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festiveferret · 3 years

Text

Don’t Text Your Ex

(On AO3)

Tony peered at himself in the bathroom mirror. There were dark smudges under his eyes and the pounding of the bass through the club wall was rattling something in his chest that he hadn't known was loose. He stuck his tongue out; it was stained green.

"Shit. I feel like texting my ex," he sighed to no one.

"Don't text your ex," three voices echoed in perfect harmony from the stalls behind him.

"Is there a girl in here?" he asked.

A toilet flushed. "The line for the ladies was too long." One of the stalls opened, and a woman in black leather with hair redder than Pepper's clicked out on stilettos of death. She turned on a tap and started washing her hands. "Don't text your ex."

Tony sighed and leaned against the counter. "Yeah? Yeah, you're probably right. I mean, we broke up for a reason, right?"

The woman blinked at him. "I don't know, did you?"

"Yeah."

"Why'd you break up?" called one of the voices from the stalls.

Tony shrugged even though the guy couldn't see him. "It just wasn't the right time, I guess. He was looking for something serious, wanting to settle down and, you know, I'm only twenty-two, I wasn't ready for that. Gotta sow my oats and all that."

Another flush and a man appeared. "Do you, though?" His lip curled up.

"You're one to talk," the woman snapped back. "You're nothing but wild oats, Clint."

Clint, apparently, shrugged. "Just saying, you don't have to sow anything you don't want to. But don't text your ex."

"Why not?"

"When does texting an ex ever go right?" The last stall banged open and another guy with soft, curly brown hair walked out. He turned the tap on. "There's only two ways texting your ex can go: either he's happy to hear from you, and you get to go through all the heartbreak of your relationship all over again, or he's not, and you get to enjoy the lovely feeling of rejection. Don't text your ex."

Tony considered the three strangers standing around him like the ghosts of break-ups past, present, and future, arms crossed and glaring. "You guys are probably right."

"Why do you even want to text him?" Clint asked.

"Yeah," the woman added, "if it's just for a hookup, we can wingman you out there. Plenty of hotties looking for sheets to get tangled in."

"Or, if it's cause you want to have it out with him," the fluffy-haired guy went on, "it's not a good idea to do that while you're drunk. You'll say something you regret, I guarantee."

Tony dropped his eyes to the floor and scuffed his toe on the damp tile. Why did he want to text him so badly? It wasn't just for a hook up, and he didn't want to yell at him. "I miss him," he said in a soft voice.

The three stayed silent, staring at him with matching expressions of soft sympathy.

"I think breaking up was a mistake," Tony went on. "I still love him, like crazy, and I never really told him how I felt, how important he was to me. I think he thought I was just fleeting, untetherable or something, and as soon as I panicked and tried to run, he just bolted in the other direction. Cause he'd been waiting for it or something, expecting it."

"Yeah."

"Kinda wish I'd told him how I felt when I had the chance. But I'm sure he wouldn't take me back. I sure wouldn't give me a second chance to fuck everything up."

Clint reached out and patted him on the shoulder. "Don't worry. You'll find someone else. It hurts for a while, but you'll get over it, move on. Hot guy like you has plenty of options."

"Delete his number," the woman advised.

"I'll buy you a drink?" the other guy offered.

Tony smiled but shook his head. "Nah. Thanks, guys. I know you're right, I'm just - yeah. Thank you. I'm just going to sit for a minute, cool off." He hopped back up onto the counter and the three bathroom angels shared a look.

"You sure you're okay?" the woman asked.

"I'm okay. I'll get a cab home in a bit." He waved his phone in their direction. "Thanks. You guys saved me from doing something really stupid. Wouldn't be able to take that back. Best I just… move on."

The woman stepped forward and wrapped Tony in a quick but firm hug then turned to go. "Take care of yourself."

"Goodnight." They all filed out.

Tony fiddled with his phone for a moment, kicking his legs back and forth where they hung off the counter. The thing was, to move on you needed closure, and they'd never really had that. He opened his contacts and scrolled down. One text wouldn't hurt… just to - to tell him . That they didn't have closure. Yeah. Cause what if he was feeling the same way? That wouldn't be fair. He should be moving on too.

We never got closure.

Tony hit send before he could stop himself. He had just enough time for the gravity of what he'd done to twist his stomach into a knot when a familiar soft chime came from the last stall of the row, the only other closed door. He'd thought he was alone. He looked back down at his phone.

Delivered. The text said.

"Steve?" Tony croaked out, his voice pack-a-day rough all of a sudden.

The final stall down clicked then slowly swung open, and there was Steve, in all his glory, cheeks pink and eyes downcast. "Sorry," he said immediately. "I didn't mean to eavesdrop. I was already in here when you came in, and I was just going to wait for you to leave, to not bother you, but then you started talking, and it was too late to appear, and… yeah… Sorry."

Tony swallowed back rising bile. "You heard all that?"

Steve's gaze rolled up from the floor to meet Tony's. His eyes were bright. "Yeah… Did you really - I mean, do you -?" He looked back down at his phone. "We didn't, did we?"

Tony shook his head.

"I still love you too," Steve choked out on a pained-sounding gasp. "I didn't want to break up. I just - I didn't know what to do to keep you, and I didn't want to try and fail, so I ran. I'm sorry."

"I didn't want to break up either. I didn't know how to be the guy I thought you wanted me to be, so I ruined everything on purpose before I could ruin it by accident." He swallowed heavily. "I'm sorry too."

Steve took a few tentative steps across the bathroom floor. "Could you - how drunk are you?"

Tony reeled at the change in a topic. "Uhhh, I don't know. A four?"

Steve snorted a laugh out then cut it off sharply, like he hadn't meant to let it escape. "Out of what?"

"I have no idea." Tony slid down off the counter to see if the room would stutter. It didn't. "Nothing a glass of water and some fresh air won't fix."

"Could I walk you home?" Steve asked tentatively. "If it clears your head enough, maybe we could have coffee, talk a bit? I feel like we have a lot to talk about. Closure… if nothing else."

Tony weighed his options. He knew his three guardian angels would tell him no, let Steve go, move on, but they didn't know. They didn't know the way Steve made Tony's heart feel like it was too big for his chest, the way he made him laugh, how they hated the same TV shows and loved the same music. They didn't know how well Tony's hand fit in Steve's when they walked down the street. He supposed Steve didn't know either, and it was probably time he did.

Tony tucked his phone back in his pocket. "Okay. I'd like that."

#apparently I never posted this one on tumbly?#but i felt like reblogging it #and it wasn't here #so here you go tumbly #an oldie #stony #fanfiction #my writing

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honey-dewey · 3 years

Text

We all Cope Somehow

Javier Peña x Reader

Word Count: 2,017

Warnings: Javier gets sad, Steve gets drunk, Javier is creepy for all of two seconds, Javier has a breakdown, talking about scars and injuries.

Permanent Taglist: @phoenixhalliwell

The fight is hard, and at the end of the day, everyone has their coping mechanism. Steve drinks until he can’t remember why he opened a bottle. Javier gets lost with some corner girl who won’t remember his name or face. You cook and nurture your boys because no one else will. That’s just how life is, until Javier comes home late, unable to find his forgetfulness.

“Javi?”

“What?”

You shuffled slightly, the ache in your back ever persistent. “I made dinner. Are you staying?”

Javier nodded, putting out his cigarette and coming in from the balcony, seeing Steve with his third drink at the table already. “What’s for dinner?”

“Figured we could use a taste of home,” you said, putting a plate with a steak on it in front of Javier. “Texas, right?”

Another nod from Javier, who wordlessly began to eat. Steve gulped down his drink and shakily picked up his knife. You immediately stepped in, taking the steak knife and cutting Steve’s food for him.

“Thank you,” he slurred, and you smiled.

“Any time.”

After dinner, you cut Steve off, giving him some water and bread and sitting him down on your couch. Javier scooped his jacket up and made to leave, turning back to look at you one last time before silently slipping out.

You noticed Javier leaving, not bothering to say anything. Turning to face him walking out your door would be painful, seeing him and knowing he was going to bury himself in some stranger on the street, not looking for comfort but escape. Knowing those kind eyes would go dark with a feral, primal lust that couldn’t be stopped. You tucked a blanket around Steve, left him two painkillers, and went to go sleep yourself.

Harsh knocking at your door hours later woke you. Steve groaned, and you immediately tugged a robe around yourself and ran to the door.

“Go back to sleep Stevie,” you said softly, peering through the door’s peephole and seeing the back of Javier’s head. “It’s just Javi.”

Steve fell back into the couch, disappearing into sleep once more. You tugged the door open quietly, shushing Javier as he went to talk. “Shh. Steve’s asleep.”

Javier nodded, gesturing to your bedroom. You silently agreed, bare feet making almost no noise as you two headed towards the room.

“What are you doing back here?” You asked, shutting your bedroom door and turning to Javier. “You never come back after you leave for the night and, Javi!”

You shouted his name, shoving his hands off your body. In the dim bedroom lights, you could see his pupils blown wide with that lust he reserved for women who could handle it. But now, with no outlet and no other options, Javier was turning to the next available thing.

“C’mon,” he crooned softly, reaching out for you again. “You know you want me.”

“Not like this!” You shouted, jumping away from his wandering hands. “Javi! Christ, get away from me! Javier!”

That seemed to break Javier, his body crumpling as you shied away. You knew that no matter what state he was in, he would never hurt you. But this still wasn’t comforting.

“Javi?” You asked softly, seeing him still. “Javi, honey, you okay? Are you in there?”

Javier shook his head. Tiny, minuscule movements that made you scared.

“Hey,” you said, reaching out but not touching. “Let’s go for a drive.”

He followed you out, numbly climbing into the car and waiting for you to start it. Taking a midnight drive probably wasn’t advised, but it calmed Javier down and to see him smile again, you’d personally fight Escobar, no matter the odds.

Taking a turn out of the neighborhood and finding your favorite winding road, you drove in relative silence, Javier gazing out the window as the lights grew smaller and smaller until they looked like bright stars in the sky, making messy bunches of constellations. The hum of the car and the rock of the road beneath you calmed him, easing his troubled mind until he finally began to cry.

“Oh Javi, honey, it’s okay,” you mumbled, stopping the car in an abandoned parking lot and leaning over the console to hug Javier. “Hey, it’s okay honey. You weren’t right, and that’s just fine. It’s okay to not be okay, you hear me?”

Javier nodded, burying himself in your arms and mumbling out soft, broken, apologies.

You hummed, smoothing a hand over his heaving back. “Javi, I forgive you. I will always forgive you.”

Another agonizing ten minutes passed, during which you held Javier as he shook and cried and let everything out. You simply rubbed his back and held him close, promising you would always be there.

Finally, finally, Javier pulled away, still trembling. You held his hands, smoothing your thumbs over the scarred skin on the backs of his hands. “You never told me about this,” you realized, peering deeper at the pebbled scar that spanned the entire back of Javier’s left hand.

Javier pulled in a breath. You couldn’t tell if he knew you were trying to distract him, but you needed to get his mind off his current pain. “My brother,” he said slowly, a horrible rasp to his voice. “we had a treadmill, and my hand got caught in it. My brother was running on top of it. It wasn’t his fault.”

You smiled, examining his face. Pushing sweaty hair off his forehead, you traced another scar, barely an inch long, in the dead center of Javier’s forehead. “This one?”

“I was six,” Javier remembered. “My sister threw a ball under a table, and I ran too fast to duck in time. Hit the stupid thing head on. Thirteen stitches.”

Another kind smile, and this time you moved forward to press a warm kiss to the scar. “And that one on your elbow you refuse to tell Steve about?”

That was able to draw a laugh out of Javier, even if it was skittering and faint. “My other sister, the oldest, let me have her old roller skates when she outgrew them.” As he talked, Javier’s words got steadier and steadier, the shake to his hands slowly fading. “We lived on a street with a cul-de-sac at the end, and there was a hill leading up to the circle. My sister showed me how to turn at the cul-de-sac, in a big loop. I started at the top of the hill to gain speed. But I fucked it up. I was going too fast and couldn’t control myself, so I ended up tripping, and skidded three feet. It’s a miracle I didn’t break something. My elbow was somehow the only casualty.”

