didn’t just love her. He adored her. Ever since that moment, Armin was able to decipher Levi’s words from his true feelings.

“Oooooooooooooh, is someone jealous?” Connie teased. Sasha slapped his arm. Levi felt like if he stayed any longer, he’d explode and say something he’d regret.

“Shut the fuck up,” Levi sneered, standing up to leave. He felt as if he should torture himself more and watch the happy couple, but he didn’t have the willpower to do so. He drank a bit too much than he would’ve liked, and the heat inside the bar was getting to a boiling point, and he felt sick to his stomach. He didn’t need to hear it from the 104 that he lost his chance with Hange. They called out for him, but he didn’t hear. The air outside was much cooler compared to the sweltering temperature of hundreds of bodies tightly packed in the small bar. He found a trash can nearby, barely making it before vomiting. The stomach acid and alcohol came spewing out of him. He smelt it in his nose each time he breathed. He spit into the trash can when he was done, starting to slowly walk back to the cabins.

A few days later, Levi goes back to that bar alone after another hard day training. He felt like the sun was draining him of his energy each time he dared to stay outside. He sat on a bar stool and ordered a beer. There was a man next to him of whom he didn’t recognize. He was a stocky older man who had short black hair and brown eyes. The man looked drunk, the type of drunk where you can remember half the shit that was going on. The man saw Levi’s face and did not recognize him which gave Levi an impulsive idea.

“Are you from out of town?” Levi asked the man. He gave Levi a small smile.

“Yes.”

Say no more, Levi thought. Suddenly, a few drinks in, he opened up the key on his heart and started spilling his emotions to this guy. A few tears came through. Levi was buzzed at this point, his words too jittery and his hands too shaky. The man to whom he spoke listened intently. Somehow, this man he met at the bar had this pleasant aura that Levi felt he could tell him anything.

“Sir,” The man said. “Why don’t you just talk to her? Talk to her like you’re talking to me. That is the only way you’ll find out her true intentions with her date.”

“It’s not that simple.”

“But it is. You know how much more peace there’d be in the world if people just talked things out?”

The man’s unrealistic statement somehow gave Levi some confidence. That confidence, however, quickly went out the window when he caught a glance of a messy brown mop of hair. It was Hange with that dark-skinned man again. She wore a black dress this time with a high collar, her arms exposed. God, she looked beautiful. Levi wished she could dress up for him like that. In that moment, hearing her beautiful laugh and seeing her beautiful smile, Levi realized he was in love with her.

“Ah… is that her?” The man asked, looking over his shoulder inconspicuously (unlike Levi who starred with no shame).

“Yes…”

“Find time to talk to her,” The man said. “You got this, man.” Before Levi went to say something to the man again, he was gone. He tried to watch her as she talked with the man. She was radiant. She had a look on her face that he couldn’t quite place. Was it… No. It couldn’t be. Her eyes were glowing, she was shining. Was she falling for this man?

He felt like he was gonna be sick again. He abruptly got up from his seat and headed to the bathroom. He pushed the stall door open, vomiting once again. His throat was still sore from the last time, so this time the acid ripped at his throat even more. Hot tears started to stream down his face. He wanted her so bad. He wanted to be the one to make her laugh and smile. He wanted to be the one she fell in love with, not him. His heart ached so bad it was attempting to jump out from his throat. What hurt the most is that the guy she was with was nice. Too fucking nice. He laughed at her jokes, didn’t complain when she rambled, made subtle touches that weren’t inappropriate, and he was tall. He placed a hand to his heart as if it’d help put it back together. He took a deep, quivering inhale before standing up, flushing the toilet, and going to the faucet. He splashed his face with some cold water. How can I expect her to like me if I can’t confess? He looked at himself in the mirror.

You look like shit, he told himself. He murmured a few words aloud: “I’m in love with you. I am in love with you. Hange, I love you. I love you, Hange. Please be with me.” He took in a deep breath, stronger than the last, before exiting. He bumped into a person when he left the stall but paid no mind to it. When he was about to leave, he noticed the man she was with was gone. Maybe he was the one he bumped into?

“Oi, Hange,” he said, walking to her table. She smiled softly when she saw him.

“Levi, what’re you doing here? I thought you hated liquor.”

“I can’t spend time at a bar?” he replied, leaning a hand on the table. Hange rolled her eyes playfully.

“You can do whatever you please,” She said, beginning to stand up.. “Now if you’ll-”

“Four-eyes,” he interrupted her. “You look…” She stared at him intently, waiting for his response. “Good.”

Her eyes lost their light. Did he upset her? Then Levi realized she wasn’t staring at him anymore, she was looking past his shoulder. At that moment, the dark-skinned man approached Hange from behind Levi. So I did bump into him earlier.

“Are you ready?” He asked her. His voice was deep and seductive. Levi wondered if they fucked yet.

“Just a moment,” Hange replied. “Thank you, Levi. Was that all you had to say?” He felt like an idiot. An absolute idiot.

“N...Yes,” he said, losing all the confidence he had built up. How could he compete with this man? Levi just wretched in the bathroom and looked as pale as a ghost. Hange placed her hand on his shoulder gently, which made Levi’s heart skip a beat.

“Have a good night, Levi. Get your rest.” She started walking past him with her date towards the exit.

“No…” he murmured, inaudible to Hange. Or so he thought. She froze in her spot as she heard him change his answer.

“Onyankapon, could you wait outside for me? Give us a moment,” She whispered to her date. He nodded, exiting the bar. Hange turned around to face Levi. They were standing within a comfortable distance from each other.

“Levi, what else did you have to say? It’s getting late, you know.”

“I miss you,” he admitted. Hange’s eyes widened at his direct statement, knowing he usually states the opposite. “I miss hanging out with you and being with you all the time. You’re with him now and that’s okay but I just wanted to tell you that I can be better for you. I can take you on dates that are more exciting than a bar. You said you always wanted to swim, we can do that… We can do whatever you want us to do. All I care about is being with you.”

Hange’s face flushed red. He never talked like this with her before. She could tell he was a bit desperate but that didn’t make him any less genuine. Her heart ached. She was not sure how to feel. She did love him, but that was a while ago. A little part of her would always love Levi, but she was falling for Onyankapon now.

“I’m so sorry, Levi,” she said, barely audible. “I’m sorry. I did feel that way for you a long time ago, but I don’t anymore. I wish you had told me sooner.”

#do NOT come for me #ANGST #DID I MENTION ANGST #levihan #this has angst if i didn't mention it already #levi x hange #levi x hanji #levi ackerman #hange zoe #hanji zoe #levihan angst #levihan brainrot #asks #ask

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gingermintpepper · 4 years

Text

Not to be off topic on the main here but as a pretty boy enthusiast and a fan of Guilty Gear; I've gotta say, I'm not entirely thrilled with the decisions made for the Strive designs.

Guilty Gear's always been kinda unique in that it's a fighting game that has a lot of variance in the body types of its characters. Well, specifically its male characters - there's a bit of variation in the female body types as well but this is undermined by the fact that the women of Guilty Gear are all well endowed with a few exceptions like Ramlethal and May but honestly, that's a discussion for another time. In any case, fighting games have historically been a genre where the male characters are either grotesquely buff or slender anime pretty boys and there's little in between.

Guilty Gear managed to pretty admirably give a lineup of men who, while they were all muscular, did not have what I lovingly call Street Fighter Syndrome in that they were all the same degree of Totally Jacked. For a few examples just look at the differences between Sol Badguy and Axl Low (I'm going to be using their Xrd/Rev designs)

Sol is top heavy; he has a very defined chest and arm region - which reflects his fighting style as a character whose main weapon is a sword that's much more bludgeoning weapon than anything sharp - and has a notably slender waist with similarly slender hips, legs etc. His 'hourglass' figure's been a part of his design from as early as I can remember but with the turn of Xrd, the artists were able to exaggerate his body type to what I like to think is what was supposed to be its natural extreme.

Contrast that with Axl Low

Who isn't actually particularly muscular but rather just possesses a very average male figure with especially defined legs. Axl isn't buff, he isn't thin, he doesn't look like he exercises religiously outside of maybe being someone who runs/does marathons - but that's okay because it's still an acceptable body type for some random breadass british dude who's having a grand old time figuring out his place in the world. Axl just looks like a guy.

All of that is to say, Strive does away with all of the nuance of these great, varied designs to just make everyone the same flavour of 'stereotypically fighting game buff' and I absolutely despise it. And here's what I mean.

Enter Ky Kiske.

Ky's as generic slender anime pretty boy as you get. Even if he's similar in build to Sol in that they're both more defined in their chests and arms than they are in their legs, Sol is obviously the broader and more muscular of the two. Ky looks, well, pretty. His arms are particularly thick, his neck isn't particularly defined, he has very delicate facial features - thin jaw, fair hair, flowing clothing that accentuates his grace and technique as a swordsman more than it serves to intimidate or display his body. And Ky has always been designed like this. This is his Xrd design, but here are a couple of his older looks as well:

Man had always been a slender figure with his belt pulled a bit too tightly and his general figure loose and unfocused on his non-existent musculature. So, please, please for the love of god tell me why Ky looks like a completely different character for Strive?

THERE IS SO MUCH WRONG HERE I COULD WRITE A BOOK - but the spark notes version:

Why is his body so much fuller?? Ky has been a twink since inception, one cannot change their body structure/type to spontaneously develop a broader waist/hip when for the past 20 years, Ky's been sporting notable disparity with these measurements.

Getting rid of the loose flowing silohuette is troubling enough considering that's just kinda the look he's had for a hot minute, but his colour scheme is so wildly off. Black and greys are Sol's colours - and as Sol's contrast character limiting that to just the coat hanging over his shoulders is clever I guess but it is in no way enough to visually discern Ky from Sol from a distance or, indeed, when they're fighting and shit starts getting crazy. Ky's always sported a white and blue motif and if y'all were gonna give him waist fillings the least you could've done was keep his colour palette consistent.

I hate the way they phoned in his cross motif. Ky is a pretty devoutly religious man and that was openly obvious in prior designs. Now his cross motif is limited to the shape of his sword's hilt/guard and two pitiful dark blue crosses above the hem of his pants which aren't even noticable because his pants are fucking dark grey--

HE'S INDISTINGUISHABLE FROM HIS FUCKING SON

And this, ultimately is the big problem I have with the new designs for Strive. Guilty Gear has always had very striking and recognisable silohuettes and designs which made liberal use of things like body type to distinguish and characterise its characters from one another. This sort of bombastic and detailled designwork stopped the characters from blending into each other and it did wonders for keep track of characters when there was a lot going on - even if they mirrored each other or were literally based off of another character from the series.

Ky Kiske and his son, Sin are visually very, very similar. Their physical differences are the only thing we have to distinguish them since they share a colour palette and the character designers for Xrd took advantage of the fact that Ky was much more on the slender side to create visual contrast between him and his son who looks like this.

Sin has a stocky build. He's heavily muscled, his design is built around showing off how jacked he is. He barely has a waist, has arms for days, you could slice cheese on his abs - and because he has short hair, in Xrd, they did a pro gamer move and had Ky grow his out.

Now, however, in Strive - how are you meant to tell the two of them apart? Not only has Ky cut his hair short again, but his body type is no longer slender but rather is the same stocky, heavy set/buff build that Sin has - something that really doesn't suit the aristocratic swordsman that Ky's always been.

By beefing up the characters, the designers for Strive have erased a vital, vital part of the character of their characters and it's a damn shame because Guilty Gear was one of the few fighting games left that had genuine variety in muscular body types and forms without fetishising or exaggerating the human form to disfiguring degrees.

#ginger rambles #guilty gear #guilty gear xrd #guilty gear xrd revelator #guilty gear xrd rev 2 #guilty gear strive #discourse #listen y'all gotta be fucked up if you fucking think I'm not still mad about this #DID Y'ALL SEE WHAT THEY DID TO CHIPP #HELLO #HE'S A SHINOBI WHY IS HE SO BULKY WTF #And Ky's always been a twink why not just keep him as a twink #and let's not even talk about what they did to zato and axl #God I get mad everytime I think about it hhh #sol badguy #ky kiske #sin kiske #axl low

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ahh-fxck · 3 years

Text

Chapter 11 of Warrior’s Blues: What Would I Do Without You?

Folks, I am so excited. I finally get to present to you the next chapter of Warrior’s Blues! This chapter (and the following two) have been a labor of love. @stressedspidergirlsfandomblog, editor and co-creator of this fic, thank you for all your hard work and insight!! Ok folks, here it is:

Chapter 11: What Would I Do Without You?

Yennefer's visit throws Jaskier for a hard loop. His best friend helps him sort it out. Best Friend Rating of the Geralt Incident? 10/10 top notch Jaskier fuckery. She loves her disaster queer.

CW for drinking, smoking, implied death of an original character, grieving

Please let me know if you’d like to be tagged (or untagged!) for future updates of this story!

@astouract @smolpoe @yes-im-the-violin-girl @ladyknight-keladry

On the day of Yennefer’s visit, Jaskier arrives at work on a bicycle. He’s late and on a bicycle for the same reason, which is to say, he is drunk and cannot drive his car. He is drunk because he’d been so full of mixed emotions after Yennefer left that he’d sat down to eat the rest of the fruit and whipped cream. Somewhere in there, it had seemed like a brilliant idea to pour half a bottle of bourbon after it.

It was not. Luckily for him, the person working the bar tonight is Julia.

She is a stocky woman in her mid-forties. She has tawny skin and skeptical hazel eyes, and there’s a kind twist to her lips that she often hides. She has a tuft of cropped blue hair and wears a denim vest with a white t-shirt. Even though she is exasperated when he staggers through the door, she feeds him a sandwich and coffee while she fills him in on the meeting he missed. From there, she lets the crew in for the night.

Jaskier feels like the whole world is an itchy sweater, even after the sandwich and coffee. It’s like his brain is on fire, and he can’t quite settle into the usual friendly chatter that his job requires. He passes an irritable and lonely night out by the door. By the time it’s time to clock out most of the staff is eager to clear out from underfoot; Jaskier is a great boss, but when his nearly infinite good humor runs out he can be a real asshole.

The only one who doesn’t give a fuck is Julia. She knew from the second she saw him wheeling in the door that it was going to be a late night, so she lets the rest of the staff out before pouring herself a big glass of gin. Then she settles her elbows against the bar, watching Jaskier mop the dancefloor. He is flailing wildly with the mop, clearing the floor with brutal inefficiency. Internally she begins to count down the time until he knocks the bucket over. Sure enough, a moment later he does just that. She nods in satisfaction, pleased that her timing is still on point.

Jaskier throws his head back and lets out a shout of pure frustration as his poorly-contained feelings boil over at last. Julia smirks and grabs a bunch of towels, then ambles over to him and starts tossing them on the floor to soak up the mess.

As she does so she says nothing, but the look she gives him makes him feel transparent. Jaskier avoids her eyes as he tosses some towels down onto the puddle.

Julia gives a little harrumph, unimpressed, bending to help him clear the towels away. They right the bucket and clean the floor in silence. When they’re done, she turns to him and gives him a long look.

“So… What’s eating you?”

Jaskier grumbles and straightens. “Nothing.” He hauls the bucket away, fills it with water, and returns. Without making eye contact he begins to mop again.

Julia hums, crossing her arms. “Yeah, and nothing made you stink like bourbon, too. Cough it up.” She leans against a nearby wall, giving him a skeptical look. He looks at her from under the fringe of hair that has fallen over his face. Something about the wide-eyed, guilty glances that he keeps shooting her makes him look sixteen again. She smirks. “I think you wanna tell me but you’re embarrassed, so how about I start making guesses?”

Going pale, Jaskier groans. “Why are you so hell-bent on pushing my buttons?” The last thing he wants is Julia making guesses about what is bothering him. She has a terrible habit of being accurate and she has a memory like an elephant.

“Because you’re not a dumbass kid anymore and you haven’t shown up drunk in years. You missed an important meeting! What the fuck, Jaskier? Don’t make me call you Julian, I swear to fucking god I’ll break out your birth name.”

“Julia…!” Jaskier protested. “I d-”

“Julian Alfred P-”

“Fine! Stop! Oh my god, you are merciless!” Jaskier cries, but secretly he’s glad that she cares enough to needle him. He stops and holds the mop for a moment, blowing his hair out of his eyes as he gathers his thoughts. Then he starts pushing it across the floor again. “I’m sure you heard about the man who rescued Pride this year.”

“Heh, I feel like I’ve met him. Yarpen won’t shut up. Heard from him recently?” She narrows her eyes at him, sure that she’s about to hear some sort of horny idiot story.

Jaskier blushes hotly, confirming Julia’s suspicions. “Well, funny thing about that.”

“What did you do now?” Julia asks, smirking. She retreats to the bar and picks up her tumbler of gin, then lights a cigarette.

“We-e-elll…” Jaskier prevaricates.

Julia gives him a long look, and he folds.

“Um, so I might have brought him back to my house after Pride.”

Julia barks a short laugh. “Color me not surprised. What’s the problem? Is he why you were wearing that birdy when you came in?”.

Jaskier’s flush deepens. “I meant to take that off before his wife showed up. After that my day got all sort of… muddled.”

“You mean you got chewed out and then got drunk, right?”

“No! You know what, Julia? She yelled at me when I met her in the hospital, but when she came to my house she was…” He pauses, seeing the bewildered look on Julia’s face. “All right, let me back up and explain. He broke his hand, and I had to take him to the hospital. Two weeks later we go for his followup appointment and his wife is there waiting for him. Tracked him down all the way from fucking England! Got the third degree from her there, but the wildest part is, she showed up at my house the next day to talk. About me dating him.”

Julia laughs again, harder and longer. “What the fuck, Jaskier?”

Despite himself, Jaskier breaks into a rueful grin.“Right? Seriously though Julia. If I talk to you about this it stays strictly between you and me, got it? All of it. He’s in the closet and no one else here needs to know any of this.”

“You got it. No gossip. Your secrets are my secrets.” Julia smiles crookedly, sipping at the last of her gin. She’s been keeping Jaskier’s shit to herself since he was a teen. At first, it was out of a desire to not get involved, but by now she genuinely likes the dingbat. He’s dumb but sweet, and he’s been good to her. “So what’s the deal, kiddo?”

“So what it all boiled down to is that she’s not mad at me for sleeping with him… she’s mad I slept with him so fast. Turns out she’s okay with me seeing him again.”

Julia puts her glass down on the bartop, eyes twinkling with amusement. “Okay, that is a new one on me, I gotta admit. What’s the story there? She into watching or something?”

A surprised laugh escapes Jaskier. “No, thank fucking god, I don’t think I’d survive. This woman… oh Julia, you should have seen her. She’s like, five foot four inches of lightning in a bottle. A total force of nature. I think she could snap me like a twig.” A wry twinkle comes into his eye as Julia’s eyebrow goes up.

Smirking, Julia taps some ash off of her cigarette. “Sounds like a hell of a woman.”

Jaskier snorts, cutting her an amused look. “She is, but I don’t think you’d get very far with her. She’s asexual.”

“Oh? The plot thickens.” Julia grins wolfishly, leaning her chin on her hand. Jaskier had a way of getting up to his neck in crazy situations, and it had become something of a spectator sport for her over the years.

Flushing with embarrassment, a crooked grin flickers across Jaskier’s face. “Yeah, well.” He turns his glass in a full circle. “So it turns out, they uh… have a kid together. And I want you to understand how terrifying this woman was because there was no way in hell I was going to ask for more details. But. What she told me was this. They got married because of their daughter, but Geralt… her husband, the man I was sleeping with… He’s gay.”

“Oh man, you really have a way of finding them, don't you?" This is top-notch Jaskier fuckery, it really is. She’s glad she’d stayed to get the story out of him, even though she knew it meant that she’d be dragged into his shit sooner rather than later.

“I really do,” Jaskier agrees with a little groan.

“What’s her name?”

“Yennefer.”

“Hm. Nice names. Yennefer and Geralt. So she got mad at you for sleeping with Geralt so fast, and then what?”

“And then, Julia! She told me that she’d always hoped that he’d find someone special. She looked me dead in the eye and said, ‘maybe someone like you’ and I just lost my mind. Just- Pow!” He makes an exploding gesture out from his head with his hands, then shakes his head and returns to mopping.

“Wow. That was not the reaction I was expecting.”

“Yeah. Yeah! No kidding! Apparently, he’s always been free to choose his lovers. He’s never wanted to bring one home before, though.”

Julia lets out a low whistle, her eyebrows going up. “So he likes you, likes you. And his wife is… okay with this?”

“I don’t think she likes me very much, Julia, but she gave me the phone number to their hotel room. Says I should have a real talk with him before I think about dating him.” He stalks past her into the kitchen to dump out the dirty mop water.

“Just like that?” Julia laughs, leaning in the doorway.

“Threatened to bury my dead body if I didn’t treat him right, in those exact words,” Jaskier says over his shoulder.

Julia leans against the doorframe, shaking with mirth. “Oh my fucking god, Jaskier.”

“I know!” Jaskier cries, flinging his hands up. “This is absurd, Julia! And you know what’s even more ridiculous? I really think I could fall for him, I really do. He’s just so…” He sighs, tossing the mop and bucket in their corner and washing his hands.

“Yeah, Yarpen wouldn’t shut up about him. Six feet plus, white hair, amber eyes, stacked? Sounds very striking.” Julia drawls, eyebrows arching.

“No, Julia- Well, I mean, yes, but…” He walks back out to the bar, flopping onto one of the tall stools.

“But what?” She smirks, returning to the bar and tapping out her ash.

“Well, I was gonna say beautiful, but I didn’t mean it like that.” Jaskier puffs, drumming his hands on the bar top, trying to find a way to put it. “Like… ohh, I sound like a fool, but he feels like a warm hearth. I just wanna curl up next to him with a book and a cup of tea and fall asleep because I feel so good around him. Safe. And don’t you go telling me he’s a stranger-” Jaskier breaks off as Julia rolls her eyes and opens her mouth to speak. “I know that! I know, and that’s what makes it so weird, Julia. But like, good weird.”

Julia hums thoughtfully, tipping her head to the side. Jaskier has been getting more self-aware as he ages, and for once, she’s inclined to believe that he remembers this guy’s a stranger. “Have you called your therapist yet?”

“For once in my life, yes. I called her before I came in. Hopefully, she’ll have gotten back to me by the time I get home.”

“Good for you. So this is why you came in here drunk off your ass this morning? This whole mess?” She pours him a shot glass of rum and passes it to him.

He takes it with a nod of thanks. “Yeah… I guess I got a little freaked out after his wife grilled me this morning, didn’t cope with it well.” Taking a sip, he frowns. “Julia, I’m in over my head. I don’t really know what to do here. He’s never had a boyfriend before.”

Letting out a low whistle between her teeth, Julia stubs out her cigarette. “Ain’t he about my age?”

“Yeah… He’s… I guess he spent his whole adult life in the military and never let himself have one. That’s what his wife said.” Jaskier worries at his lip, blue eyes wide as he shoots a glance at Julia. His glass scrapes on the bar top.

Annoyed by the sound, Julia tosses him a coaster. Then she hums thoughtfully, swirling the dregs of gin in her glass. “That’s a long time to be lonely.”

Puffing out a long, slow breath, Jaskier nods. He draws the coaster over and sticks it under his drink with a guilty look. “Yeah.” Slumping to the bar top, he puts his chin on his hands. “She said… if I cheated on him it would crush him. She said… ‘Please don’t make things worse by being irresponsible with his very fragile heart.’” Putting his face into his arms, Jaskier gives a little groan.

Julia sucks in a breath, watching Jaskier crumple in front of her. He’d at least grasped the concept of fidelity by now, but until recently his romances had never been particularly stable. Her heart goes out to him. She finds herself walking around to the other side of the bar to stand awkwardly by his side, her stocky frame only coming up to his shoulder where he sits on the stool. She awkwardly pats said shoulder, then gives it a squeeze. “That’s gotta feel pretty big to you. How are you doin’ with it?”