You giggled, rolling his sleeves up and lifting his right arm so you could kiss the quarter sized scar. “A daring injury,” you promised. “That one on your ankle I teased you about?”

Javier shook his head, a small smile pulling at his lips. “A glass cup my sisters used to shave shattered in the shower. Cut me in two places. Why are you asking about the boring ones?”

Shrugging, you traced a longer, more wicked scar on Javier’s left arm. “Because they’re fun scars. War stories are interesting, but they’re not you.” As you explained, you felt a knot in your chest grow, drawing the breath from your lungs. “Those little scars, they tell me who you are. You’re a dork, a family man, a brother, a lover, a truster. When I ask about the bad scars, all I see is a soldier.”

Javier grabbed your arms, steadying you. “Tell me about this,” he said, poking a scar on your cheek that was often mistaken for a dimple.

You nodded. “I was a toddler. Ran into a bannister in the hallway, and the sharp edge got my cheek. I needed two stitches.”

Tracing down your arms, Javier turned your wrists over and thumbed over the identical lines that were burned into the crease of each wrist. “These?”

“A common contact point for the blazingly hot pots and pans I cook with.” You shivered as Javier kissed each one. “I dunno if there’s much feeling in that bit of my skin.”

Javier’s eyebrows knit, the worry plain in his face. “And you cook anyway?”

“It’s my escape,” you said softly. “When I cook, I can imagine we’re not getting death threats, that we’re just a few close friends on a trip together and we didn’t want to go out for dinner. I can imagine I’m back home, cooking for my family or that we’re celebrating your birthday when I make a cake instead of us getting a huge lead. You find women who help you forget, I cook and bake to escape.”

“Oh.” Javier smoothed a thumb over another small scar, half an inch long, on the delicate flesh between your finger and thumb. “Knife?”

You nodded. “I got myself pretty good there when I was cutting veggies a few years back. No stitches, but I bled like crazy. My roommate thought I was super hurt.”

Gently resting your captive hands on the wheel of the car, Javier ticked the radio up, letting soft music fill the space. “Thank you,” he said. “For driving me out here. For not hating me.”

You shook your head. “I could never hate you Javi. You were just lost. I helped find you again.”

That grin you’d worked so hard for finally returned, the one that he’d give you over dinner when you made something impressive and when he had to help you with your bulletproof vest. “Should we go home? Steve’s gonna wake up soon.”

You nodded. “Sure. Poor thing’s gonna be so hungover today.”

Sure enough, when you two got home, Steve was sitting up on the couch. The sun hadn’t risen yet, but you were DEA agents. You woke up before the day even started.

“Where were you?” Steve said, standing and stumbling to the door. “I was so worried!”

“We went for a drive,” you reassured, grabbing Steve’s arms to steady him. “Javi, darling, will you grab a pack of bacon from the fridge? I’m gonna make breakfast.”

Javier grabbed the bacon while you steered Steve back to the couch.

“You called me darling,” Javier noticed once you’d entered the kitchen, tossing on an apron and turning a small portable radio on. “Intentional?”

You grabbed his shirt collar and kissed him. “Yeah. Intentional,” you said as you broke away, opening the bacon. “Start the coffee?”

Javier swore softly, grabbing the coffee and three mugs. “I guess I should stop finding those corner girls to help me forget, huh?”

Taking out a pan, you shrugged. “I could always teach you to cook,” you said. “Or you could take up photography like Steve. Or, better yet, sewing. I know you can already do it.”

“I cannot sew.”

“Yes you can,” you countered, reaching around Javier to grab the eggs. “I watched you fix a shirt once.”

Javier swore again. “I think I’ll try cooking,” he decided, standing behind you and loosely wrapping his arms around your middle. “Scrambled?”

Nodding, you cracked six eggs into the pan. “Start making the toast please,” you said, and Javier did so, touching you every time he passed. Just soft touches, a comforting hand brushing your back or shoulder when he walked behind you.

Over breakfast, you read the paper as best you could, occasionally asking Javier to translate. Steve had his head in his hand, the other hand holding his coffee cup. He listened halfheartedly, not making a sound as he took in the information.

“Alright,” you said, folding the paper and standing, taking everyone’s empty plate. “Get ready for work. Today’s gonna be busy.”

Steve left, heading upstairs to grab clothes. Javier went across the hall, finishing first and coming back, finding you already ready, adjusting your lipstick in the mirror. “Waiting on Steve?”

“Waiting on Steve,” you confirmed, turning to Javier. “Well don’t you look good.”

Javier smiled. He was wearing the red shirt you openly adored, the top few buttons popped open.

“Lovebirds,” Steve said from your doorway, adjusting his own shirt. “C’mon, we’re gonna be late.”

You laughed. “We could never. Not with how you drive.”

Javier nodded his agreement and followed you out to the car. Steve looked back at the two of you, arm in arm. “So, what’s this?”

“This, Steve,” you said, turning a finger and gesturing for him to look where he was going. “Is love.”

#narcos #Javier Pena #javier pena x reader #javier pena x you #Pedro Pascal #My writing

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sonnetthebard · 3 years

Note

You know that headcanon about Crispin getting into fights by accident? And his worst one being with Vern at a wedding? Could you maybe please write a fic about that? And maybe throw some Crispin x Odie in there if possible? Thank you!

Oh lord, here we go-

Genre: Fluff/ Angst/ Comedy/ Romance Words: 2283 TL;DR: Crispin really, REALLY should start talking when people want to fight him. TW: Fighting, swearing, drunkeness

__________________________________________________

Crispin bit his lip, sitting silently during the wedding reception. He didn't like weddings. He actually didn't like big events at all. Too many people. It made him anxious. But... this was Vern's sister and Mary Jo's brother's wedding. Not that he was friends of either of those people (he didn't even know their names, and that should say a lot considering the size of the town they were in). But he was Ellis' cousin and Vern was his friend, so he had to be there. Plus Odie loved weddings, and he would walk to the ends of the earth for that man. so... here he was. At a wedding reception. The last place in the world he'd want to be on a Wednesday evening. Vern had even done him a 'favour'. He'd made a little 'boys' table with all the people he knew Crispin considered to be friends. It was him, Vern, Ellis, Donny, Odie, Desmond, Aubrey and Sybilus. Apparently Ellis had insisted Vern talk to his sister about it because he 'didn't want his little cousin getting lonely'. Little did Ellis know that Crispin would really rather be alone right now.

It was a good party. And the food was good- especially since he didn't have to pay for it. Vern had made sure they had the best cuts of meat for the dinner, and god was it delicious. Like, the beef option was this melt-in-your-mouth prime rib and it was perfectly cooked. It was almost enough to make Crispin not regret that he'd come to the wedding. But on the downside... everything was so, so loud. Everyone was talking, which meant that naturally everyone was talking over each other. And everything just got louder and louder. It gave Crispin a headache. There was a reason Crispin didn't speak, and it was because he liked the quiet. He liked to be able to hear the voices in his head and think clearly. And words... they complicated things. Especially love. Crispin had seen love go wrong so many times because of words that hadn't been thought out properly. At least with signing you really had to think out what you were going to say. Odie and Crispin did just fine without verbal communication, thank you very much. He wished the rest of the world give it a try.

Crispin had sort of zoned out of the conversation. After all, with so many voices coming at him from every direction... it was hard to follow one set. He just looked around the room, taking everything in. he had to admit, the little tent they'd set up for the reception was lovely. It was pristine white. And inside, Ellis and Mary Jo had decorated it with some gorgeous flower arrangements. Nothing too overwhelming in scent though. And the music... their DJ was good. The whole ambience of the wedding was lovely, save for the voices. Now, if you could just funnel all that noise out and get Crispin a book... things would be great. Yeah. He could go for a book. And another one of those prime ribs. That was good. He hoped the cake was that good. So many wedding cakes just tasted like soap. He was abruptly snapped out of his thoughts by a rather sharp nudge from someone. Crispin blinked, snapping his head to see who it was. It was Odie.

"What're you giving me that look for?" Vern glared at Crispin. Crispin blinked in shock again. Was his face doing that thing again?

"I'm sure he didn't mean to give you any look, Vern... Right, Crispin?" Odie prompted. Crispin nodded, genuinely confused and a little scared. What had he missed?

"No, he did this sassy little eye-roll thing!" Vern insisted. Oh shit, had he? He knew he did that when he was thinking sometimes. "You didn't think my little sister looked good, did you?"

"N-n-n-now Vern... let's not be r-rash..." Sybilus tried to soothe him.

"What was wrong with how my sister looked on her wedding day, Crispin?" Vern asked. He took a look at Vern's place. Ah. He'd gotten some beer. How much had Vern had to drink already? Because depending on how drunnk he was... this could be very bad for Crispin. He frantically signed at Odie, Donny and Ellis.

'I wasn't even listening! I zoned out thinking about how nice this place would be to read in!' Crispin signed.

"You should really stop doing that." Odie advised him. "It never ends well."

'I know...' Crispin signed. 'Just... the whole ambience is great in here except for the voices. I can't help it that I just want to curl up with a book.'

"Well thank god." Ellis sighed in relief, relishing in the drama of it all. "Vern, he-"

"No. No, I want to hear him fucking say it." Vern almost growled. Crispin went pale. No, he didn't want to speak.

"Language!" Desmond chided.

"Vern, you know he doesn't do that!" Donny rolled his eyes.

"I want to fucking hear it from him!" Vern demanded, standing up. He grabbed Crispin by the collar of his shirt. Crispin gulped nervously. God, Vern was so much bigger than him. "What the fuck was wrong with my sister, you little shit?"

"Vern... I think it would be best if you set him down..." Aubrey attempted to soothe. Crispin gave a pleading look to Ellis, knowing that as a relative of the groom maybe he'd be able to talk Vern down.

"Vern, Crispin doesn't speak. And I know he didn't mean to insult your little sister." Ellis stated. "He was lost in his thoughts."

"Fucking creep... were you thinking about the bride on her fucking wedding day?" Vern spat, his words just a little slurred. Shit. Oh, he was drunk. Crispin was fucked.

"Vern... Vern, what's going on?" The bride asked, scared.

"This little shit wants to get in your pants!" Vern glared at Crispin.

"No... no, Vern, he wasn't thinking of her!" Ellis cut in. He liked drama, but he wasn't going to ruin any marriages. "He was thinking about how nice it would be to read in here."

"You fucking expect me to believe that?" Vern rolled his eyes.

"Vern, it's true." Odie insisted.

"Maybe it's what he's saying to you, but that doesn't make it the truth!" Vern growled. No, no one was going to talk Vern down at this poin.

"Vern, think about who we're talking about for a minute. This is Crispin. He doesn't have it in him to insult anyone." Odie pointed out.

"Well..." Donny countered. Odie mouthed a 'not helping' to him.

"Not to their face." Vern grumbled, eyes trained on Crispin. Crispin hated this. But... he couldn't find his voice. At this point, if he could he would.

"Listen, Vern, there's like... literally nothing to insult." Donny shrugged. "I mean, sure, the whole look was a little... old."

"Is that what you called my little sister with your fancy little hand dancing? Did you call her old?" Vern glared at Crispin. Crispin shook his head.

"Old can be beautiful." Aubrey tried. "That's why we study history. There's a lot of beauty in the past."

"Vernie, I was going for a historic wedding." The bride told him. "That was a compliment!"

"Stop trying to fucking vouch for him!" Vern snapped at everyone.

"Vern, enough!" Desmond demanded. "Put Crispin down!"

"No!" Vern shook his head. He focused on Crispin again. "You little shit... no one gets to insult my little sister."