“I’m feeling massively intimidated, Julia. He’s gorgeous and I really want to date him, but I’m really afraid I’m going to be bad for him. I don’t exactly have the most amazing track record.”

Julia hums, sucking her teeth thoughtfully. She rubs a gentle circle between Jaskier’s shoulderblades, an unusually affectionate gesture for her. “Kiddo, you know I wouldn’t say this normally, but you’ve put a damn ton of work into your personal relationships. I trust the man you’ve grown into, and I think you should try trusting yourself for once. See how it works out for you. It’s been a long time since you let anyone in.”

Jaskier sighs, leaning into the touch. “I know. I worked so hard, and Rue didn’t even get to see much of my life after the dust settled. I hope she’s proud of me.”

A smile lights Julia’s face, but as she speaks a note of grief creeps into her voice. Her partner Rue had passed two years ago, but the pain was still fresh and hot. Rue had been more than a friend to Jaskier, she’d been his absolute favorite person. He missed her almost as dearly as Julia herself did.

“She’d be proud of you all ‘round, kiddo. You’ve really shaped up. Hell, you stepped up when I needed you.” She gives Jaskier a little shake. “You might be a dumbass, but it matters that you try to get things right. It matters more that you do your best now to fix it when you don’t. That’s all anyone can do.” Julia’s hand moves back to his shoulder, giving it a firm squeeze. “You’re a good man, and I think she’d tell you that, too.”

Jaskier nods, swallowing hard. As Julia’s hand closes on him he realizes all of a sudden how much he misses Rue. His heart contracts with terrible grief. “Oh!” He gasps, surprised by the abruptness of the pain. Reaching back to squeeze Julia’s hand, he can feel his throat tightening. “I feel really lost right now. She’d know what to do.”

A crack appears in Julia’s heart. She nods and steps closer to Jaskier, reaching around his hip and pulling him close. Jaskier leans into her and she grips him tightly with her strong arm. Her cheek presses against him and she squeezes her eyes shut, nodding. “Me too. I miss her like hell.” As she grips Jaskier, silent tears dampen his cheeks. Before long, Julia’s eyes begin to well over too.

Rue had been the center of both of their lives. Julia had been in love with her since they met one hot summer on Coney Island as teenagers. They had kissed in the rain under one of the piers, and that had been it for her. By the time they’d moved in together as adults, Julia would have gone down on one knee and married her in a heartbeat.

Every summer they took a long vacation on Fire Island, where Julia would pick up part time work as a bartender. They’d met Jaskier one summer there when he was just sixteen years old. He’d been a disaster of a baby queer, but gregarious little Rue had seen something of herself in him. She had taken him under her wing, and he had thrived.

When Rue was diagnosed with ovarian cancer four years ago, it had been at a quiet time in Julia’s life. Jaskier had gotten a therapist a year before and was finally out of her hair. The bar was thriving. Rue and Julia had settled into their home just the way they’d liked it, tea settees and all. Julia remembers looking at this yellow, gold, and cream-colored doily on their tea table after they got home from Rue’s diagnosis. The little sunburst pattern had seared into her mind as she sat in shock.

The following two years had been hell on a plate. The bar came closer to folding than it ever had as both Julia and Jaskier bent themselves completely out of shape trying to get Rue the care she needed. In the end, that had meant hospice and a funeral. Jaskier had ended up having to plan it for her, and he’d stepped up to the role with a seriousness that she hadn’t thought him physically capable of. It changed something about his personality. Julia watched him go almost overnight from a happy-go-lucky kid to a closed-off and responsible adult. The only exception had happened shortly after Rue’s death.

When the fuss from the funeral had died down, Jaskier had disappeared for the better part of two weeks. Scheduled everyone in, made sure payroll was cued to go properly, and just… vanished. He’d come back with a bloody lip and fear in his eyes, and Julia had been too heartsick to ask questions. That night they’d grieved Rue together, sitting next to one another and crying their eyes out. Jaskier had fallen asleep on their dinky little couch, and she’d tucked one of Rue’s crocheted blankets over him before she went to bed.

Since then Jaskier had been eerily quiet. At least, until Pride. After that his mood had been so pleasant that it was making Julia downright nervous. She’d been waiting for the other shoe to drop. Now, at last, it had.

Jaskier takes a few napkins out from under the bar top, passing them to Julia. They wipe their faces in sticky silence, and afterward, Julia pulls out a smoke and hands him one too. The click of her lighter is loud in the silent bar, echoing off the far walls.

“Can you imagine what she’d say about this mess?” he asks, a soft huff of laughter escaping him as he shakes his head. His wide blue eyes turn up to take in the fairy lights over the bar, the smoke twisting among them.

“Oh! I can just imagine.” Julia chuckles damply, shaking her head. “She always said you found love in the strangest places.”

Jaskier smiles crookedly. “She’s not wrong.” Smoke drifts from the cigarette between his long fingers, swirling eddies forming as it rises.

Julia nods, then blows a slow, lazy smoke ring. “She’d say… don’t listen to your heart anymore. Don’t listen to your head. You’ve heard enough from them for now. Go find someplace quiet, where the silence can slip in through the cracks of you and fill you up. Sometimes the answer slips in alongside the silence."

The damp groan of chagrin that escapes Jaskier makes Julia smile. "That's right,” he replies, a little smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. “And I would say, I hate silence, it makes me nervous."

Julia nods, amused. "And she would say-" Jaskier's voice joined Julia's and they finished together, "There's your problem right there."

With a damp chuckle, Jaskier shakes his hair out of his eyes and blinks away the last of his tears. “Oh lord, Julia. I’m glad you’re still here. I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

“Suffer.” Julia jokes, knocking back her gin. “Suffer and die, probably.”

“Crash and burn, at the very least.” Jaskier snorts. He knocks back his glass of rum, then rises at last from the bar. He stubs out his cigarette as he rises. Then, with a soft clinking, he gathers all the glasses and takes them back to the sink to wash. A hush falls over the room, broken only by the splash of water against the metal sink.

Julia turns to watch him, leaning her elbows against the counter. Her head tips to the side as she watches Jaskier dry the dishes, then start scrubbing at the already-clean sink. He takes sanitizer and sprays it on a towel, then starts trying to evict the microscopic grit left around the base of the faucet. After a while, she stirs. “You think this guy might be it?” she asks, her eyes soft as she tips her head to look at her friend.

Jaskier looks down at the wet towel dripping in his hands. “I don’t know. I just… he’s different. I feel really different around him. I think I want to try, but I’m trying to just...” He grimaces, tossing the towel into the bin with a little too much force. “Take a minute to look before I leap.”

Julia breaks into a wry smile, hazel eyes sparkling with gentle humor. “Good for you. Does that mean I’m gonna be staying late a few more nights?”

“Could you? I could use the company.” Jaskier looks at her out of the corner of his eye, moving on to wipe the counter.

Julia scoffs, but there’s a playful note in her voice. “Fine, but you gotta cough up those kreteks you've been teasing me with. You owe me.”

“Oh! I actually have those back at my house, thank you for reminding me!" Jaskier exclaims, smacking his forehead. "I can't believe I forgot. I’ll bring them in tomorrow, I got you a whole case. They came in from Indonesia last week and I just spaced out about them what with everything else going on.”

Eyes lighting up, Julia socks Jaskier affectionately on the shoulder. “Hey! My man! That’s what I’m talking about.”

Jaskier laughs, rubbing his shoulder. “Anytime. It's the least I can do.”

Julia takes one last drag off of her cigarette, then turns to stub it out. “Listen. You want a ride home? It’s late.”

Jaskier wavers, then turns to look at the storeroom where his bike is. It’s a long ride home in the cold and dark, and he’s heartsick as all hell. It’s hard to turn her down. “Got room in your trunk for my bike?”

“Yep. No sweat. I’ll pull the car around front while you shut down.” Julia pats her pockets, making sure that her wallet, keys, and cigarettes are all in place.

By the time she’s parked in front, Jaskier is locking the door of the bar. They wordlessly wrestle the bike into the back of the car together, working with the ease of practice. In the car, Julia flips on the stereo and pops in a Patti Smith cassette. Patti’s smoky, dry voice floats through the car, twining through the bouncing and jangling guitar riffs of the opening song of the album. Oh, she looks so fine… I’m gonna uh-uh, make her mine…

They drive home in comfortable silence. Julia pulls up behind Jaskier’s car and parks. She eyes the white truck in the driveway silently, finishing her smoke as she considers it. Jaskier sits beside her, making no move to get out of the car. Finally, she stubs out her smoke and says, “Is that his?”

Jaskier nods. “Engine keeps overheating. He knows what’s wrong with it but I don’t have the tools for him to fix it, so it’s gonna stay there until I can get them for him. Honestly I don’t have the faintest idea what he wants, it all goes in my ear and then out the other. If he’d just let me take him to the store it would be fine but no-”

Putting her hand on the door, Julia eyes Jaskier kindly. “Kiddo, I don’t need every single detail. It’s his truck, I get it. Let’s go in.”

Jaskier puffs as he’s thrown off track. Then he smiles crookedly, face catching in a bar of orange light from the streetlamp outside. “Sorry. You go on in, I’ve got to bring the bike around back.”

Flourishing her keys, Julia nods. She ambles around the front of Jaskier’s house and unlocks his door, letting herself into the dark entryway. Flicking on the lights, she looks around. The place is uncannily clean and stinks of floor wax and furniture oil. Jaskier’s home usually looks a bit rumpled, like a bed that’s been slept in and then had the covers thrown back into place without being smoothed or tucked. Not dirty, precisely, but not clean. Lived in. This, though… she gives a low whistle under her teeth. Her friend had been understating the distress he’d been experiencing. His home didn’t get this tidy unless something really got under his skin.

She kicks her boots off and heads to the kitchen to get a pot of coffee going, then snags a pudding out of the fridge. As she’s digging around for a spoon, she hears the jingle of keys announcing Jaskier’s arrival through the back door.

He notes the pudding cup in her hand and the very corner of his mouth turns up, but he doesn’t comment. Instead, he slips past her to drop his bag in his bedroom. When he returns to the kitchen he smiles at her, leaning against the fridge.

“Better?” she asks, tearing open the plastic lid.

“Better,” Jaskier agrees, eyes dancing with a teasing light. “Still like the taste of stolen pudding?”

“Tastes better if you swipe it,” Julia grins unrepentantly. She settles on the stool with her pudding. “Gonna cough up those kreteks?”

Jaskier grins. “You’ve got it. Just a minute, darling. I have to figure out where I put them.” He turns on his foot and bounds off to the other end of his house, rummaging around until he remembers where he stuck the package. It turns out it’s still next to the front door in plain view, hidden on a shelf by the other oddities it’s been stuck on top of. Jaskier’s house is unusually clean, but it isn’t that clean. Making a triumphant noise, he grabs it and heads back towards Julia.

Pleased, Julia opens the case up in a few quick movements and takes out a carton. She flicks it open, smelling it with great satisfaction. The rich smell of clove and tobacco wafts up to her, and she sighs in contentment. “Ah, that’s the good shit. Thanks, man.”

“You’ve got it. I’ll order more tomorrow, you deserve them. Takes them a while to import but we should be seeing them in the next month or so.”

Julia laughs. “Man, I’m earning them signing up to listen to your shit like this. Go check your message machine, I ain’t subbing in for your therapist.”

Jaskier huffs a quiet chuckle, shaking his head. “Fine, fine, I’ve got it.” He pours himself a cup of coffee, then ambles over to the message machine and picks up the receiver. He punches in a code and waits, then jots something down on a pad of paper next to it with a brief smile flashing across his face. He turns back to Julia, wiggling the notepad at her. “Got an appointment tomorrow before I go to work. She shoehorned me into her lunch hour.”

“Huh,” Julia grunts, amused. “Better bring that poor woman lunch, she’s a saint for taking you back like that on short notice.”

Jaskier looks chagrined. He settles himself back on a stool with his back to the refrigerator. “Yeah, you're not wrong. Best kind of saint. I thought I’d bring her Thai from that place up on Market street. You know the one with the little golden treasure bag dumpling things?”

“Man, she gets treasure bags? Do I get some?” Julia teases.

“If you come hold my hand tomorrow, you get anything you want.”

“Mm, no dice. I’m doing enough hand-holding as it is. Speaking of which, you could still bring it to me at the bar...” she grins over her mug, eyes sparkling playfully.

Jaskier rolls his eyes and sighs. “Extortionist.”

“You love me,” she snorts.

“I do,” he breaks out into a smile, leaning against the island top with his elbows. “Thanks for running me home.”

Julia shifts in her seat and sighs, leaning forward onto her elbows and giving Jaskier a frank look. “I got you, it’s no problem. It’s not every day you get blown out of the water by something like this. You gonna be ok?”

Jaskier considers his mug with a thoughtful moue, then nods. “I think I am, Julia. I’m sorry about this morning, it won’t happen again.”

Smirking, Julia shrugs. “Just do better.”

Fluffing the hair on the back of his neck, Jaskier nods. “You got it.” He takes a thoughtful sip of his coffee, then asks, “How are you doing?” His voice is gentle as he asks the question, sensitive to the ongoing nature of her pain.

Julia shifts uneasily, squinting at her mug. “I dunno. I’m making it. Don’t wanna look for a new place yet, but I know it’s gonna be time soon.” She casts a short, hard-to-read look at Jaskier. She appreciates him asking, but she’s also not sure how much she wants to talk.

“When’s the lease up?” Jaskier asks, his eyes soft.

“Uhm…” Julia cleared her throat. “June.”

“Julia!" Jaskier gasps, exasperated. "That was over a month ago! You didn’t just sign a new one, did you? Why didn’t you talk to me first?”

“I didn’t wanna talk about it,” Julia growls, scowling.

Jaskier rolls his eyes. “Oh, don’t get all growly with me. You’re miserable there! Rue is all over that place, darling! I can barely turn around twice in there without bumping into something that breaks my heart, I don't know how you go and live there every day."

Julia presses her lips together, tapping her carton of kreteks between her fingers. She shrugs. "I can't imagine being anywhere else. All I have left is there."

Heart breaking a little, Jaskier sighs. He regards Julia kindly. "You can't hold on like that forever."

Scowling, Julia shrugs. That might be true, but she didn’t have to like it.

Pursing his lips thoughtfully, Jaskier looks her over for a moment. He hesitates, then says, "Why don't you just start looking? There's no harm in at least checking the paper…" he nudges her gently. "Worst that can happen is you don't fall in love with the first place you see. No harm, right?"

Julia shuffles uncomfortably, taking a big gulp of her coffee. She frowns at her cup, then looks out of the corner of her eye at Jaskier. “I can’t afford to break the lease.”

“Nonsense, you’ve got plenty of savings to cover shit like that,” Jaskier replies, still exasperated. “Besides, even if you didn’t, I’d cover you. You know that!”

“I know…” Julia grumbles, “But-”

“So what you mean is, you’re still stuck and you’re not ready to go yet.”

Julia scowls. She wants desperately to argue with him, to lash out and protect herself, but the impulse passes before the words can even form. She shrugs. “Maybe so.”

Jaskier sighs. “Julia darling, I’m convinced there’s a place in the world for you. Somewhere that will feel good and be just for you. Who knows, maybe you’ll even meet someone soon? Stranger things have happened.”

“Stranger things can eat my ass,” Julia snaps.

Unimpressed, Jaskier shrugs. “Okay.” He pops open his pudding cup and spoons up a mouthful, sucking it off of his spoon thoughtfully. “Mm. Should you ever decide to come out of that suck-ass hedge-maze of grumpiness you’ve built for yourself I’ll be here. I love you, despite all your best efforts to turn into an unmanageable troll.”

“Oh what, and you’re Prince Charming?” Julia scoffs. “Puh-lease, you little drama queen.” They both eye each other for a moment, wavering, then break out in quiet laughter. Jaskier reaches over and pats her hand, and Julia smiles crookedly. She drains the last of her mug, then sets it down with a final-sounding ‘thunk.’ “All right, mijo. I won’t keep you talking all night. Thanks for the kreteks, I hope you work everything out. Call me if you need me.”

“I will. Same goes for you, darling. My phone is always on for you, and my door is always open. I don’t care what time it is, if you need me you come. Ok?”

Julia eyes him uncertainly, then nods. She had taken him up on the offer before, showing up at odd hours eaten alive by grief and unable to be alone with it anymore. “Ok. See you tomorrow.” She punches his shoulder affectionately, then heads for the door.

“Good night, Julia. Safe drive, I’ll see you tomorrow.”

~*~

Jaskier puts himself back together during the intervening days. He attends therapy, brings Julia her takeout, and things return to normal at the bar. Sunday morning he rides his bike, but this time he’s sober, more himself. At the end of the night, he pulls Julia to the side as she sighs in exasperation.

Jaskier gives her a sheepish smile, leaning back against one of the counters. “Sorry, I’m not going to keep you long tonight.”

“Yeah? Good, my fish are starting to worry I’m seeing someone new,” Julia cracks. “What’s up?” Her eyes travel to the closet where the bike is and back to him. “Car ok?”

“What?” He looks over his shoulder in the direction she’s indicating. “Oh! No, it’s fine. I just wanted to take a long ride tonight after work, maybe catch the sunrise out south of my house.”

“Then what is it?”

“It’s Geralt. I finally decided to call him. I think I’ve got my head on straight and I still wanna do it.”

Julia sucks her teeth thoughtfully. It’s sweet to see him excited, but she worries about his heart, too. He doesn’t always guard it as carefully as he should. “You sure? From what you’re telling me, it doesn’t sound like you’re lookin’ at a walk in the park. He’s married, he’s got a family halfway across the world, he’s in the closet…”

Jaskier sighs. “I know, Julia. I was there, I remember.”

Julia arches her eyebrow at him but doesn’t comment.

Jaskier chews his lip. “I know it’s probably stupid, and I know we could break each other’s hearts, but…” he ruffles his hand through his hair. “I don’t meet men like that every day. Besides. I will definitely regret it if I don’t at least see him one more time.”

Julia rolls her eyes, but a fond smile creeps across her tawny face. “I’ll give you wanting to see him again one more time, you two really should talk. Just try not to be a dumbass, ok? Go slow. You’ve gotta take care of yourself, you’re not twenty anymore.”

The look on Jaskier’s face softens thoughtfully, and he nods. “I know. I’ll try to be good.”

“Good. Where are you planning on taking him? This doesn’t sound like public conversation material.”

“Well… that’s one of the reasons I wanted to talk to you. I was thinking maybe the best place would be the bar.”

“What, don’t want to use your house?” Julia asks dryly.

“Nnnoo, uh…” Jaskier rubs the back of his neck, turning red.

“I get it.” Julia cuts him off with a quick gesture, smirking. “You wanna keep it on the up and up. Don’t you have somewhere else you could meet him though?”

“Mmm… I mean, there are some parks I could take him to, but that feels weird for a private conversation, you know?” Julia nods. Jaskier continues, “He’s staying with his wife at the hotel, and I feel like it would be rude to ask him to kick her out so we can talk. Most of my friends have these teeny apartments so I can’t exactly borrow space from them. The bar seemed like the best place.”

Julia hums, then nods. “I get it. Not like I have a porch I could offer you or anything.”

“Yeah. So…?”

Shrugging, Julia stuffs her keys into her pocket. “Go for it. Just don’t fuck all over the furniture or I’m gonna fire you,” she cracks.

Jaskier laughs. “I’ll keep that in mind.” She might not be able to actually fire him, all joking aside, but Julia has a way of finding truly horrifying tasks to saddle him with. He isn’t about to try her and they both know it. He pushes off of the counter, then digs a faxed receipt out of his back pocket and unfolds it. “Kreteks are on the way, by the bye. Here’s the tracking number.”

Julia lights up, making grabby hands as Jaskier hands the receipt over. She scans it, then gives a satisfied smile and folds it up to stick in her wallet. “Great. All right, I’m gonna head outta here. Let me know how it goes, ok?”

“As if I’d leave you out of the loop,” Jaskier hums fondly. “I’ll see you tomorrow. Am I gonna lose a hand if I try to hug you?”

“Yep,” Julia says with a chuckle. She reaches over and slaps Jaskier’s shoulder companionably on her way out the door. “Good night, mijo.”

“Good night, Julia. Drive safe.” Jaskier says to her retreating back, smiling. He turns away as the kitchen door swings shut and makes one last circuit of the bar. When he gets outside he closes up; there is a satisfying click as the tumblers lock into place. It has been a good night, and tomorrow is full of possibilities.

#geraskier #geraskier fanfic #geraskier fanfiction #geralt x jaskier #the witcher fanfiction #yenralt #geraskier pride week 2020 #warriors blues

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neerasrealm · 3 years

Text

Stories

In which Doby and Toby talk to Tim about their time with The Operator. Set shortly after the war with Zalgo Word count: 1302

The room was big. Bigger than he expected, and very comfy. The carpet was soft and he could sink his feet right into it. There was a large window to his left that let him see the woods outside. The walls were a soft cream colour, or rather, they might have been. A lot of the wall was covered with painted murals. Murals of calming landscapes that were so skillfully painted you'd think they were photos. The furniture was comfy too. They were sat on a plush leather couch, though there was a soft armchair sitting empty across from them. There were also bean bag chairs, and a one armed couch made to lay on. There were also shelves with plastic bins on them, each labelled with its contents. "Drawing supplies", "stress balls", "slime", "stim toys". They'd already raided the shelf for things to entertain them while they waited.

For the better part of fifteen minutes Toby had been toying with some slime he'd taken from one of the bins. It was thick and a pleasing blue colour, like a tropical sea. Toby would pull it apart then squish the slime together again. Neither of them really spoke, they didn't know what to talk about after- well, everything...so they just sat there, listening to the soft clicks coming from the infinity cube Doby was toying with.

A knock on the door made them look up and it was pushed open. A man stepped into the room and looked them over. He was somewhat short, and stocky. His hand was bandaged up, and he had a few random bruises and still-healing cuts across his body. He wore a red and black flannel shirt that was rolled up to his elbows. Under it, he wore a grey t-shirt and blue jeans. "Hey," he greeted after a couple seconds of the three of them staring at each other. "I uh- I'm supposed to talk to you guys." He said as he walked over to the chair across from them. "That okay?"

Doby gave a nod. Toby finally looked up from his slime and gave an enthusiastic nod too. "Sure thing." He replied, as chipper as always. Tim smiled a bit.

"Good, good." He shifted where he sat. "So...how about you guys tell me about yourselves?" He gave them both a half smile. The three of them knew each other, but not well. A couple conversations while the three of them were trying to heal up, but Tim had been discharged from the medbay fairly quickly. Amazingly, he hadn't been injured badly. How he managed to fight off The Operator and win with only minor injuries was a mystery. Tim was a tank, and it was both admirable and scary.

Doby glanced to his left, realising Toby was probably waiting for him to go first. Introductions were probably one of Toby's least favorite things. He couldn't blame him. Doby wasn't a huge fan either.

"Well uh- my name's Doby. I'm nineteen, I love- third base- baseball and horror movies and uhh...I dunno...just- hanging out, I guess?" He said, tapping his wrists together a few times. Tim nodded and looked at Toby.

"And you?"

Toby cleared his throat. "Uh- well uhm-" he clicked his tongue a couple times. "I'm Toby. I'm- nineteen too I uh- I like...I dunno…" he shrugged.

"You like birds." Doby suggested. Toby looked confused for a moment like he wasn't sure if he liked birds or not.

"Uh- yeah! I do and um- just- animals in general-" he paused to whistle. "I also like uh...watching TV and er- oh! I uh- I do wood carving. It's not great but- it's fun." He fiddled with his hands and forced a small smile. Tim nodded and gave Toby a supportive smile.