And with that, Vern threw the first punch. It his square in the jaw. Crispin yelped, and everyone gasped. Ellis looked absolutely scandalized- which was a fact Crispin wasn't entirely sure why he'd noticed but he was a bit out of it. His brain was focusing on a lot of weird things. Like how weird Dr. Edwards' laugh was. He was snapped back again when Vern threw another punch. Crispin tried to block it... to no avail. He dodged a third punch. Then Crispin was slammed onto the table... and that was all that Crispin could really remember clearly. He remembered he'd started fighting back in self defense. he hated to, and it hadn't done much good, but... he had to do something. He remembered everyone- including the bride- begging Vern to stop. But... Vern was pissed. Like, drunk and very angry. He was an angry drunk to begin with. It was just Crispin who had gotten his anger that night. He should've known better than to drink at his sister's wedding.

Anyways, they fought until he literally knocked Crispin out. Crispin remembered waking up very briefly in Dr. Edwards' office, but it was late and he was tired so he just went back to sleep. The next day when he woke (still in Dr. Edwards' office) Odie was sitting on the bed beside him and dabbing at something on his face. Or maybe he was cleaning it. God, his face was so tender. Were those stitches? Shit, how bad had things gotten? Crispin groaned quietly. He didn't like this. He had a massive headache- and he hadn't even had a drop of alcohol. It seemed Vern had had enough for the both of them. He'd kind of hoped that the night before had been a nightmare. But here he was. His jaw was killing him... which meant Dr. Edwards probably hadn't given him any pain meds. Odie smiled softly, being a bit gentler.

"Hey, Cris." Odie sighed. "Sorry about last night... we tried. But... I guess the groom got Vern's favourite beer in for the wedding. We didn't really think anything of it until... well, you know what happened."

'Did I win?' Crispin tried to sign. But his right arm was really sore.

"No... no you did not." Odie chuckled softly. "Hey, don't sign if you don't need to. You bent your wrist back trying to punch Vern last night."

'O-H G-O-D (Oh God)' Crispin fingerspelled, before starting to laugh. 'I A-M S-U-C-H A W-I-M-P (I am such a wimp)'

"No, Crispy... you're just a bit smaller than Vern." Odie chuckled along with him. He cupped Crispin's face gently, dabbing a few final tiems above Crispin's eyebrow. "You just lay back and relax. I'm going to take care of you."

"Is he in here?" A voice called in. Crispin tried to sit up and found that he was very sore. That made sense. Vern had kicked the shit out of him. He laid back down. Now he understood what Odie had meant when he said he should lay back and relax. Odie turned his head, sighing before letting go of Crispin and standing up.

"Yeah, he's here." Odie sighed. "Cris, it's Vern."

"Hey..." Vern bit his lip. he came and sat on the bed. Crispin immediately tensed, still a bit scared. "Hey... I am so sorry for this."

'It's okay.' Crispin tried to sign.

"He says it's okay." Odie translated.

"I took it way too far... man, I was so drunk... and my hangover is terrible." Vern sighed. "But like... I'm guessing it's nothing compared to what you're going through. God, I am so sorry..."

"It's fine." Crispin sighed. "Really."

"Hey, you don't have to do that." Vern told him. "I was so out of line, asking you to talk... and assuming that you thought my sister was ugly... man, I was a total idiot."

"Well, that's what too much alcohol will do." Odie chided.

"Yeah..." Vern agreed. "Listen, I just wanted to be sure you're okay... I know I can get really intense when I'm fighting."

"It'll take him time to recover, but... he'll be fine." Dr. Edwards slurred from where he was slumped over in the corner.

"Good." Vern sighed in relief, looking over Crispin again. "When you're feeling better, you come by the butcher shop. I'll give you anything you want."

'You don't need to.' Crispin signed.

"He says you don't need to." Odie translated.

"Yeah I do." Vern chuckled. "Just take it, okay bud?"

'Fine.' Crispin signed.

"He gave in." Odie told Vern.

"Hey, I've been meaning to ask... last night got me thinking... would one of you mind teaching me how to talk with the hand thing?" Vern asked.

"I can show you how to sign." Odie nodded. "Ellis, Donny, Rita and Sybilus also sign if you ever need help."

‘S-Y-B-I-L-U-S signs?’ Crispin blinked.

“Yeah! He went nonverbal for a while when he was younger, remember?” Odie smirked. He looked back at Vern. “Anyways... any of us would be happy to teach you. Just ask, any time.”

"Thanks." Vern smiled softly. He got up, heading for the door. "Well, I'll leave you two to it. Feel better soon, Crispin. I am so sorry."

'It's okay.' Crispin chuckled.

"He says it's okay." Odie smiled.

"Okay, bud, you're coming with me." Vern sighed, scooping up a somehow already drunk Dr. Edwards.

"But I'm gonna miss the good part!" Dr. Edwards whined. "Wanna stay until they kiss!"

"Not happening." Vern rolled his eyes, smirking. he called back to Odie and Crispin as he left. "Bye guys!"

Crispin waved.

"Well that was nice of him." Odie smirked. climbing to lay next to . "I like Vern."

'M-E T-O-O W-H-E-N H-E-S S-O-B-E-R (Me too when he's sober).' Crispin teased, fingerspelling so he could rest his arm.

"Which is most of the time." Odie chided teasingly.

'Y-E-A-H. (Yeah)' Crispin chuckled. He sighed. "Thanks for doing this."

"Well... you're a lot of trouble, but you're cute... which kind of makes up for it." Odie teased. "So I guess I don't mind so much."

'Y-O-U K-N-O-W Y-O-U L-O-V-E M-E (You know you love me)' Crispin rolled his eyes, grinning like an idiot.

"Yeah. I do." Odie shrugged, equally as teasing. He leaned in and gently kissed Crispin, who blushed. "Maybe it's a good thing that we're teaching him how to sign so that this doesn't happen again."

Crispin couldn't have said it better himself.

#wayward guide #crispin lynch #odie doty #wayward guide for the untrained eye #vern marrow #tin can bros #tcb #tcb fanfic #oneshot #fanfiction #send more prompts!#tw: fighting #tw: swearing #tw: drunk

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aenwoedbeannaa · 4 years

Text

Talking to Horses | Geralt x Reader

Summary: You work at a small inn in a middle of nowhere village in Novigrad. Your job consists mostly of serving travelers – the only people that come to this god-forsaken place – but you manage to find a way to spend most of your time in the stables. One night, while you’re holed up there talking to your horse, a new stranger arrives; but you recognize him from the traveling bard, Jaskier’s, songs immediately – the famous Witcher, Geralt of Rivia.

Word Count: 2,533

Warnings: None; this is literally just the fluffiest fluff.

Notes: I promise I’ll get back to my series soon; but it’s been a busy week and I’m sad and right now I just want to write Geralt fluff lol.

* * *

It is growing late, and you are still in the barn, as usual. You don’t mind, though. You much prefer it here than in the stuffy inn. No matter how rude the customer, their horses were always nice enough. You keep your own horse here, as well – a mare named Immi. She is a sweet little thing, though she's quite skittish and will do almost nothing without getting a treat first, but you don’t mind much. It is rare that you have the opportunity to travel, and the roads around your little village are safe enough.

You are surprised when Immi’s ears prick up slightly, the way that they do when a visitor approaches the stables. Of course, travelers came in at all hours of the day, but it wasn’t too often when one showed up extremely late at night. Relatively unbothered, you continue brushing her speckled fur, waiting for the loud crunch of the stablemaster’s boots on the ground. Honestly, no one could possibly walk as loudly as that man.

So, you are surprised when you hear the sound of approaching hooves and soft, barely perceptible footsteps. Curious, you peek your head out from the stall to see a white-haired stranger leading a horse gently by the reins. You’ve never seen him here before – but again, that is not unusual. Most people who pass through here once don’t have much reason to pass through again. It is a painfully boring town. What makes this one stand out, however, are the two swords slung across his back.

However, between the white hair and the two swords, the mysterious stranger suddenly becomes far less mysterious – at least as far as his identity goes. The chances of someone matching his exact description seem relatively unlikely. Even from a distance, you can tell that he is huge, all muscle. Hard to find any ordinary human who looks like that; doubly as hard to find any ordinary human who looks like that and happens to have long white hair and two swords on his back. So, you are pretty positive you are correct.

As he draws closer, you lean back on the open door to Immi’s stall, arms crossed across your chest and head cocked slightly to one side.

“You’re Geralt of Rivia.” You say it as a statement, not a question. You are very rarely wrong, and unafraid to embrace that. Mamma used to scold you for being brash, and you’d been called arrogant and brazen by a few of the passing travelers – but it doesn't bother you much.

“And you better not start singing that damn song.”

You smirk, kicking open the free stall across from Immi’s with a scuffed leather boot, “No ‘hello’?” you ask, shaking your head. “Not even a nice ‘and you are?”

The Witcher doesn’t seem particularly amused, but he takes the bait anyway.

“Hello,” he says, exaggerating and speaking the words exactly how you’d spoken them, “And you are?” Mrs. Leigh, who owns the inn, constantly tells you that you shouldn’t pester the guests, but there is a slight tug at the corner of the Witcher’s lips that tells you he isn’t particularly irritated. And anyway, you don’t listen to much of what Mrs. Leigh says or you’d die of boredom.

“Y/N,” you say before adding sarcastically, “Of Novigrad.”

“Pleasure,” he says absentmindedly as he begins getting his horse settled.

You could easily get back to your work, but in such a boring village, you’ve got to take advantage of any entertainment while you can, so you lean against the door, peering at his horse, which you can tell is clearly taken very good care of.

“What’s your horse’s name?”

“Roach.”

“Interesting name for a horse,” you say, watching him remove the saddle.

Immi, likely feeling betrayed because you have turned your attention from the mare for more than a minute, whinnies and lightly stomps one hoof.

“Immi!” you scold her in the gentle way you always do, turning and walking back to her stall.

You are slightly surprised to hear the Witcher speak again, “Is she yours?”

You nod, pulling an apple from your back, which you left hanging on a nail on the door. At seeing it, Immi huffs and looks at you with wide, begging eyes.

“She is,” you say, rather proudly. It is not a wealthy village, and most young women working as barmaids and stable hands cannot afford horses of their own. Of course, you didn’t actually buy her – one of the Leigh’s mares had a baby, four years ago now. It was the year your mother died of plague when it hit the village, and you’d already been working for Mrs. Leigh for three years by then and they knew your affinity for working in the stables. They told you she was yours, and suddenly life seemed a little less dull.

You hold the apple up to her snout, and she quickly devours the whole thing.

“You always feed her human food?” The Witcher’s voice is closer now; you turn to see that he’s standing outside the stall he’s set Roach up in. You get the sense that he’s appraising you, his yellow eyes settled on yours, one eyebrow raised as Immi chomps loudly behind you, finishing the treat.

You cross your arms, fully facing him now, staring right back. “Yes, I do,” you say, “And before you ask, of course I talk to her.”

At that, the Witcher laughs, but he doesn’t seem to be mocking you. You narrow your eyes slightly, questioning.

“I talk to my horse, too,” he admits. “Roach is great to talk to, because he doesn’t talk back.”

You grin, face flushing slightly at the warm gleam in the Witcher’s yellow eyes. “Exactly. No unwanted advice, no ordering me around, no demanding a third cup of ale when she’s already piss drunk.”

“So, you work in the inn, too?”

You nod in response, “Yep. Unfortunately, we don’t get enough travelers through here to make much money as a stable hand. We make our money the way every other inn does; selling overpriced ale to travelers who don’t have any other options.”

“It's even worse in the cities,” the Witcher responds. “Plenty of options, but all overpriced.”

“Hm,” you shrug, “I wouldn’t know, I’ve never been to one of the big cities. But humans are the same everywhere, I guess.”

“You’re right about that,” he says, looking somewhat lost in thought.

“Still,” you muse as you grab your bag and shut the door to Immi’s stall, “I’d like to see them.”

You sigh, looking past the Witcher and out into the field outside, the starlit road beyond it. “The cities, I mean. Just... Seems a waste, to spend a whole life here.” Now you’re just rambling – another thing Mamma used to tell you not to do, especially with strangers – but you can’t help it. “Must be fun, to be a Witcher; you’ve probably seen all sorts of places.”