"Nice, nice." He replied. "Well- I'm Tim. I'm thirty two, I uhh- well I play guitar, or at least I used to, heh, uh- I like animals too! They seem to just...gravitate to me, dunno why and uh- yeah." He shrugged and gave them a slight smile. He shifted in his seat. ‘’So...I should probably explain why it’s me talking to you two, right?’’ he asked. The two of them nodded. ‘’Well...Slender thought you two would need someone to talk to about- well, everything, and he already knows you two are scared of him so...he asked me to do it instead.’’ Tim shrugged and scratched at the back of his neck, glancing aside for a second. ‘’I’m not gonna force you guys to talk about the operator right away if you don’t wanna. I know it’s probably a lot, and I don’t want you guys to feel like you gotta relive all of that stuff just for me.’’

It was silent for a long few moments, the two of them unsure of how to respond. Surprisingly, it was Toby who broke the silence. "It made me kill my dad." He said.

"Jeez kid I'm- I'm sorry-"

"Don't be," Toby picked at his fingers, pulling off loose skin around his nails. "He was an abusive asshole anyways…" he added with a click of his tongue.

"I see." Tim shifted in his seat. "So...living with the operator, how was that compared to home…?"

"...I got hit less." Toby shrugged. "But I...still got picked on a lot...it liked to-" he paused, his neck abruptly snapping to the side. "Liked to torment me- little shit- because I was the weakest."

Doby frowned, reaching over and grabbing his friend's hand. "You weren't the weakest." He said gently. "You stood up for yourself. I'd say you were probably the strongest out of all of us for doing that."

"Mmm…"

‘’Toby,’’ Tim said. ‘’You were able to fight back against that thing. That’s more than a lot of people were able to do.’’ he looked Toby dead in the eyes ‘’My friend Alex? He was way older than you when that thing went after him and he wasn’t able to fight back. It drove him insane. He had a stable childhood, he was way older than you, but he still couldn’t fight it off.’’ Toby stared at him. ‘’You’re strong as hell, kid. Don’t even say you’re not.’’

Toby blinked, staring at Tim in surprise. "...really?"

Tim nodded. "Really." He said. "And brave as hell too." He added. Toby smiled a bit and leaned back in his seat. He glanced at Doby, who looked over at Tim. "What about you?"

"It made me- well, no it-" Doby frowned for a second, trying to think of how to explain his story. It was something he'd never really known how to explain. To Toby it was easy, Toby knew him and had been through that too, but to Tim, or his friend Jay? Not so much. He tapped his wrists together about five times before talking. "...it all started with my older brother. His name was John, he lived with my mom- my parents divorced- balk- after I came out as trans," he looked at Tim to make sure he was following. "John killed himself, and I- I was so mad, it was mom's- fucker- fault that he did it. She never cared about him enough."

"I'm sorry to hear that." Tim murmured. Toby patted his shoulder reassuringly.

"It's fine." Doby replied. "After he died...I started having weird dreams, with John, and eventually I found...it." Doby chewed his lip for a second. "I thought it was gonna bring me back to him...I just- needed to kill her first." His voice was soft, feeble. "...I don't feel bad about it."

Tim nodded. "It has a habit of making false promises." He murmured. ‘’And stuff you do while it’s pushing you? It- makes it hard to feel guilty.’‘ Tim shifted, like he was avoiding saying something.

"What'd it do to you?" Toby asked. Tim looked at them both for a long moment. He sighed gently.

"...that's a long story, kids."

#not my best work but whatever i wanna post this #creepypasta #creepypasta fanfic #creepypasta fanfiction #marble hornets #tim wright #tim mh #mh tim #ticci toby #toby rogers #doby doggers #third base #third base creepypasta #writing #lore

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goofatron · 3 years

Text

OC Personality Sheet

Tagged by: @skullharvester and @coraptedata Tagging: Anyone really lol

Trelane Powers

Alias: Trey, Lanny, Powergirl,

Gender: Female

Race: Black-White Biracial

Nationality: American

Age: 19 (in AU); 46 (in 2021)

DOB: May 12th 1975

Species: Human

Zodiac: Taurus; Rabbit (Chinese)

Abilities/Talents: Speaks like a million languages, can jerry rig even the most hopeless machines into working again, in tune with nature (speaks for the trees and all that), excellent marksmanship with her rifle (gift from her late father)

Alignment: lawful / neutral / chaotic / good / neutral / evil / true

Religion: A free spirit (doesn't actually follow any religious code)

Sins: envy / greed / gluttony / lust / pride / sloth / wrath

Virtues: charity / chastity / diligence / humility/ justice / kindness / patience

Languages: English, Spanish (mainly Mexican variant), French, Japanese, German, Chinese Mandarin, Italian, and Korean.

Family: Robert (Bob, Bobby) Powers (father; deceased); Olivia Jones (mother; left at birth); Louie and Joyce Mitchell (foster family after father was murdered)

Friends: Erick Rothstein; Donovan Ross

Sexual Orientation: heterosexual / bisexual / pansexual / homosexual / demisexual / asexual / unsure / other

Relationship Status: single / dating / married / widowed / open relationship / divorced / not ready for dating / it’s complicated

Libido: sex god / very high / high / average / low / very low / non-existent

Build: twig / bony / slender / average / athletic / curvy / chubby / obese / stocky

Hair: white / blonde / brunette / red / black / other

Eyes: brown / blue-gray / green / black / other (cursed with heterochromia)

Skin: pale / fair (but tanned) / olive / light brown / brown / very brown / other

Height: 5'5" / ~167cm

Weight: 120lbs. / ~54kg

Scars: One giant scar going down her back from left shoulder blade to right hip - a single swipe from a large grizzly bear she and her dad ran into on their property in Alaska. She still has the paw from the bear who nearly killed her and loves to brag about it.

Facial Features: Oval face, freckles all over, soft-Nubian nose, average-thick brows, big lips = big smiles :)

Tattoos: none (though Erick keeps pestering her about it)

Dogs or Cats? Dogs for all eternity. She has 2: a golden retriever named, Emily; a german shepard named, Vengeance. They’re the same age but she rescued them at different times.

Birds or Nugs? birds cus she doesnt know wtf a nug even is???

Snakes or Spiders? snakes though she doesnt mind spiders as long as they stay in their spaces.

Coffee or Tea? bean water

Ice Cream or Cake? ice cream. she likes to bite through it to freak out her friends.

Fruits or Vegetables? vegetables, as she grew up learning how to farm. Fruits can be too sugary for her if they’re from a Super Market.

Sandwich or Soup? Soups, as they’re hearty and good for the soul <3

Magic or Melee? Why is ranged not a choice?? >:I

Sword or Bow? oh there it is! Bow if she had to choose, but if it ever were an option: Gun. Always Gun. Gunbow perhaps?

Summer or Winter? Evolved with the capabilities to survive Alaskan winters in shorts and a tank top in a cabin with no internal heating system.

Spring or Autumn? Spring brings out new life and that means new meat to hunt!

The Past or The Future? Preferably the future. She doesn't like to look back because for her, it’s more bad memories than good.

Erick Rothstein

Alias: just Erick. don't call him ‘Rick’.

Gender: Male

Race: White

Nationality: German-American immigrant

Age: 18 in AU; 45 in 2021

DOB: September 11th 1975

Species: Human

Zodiac: Virgo; Rabbit (Chinese)

Abilities/Talents: Beautiful singing voice; voice actor; bendable; double-jointed

Alignment: lawful / neutral / chaotic / good / neutral / evil / true

Religion: Agnostic if anything

Sins: envy / greed / gluttony / lust / pride / sloth / wrath

Virtues: charity / chastity / diligence / humility/ justice / kindness / patience

Languages: English, German, Spanish (as far as high school Spanish goes)

Family: Conrad Rothstein (Father; Incarcerated); Fernanda Brandt (Mother; Incarcerated); Alvaro/Louie Rothstein Mitchell(Paternal Uncle; Disowned runaway); Joyce Mitchell (Aunt by marriage); Kimberly Mitchell (Cousin); Chad Mitchell (Cousin)

Friends: Trelane Powers; Donovan Ross

Sexual Orientation: heterosexual / bisexual / pansexual / homosexual / demisexual / asexual / unsure / other

Relationship Status: single / dating / married / widowed / open relationship / divorced / not ready for dating / it’s complicated

Libido: sex god / very high / high / average / low / very low / non-existent

Build: twig / bony / slender / average / athletic / curvy / chubby / obese / stocky

Hair: white / blonde / brunette / red / black / other (ginger)

Eyes: brown / blue-gray / green / black / other

Skin: pale / fair / olive / light brown / brown / very brown / other

Height: 5'10" / ~155cm

Weight: 155lbs. / ~70kg

Scars: Do mental scars count? He does have scars on his back and legs all from a leather strap used by his parents. A few scars where his left kidney used to be when he got stabbed in the 90s after exiting a gay bar.

Facial Features: Oval and firm face, still got baby fat in some areas even in his 30s (lol), traditional Germanic pointed nose™

Tattoos: none (but he does want to get matching ones w/ Trey)

Dogs or Cats? Cats 100% as he is deathly afraid of dogs as they were used to torment him as a child. He does make an exception for both of Trey’s dogs, Emily and Vengeance however.

Birds or Nugs? tf is a nug?? Birds, he guesses.

Snakes or Spiders? Neither (same reason as dogs)

Coffee or Tea? coffee 80% of the time. He’ll save tea for when he’s sick and on really chilly nights.

Ice Cream or Cake? Cake. His teeth are far too sensitive for ice cream unless it’s in the form of ice cream bars.

Fruits or Vegetables? he’ll consume fruit for days. hates green vegetables, only likes the colorful ones.

Sandwich or Soup? both. likes small sandwiches to dip into hot soup. gooood shit.

Magic or Melee? if he can use magic to fashion himself a guitar out of existance, he’s sure to win the battle through sonnets.

Sword or Bow? Why the violence? :c Why cant we all sing together? (he’s a bard at heart if it wasn't clear enough)

Summer or Winter? Summer is nice and warm; winter is numb and cold :c

Spring or Autumn? Spring! Though he does love the color changes that Autumn brings. Not so much the beginning of chilled air though.

The Past or The Future? Past? what past? there is not passst hahaha only the future with friends and new family :’)

Donovan Ross

Alias: Donny, Don, D-man, Ross (school faculty)

Gender: Male

Race: Black

Nationality: American

Age: 21 in AU; 47 in 2021

DOB: August 1st 1973

Species: Human

Zodiac: Leo; Ox (Chinese)

Abilities/Talents:

Alignment: lawful / neutral / chaotic / good / neutral / evil / true

Religion: Christianity

Sins: envy / greed / gluttony / lust / pride / sloth / wrath

Virtues: charity / chastity / diligence / humility/ justice / kindness / patience

Languages: English

Family: James Ross (Father); Roberta Wilson (Mother); Trixie Ross (Sister)

Friends: Trelane Powers; Donovan Ross; Elaina Heckathorne (Girlfriend)

Sexual Orientation: heterosexual / bisexual / pansexual / homosexual / demisexual / asexual / unsure / other

Relationship Status: single / dating / married / widowed / open relationship / divorced / not ready for dating / it’s complicated

Libido: sex god / very high / high / average / low / very low / non-existent

Build: twig / bony / slender / average / athletic / curvy / chubby / obese / stocky

Hair: white / blonde / brunette / red / black / other

Eyes: brown / blue-gray / green / black / other

Skin: pale / fair (but tanned) / olive / light brown / brown / very brown / other

Height: 6'2" / ~188cm

Weight: 164lbs. / ~74kg

Scars:

Facial Features: baby fat all through childhood, then chiseled features with a square jaw in adult hood. Wide and slightly bulbous nose.

Tattoos: None

Dogs or Cats? Dogs, but only small or medium sized.

Birds or Nugs? uh, birds? the heck are nugs?

Snakes or Spiders? Neither!

Coffee or Tea? gotta be decafe, but either works

Ice Cream or Cake? why isnt pie an option? :c

Fruits or Vegetables? Veggies. He has to be careful w/ fruits cus he’s allergic to most citrus fruits and bananas.

Sandwich or Soup? A nice, big, fat sandwich to fill ‘er up B)

Magic or Melee? Magic. As big and athletic he seems, he’s more into using his brains than brawn.

Sword or Bow? Short sword if nothing else, maybe even a dagger as he can just pull it out quickly for some fast jabbing action.

Summer or Winter? despite being born in the dead of summer, he’s a wintery boy

Spring or Autumn? Autumn for the same reason as a lot of people. Loves the changes in both color and the air.

The Past or The Future? He always looks forward to a brighter future, but is fond of looking back on his past. He’s made some really good memories with the people he’s met. :)

#oc meme #trelane powers #erick rothstein #donovan ross #my ocs

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silverlysilence · 4 years

Text

The Chicken or the Fish Option?

Yeah, I lied, there is one more thing I gotta do before chasing the elusive sleep. I once more tried my hand at a one-shot. Hope you all enjoy my first FanFic post here.

Hiccup sat staring at the invitation in his hands, nursing the first of what was to be many beers that night. The bar around him was filled with noise, but not to the point it was overbearing. If anything, the place should have been even noisier seeing how it was packed. There were still a few empty tables scatter about but they were filling up fast. So were the other chairs at his high-top table.

“Whattya got there, H?” Tuffnut yanked the thick cardstock from his loose grip while he plopped himself in the chair directly next to the auburn-haired man. “Hey, this is Astrid’s wedding invitation. Weren’t we supposed to mail this to her, like yesterday? Cause, I’m pretty sure she called threatening me to get it to her or Bjorn Boar would end up in the incinerator.”

“Of course it isn’t Astrid’s invite, Hiccup wouldn’t do that to her! Even after their breakup, they are the best of friends,” Fishlegs huffed, taking the seat directly across from Hiccup.

“Uh, Fishface, that is exactly what it is, I should know, I have mine right here,” Snotlout waved a second identical invite about as he took the final chair next to his cousin.

“What? Why haven’t you sent it yet?!” the hefty blond demanded, scandalized the stocky brunet hadn’t followed Astrid’s directions to a T. Blue eyes flickered towards Hiccup as the man took a long drink from his beer. “Not that there’s anything wrong with it, I mean, there’s probably a perfectly valid reason that someone would be late sending an RSVP to your friend’s wedding. I… just can’t think of one.”

“Isn’t it obvious?” Tuffnut asked, waving Hiccup’s invite around, “Astrid and Hiccup were a couple for such a long time and even though they broke up on good terms with our man here assuring Astrid that he’s happy she’s marrying Eret, he can’t go to the wedding. At least not alone. If he doesn’t show up with a date, it’ll look as if he was still pining over her and hasn’t moved on, which is sad. And pathetic.”

Both Snotlout and Fishlegs stared the blonde as he finished his unusual insightful observation.

“Thank you Tuffnut for telling the whole world what a pathetic loser I am,” Hiccup slammed the rest of his beer back.

“No problem H,” Tuffnut completely missed the sarcasm.

“Well, I mean, you cannot not go,” Fishlegs bit his lips, thinking out loud. “It’s not like you’re going to be the only one from our group to go without a date.”

“Oh, so now you’re dumping my sister? Have you told her that yet? If not, I’ll tell her for you,” Tuffnut grinned evilly, rubbing his hands together.

“No! I am most definitely taking Ruffnut to Astrid’s wedding,” the hefty blonde quickly cutoff whatever scheme was forming in the Thorston’s head. “I meant you and Snotlout didn’t have dates either.”

“Speak for yourself Fishface,” Snotlout huffed, spinning his invite around to show that he was indeed marked down as bringing a guest and they were having the chicken dinner.

“And I’m pretty sure I filled mine out with a plus one, too,” Tuffnutt sagely nodded his head.

“Who would go out with you two?” Fighlegs blurted out.

“I’ll have you know; I’ve been dating Heather for three months now, thank you very much.”

“And I, set myself up with a blind-date,” Tuffnut triumphantly exclaimed, pounding a fist into his chest.

“Tuff, I don’t think that’s how blind-dates work,” the hefty blond informed the Thorston.

“How would you know? Have you ever been on a blind date before?”

“I’m not sure how to answer that,” Fishlegs responded before another thoughtful look crossed his face. “But that’s not a bad idea, we could set you up on a blind-date for Astrid’s wedding, Hiccup. That way you won’t have to go alone.”

“I don’t know,” Hiccup shook his head. “I—”

“I know, I can set him up with my blind date and we can all go together. It’ll be just like when Ruffnut and Fighlegs go out on date night and I tag along. Though, H, my man, if things start going the hot and heavy route—”

“Tuffnut, no. Really, I appreciate the offer, but no,” Hiccup cut the Thorston off before he could get any further much to the appreciation of the other two occupants at the table.

“What about, Viggo? You two had some chemistry and you did come out as bi before you started dating Astrid in high school,” Fishlegs offered.

“Isn’t that the guy that tried to kill Astrid because she was monopolizing all of Hiccup’s free time during college?” Snotlout asked, after waving down a waitress and ordering a round of beers for the table.

“No, the police ruled that as an accident,” the hefty blonde denied. “He didn’t realize the gas can in the back of her truck was leaking, and it wasn’t like she was in the truck anyways.”

“Fishlegs, no,” Hiccup growled out, “I am not going out with Viggo…or his brother.”

The blonde closed his mouth.

“Geeze, Fishface, you got the fishbone to growl, what were you thinking?” Snotlout snorted.

“I don’t see you helping. Oh, wait, that’s right, you don’t have any friends that you could set Hiccup up with,” Fishlegs looked down his nose at the short burnet.

“I have plenty of friends you know nothing about.”

“Yeah, really, are they all imaginary?”

“Ha—fucking—ha. No, I just don’t subject my friends to losers like you.”

“Real mature, Snothat. Why don’t you put your money where your mouth is?”

“Is that a bet?”

“Yeah, I bet you a hundred dollars that you couldn’t set Hiccup up with a blind-date with any of your so-called friends,” Fishlegs smirked viciously.

“You’re on, Fishface,” Snotlout grinned, leaning back in his chair as if he didn’t have a care in the world which had Fishleg’s smirk fading and a furrow crossing his face.

“Guys, I really don’t think—” Hiccup was once more cut off by the arrival of a server carrying not only their beers but a tray full of appetizers.

“Hey Snotlout, Fawn told me you were here,” the white-haired man cheerfully greeted the brunet as he rested the majority of the tray’s weight against the table, allowing him to playfully punch the burly man in the arm. “I thought you said you’re busy tonight and couldn’t hangout? Leaving me all alone to wallow in my loneliness, forced to pick up an extra shift when Periwinkle called in sick and what do I find when I get here? You! Here. Not busy at all. At all. Asshole.”

“Jackson, dude, I am busy. Can’t you see, I’m being forced to hang out with these losers I knew since high school,” Snotlout laughed, actually laughed, as gestured to the trio looking between the duo with undisguised disbelief. “You know I’d rather hand out with you and Fawn any day of the week, but it’s Guys’ Night.”

“Guys’ Night, huh?” blue eyes roamed the table, lingering just a little longer on Hiccup than the rest. “Well, I guess I can let it slide this time, but next time, I am so kicking your ass in Mario Kart and don’t think I’ll go easy on you just because Heather tags along again. I told you, that was a onetime deal.”

“Hm, yeah, whatever you say, you Jack Frost wanna-be,” Snotlout grinned, taking the beer Jackson passed him but eying the food he dropped on the table. “But, I gotta ask, what’s with the food? I didn’t order it.”

“Complements of management,” the white-haired man flashed a perfectly innocent smile. “Now you gentlemen have a good night now, and if you need anything, don’t hesitate to ask. See ya later, asshole.”

“By Frosty,” Snotlout called out to the retreating back, before turning back to smirk proudly at Fishlegs. “Hear that, Fishface, if we need anything, we shouldn’t hesitate to ask my friend.”

“But—you—him—bet?” the blond kept tripping over his words in sheer disbelief at the happenings that just transpired right before his eyes.

A hand slammed an empty bottle of beer on the table, causing the rest of the table to jump and all eyes to turn towards him.

“He wins,” Hiccup stated, gesturing the neck of the beer bottle towards Snotlout. “What’s his name and would he like the chicken or fish option?”

“Jackson Overland, and he is definitely a fish person. Absolutely loves Haddock.”

I could not resist adding the last line.

#Fanfic #SilverlySilence's Fanfics #One-shot #Jackson Overland #Jack Frost #Hiccup Haddock #HiJack

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bodyswapmischief · 5 years

Text

Authentic Costumes: Gladiators

-Yes! The costumes came!

Andrew walked back into the living room, with a simple brown postal box. Jack stopped what he was doing, and looked at his friend.

-Good. They were cutting it pretty late. I mean the party is in 2 hours.

-Well, no need to complain anymore. Hurry let's bust them out and start getting ready. The site said the transformation process will take about an hour.

The two friends worked together to open the box. Inside were two authentic gladiators costumes and two jars of glowing purple liquid. In addition, there was a file describing the costumes in more detail.

- "Octavius and Maximus" Wow those are some bad-ass names. Apparently, they were the Ancient Roman's version of a tag team. It says that they were undefeated, loved by the roman people, and were able to retire, with a comfortable amount of winnings from their triumphs. If I'm reading this correct these potions will transform us into Octavius and Maximus at the height of their careers.

-It, also, says that Maximus was the stronger of the two. So ... I'll be taking this vial.

-Aww come on ...

- No dude. Look at the size of this armor both these guys must have been so ripped. It's not going to matter that I'm going to be slightly stronger than you. Besides, I'm the one that paid for them.

-Fine, fine, fine. Well here goes nothing. Cheers.

-Cheers

Both guys remove the tops on their jars and drink the purple liquid. Jack becoming Maximus. And, Andrew becoming Octavius. An intense sensation starts filling thier bodies, as with each heart beat the glowing liquid spreads through every vein in their body.

-Dude, I don't feel so ... good. I'm getting ... pretty dizzy ... and tired. My heart is beating ... too fast.

-Just calm down. It affecting me too. The instructions says it affects everyone differently. Just try to sleep it off. But, I feel great. Damn, I feel pumped. I feel ... I feel ... I feel ...

And, like that Andrew fell unconscious. Meanwhile, Jack slowly started drifting off. The last thing his drowsy eyes saw was hair filling up his chest. And, was his stomach bulging out?

Dreams of being in the arena filled their mind, until Jack started coming into consciousness. His body felt heavy and swore. He was feeling the effects of the hard life style of the gladiator's life. Still unable to shake the sleepiness out of his eyes. He rubbed his face, with his hand. His arms felt heavy and strong. And, his hands were rough against his breaded face.

Slowly he moved to lay on his side. As he did, he felt a strange pressure on his stomach move with him. Completing the turn to his side, he felt his stomach extend far beyond his body. At this point, Jack quickly sat up and finally forced himself awake. He stared at his naked body, as his clothes were ripped around him. The sight of his belly and and moobs blocked anything underneath his gut.

He looked to the body next to him. Andrew, also, got fat and hairy. But, not as fat as Jack, now was. It also seemed like Andrew's new body had a height advantage, which helped him look slimmer.

Jack got off the floor and ran to the nearest mirror, his body jiggling with every step. All though he took up more space, the world around him seemed a bit bigger. He saw his reflection and screamed. His fears were confirmed. He was fat, short, and looked way older. The loud rough deep gladiatorial scream woke up Andrew, and he shot straight up.

-What ... what! What going on! Wait Jack ... what going ... is that you? What up with my body?

Andrew was now exploring his stocky body.

-What the fuck dude! You got the wrong package. This has to be some kind of joke costume. Why am I so fat and short compared to you. I thought I was supposed to be the better one.

-No it can't be wrong, I made sure. These are supposed to be authentic gladiator costumes. I'll call up. Something had to go wrong.