The Witcher gives you a wry smile, “And all sorts of monsters.”

“Eh,” you respond quickly, following him out of the stables and towards the inn, “You don’t have to travel to see monsters.” He stops walking for a moment and cocks his head in thought, looking down at you.

“You’re right again,” he says.

“You should meet Mr. Allen,” you say with your voice lowered, “He’s the mayor and he’s hear most every night, drinking Mrs. Leigh out of house and home, yelling at everyone, and—well, never mind—but his poor wife, though.” You shudder, thinking about his roaming eyes and careless hands, but you snap out of it quickly enough.

“Ah, suppose it is fitting. Shit mayor for a shit town.”

Once you reach the entrance, you push open the door, the Witcher following behind you. You turn to him, whispering under your breath, “Guy in the back corner.” He raises his eyebrows and goes, to your surprise, to sit at the table right in front of Mr. Allen’s. Not a choice that you would have advised, but likely to be an entertaining one.

“Please tell me you were not harassing that man out in the stables,” Mrs. Leigh says as you head behind the counter, filling up a few earthenware tankards to drop at the tables that your boss has wasted no time pointing to.

“Me?” you ask, with fake innocence.

“Y/N, honestly. We need the business.”

Grabbing as may tankards as possible – an impressive five – you glance back at your boss and roll your eyes. “Please,” you say with a smirk, “I’m half the reason these guys buy as much alcohol as they do.” A little flirting does wonders, and gods know Mrs. Leigh isn’t going to do it.

You drop off three tankards at one table; a thankfully quiet one. There are two women, one of whom you can tell from her painfully beautiful features must be half-elf. There’s one man with them, lanky and quiet. Probably the human’s brother, if you had to guess.

The other two mugs of ale were, of course, for Mayor Allen. He must have just arrived, then.

“Thank you, sweetheart,” he says with a hideous smile as you set them down. You just mumble some form of no problem as you walk off. He doesn’t pay, so there’s no point in flirting with him. Besides, the Witcher’s table is next, and you cannot deny that you are dying to talk to him.

Putting on your usual flirty smile, you head over to his table, leaning on the old wood. For some reason, though, the flirtatious nature that usually comes easy to you feels a little bit different – like you actually care what this stranger thinks about you. You decide to put it down to the fact that he is famous, and famous people rarely pass through the village.

“Can I get you anything?” you ask, smile faltering slightly, but only for a moment.

The Witcher looks at you, yellow eyes locking on yours. “Two mugs of ale, please,” his lips curve into a smirk, “And your company.” You quirk an eyebrow, feeling your cheeks redden once again.

Before you have to disappoint him – and mainly yourself – by telling him that you can’t just sit down at work, he places a handful of gold pieces on the table. Definitely enough to cover the two beers, and as much as you’d bring in for the night.

“Coming right up,” you say, throwing him a glance over your shoulder as you carry the coins over to the counter.

“You’re welcome,” you say, admittedly rather arrogantly as you set the coins down on the counter next to Mrs. Leigh. She watches you with somewhat horrified eyes as you round the counter to fill up to mugs of ale.

“This is not a brothel,” she says pointedly, glancing from you and across the room at the white-haired Witcher.

“And I’d charge more for a night than that,” you retort, glancing down at the coins still on the table.

Mrs. Leigh does not respond as you grab the two mugs and head back to the Witcher’s table.

“Your ale,” you say, sliding it over to him, “And my excellent company,” you add with an impish grin, sitting down across from him. “Though, to be honest, you seem more like the Sit and Drink Alone type,” you say, studying him.

“You aren’t wrong there,” he says, but his yellow eyes hint that he very much does not want to sit and drink alone tonight. Well, that and the fact that he asked you to sit with him.

“Then why ask me to disturb your blessed silence?” you ask, genuinely curious.

“Because,” he says, pausing to take a draught of ale, “I find you interesting.”

You nearly choke on your ale when you laugh. Out of all of the interesting creatures and people the Witcher meets, you cannot fathom why he would find you in particular interesting.

“Oh, come on,” he said, shaking his head. “You walk around like you own this place. Don’t pretend to be the shy type.”

You blush again, looking down at your cup and taking a swig before you look back up at him. Thankfully, you can blame the flush on your cheeks on the ale. “Oh, come on,” you quip back, “You’ve been in plenty of inns, I’m sure. It’s all part of business.”

Geralt eyes you curiously and shrugs. Then silence settles over the two of you, somehow ringing louder in your ears than the rowdy crowd of the crowded pub.

Finally, he speaks.

“Actually, I have a proposition.”

Your head shoots up, eyes wide as you stare at him. Maybe the gold was for what Mrs. Leigh insinuated. And while the Witcher was, without a doubt, the most attractive man you’d ever seen, Mrs. Leigh was right – this was not a brothel, and you were not… Well, that was not your profession.

“Don’t worry, it’s not about that.”

You breathe a sigh of relief, and slight disappointment, but now you are incredibly curious. What could this Witcher want from you?

“I’m not travelling far,” he explains, “And I have a high suspicion that the haunting I am investigating has little to do with dangerous spirits and everything to do with humans being humans.”

Your mouth falls open, hardly able to believe what you are hearing, and unable to form any words.

“You said you wanted to see some of the world, and I take it you can ride,” he says.

“I—well, yes, I do want to… But, I mean, I have to wor—”

“It’s a decent contract. You can half of it.”

“I mean,” you begin, “I… I couldn’t take the coin!”

“You’re not taking it, you’re doing a job,” the Witcher points out. “I can’t watch Roach all the time.”

You consider his words for a few moments before your face breaks out into a wide smile.

* * *

You are bursting with excitement as you head out of your back room, pack full of your most precious personal items, of which there are relatively few. As promised, Geralt is already out in the stable, saddling Roach.

“Good morning,” he says, that same deep, gravely voice you’d grown familiar with last night as the two of you stayed up talking until far too late.

“Good morning!” you greet him, heading over to saddle Immi, despite her somewhat confused whinnies. You rarely rode out this early. But she didn’t seem to mind all that much, as you handed her another apple from your pack.

“Hm,” Geralt says, eying you, “Cheery.”

“Not a morning person?” you ask him.

“No particular feelings about any time of day,” he says with a shrug.

You lead Immi out of the stables behind Geralt and Roach, still somewhat mystified by the man.

“Ah yes,” you say after a moment, “I hear you Witchers don’t have emotions.”

At those words, Geralt turns around to face you, only a few inches between you. “Now there, dear Y/N, you are wrong.”

The look on his face has your stomach filled with butterflies as the two of you ride off side-by-side into the early morning light.

***

Taglist: @divaroze @fairytale07 @geeksareunique @jesseswartzwelder @unnamedmaincharacter @lazilyscentedwerewolf @evyiione @valkyriepuff

#geralt of rivia x reader #geralt x reader #one shot #geralt one shot #fluff #geralt fluff #the witcher fanfication #geralt fanfiction #the witcher fluff

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sweeethinny · 3 years

Note

I wish you could do a sirius / hestia fic where you chat in the gryffindor common room (yes I like to think that she is from Gryffindor) as friends and he realizes he likes her💜💜💜

Well, first, thank you very much for sending this ask, I know I was late, sorry

I also think that Hestia is from Gryffindor, and I hope you like it (all of them are in the seventh year)

I realized that you asked about Sirius talking to her as a friend, but I like to think that here in the fanfic he really thought it was just a passing thing, and that he still saw her as a friend, and the drink touched his feelings and made him realize that maybe not. I hope you like it anyway, it's a little angst, but that's okay

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'Alone?' Sirius leaned down to whisper in her ear, laughing softly when he saw her jump on the couch, the cup of tea almost falling out of her hand.

'Fuck, Black.' Hestia screamed, uncrossing her legs under her and going to sit on the other pillow, giving him space. ‘I hate it when you’re silent.’

'Well, if I hadn't been, maybe we would have been caught almost every day for the past few years.' He smiled, sitting next to her, his arm stretched out on the back of the sofa, his fingers almost touching Hestia's shoulder. ‘What are you doing here alone?’

'Thinking. You? Oh, don't tell me, let me try to guess... Did you just come back from a night out with some pretty girl? Or, no, you were trying to ask this girl out.'Hestia laughed at herself, watching him as if she expected Sirius to back off or agree with her, but all he did was laugh and bow a little more again, getting more near her. This time his hand touched her shoulder, also feeling some curls.

'Only if that pretty girl is you.' If Sirius' ego was fragile, it would break in the same second that Hestia laughed, her head thrown back and her cheeks flushed almost the color of wine that he, Remus and James had drunk a few hours ago, while they were trying to convince Peter to drink too.

Something inside him seemed to get even bigger now that he had made her laugh.

'You are drunk.' Hestia wrinkled the round nose that Sirius had spent too many hours admiring, in the last History class. He started to worry about how everything in his mind always managed to turn to her.

He was getting tired of always waking up hard after dreaming about her.

‘It makes no difference.' Sirius walked away, a little tipsy from her scent, something like vanilla and jasmine. 'But,' He changed the subject, maintaining his composure. ‘Really, what are you doing here?’

'I already said, thinking.' She shrugged, gently pulling out a curl that had fallen in front of her eye.

'Thinking about when I would finally come to ask you out?' He smiled confidently, trying to ignore how the shirt she wore seemed to perfectly design her breasts.

'Actually, I was thinking about whether or not to accept Ed's request.' At that moment something inside Sirius broke, he could even hear the sound of shards on the floor if the voices in his head weren't so loud. He would blame alcohol for the sudden dizziness he felt.

'Who?' Sirius frowned, still a little lost.

'Edmund, you know, from Ravenclaw.' She started talking non-stop then, details that Sirius was unable to hear or pay attention to, only being bombarded by conflicting feelings and a pain in the pit of his stomach that he had never felt.

It was like the worst hangover ever, and maybe it could be even worse.

Sirius struggled to remember this boy, the drink seemed to slow him down a little, but nothing that would not allow his chest pain to increase at a speed that could easily kill him, he thought.

Edmund was a fucking nerd, Sirius shouted to himself, remembering seeing the boy always stuck in the library, bragging about his good family and always seeming to keep his nose up. It was as if he were a Regulus, but with a good and Ravenclaw family.

Sirius had to put his hand over his eyes to try to stop the madness that his mind became, his heart seemed to ache just like his head.

He should have known that Remus was wrong when he said that he noticed Hestia looking at him, and that Moony should just be mistaken and not realize that it was for fucking Mr. Perfect.

'Are you okay?' Hestia asked, her hand touching Sirius' shoulder. He wanted to throw up.

‘Yes, I… I think the wine didn’t do me very well. I was on an empty stomach.' He tried to smile, even though his throat seemed to scratch as if he had swallowed sand.

So this was how James felt when he saw Lily kissing another one?

No, Sirius thought, it couldn't be that way, because first he would have to like Hestia just like James did with Lily, and Sirius knew he was too good, or too empty, to like someone. No, that was wrong, it was the wine that had made him feel that way.

Suddenly his father's voice, muffled by the closed door, resonated in Sirius' mind. It was as if he suddenly fell back into the Black family house, still 11 years old, kneeling in front of his father's office to try to find out what he and his mother were discussing so much. Sirius tasted blood, realizing how he was biting his tongue to stay firm on Earth, something he did whenever he needed to remember exactly where he was.

'How are we going to take him? Do you think I want to be seen with... him?' His father murmured.

'Orion, do you think I want them to find out that he... he is in Gryffindor? Which Regulus can be influenced by him? Do you think I want Cissa to find out about this shame?’

'Sirius, are you really okay?' Hestia asked, pulling him back to the now. Sirius nodded.

'Yes, great.' He opened his eyes again, the vision focusing on her. 'And have you thought about whether to accept going out with him or not?' Sirius did not say his name, feeling a little nauseated yet.

'I don't know, I think it's going to be cool.' Hestia shrugged, a shy smile on her lips, her brown eyes shining in a way that Sirius knew was probably never shining when she talked about him. 'And you? And tell me the truth now, stop these games,’ She laughed. ‘Have you called someone yet?’

'Actually,' Sirius cleared his throat, wanting to buy time. 'I think I'm going to stick around, the boys and I have some... plans.' Or they would now, he thought, begging James not to have taken the courage and asked Lily out, or anything like that. Or that Remus had finally taken his head off his ass and gone to talk to that Hufflepuff girl. It would be too lonely to even think of Peter having someone to go out with, and Sirius to find himself alone.

He could smoke weed, it was always a good day for it, or maybe he just slept all day. The second option seemed much more striking, however.

'So you really weren't with a pretty girl before?' Hestia asked, seeming to hide a smile, as if she had caught him in the lie.

Sirius' chest burned, and he thought that if that was like liking someone, he didn't want it anymore.

'No pretty girl.' He tried to smile. 'But, hey, I'm going up. I just came to see if I found Peter… you know, he looks like a rat when he drinks, hiding in the corners.' Sirius lied. Hestia laughed, nodding, and what once seemed to fill Sirius' chest with pride, now seemed to break him into more pieces yet.

He wondered if she laughed like that with Edmund.

Well, but between making her laugh and being able to kiss her... Sirius sighed, not wanting to think about it.

The two said goodbye in what seemed like a friendly nod, each going up to their own dorm, but Hestia didn't look as miserable as he felt, and Sirius would blame Moony for the rest of his days for making him go through this.

‘Did you ask her out?’ Peter was the first to ask, still sitting on the floor next to James’s bed, where Moony was lying, looking up at the ceiling like a great drunk he was. James was not in the room.

'She goes with someone else.' It was the only thing he said, falling on his own bed, tired even to change his clothes.

Sirius was happy that Remus was too drunk to argue about, or that Peter didn't talk about feelings so much, and that James wasn't there to play the group's adviser.

Closing his eyes and hiding under the cover like a child, Sirius allowed himself to be miserable.

It was horrible to like someone, he thought, he would rather die than have to feel it again.

#sirius black #sirius x hestia #the marauders #moony wormtail padfoot and prongs #padfoot #marauders era fic #sirius #hestia jones

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musicprincess655 · 4 years

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Ryuu wakes up a week after his twenty-fifth birthday with a fully formed frontal lobe, the remnants of dream that didn’t even have the decency to be wet, and an unfortunate realization.

“Gin.”

She’s already up, of course, sipping at a coffee, but then, she’s always been the more functional one. Ryuu would argue that it’s because she’s younger and therefore spent less time in the slums before their lives found some stability in the Port Mafia. Gin would argue that it’s because Chuuya raised her instead of Dazai.

“I believe I may have…feelings…for Jinko.”

She doesn’t look suitably impressed by the earth-shattering news.

“Do you want a regular cake or a cupcake tower at the wedding?”

Ryuu is so shocked by her lack of shock that he actually answers.

“Cupcake tower.” He shakes his head. “Did you hear me? I have feelings for Jinko.”

“It’s kind of too late to go back to calling him Jinko when you’ve been calling him by his real name for over a year.”

“I have feelings for-!”

“I heard you the first two times!”

“Then tell me what I’m supposed to do!”

“I don’t know!” she snaps, although she sounds more exasperated than mad. “Woo him? Marry him? Bear his weird tiger babies?”

“That’s physically impossible. Also, no?”

“I don’t know what you want here,” she says. “General dating advice wouldn’t work on you two.”

“Dating?!”

“Fucking hell.” She sounds so frustrated that Ryuu is sure she’s about to throw a knife at him just to get him to shut up. “Try talking to him.”

“No.”

“Then eat shit and die!”

Ryuu isn’t quite sure who else to ask for help. He almost goes to Chuuya, but considering Chuuya’s – arrangement? Relationship? – with Dazai, Ryuu thinks that might actually make everything worse. Whatever those two are doing, he doesn’t think it’ll work for anyone else.

So he takes the second option presented to him: he shoves those feelings right back where they belong and forgets they ever existed. Or tries to.

See, Ryuu is good at anger. He recognizes it in himself, knows now how to ramp it down or let it take him as necessary, knows how to use it, TED talk to follow. What is he supposed to do with something so much softer?

It should be easy to ignore. But like an amorphous block, the soft edges of the feelings squeeze out no matter where he tries to shove them down.

Ryuu doesn’t think Atsushi has noticed anything is off. He’s sure Atsushi would have said something by now otherwise. As an adult, Atsushi has all the observation skills of a detective and none of the reticence for sharing his observations that he used to. The new confidence is annoying, and has led to annoying things like Ryuu being forced to buy Atsushi food all the time, and in general, Atsushi is somehow more annoying than when he went running scared from Ryuu’s every glare.

And Ryuu has feelings for him anyway. His taste leaves much to be desired, and he needs to come up with some synonyms for annoying.

This systematic denial works for all of two weeks, and Ryuu is ready to celebrate the success of creating a new normal so seamlessly that Atsushi hasn’t even noticed they have a new normal, when it all goes to shit.

They don’t have quite as many people to beat into the ground to protect Yokohama as they did when they started their partnership, but every so often, a new group thinks it’s a good idea to disturb the peace. Ryuu and Atsushi, for their efficiency alone, are the best choice for dealing with it.

Some syndicate from Europe seems to think they have the right to expand into the Asian market, and they’ve set their eyes on the port of Yokohama for their first step in. They don’t have nearly the same aversion to city-wide destruction that the Port Mafia do, which makes this the Armed Detective Agency’s problem too, and, consequently, Ryuu and Atsushi’s problem. They’re in charge of stopping and containing a Gifted vanguard while the combined strategic might of Dazai and Mori deal with the rest of the syndicate.

It’s a tough fight, but Ryuu gets to let loose and use his Ability to the fullest. His deal with Atsushi to not kill is long since over, but he developed habits during those six months that he hasn’t bothered to shake, and the fight isn’t the bloodbath it could be. Still, when the last person raises their hands in surrender, Ryuu is almost gasping for breath. He may have learned to work smarter instead of harder, but working smarter is hard on him in its own way.

“Good work today,” Atsushi says, wiping blood from an already-healed cut off his mouth. Even after all this time, the praise still sends a thrill down Ryuu’s spine.

Then Atsushi lifts his head, and his eye are so wide, and he looks so happy, smiling without reservation at Ryuu, and Ryuu doesn’t know what his face does, but it must be pretty spectacular because Atsushi’s smile fades.

“Are you okay?” he asks. “You’re not hurt, are you?”

“I’m fine,” Ryuu says, turning on his heel to get away from Atsushi and the emotions he wears so openly. He needs to find a bar, one Atsushi won’t follow him to, and he doesn’t stop to consider the implications of skipping their post-mission dinner arrangement for the first time in years.

When Chuuya finds him, he’s getting systematically drunk.

Which, granted, doesn’t take much, He’s always been a bit of a lightweight, probably due to how severely underweight he’s been for most of his life. That’s not quite the problem it used to be, and one shot isn’t enough to take him out at the knees anymore, but he doesn’t even have to use his fancy mafia paycheck to get well and truly plastered.

“So I know I’m about to sound like a hypocrite, but it’s barely five,” Chuuya says, and while his words are chiding, his tone isn’t. Ryuu is still working on reading people’s intentions, but Chuuya has never been hard. He’s worried. “Wanna talk?”

“Stupid fucking Jinko and his stupid fucking doe eyes,” Ryuu mutters before he can stop himself. He’s had six shots. He wishes he had a better excuse.

“Oh, so it’s that kind of drinking,” Chuuya sighs. He raises his hand to catch the bartender’s attention, elegant and confident in one motion. “Whiskey for me. Water for him.”

“I’m fine.”

“Akutagawa.”

Chuuya rests his hand on Ryuu’s head, and Ryuu is almost ashamed of the way he leans into the touch immediately. Despite all the jokes even he himself makes, he’s not a dog. Still, to have someone touch him without even the intention of hurting him…it’s nice. It’s uncommon. It’s, perhaps, something that shouldn’t be so uncommon from a superior.

He’s so drunk.

“Do you want my advice?” Chuuya asks after the bartender sets both of their drinks down and Ryuu throws back half the tall glass of water.

Ryuu is silent for just a beat too long.

“Kid,” Chuuya sighs again, not angry or even exasperated, as is more common with him and Ryuu recently. He sounds faintly amused. “I know we’ve talked about this. You’re allowed to say no to me.”

“It’s not…” Ryuu tries. “I just…” He has to parse it into words, the fact that after Gin, Chuuya was the first he thought to turn to, and why he didn’t in the end. “I don’t know if I, necessarily, want the answer I think you’ll give me.”

“What answer do you think I’ll give you?” Chuuya asks. His hand is still on Ryuu’s head, pulling until Ryuu is very nearly tucked into his shoulder.

“Two options,” Ryuu says. “Something I can’t use, or something I won’t want to.”

“Ah.” Chuuya takes a sip of his whiskey. “You know I’ve had relationships with people other than Dazai, right?”

“That’s where the something I can’t use comes from.”

“So my relationship with Dazai is too fucked up, but all my other relationships are too normal?” Chuuya asks, summing it up entirely too well.

“I don’t think I can do normal,” Ryuu says. “I’m pretty sure he can’t either.”

“I can’t tell you how to fix that,” Chuuya admits. “If I knew, I wouldn’t be where I am. Which isn’t a complaint, by the way. I’m happy. But I’ll admit parts of my life are less than functional, and that’s down to choices I’ve made. That being said…” he gives Ryuu’s hair a little tug until Ryuu is truly resting on his shoulder, head momentarily stopped from spinning, “…I doubt Nakajima would kick you out of his life for anything at this point.”

“You think I should talk to him too,” Ryuu says.

“Gin’s smarter than you give her credit for.”

“She told you about this?”

“I just know she’s the only other person you’d tell about this,” Chuuya says. “You’re not actually that complicated.”

“I talk to Higuchi about stuff,” Ryuu pouts. He won’t admit he’s pouting.

“You’re not cruel to her anymore,” Chuuya says. “So no, I don’t think you would’ve told her about this.”

“I want another shot.”

“You should probably be done for the night,” Chuuya advises. “Listen. I don’t know how this is gonna shake out. I don’t know Nakajima well enough to guess what he’ll do. But I do know you, and I can tell you that you’re gonna be okay.”

“You think?”

“I think it would take another city-destroying disaster for you to not be okay,” Chuuya says. “And that wasn’t an invitation. I’m enjoying the peace. It’s good for business.” His phone chimes. “Your ride is here, and you’re cut off.”

“You called a car?”

“Like I said,” Chuuya says, getting to his feet, “I know you.”

Having a superior care so openly about him is still a bit of a new experience, and rather than try to examine anything Chuuya said, Ryuu just collapses into bed when the driver drops him off, hoping he’ll just forget everything by the morning. He doesn’t, of course, because that would be too easy.

Things were fine between him and Atsushi before, but suddenly, there’s a new tension. Ryuu panics, convinced Atsushi knows, but after a day of careful observation, he’s almost positive that Atsushi actually doesn’t. Atsushi isn’t shying away from the parts of their alliance that Ryuu, a few years ago, had reluctantly labelled as friendship. He doesn’t have a problem with their casual conversation, and their shared food arrangements have picked up again without so much as a mention of one missed.

In fact, the only thing that has changed is actually something Ryuu’s seen before, just not in years.

They’re friends now. Beyond just tolerating his presence, Ryuu does like having Atsushi around. He even has these new mushy feelings that make him a little sick to his stomach if he thinks about them too hard. But none of that changes the fact that sometimes, Atsushi annoys the ever-loving fuck out of him.

Snapping at Atsushi usually only gets Ryuu an eye roll now, or sometimes a shut up if he says something particularly spiteful, but ever since Ryuu bailed on dinner, every time he snaps at Atsushi, instead of the customary dismissal, Ryuu gets a flinch like he used to when they first started working together.

And seriously, what the fuck? He knows Atsushi isn’t scared of him anymore. For one thing, they’ve proven a few times that Atsushi can beat him into the ground if he wants. For another, Ryuu has calmed down a bit and Atsushi has stuck around enough to figure out how to exist in the same space without killing each other. They haven’t had a serious fight in years.