-You better. We can't go to the frat party like this. The costumes are the only thing that fit us, now. I'd be fine showing off my body if we were fit. But, I don't want to walk around shirtless with this gut. Not to mention, the fact that we look way to old now to be at a college party.

Andrew called the costume company. He explained what happened and the mumbled voice started answering his questions.

- So, what did they say?

- Okay. Don't be mad.

-Why...?

-Well there is nothing wrong with the costume. This is how authentic gladiator look like. Apparently they were all fat vegetarians. In fact, it seems like your current body type made for the best gladiator. It's seem to be a common misconception that they are buff, because of Hollywood. And, if we wanted to be hot gladiators we should have ordered the Hollywood gladiators package.

-Damn this fucking sucks. Shit! Well we can't go to the party now. I guess I'll post mates us some bigger clothes. How old would you say I look. 45? I guess there gotta be something a middle aged man can do on Halloween. Maybe a bar or something. I mean we still gotta make the most of tonight. I guess it will be kinda fun. I mean we won't be this age for another 25 years and tonight we will be able to legally drink. It's kinda like seeing our future selves, but hopefully I won't get this fat.

Jack started laughing. Andrew, who remained quiet, started up again.

-Well ... um .... there is actually more. Remember don't get mad. I'm sure we'll be able to laugh about this later.

-What!? What are you talking about.

-Well ... you see ... this authentic package is mainly bought by people you work in areas were this body is best suited for. Like gladiator impersonator, construction worker, or any other person who wants to be a big beefy guy.

-Yes ... and ...what?

-Well ... these type of people need the costumes for more more than one night. So, they sell the transformation liquid in a bundle.

-What? So we are stuck like this for a work week? Are you fucking serious. We have class tomorrow. I have test. I can't take it looking like a completely different person.

-No not a week. We were supposed to take a drop. That would have lasted a 24 hours. But, the jar has enough drops to last a year. So, we are stuck like this, at least until, next Halloween.

-What the fuck! What are we going to do? We can't stay like this?

-I know ... I know. But customer service is going to handle it. This isn't the first time this has happened. They got a connection with witness protection. So, for a year we are gonna have new lives. But, ... um ... there also might be a chance that we are stuck like this.

-What!?

-Like, I said it affects everyone differently. We drank a whole jar. Costumer service said most people, in cases like ours, revert back to normal. But, some also change permanently. We won't find out until next Halloween.

Jack felt tears welling up in his eyes. HIs body was shaking with rage. He was mad at Andrew for not researching enough. He was mad at himself for wanting to do this in the first place. He hated his new body. Even being in Andrew's new body would have been better. These strong emotions were rising to the surface.

Jack Slammed into Andrew. Their skin pressed against each other. Suddenly muscle memory took over, as the bodies wrestled against each other. It was like a dance these two bodies practiced for a life time. It just felt natural. They way their skin touched and the power of their bodies filled both men with passionate aggression. Finally, Jack was able to pin down Andrew. He looked into Andrew's eyes and smiled lovingly.

-I win again

Jack leans down and begins kissing Andrew. They moan as their bodies and tongues rub against each other. Suddenly they both snapped out of it.

Jack quickly gets off of Andrew

-What the fuck was that?

- I don't know it was like our bodies went on auto pilot. This must been something these bodies have always done. You know it wasn't strange for gladiators to have sex with each other.

-oh shut up!

They both just sat in silence. There bodies sore and heavy. Both men now looked at each other in a different light. In their new bodies they found each other extremely attractive. They minds were screaming no, but the urges in their body were getting stronger. They both got up and faced each other. Their bellies were pressed against each other. And before they could continue their love making there was a knock on the door, as two police officers came in. They came to escort the two men to their new lives. Their futures where unknown, but the two men were happy they had each other.

#male body swap mischief #body swap mishief #weight gain #body swap

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shewrites02 · 4 years

Text

The Trinity |Golden State Warriors| Chapter One

Summary: Golden state rookie Quincy Williams feels he has found the love of his life, but how can he balance basketball, a new relationship, and growing fame.

word count: 2.8k

"QUINCY! QUINCY!" Reporters shouted in the little room containing only his 5th post-game interview. He fiddled with the Rolex Stephen bought him, after He won their very first game for them. Now he began to feel as if he didn't deserve it. The screaming of reporters grew louder and Quincy new it was time to face the beast he created. He looked up and choose a reporter in the front row to answer to first. The room fell silent and all eyes now laid on the nervous ESPN reporter. He spoke timidly but his voice fell on Quincy like a thousand pounds. "You scored 23 points in the first quarter, an all time high for you so far this season. How much of an accomplishment was this for you in your rookie season?" Quincy's eyes squinted at the reporter causing the reporters hands to shake more vigorously. It was obvious that Quincy's 6'6, stocky, shooting guard stature was intimidating. And His hard expression helped none, at easing this reporters nerves. "It doesn't mean anything! We still lost, and a personal win doesn't mean a thing if your team lost. Ask me this when we win." Quincy hissed. He refrained himself from cussing knowing that wasn't a good headline for a rookie player. He didn't want to be labeled as another player with a "bad attitude." He knew that could ruin careers, and he didn't want to end his career before it even really began. "Just eight questions." Quincy mumbled to himself. Reminding him of the NBA regulations that permitted the players to only have to answer 8 questions in any interview. "QUINCY! QUINCY!" The reporters started to bark again. He picked another reporter. This time a women, who sat in the back with her hair tied. "Quincy do you feel your team mates gave this win away? Or do you think you needed more help out there? " "I feel as if mistakes were made among me and my team. Dumb turnovers and lazy defense on my part. Next question." He quickly brushed the insult he felt off his shoulder. He hated the fact they acted like Quincy was the only player out there, as if he didn't have the legendary Klay Thompson, and Stephen curry playing along side of him. It seemed to him these reporters were always trying to twist his words into him saying something bad about his team. As if he wasn't truly blessed to play with these guys. As the interview continued Quincy continued to get the usual post-game questions. Like 'why that shot? Or what was going through your head when..?' The same old things. Well that was until... "Quincy, you're known as showtime do you think you still live up to that expectation, or do you feel stripped of your title? " Quincy had never felt so offended. Them asking him that question was like them asking if he felt all those long practices on the court were for nothing, or if getting up at 5 o'clock to train alone was a waste of time. They were asking if HE had given up on his career this early in the season. Quincy clenched his fist and sat up in his seat. Fuck his image! He was finna tell every reporter how he felt! He opened his mouth to finally speak his mind like he's wanted to this entire interview. but then came Stephen, shirtless in his game day shorts, storming up the stairs of the stage like platform, then snatched the mic from Quincy. "Quincy Williams is still showtime, will always be showtime, and is the best rookie out right now! And anyone who questions that, questions me and the golden state warriors!" He defended. He then snatched Quincy up and dragged him to the locker room. The vets in the locker room laughed. Not at Quincy, but at the memory of their rookie seasons. They've all gone through being eaten alive by the press, and this moment just reminded them of that. "Are you stupid?" Stephen yelled at him jokingly before draping his towel across his shoulders. Quincy remained silent. He was still pissed and talking to his teammates, that took nothing but the games seriously, wasn't on the top of his to-do list. He just crossed his arms and leaned against his locker. "C'mon man. This shit happens to every great player, especially rookies. You gotta prove yourself. Despite the score." Klay informed him then headed to go take a shower himself. Quincy listened to his advice, but just didn't want to acknowledge it. Not now. His stubbornness wouldn't let him let this go. He snatched the basketball he kept in his locker and headed to the court. "Bruh, where you going?" Andre called after him. But nothing. Quincy walked on the court and took in the empty stadium. This was like his home to him, but he felt like his city was beginning to turn against him. He walked over to the 3-point line. Pulled up and shot the ball. Swish. "He dribbles down the court! The shot clock winding down, and for the game win..." He shot the ball again after acting out his play by play commentary, and once agin, swish. "Quincy Williams with the game winning shot!" He fetched his ball that was now down the court and headed to the center of the Golden state emblem. He sat down the ball in his lap then laid back staring up at the ceiling. "You need to go home rookie! Fuck the media!" Green yelled out to him as he exited the stadium. Considering the number of people left in the stadium was dwindling down, he agreed with Green's suggestion. He then entered the locker room and changed into his grey slacks with a red polo sweater, and exited the locker room with Steph. Some paparazzi still lingered, but wasn't too obnoxious that steph, and Quincy couldn't continue their conversation about the game. "That 3 you made in the corner toward the end of the second quarter was dope! I can't do that with all the luck in the world." Quincy confessed. Steph laughed. "Practice rookie! It took me from freshman year in high school til sophomore year in college to master that." Steph informed him. Steph had really taken Quincy under his wing, and watched out for him. He knew what fame could do to boy who never had anything. It could make him become arrogant, cocky, and NO golden state rookie was going to be that. They continued their conversation, and all Quincy could do was mess with his rolex. He was disregarding almost everything around at this point, even what steph was saying. All he could think was that he didn't deserve this anymore. Eventually they reached the player exit where Reily, and Ayesha where waiting. "Daddy!" Reily yelled. Her little legs moved swiftly as she went to embrace her dad in a hug. He swooped her up then swung her onto his hip. Ayesha then came and gently kissed steph, and whispered what Quincy assumed was good game. "Hi que!" Reily yelled, flailing her arms in a waving motion toward Quincy. She had trouble pronouncing his whole name, so he let her call him by his nickname. "Hey Reily, hi Ayesha.... I'll catch you later steph." Quincy went to exited from the family scene when steph called after him. "I bought that for a reason Quincy... believe in yourself." Quincy smiled and gave Steph a slight nod. He went out to the the car lot. The brisk Oakland air hit his face and immediately he regretted wearing a sweater in the hot Oakland weather. Moving quicker to get out the heat he found himself in front of his 2015 Benz that he bought himself the day he signed his contract. When he got in ESPN radio blasted throughout his car. "I don't know what got into Quincy Williams tonight Mike. He just.. wasn't himself." The radio host commented. Immediately Quincy shut off the radio. He looked down at the Rolex on his wrist then chunked it into the backseat. He didn't want to think about it let alone see it. As he cruised around the city he passed a diner his mom used to take him to when he was sad. Dirty Diana's. When he was in college he would drive all the way from UCLA to Oakland just to feel at home after a bad game. He parked and just peered into the tiny diner. Except from a little boy with his grandfather, and what looked to be a construction worker, the diner was empty. He took one deep breath before turning off the car and proceeded in. The little boy gasped as he noticed the first round draft pick in front of him. He repeatedly nudged his grandfather and pointed. Quincy noticed, and waved, but decided not to say anything. He loved his fans, but he wasn't in the mood right now. Quincy sat in a booth toward the back, and after a few seconds he was greeted by a waitress. When he looked into her eyes he was mesmerized at how beautiful simple brown eyes could be. It felt like just the two of them in that diner. Her smile was so soft and bright, it almost made Quincy forget how horrible he played tonight. Not only that but, her straight black hair reached down her back and shined against her brown skin. It reminded him of how his mother's hair was when he was younger. Her name tag read rosemary. "Sir?" She asked interrupting all these thoughts Quincy had going through his head. "My bad." He mumbled timidly. Which was strange for Quincy. He had always been so confident, so out-going, and definitely never one to shy away from a beautiful girl. "Can I have a slice of pie please?" "What kind?" "Which ever is your favorite." He replied softly. His flirting was almost so settle, she didn't notice. It he wasn't obnoxious like she was used to. So she didn't really know how to react to him, so she smiled and went to go his pie. "Rose, do you know who that is?" The cook, Sam, asked dragging her into the kitchen. She looked down at his hand on her arm, and his bug-eyed expression, and gotten a little afraid. She didn't know who he was, but apparently he was some big deal. "That's Quincy Williams! First round draft pick, plays for golden state! The boys the best rookie, since Jordan!" He whispered. He looked around as if he were afraid that Quincy was just gonna walk up behind them. Rosemary looked at him with a blank expression, he said a lot of words that she didn't understand. Like rookie, and first round draft pick. "Great?" She said in more of a question than an actual statement. She freed her arm from his hold, and went to get Quincy's pie. "Here you go." She smiled softly as she put the pie down in front of him. "Apple pie with ice cream." He announced before taking a big bite. "My favorite." She reminded. Quincy dropped his head and smirked a little bit. He thought she had kinda blown what he said earlier off, and paid it no mind. But he found it cute that she remembered. Rosemary went to continue her shift, but Quincy grabbed her hand and drew her back. It wasn't like she had a dinner of people to attend to. "Here." Quincy said handing Rosemary a spoon. She looked at him then around the dinner, as if she had a big responsibility to attend to. "C'mon... it's your favorite." She untied her apron then sat in the booth across from Quincy. "I'm taking a break sam!" She shouted over to the cook that had previously held her hostage in the kitchen. He glanced up at her with his eyebrow raised. She ignored him and took the spoon from Quincy. At first they sat in this comfortable silence. Quincy just admired her beauty as she sat in front of him oblivious to all the thoughts he had going through his head. He was astonished of the fact she hasn't said one thing about his career, or asked 'what is like being a pro-athlete?' Or any other question females, or people in general usually asked when first meeting him. "You have no idea who I am uh?" She had shoved another bite of pie in her mouth so all she could give Quincy was a puzzled look. She wondered why he cared so much whether or not she knew about his career. Then she came to the realization of how hard it must be for him to find a girl who's not a gold digger or something. "Well sam said something about you being some rookie baseball player or something.... Quinton Williams? And Something about you and Jordan. I don't know. " she confessed. To be honest she really hadn't paid that much attention to what sam was saying. She just assumed he didn't know what he was talking about. "Quincy." He stated laughing. She was the first person in a while who hadn't known him. Rosemary gave him another puzzled look. "What?" "Quincy... My name is Quincy. I'm a basketball player, I play for..." Quincy just stop talking. It was obvious that it didn't matter to Rosemary where he played, and if she didn't care it wasn't worth him talking about. "Your name, rosemary... I haven't heard that name in a while." She ran her fingers across her name tag, with a small smile on her face. It made Quincy curious to know what about her name was so special to her. "Common tell me." He cooed to her. She blushed a little bit. There was something about Quincy that reminded her of a high school crush. There was just something so... fun, and genuine about him. "I'm named after my grandmother. She was my best friend growing up.... I used to get picked on because of my name in elementary school. People would tell me to watch out before someone ate me or something. It's stupid now." Quincy couldn't refrain from laughing. Knowing him, he would've been one of those kids. She gasped hitting his chest. She wasn't mad he laughed, but she definitely didn't expect that! "I'm sorry. I'm sorry." He pleaded. "But you have to admit... it's pretty funny." "It most certainly was not funny! I would cry because of that!" But rosemary, herself laughed. This was the first time she had laughed about the situation. She usually thought about as such a tragic thing, but now... it seemed less of a big deal to her. It was finally funny. "Before I started playing basketball I tried to play football, and I- I sucked. I was really bad." Quincy confessed as rosemary was dying laughing. "I tried to play almost every position. Quarterback, but I couldn't throw to save my life. I would constantly hit my line man with the ball in the back of the head. And I couldn't catch so the ball would fall right through my hands. I got called butter fingers til my freshman year " Rosemary laughed harder. She liked the fact Quincy would embarrass himself to make her feel better, and Quincy didn't mind doing so if it meant he got to see her smile again. "Well i guess it doesn't matter now Mr. Superstar." He looked down, after his performance tonight he was feeling less than a superstar. Rosemary sensed the tension that now lingered between them. "I'm didn't mean to say..." "No, it's not you. I just... bad game." He ended the conversation. He loved that he didn't have to talk about basketball with rosemary. He definitely didn't the want to start now. "So rosey...." Quincy went on to interrogate her on her whole back ground, as did she. Like where they were from, their family. Things like that. Quincy even told her about being cut from his his school basketball team his sophomore year, because of selling drugs trying to be a thug, and he had never told anyone that. Not even his mother. They had talked and laughed for hours. Shared secrets with each other. They even talked about their future goals. This was the first time in a long time Quincy had felt like he meet someone genuine. Someone who finally didn't care, or barley even knew about his career. I mean she didn't know much about basketball, but he could change that! "Rose, it's time to get back to work!" Sam yelled at her. She took a deep breath, and rolled her eyes. Only three more people had walked in, it wasn't like they really needed her. But Rosemary knew she couldn't argue after a 3 hour break. "I gotta go. But I'll see you later."