Ryuu can’t figure out what Atsushi’s sudden problem is, and doubly can’t figure out why it would’ve started after he skipped buying Atsushi food once. It’s almost enough to push the mush feelings that started this whole mess to a backburner, only surfacing when Ryuu’s eyes linger too long on the clean, lithe lines of Atsushi’s body, and he knows he’s not the only one who stares, anyway.

And then a new group surfaces. A remnant faction of the Guild that has apparently spent the better part of five years biding their time and preparing to take revenge on both the Port Mafia and the ADA. Since Ryuu and Atsushi were the ones to take down Fitzgerald, the faction prepared the most for them. From the beginning of an attack they only had the slightest warning for, Ryuu and Atsushi are methodically separated from everyone else.

They’re losing. Badly. Ryuu doesn’t know where any allies are except for Atsushi, and then only because Rashomon still has a tendril on him. Blood pours down his leg from a shot above his knee, and Ryuu resists the urge to favor the leg in case he has to run again. He ducks into an alley and slides down the wall, trying to catch his breath, get his bearings. He hasn’t had to legitimately fight for survival in a long time, and though his life has made him no stranger to pain, he’s not as young as he used to be, and his body protests when Ryuu tries to demand movement from it.

“Aku.”

It seems Atsushi has found him. Ryuu doesn’t even bother to snap at him for the nickname. Atsushi picked up the habit a few years back, saying Ryuu’s name was too long for him to yell, and Ryuu has begrudgingly gotten used to it, only putting up token protests now. He hurts too much for those, though.

“We have to get clear,” Ryuu tells him.

He heard some distant explosions he’d bet his coat are Chuuya, and where they find Chuuya, they’ll find the Black Lizard – they’ll find Gin – and they’ll find Dazai, or at least Dazai’s mind, talking through an earpiece and entirely out of the fight, safe where he’s most effective. Those allies would be enough to turn the tide, if only Ryuu had any damn clue how they could get clear.

“I have an idea,” Atsushi says.

“That is not your area,” Ryuu counters. He can’t help himself. Everything hurts.

“I know you’re mad at me, but trust me on this,” Atsushi pleads.

“I’m not…” Ryuu is so taken aback he needs a second to organize a response. “Why would I be mad at you?”

Generally speaking, he’s almost never mad at Atsushi anymore. If he is’ it’s a fleeting anger, gone as soon as he recognizes it. He has no clue why Atsushi might think he’s angry enough to revert their relationship back five years.

“Because you skipped dinner, and you made this face…” Atsushi trails off, and Ryuu…

His taste leaves so much to be desired. Atsushi is an idiot, all personal growth aside, and Ryuu realizes, with a degree of horror, that he feels something very close to fond.

“That’s not why,” he says, voice gruff, and he’s once again lost control of his face. Atsushi searches his eyes, and Ryuu sees the moment the truth dawns on him.

“Are you…?”

“You said you had an idea?” Ryuu interrupts. He keeps his eyes off Atsushi’s face.

“I do,” Atsushi says. “I need all of Rashomon.”

Ryuu instinctively holds his Ability closer. He’d given all of her to Atsushi earlier, a standard play when they’re in an all-out fight, but it only works when Atsushi takes all the hits. After he got shot in the leg, he pulled part of her back.

“Do you think you can hold onto me?” Atsushi asks.

“Why?”

“I won’t be able to hold onto you.”

“You’re going to get us both killed,” Ryuu accuses without heat. He can already feel himself relenting.

“Trust me,” Atsushi begs.

Ryuu does.

“I guess another trip with the world’s worst Uber driver isn’t the worst way to go,” Ryuu sighs.

Atsushi crouches in front of him, hands careful on Ryuu’s leg as he clambers onto Atsushi’s back. It aches, but Ryuu holds with both his arms and hopes for the best.

“Use Rashomon to amplify the jump,” Atsushi tells him. “And leave me plenty of slack.”

“Slack…why?” Ryuu asks, but Atsushi is already gone under his hands, replaced with a tiger. “Oh.”

Atsushi’s muscles bunch, and that’s all the warning Ryuu gets before they take off into the sky.

The tiger can’t fly, but the jump is so powerful, especially with the added strength of Rashomon, that it feels like a near thing. They soar above the building they’d been sheltered behind, over the heads of their enemies, and by the time anyone thinks to attack, it’s already too late.

“East,” Ryuu shouts above the wind. With the new vantage point he can get a better idea of where Chuuya is. Atsushi can’t answer him, of course, but he obeys anyway, touching down and running towards the explosions. They’re almost to relative safety when a strike from the side sends them both sprawling.

An Ability user approaches them, hands crackling with something obviously dangerous. Ryuu doesn’t stop to think. He just attacks, Rashomon rushing the man in furious tendrils. He pulls back at the last minute, and when the dust clears, the man is unconscious and full of holes, but still breathing.

Ryuu is just turning to see if he needs to pull emergency first aid skills out of his ass when he gets an armful of re-humanized Atsushi and a pair of lips hitting his own like a punch. He doesn’t even have time to respond to the kiss before Atsushi shoves him back by the shoulders.

“Wait, shit!”

Atsushi regrets the kiss. Atsushi regrets him.

Ryuu’s hand twitches towards the phone in his pocket. He can leave this all behind and start a new life. In Iceland. He can use the Duolingo app Chuuya made him download to learn the language. He’ll herd sheep. He’ll change his name to Sven.

“I was supposed to ask for consent first!”

“What?” Ryuu – Sven – asks.

“I’m supposed to ask for consent before I kiss you!”

This doesn’t…feel like rejection. Sven – Ryuu – takes his thumb off the Duolingo app.

“You’ve been thinking about kissing me?” he asks.

“I was…I mean…” Atsushi flushes red. “For a while now? I never thought you’d want me to, but then you did, and…”

Leave it to Atsushi to charge right through all the hesitancy Ryuu’s been feeling. He always has been the kind to leap before he looks.

In a better world, they’d have time to let this play out like a shoujo manga, time for them to gaze into each other’s eyes, time to work up to a kiss much softer and slower, something a first kiss deserves to be.

But it’s not a better world, and they’re still not safe, but they’re close enough to allies that they can make a run for it.

“We have to get out of here,” Ryuu says. He can already hear enemies approaching. Atsushi lets go of his shoulders, and they both start running, Ryuu limping on his bad leg. “And Atsushi?”

“Hm?”

“Buy me dinner first.”

Ryuu doesn’t watch Atsushi take that for the consent it is, but he knows the message is received when Atsushi reaches out to squeeze his hand as they run, letting it drop so they can move faster. They’ll probably have to talk this out when they’re safe, because Gin is right; they need to talk. But now they both know it’s not one-sided, and it’s as good a starting place as any.

In spite of the pain in his leg and his lungs, in spite of the danger they’re still in, Ryuu can’t help the grin that spreads across his face as he runs, Atsushi by his side.

#shin soukoku #sskk #akuatsu #atsuaku #bungou stray dogs #bsd #my writing #bsd!oneshot

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shinobi-imagines · 4 years

Text

please read my story ㅠㅠ

Hi everyone! It’s been a minute... I don’t really come on Tumblr much anymore, but that doesn’t mean that I don’t write! I just wanted to take the time to plug my new KakaOC fanfic called, The Price of Simplicity (read on fanfiction.net or ao3).

The story starts in Kakashi’s ANBU days where he meets a civilian named, Tsuru. He finds her incredibly annoying, loud, yet she still draws him in for some reason. Soon, he finds out that Tsuru is terminally ill and is destined to die at a young age. While it is Tsuru could never fully understand the life of a shinobi, Kakashi realizes that the two aren’t so different.

I would really appreciate it if you guys could read, comment, like, follow, and support my work! I will leave the first chapter under the cut!

The darkest times of Kakashi Hatake’s life were in his youth. The time which many advise you not to waste were tossed in the throes of war for Kakashi. He was bitter. So bitter for so many years and often wondered what the point of living was. However, he swore to himself since he was a little boy that suicide was not an option. Suicide was for cop outs like his father was when the man had left his son that one brutal night. So, Kakashi contemplated to the best way or any acceptable way for a shinobi to die.

By twenty-three, Kakashi was already a well established ninja in Konoha. He had climbed the ranks quickly and by the time he was sixteen, he had already become an ANBU captain. Here he was. Nine years and still an ANBU. Seven years and still a captain. Kakashi had stopped caring for rankings the moment he understood the burden that came with excellence.

“It’s settled then!” his “eternal rival” Gai yelled fiercely. “Kakashi, you’re coming out with us tonight!”

Gai hadn’t changed much in Karachi’s eyes. He was still annoying and much too intense, but Gai was perhaps the only person Kakashi found some comfort in. However, Gai’s attempts to get Kakashi to socialize was starting to get on his nerves.

“Tonight,” Gai continued, “you and I will battle over and over again! We’ll see who the best drinker is! We will see who can get the most girls! We will see-”

“You can stop,” Kakashi denied cooly. “I won’t be going out.”

“I think you misunderstand,” Gai almost growled. “This is no request nor is it a simple invitation. It is a challenge!”

Kakashi sighed. Had he said no to Gai’s demand…well…no wouldn’t have been an acceptable answer. It was Kakashi’s fault in the first place for telling the man he was given a day off the very next day.

Gai had come to visit Kakashi who was getting treated at the hospital for some injuries and a checkup from his previous mission. Although Kakashi hated being in the hospital, it was routine to go and Kakashi liked having routines.

Kakashi let the sounds of Gai drown out as he looked up at the ceiling wondering what he’d gotten into. The two walked down the hall way towards the lobby of the hospital when a girl walked by. Neither of the ninjas noticed her. She was just a patient wearing clothes provided by the hospital. She seemed rather happy and walked with a smile on her face that is until she tripped over seemingly nothing and fell fatefully right in front of two ninjas.

“Are you okay?” Kakashi asked offering a hand to help her up.

“I’m fine!” she replied obviously flustered. She ignored the hand that Kakashi held out and rushed past the two before they could get a glimpse of her face.

“She looked a little young to be in the hospital,” Gai noted out loud.

“Yeah,” Kakashi concurred. “But you never know what happens in someone’s life. Look at me, I come here all the time.”

The bushy browed man merely blinked unsure if Kakashi was being serious or had told a joke.

Night came in almost no time. The sun had gown down and the village lights turned on. There were no kids out on the streets during this hour unless they were trying to sneak into bars to get their first tastes of alcohol with some thrill on the side. Honestly, Kakashi could spot those kids in the farthest corner of the bar from over a mile away without the help of his Sharingan. They were visibly attempting to contain their excitement and attempting to ignore the fact that they stuck out like a sore thumb.He probably didn’t realize that he was glaring at the boys, but Kakashi’s friends surely did.

“Hey,” Asuma called out to Kakashi. “Just let them be. They’re just having fun.”

“Yeah!” Genma jokingly snapped all too stoic man. “The party’s here, Kakashi!”

In Kakashi’s mind, he was thinking about how ungrateful those kids were acting. People like him from a young age put their lives on the line so that people like them could be safe and away from war. But that’s the thing, isn’t it? They didn’t know war because people like Kakashi had made it so they wouldn’t need to know war. Finally caving into his friends’ desires, he rejoined the group with a shot of sake which was met with a round of cheers from the other four men.

“Oh, Raido!” Genma drunkenly whispered to his friend sitting beside him. “Look at that lady who just walked in. Isn’t she pretty?”

Genma’s drunk whisper reached everyone’s ears, and certainly at the door was a very pretty woman with blonde hair that looked almost white and a pair of gray eyes. She wore a tight black dress with long lace sleeves and a pair of black heels. Talk immediately began circulating around the bar. Some speculated, she might have been a model although she looked a little short to be a model. Others theorized the girl was an actress, however, no one had seen her in any sort of production before.