A/n: I really hoped y'all enjoyed this. I already have 5 other parts written so if you would like me continue lemme knowwww. Also if you’d like to be added to the tag list lemme know.

Tag list: @loganwrites20 @terrablaze514 @shaekingshitup @highasfantasy

#golden state warriors #steph curry #klay thompson #basketball #fan fic

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7r0773r · 4 years

Text

Kitchen Confidential: Adventures in the Culinary Underbelly by Anthony Bourdain

There are also the terms of the trade, the jargon. Every trade has one. You already know some of our terms. ‘86′ is the best known. A dish is 86′ed when there’s no more. But you can use the term for someone who’s just been fired, or about to be fired, or for a bar customer who’s no longer welcome.

One doesn’t refer to a table of six or a table of eight; it’s a six-top or an eight-top. Two customers at a table are simply a deuce. ‘Weeded’ means ‘in the weeds’, ‘behind’, ‘in the shit’ or ‘dans la merde’ — a close cousin and possible outcome of being ‘slammed’, ‘buried’ or ‘hit’.

A waitron or waitron unit is an old-school ’70s term — gender non-specific — for floor personnel, who are also, at staff mealtime, referred to as the floor or the family or simply scum. And the meal itself becomes —particularly if it’s the usual trinity of chicken, pasta and salad — the shaft meal or the gruel.

Then there’s the equipment. Since the introduction of the Cuisinart, any food processor can be referred to as the Queez; the square and oblong metal sauce containers are six-pans or eight-pans depending on size, and the long, shallow ones hotels. The cook’s spoons with holes or slots are, unsurprisingly, female, and the unslotted ones, male.

Meez is mise-en-place: your set up, your station prep, your assembled ingredients and, to some extent, your state of mind. A la minute is made-to-order from start to finish. Order!, when yelled at a cook means ‘Make initial preparations’ such as searing, half-cooking, setting up for finishing. Fire! means ‘Finish cooking’ and get ready for ‘pick up’. Food ready to be picked up is put in the window or en la ventana — also called the pass, the slide or the shelf. The ‘slide’ refers to the slotted rack where dupes or tickets containing orders hang. So you could say, ‘What orders do I have hanging?’ and the reply could be, ‘You got two steak’ on order for the deuce on five, three soles are fired.’ A cook might ask for an all-day, a total number of a particular item both ordered and fired, with temperatures, meaning degrees of doneness. And on the fly means Rush!

A wipe means just what it sounds like: a last-minute plate-cleaning. Marijuana or mota or chronic is chopped parsley. Jiz is any reduced liquid, like demi-glace. When one adds whole butter to jiz, one is mounting, as in monter-au-beurre. Cook well-done translates to ‘Burn it!’ or ‘Murder it!’ or ‘Kill it!’ When one finds oneself waiting too long for a well-done steak to finish cooking, and it’s holding up the rest of the order, one can suggest throwing it in the jukebox, or giving it a little radar love in the micro or microwave.

The latex surgical gloves we rarely wear are anal research gloves, and one usually puts them on with some theatrical flourish, snapping and grinning menacingly, accompanied by suggestions to ‘Turn left and cough’ or ‘Grab your ankles, ’cause here comes papi chulo’. Those paper toques are coffee filters or clown hats, the checked pants we all wear, simply checks, our jackets and aprons, whites.

When the boss arrives, it’s ‘Elvis is in the building’ or ‘Pssst, desastre es aquí! And the usual nicknames apply to any and all: cooks, waiters, busboys and runners alike. Crude irony abounds. Cachundo, meaning ‘piece of ass’, might be applied to a particularly homely runner. Caliman, meaning ‘strong man’, is reserved for a weak cook, Rayo, or ‘flash’ to a slow-poke; Baboso, or ‘drooling idiot’ to, well, any drooling idiot. Any blond, well-scrubbed waiter can become ‘Opie’, ‘Richie Cunningham’ or ‘Doogie Howser Motherfucker’. Stocky busboy? Sounds like Burro to me. When referring to themselves collectively, my Mexican carnales like La Raza or La M (pronounced la emaayy), or La Mafia. Externs from culinary school, working for free as a ‘learning experience’ — which by itself translates to ‘lots of work and no money’ — are quickly tagged as FNG (Fucking New Guy), or Mel for mal carne (bad meat). Army, short for ‘army cook’, or the classic but elegant shoe, short for ‘shoemaker’, are the perennial insults for a lousy or ‘slophouse’ cook.

There are the usual terms of endearment, all perfectly acceptable in casual conversation between cooks: motherfucker (a compliment), cocksucker, sunofbeech, dipshit, scumbag, scum-sucker, dumb-fuck, rat-bastard, slackjaw, idiota, bruto, animale, asesino, mentiroso, whining little bed-wetter, turd, tortuga, strunze, salaud, salopard, chocha podrida, pendejo, silly cunt, seso de pollo, spazz, goofball, bucket-head, chucho, papi-chulo, sweet-cheeks, cupcakes, love-chunks, culero, shit-stain, cum-gargler, and so on. Asshole, strangely, is serious, to be used only when genuinely angry, and any expression involving a person’s wife/mother/girlfriend/boyfriend or family member directly (with the notable exception of motherfucker) is strictly off-limits. You may well have seen your grill man’s wife jacking off motorists for spare change on West Street — but you don’t talk about it. Ever.

A lot of cook talk is transplanted from the fringes of military jargon. One doesn’t carry, one humps. To be set up is to be squared away. He sucks it up and endures, digs in for the rush, takes a bad hit if one station is disproportionately busy — is simply fucked or fucked in the ass when things go badly . . . at which point, one’s buddy hopefully steps in and bails you out, covers your ass, saves your bacon.

Aspirins are called crunchies because we eat them like candy. Finger cots are condoms, pronounced with Spanish inflection. The nail on which completed orders are spindled is the spike. Any round metal container placed in a water bath is a bain (pronounced bayn) from bain-marie pronounced baahn maree), or simply a crock. The life we live is la puta vida, ‘this bitch of a life’, and one might well bemoan a sorry state of affairs with a cry of Porca miseria! (Pig of misery!) or Qué doloré!, ‘What pain!’

The slide, when full of dupes, is called the board, as in, ‘The board is full’. Food currently being loaded by a runner or waiter is My hand, as in ‘Where’s that fucking steak?’ Reply: ‘My hand, Chef!’ A hot nut is used when an expeditor wants something now: ‘I gotta hot nut for that sole on table six’. This is often for a VIP, or ‘Very important Pendejo’ or PPX, or soignee muthafucka —meaning friend of the owner, or the man himself. So make sure to move that food out rush or STAT.

Applying what we’ve learned to a battlefield situation, one might find oneself saying: ‘I gotta hot nut for that six-top on seven, Cabrón! It’s been fired for ten fucking minutos, pinche tortuga. What? You don’t got yer meez together, asesino? Get that shit in the window, you seso de pollo pinche grill man — throw it in the fucking jukebox if you have to. The rest of the order my hand! And don’t forget to give it a wipe and some mota and a squirt of that red jiz on the way out, I got shit hanging here and you’re falling in the fucking weeds!’

‘Working,’ might come the reply. ‘I getting buried here. How come the sauté no getting slammed like me? I take it in the ass all night! How ’bout table ocho? Fire? I can go on eight?’

Which might inspire this: ‘Eight my hand, baboso! Eight fucking gone! Eight fucking dying en la ventana waiting for Doogie Howser Motherfucker to pick up! You got dead dupes back there, idiota — what the fuck are you doing? You are in the shit! Hey, Rayo! Step in and bail the culero out!’ (pp. 224-28)

#anthony bourdain #book quotes

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