Whoever she was, she seemed to be alone. Kakashi noticed that she had the same light of excitement and innocence in her eyes as the underage fellows who thought that they had beat the system. A naive girl at a bar alone only screamed danger. As predicted, a rugged man with a red flush spread across his cheeks approached the woman.

“Do we stop him?” Raido asks the group.

“I don’t know,” Asuma added.

“Did she not come with anyone?” Genma inquired further.

“If no one’s going to to take this chance, then I-” Gai stopped abruptly as Kakashi got up from his seat towards the girl who was clearly about to be harassed.

“Oh,” Asuma said surprised, “I guess even Kakashi can’t resist a beautiful damsel in distress.”

In truth, Kakashi just about had it with being surrounded by such annoying people. He slowly walked over watching as the drunk man flirted with the girl who looked unsure of what to do.

“Are you new here?” the man slurred. “If you are, I’ll buy you a drink and I could show you around the village tonight.”

“Uh,” she stammered, “no. I was actually born and raised here. Also, I don’t drink.”

“Eh? No way. A pretty face like your’s is something no one could forget!”

The stranger leaned closer and placed a hand on the woman’s knee. His face was right beside her ear when a shadow casted over his back. The woman looked up to see Kakashi with a dark glare in his eyes. It honestly frightened her too.

“If you don’t want any trouble,” Kakashi started to advise, “you’ll go back to your seat.”

“And who do you think you-” the man cut himself off as turned around. “K-K-Kakashi-san! What a surprise!”

The woman watched as the man stuttered like a baby before Kakashi.

“P-Please,” he got up and bowed, “excuse me!”

Kakashi glared down the man as he cowered and rushed away bumping into various chairs on his way back. He heard the woman sigh in relief. When he turned his glare to the woman, she jumped. He noticed that all the girl had her table was a cup of water. Kakashi recalled that the woman had claimed that she doesn’t drink.

“Oi,” Kakashi called out to who seemed like the dumbest woman alive, “are you stupid?”

“Excuse me?” she asked taken aback.

“Hey,” Gai rushed over to his friend, “calm down. You have to excuse him, he’s been really tense lately! Let us take you home. You can trust us, we’re noble shinobi of Konoha!”

“You heard me,” Kakashi ignored Gai. “Are you stupid?”

The woman pouted. Gai could see the flames blaring between the two intense stares.

“Well, who are you to interfere in someone else’s business?” she exclaimed in disbelief at the man’s audacity.

Before Gai could mitigate the situation any father, Kakashi and Gai saw the woman’s expression change from one of annoyance to surprise. As if on cue, another woman barged in.

“Tsuru nee-san!” she screamed angrily.

“Oh!” cried out the woman named Tsuru. “If it isn’t my little sister! Fancy seeing you here, Hyo-chan!”

Then a sound like the crack of lightning made the whole bar still. Hyo slapped Tsuru right across her face. This shocked even Kakashi because he was intending on reprimanding the dimwitted girl, however, this other woman with dark hair stepped in.

The two, who had claimed to be sisters, seemed to be related in only subtle ways. While Tsuru’s hair was light and long, Hyo’s hair was dark and short. Tsuru was much prettier than Hyo who’s appearance looked to be no more than average. However, the two had the same pale complexion and the same shade of gray eyes. Both were also rather short.

Another striking difference between the two was the existence of a Konoha hitae-ate around Hyo’s forehead. She wore the standard shinobi outfit. Judging by what he could see, Karachi deducted that Hyo was probably someone who was less invested in how she looked as opposed to her older sister.

“Wait outside for me, nee-san,” Hyo’s voice was quiet and demanding. It sent cold air throughout the silently stunned bar.

Without complaint, the older sister did as she was told.

“Wasn’t that a little too far?” Gai questioned Hyo. “You shouldn’t disrespect those who are older than you.”

Hyo glowered at the bushy browed jonin, “If she were your sister, you’d want to slap some sense into her too. The bitch keeps sneaking out of the hospital.”

For a moment, Kakashi noticed Hyo’s eyes grow grim before returning back to its original intensity.

The hospital? Kakashi realized that Tsuru was the girl he had tried to help up earlier that day.

“But still…” Gai’s voiced trailed off.

“I apologize,” Hyo bowed to the two men. “I hope my sister didn’t cause too much trouble for my seniors. I’ll be going now.”

Once the dark haired girl was gone, Kakashi said, “Gai.”

“Yeah,” Gai started, “I know. That Tsuru girl is the girl from the hospital.”

“Yes, but there’s something more than that.”

“Hm? What might that be?”

“She doesn’t seem to be a ninja, but she sensed her sister coming.”

“You’re right!”

“Oi!” Asuma called out to the two. “If you’re done making a ruckus, come join us for Kings’ Game!”

Gai marched happily back to the table amongst their friends. Kakashi too headed back, but with Tsuru in the back of his mind.

To put the facts together, Tsuru was undeniably beautiful; however, Kakashi had never seen her around before. She probably had some sort of condition that keeps her in the hospital. And it seemed that although she didn’t appear to be a kunoichi like her sister, she showed signs that she was a sensory type ninja which was a rare talent to have and develop. A spy maybe?

In the end, the group of inebriated and rowdy men certainly provided as a much needed distraction for Kakashi. While Kakashi didn’t really laugh or smile that night, he had to admit that he was rather entertained. Perhaps he was too accustomed in reading into things. Things aren’t always as they seem; but as one of Konoha’s elite shinobi he couldn’t help but think of all possible scenarios from the best to the worst.

Nonetheless, Kakashi woke up with a raging hangover the next morning. Probably from all the thinking.

#kakashioc #fanfiction #narutofanfic #kakashifanfic #kakashi fanfiction #kakashihatake #naruto #narutoimagines #kakashi imagines #kakashixreader

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thewolfprince · 4 years

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Blue slushy & fevermares

For @lunarlight-posts . Happy birthday, Hawky-Hawk!! (My apologies I guess I can only do angst)

Characters: Raelyn, Jay, Sage (mentioned), Wynter (mentioned), Liam (mentioned), Casey

Tw: alcohol & getting drunk mentions, suicide mentions, fever-induced nightmares, throwing up, fever,

Also! Based on an experience I had while visiting family several years ago (eight years ago?) where I got a fever and had a really bad nightmare and woke up in a cold sweat—with my fever broken.

/////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////

It was a beautiful day. The sun was out, the birds were singing, and Jay Thomas was inside his friend’s apartment, sitting vigil over a now-sleeping Raelyn who had thrown up three times in the past thirty minutes and had just gotten to sleep.

When Jay got Casey’s frantic call saying that Raelyn had been swaying on her feet then promptly collapsed in a Seven-Eleven, Jay had ran through a few scenarios in his head on the way. Dehydration, locking the legs mixed with stress-fear, overheating. Nothing had fucking prepared him to see Casey, pale as a ghost and just staring at the body of Raelyn, red and blue slushies mixed together in a half-circle, warding off the people gathering to gawk.

Jay would’ve smiled at the thought of magick at work here, but now his only thought was to start barking orders. “Casey. Get her in my car. There’s an emergency blanket in the trunk, wrap that around her. You!” He pointed to a man standing with a phone out. “Put your fucking phone away and get someone to clean this up. And you-“ he pointed at a white woman who looked very much like a Soccer Mom. “Tell the staff what happened. The rest of you fucking scram!” With that, Jay bolted out the doors after his friends.

Casey was sitting in the back row with Raelyn’s head in his lap. She was wrapped up in a blanket and her breathing was wheezy.

“Hold on to your face, Case!” Jay swereved into the lane that led to the exit. Once they were on the freeway, Jay floored it.

“Jay, lets go to my place, it’s closer.” Casey called. They wasn’t sure Jay had heard until they saw a small nod.

Jay took the next exit and somehow didn’t get into a traffic stop as he drove towards Casey and Wynter’s apartment. He parked the car and thanked whatever was listening that Casey and Wynter had gotten a bottom floor room.

Casey unlocked the door as Jay carried Raelyn to the couch. After setting her down, Casey spoke.

“Wynter’s off on his job. I can’t stay right now. I’m sorry. We were just- it was so- when she fell-“ The short blonde grunted in frustration.

“I get it, Case. Go get some air, I’ll watch her.”

“I-i-If you need me to stay...” Casey’s voice was quieter.

Jay wasn’t entirely sure why Casey did this. Hell, he wasn’t sure why Casey did a lot of things. But in situations like these, there were three options: comfort, assure, or order.

Jay decided to go with assure. “It’s okay, C. If I need you, I’ll give you a call. Cool?”

Casey smiled. “Yessir.” They nodded and disappeared into another room.

So there Jay sat. He heard Casey leave and he debated on calling for backup. Sage probably wasn’t doing anything at the moment.

Jay sat and thought of the many webs between the people that they all connected with. Trying to make sense of that tangled web usually made his head hurt, so he didn’t think about it too much. But now he wanted the distraction of trying to figure out such a complicated group of people.

His thoughts were broken by the sounds of Raelyn murmuring. Figuring he was safe for a bit, Jay stood up and got some water and a bowl. He placed the water on the coffee table and placed the bowl on the ground. He leaned forward in the wooden chair he had taken for himself and rested his face in his palms.

Jay sat like that for three hours, moving occasionally to stretch and to help prop Raelyn up as she threw up. When he stood up next to get himself a soda and a snack, he heard a noise and froze.

“Liam, no.” That he heard clearly. He sat back down, wishing someone was with him. Casey hasn’t answered any of Jay’s texts, which Jay concluded that as Casey probably going out with Sage to drink.

Liam. Liam. Why did the name sound so familiar?

Then it hit him.

One night, Casey got really drunk. They showed up at Jay’s door utterly destroyed. They had curled up with Jay and sobbed about... well about everything. And well, if you wanted secrets, the easy thing is get Casey drunk as hell and lend an ear as they spill everything.

Casey had told Jay everything. About not only them, but the others.

And Jay remembered Casey talking about a Liam.

Liam was Raelyn’s older brother. That’s where her almost-obsession (Jay once brought up how Raelyn seemed obsessed with them and Casey had decked him in the face, so he kept that thought in his head) of blue slushies came from. Her brother would take her to the Seven-Eleven near their house a lot and one day they had gone, then went back home. Raelyn heard something—a gunshot—the next morning and found her brother dead. The details were fuzzy after that, but she ran away at the age of ten and later found the others.

Ten minutes later and Raelyn was fucking screaming. She kept screaming for Liam and it fucking hurt Jay to watch, but he was scared to wake her up. Just as he decided “that’s it I’m waking her,” Raelyn’s eyes opened and she rolled off the couch.

“Raelyn, shit. Hey, hey, hey.” Jay’s voice had a mind of its own as Jay helped Raelyn up. “It’s okay, it’s okay. You’re safe, you’re at Casey and Wynter’s place, it’s okay.”

Raelyn was crying and Jay just hugged her. “It’s okay. You’re not alone, Rae. It’s okay...”

Once Raelyn got back onto the couch, Jay passed her the water. “Hungry?” He almost missed her head shake ‘no’ as she finished the water.

Jay didn’t detach from Raelyn for a good half hour. Her breathing picked up pace and Jay could sense what he assumed was anxiety the one time he tried to get away to get her more water. So, he sat there and noted that she wasn’t feeling as hot as she had when he had carried her here.

Her fever broke. Jay sighed in relief. He decided against advising her to take a shower, as she hadn’t loosened her hug one bit. So, Jay waited.

She walked with him as he grabbed a thermometer and some ice water. Neither of them spoke. Raelyn drank the water and Jay took her temperature. He determined the worst was over, so he tried to get her to eat something before taking a shower.

It didn’t work and Raelyn stayed stuck to Jay like glue. Jay just shook his head and sat back on the couch.

When he got up again, Raelyn was gone and he heard the shower going. Damn, must’ve fallen asleep. He thought, right as the front door opened.

In came Casey (who was actually not drunk!), Sage (who was also not drunk!), Wynter, and Lauren.

Raelyn came out (no pun intended) and smiled at Jay.

Then, everyone looked at him as he sneezed.

“Damnit Rae, you got me sick!”

#sickfic bitchesssss #I heard a certain Lunar likes these?#Prohibited Ages #modern au #Jay is a badass with a heart of gold #can yall tell i dont know how streets work #Casey is just a. fucking puppy.#CAN YOU GUYS TELL IM NOT A DRIVING GAY #sorry Hawk its really angsty

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captnbarnesrogers · 5 years

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9,445 Miles From You - Your First Day

Pairing/Characters: Bartender!Harry Styles x Waitress!Reader, a shit load of OCs Warnings: nothin too bad in this chapter; swearing, anxiety Chapter Summary: You fought your anxiety and now you’ve got a job. You meet your co-workers and managers but most importantly, you meet Harry Styles, who is one of a kind. Word Count: 3.1k+ A/N: Mostly some background stuff but Harry makes an appearance :)

9MFY Masterlist

February 2018

At this point in time, you weren’t exactly sure what was happening with your life. You were eighteen and jobless and so far, not even McDonald’s wanted you. You were depressed. You had no money of your own and financially, your parents couldn’t provide everything for you without sacrificing everything else that needed to be done. You needed to be independent. You wanted to be independent so that you could, even just a little bit, take a bit of weight off of their shoulders.

Another day, another failed interview. You huffed with frustration and threw your folder into the nearest bin. You tried to stay positive, but this was the seventh interview in a row where they had found a “more suitable candidate” – excluding all the previous interviews within the last three years. You gave them all of your hours, even the hours you didn’t have and couldn’t give but still, they had advised you to put down “more” hours. A more suitable candidate? More hours? Bullshit. There were only so many hours in a day and you had put down ‘24 hours’ in your resume and yet, they wanted more hours. You were angry with the world. Why couldn’t they just give you a job? You were hard working. You had initiative. No experience due to the fact that no other place wanted to hire you but nonetheless, you were the person who wanted to learn anything and everything in anyway you possibly could. You had a smile for days even if you didn’t want it for fucksake! You sighed and eventually, when you got home, cried into your pillow.

“I just don’t get it, I’m giving them everything I’ve got, even everything I don’t.” You cleansed your face as your best friend was on loud speaker.

“I know, Y/N, but like your mom said, if it’s for you then you’ll get but obviously these places don’t have a spot for you, it’s not you, Y/N, they’re dickheads.” You sighed after grabbing your phone off of the marble top bathroom bench. There was a moment of silence due to the fact that Anastasia was working on an assessment for one of her classes – most probably due the next day due to the fact that she kept complaining about how much she wanted to die.

“You know…” You began.

“What?”

“Paige told me about this group on Facebook and I joined it a couple of days ago.” You pulled up the group and took a screencap, sending it to Anastasia.

“Hospitality Job Hunters? Are you sure this is legit?”

“Yeah,” You shrugged as if she was actually right in front of you, “I know some people who got jobs from there, I guess people just post pictures of themselves and a description of what they’re about and a future employer responds.” Anastasia hums in response, looking through the photos you’d sent her.

“So, why not do it?”

“Well, first of all have to seen my face? My body? Compare all of this to the people who post on there.” She scoffs.

“Okay, first of all, shut the fuck up, you’re fine, and second of all, you’re posting to get a job, it’s not Tinder!”

“It’s like Tinder for jobs though.” She sighed through the phone, the taps of the keyboard loud enough for you to hear through the phone.

“I don’t know, Y/N, I reckon, just do it, you never know if you don’t try.” You mumbled a ‘whatever’ through the phone and another moment of silence crashed the entire conversation, “Anyway, I gotta get this done, text me in the morning?”

“Will do, ya lil bitch, have fun with that.” She laughs.

“I will, don’t worry.”

“If another person rejects me, I’ll stick my head between a door and slam it on myself.”

“You’ll be fine! Just relax and rip it off, like a band aid.” You let out a deep breath, “I love you, okay?”

“Love you too.” And with that, the phone call ended. You laid in your bed staring at the wall. You just needed to sleep this off, you can decide in the morning.

When you woke up, you still hadn’t decided and on top of that, you barely slept, making you cranky and ridiculously sleepy on the train. When you arrived to your class, you sat down next to your friends who greeted you warmly as they always did. Jean noticed your intense stare at your phone; three photos – one happy which showed your outgoing personality as much a still photo could, one smiling before seeing a musical, and one that looked like a headshot.

“Nice photos.” Jean compliments. Kadia looks over and agrees with Jean with a smile.

“What are they for?” Kadia asks.

“I’m kind of looking for a job on that Facebook group.” Jean nods. Shortly after, your other friends, Kiley, Bea, and Megan walk in and sit at the table just behind you. Kiley moves her blond hair away from her face.

“Just post them, Y/N.” She suggests, her sweet and shy voice comes out. The other nod.

“This is your last option, if you don’t get it, you’ll just have to wait until we graduate.” Bea interjects, “And that’s two years away.” And with that small push from your friends, you write a small description of your personality and attach the three photos into the post, pressing ‘post’ as quickly as you could. You set your phone down as Jean rubs your back in support and after fifteen minutes, you phone vibrates.

‘Jacob Fisher commented on you post on Hospitality Job Hunters’ It had said. You squeezed Jean’s arm and she looked at you with concern.

“Someone commented.” You whispered.

“Check it.” And so, you did. You gasped after you read it, “What?!”

“’Hey, Y/N! Send your resume through to my email and leave your number as well, I’ll call you today, so we can set up an interview.’” You read out to her quietly. She shook you by the shoulders and gave you a warm hug.

“This is it, Y/N, this is your job.” And you could feel it too, this was the one. This was your job, you believed. Eventually, Jacob called you with an interview waiting the next day. So far, everything was going great. You felt like you could breathe even just for a moment.

The next day, you’d met up with Jacob at a tall building, obviously the bar you were to hopefully going to work at. A small but very visually appealing sign hung above the entrance, ‘Heavenly Gin’, blinking bright and very pink. You sat by the front side of the bar where you were greeted by a blonde-haired girl with bright blue eyes, her smile was warm and welcome.

“Hi! How can I help you?” Just in front of you was a man, he too had blonde hair but his eyes were green and almost hazel, not a bad sight at all. You blushed softly at the sight of him when he smiled at you.

“I’m actually here to see Jacob Fisher.” You smiled at the girl.

“I’ll get him for you.” She held her hand out for you to shake. With nervous and clampy hands, you shook it, “I’m Regina, by the way.”

“Y/N.” As you waited, the blonde-haired boy began to make conversation.

“Hi, Y/N.” He greeted with a smile. Everyone, so far, seemed to be chirpy and you felt right in place, “I’m Roger.” He too held his hand out for you to shake which you did. He continued to polish the cutlery in front of him and separated them into different trays, “So, how’d you find us?”

“I, uh, posted on this Facebook group.”

“Ah.” He nodded, “Most of our bartenders here did the same.”

“Really? I feel less weird now.” You chuckled.

“Oh yeah? I’ve got another one for you, one of our bartenders actually ‘applied’, if you will, when he was drunk out of his mind during a night out and now, he’d been working here for two years.” It made you laugh. The though of a drunk guy having a very drunk conversation with Roger about how he needed a job, “On a scale of one to ‘I feel so out of place’, how weird do you feel now?”

“After that? I’m at a two.” He chuckled at your reply, “How long have you worked here?” You continued.

“I was hired just before the renovations, so around seven or eight months.”

“So, long?” You questioned, and he nodded.

“Long enough.” Footsteps were heard behind you.

“Aha! There she is, hi, Y/N, I’m Jacob!” Jacob was just a bit shorter than Roger. He wore a colourful Hawaiian shirt with some khakis, his brown hair was slicked back and his beard was quite thick. You jumped off of the bar stool and shook his hand, “Just come through here.” He took you behind the bar through a dining area after waving goodbye to Roger and Regina. He asked you about your likes and dislikes and why you wanted to work there. You chatted heavily about the Winter Olympics which you bullshitted a little bit due to your lack of knowledge on most of the sports but in the end, Jacob smiled and commended you for your quite outgoing personality. He had let you know that there was another waitress he needed to interview but so far, everything was going good for you and if he hadn’t taken another interviewee, he would’ve hired you on the spot but still, things were looking up. You thanked him for his time and said your last goodbyes to Regina and Roger before exiting the venue. You took and deep breath and prayed to whatever God there was up in the heavens and down below hell to bless you with this job and these seemingly good people.

By the week after, sure enough, Jacob had emailed you a list of uniform preferences and where to be when.

Friday, February 23rd, 2018

The smell of brewed beer and oak flooring filled your nose as the clock struck 3:30 PM. You wore a black top and blue jeans with black and white sneakers – regulatory uniform for staff at the venue. You were once again greeted by Roger who introduced you to the Venue Manager, Tyrone, and the Bar Manager, Josh. Tyrone looked down at you, not in a euphemistic way but in the literal sense. The man was at most, to you, like six foot five. He greeted you with what you sensed was an absolutely fake smile. He was unsure of you, almost like he didn’t trust you and your lack of experience and skills. You were used to the stare due to the fact that most places you had applied for, the interviewers had the same belittling stare. Tyrone showed you around the venue and the staff area before giving you a name tag and sending you upstairs into the high ground bar. Josh greeted you after you pushed your way through a sea of people.

“You feeling okay?” You nodded, “I can tell you’re overwhelmed and if you feel anxious at all throughout the night, just let me, Gianna,” He gestured to a small woman, with curly hair sticking out of her bun, “or Jane,” She was tall with blonde hair who smiled sillily at you, trying to make you feel welcome, “know, okay?” You nodded again with a much realer smile. Josh then introduced you to a fellow waiter, Joe, who wore glasses and had his long hair tied into a bun. He smiled sweetly at you and shook your hand. Josh left you with Joe who showed you every basic thing you needed to know; collect plates, glasses, light the candles, and of course, take some orders. He explained that at night, the bar turns into a club and that we needed to keep the place clean which meant checking bathrooms and cleaning up broken glass. To be quite frank, you didn’t know that waitressing meant doing all of this stuff, though, you weren’t complaining.

“So yeah, we’re pretty much the back bone of the bar, without us, these people would go to shits.” He laughed. Joe was sweet and made himself feel welcome and approachable. This was dangerous, knowing yourself, this would eventually get messy. He was sweet, handsome, funny, and approachable which was honestly a recipe for disaster for someone looking for love and affection. Someone who was inexperience with the world like you. He interrupted your thoughts, “By the way, you’re not the only new kid, see that guy over there?” He pointed over to another guy who looked almost exactly like him; long hair tucked away in a bun and glasses. You nodded, “That’s Harry, he’d new as well, maybe you could both bond over that.” He chuckled.

As night fell, Joe asked you to light up some candles and start spreading them out on each table. You subtly observed Harry from afar. He was handsome, incredibly handsome. When the light shone on his eyes, they were emerald green. His smile was contagious, evident in the fact that the girls he was serving were all smiley and giggly which also meant that he was probably a good conversationalist. You hadn’t noticed yourself staring until Harry quite loudly placed a glass into the dishwashing rack, making you clear your throat and look away.

“Girls seem a li’l crazy tonigh’, aye?” He began.

“Yeah, crazy.” You reply, still lighting up the candles.

“’M Harry.” He smiles.

“I know,” You cringed at yourself, “I mean, I don’t know but now I do know since you told me- Jesus, sorry, I’m- I’m Y/N, sorry to ramble, I guess I’m just nervous.”

“First day too?” You nodded, “I was like tha’ when I first started workin’ at a bar bu’ don’ worry, shit gets easier, don’ stress, yeah?” At this point, you were trying not to. And just like Joe had said, the bar had turned into a club type scene. People were starting to stumble in from their pre-drinks and began to order drinks from the Heavenly Gin bar. They started gathering on the dancefloor as early 2000s and late 1990s music blasted from the speakers. This was all fun and laughter to you since you’d never actually been clubbing or the such. You danced and sang along but still worked hard which you were commended by Josh when he laughed as he walked by. You continued collecting glasses that were empty and even collected one that was sitting in the same spot for almost four hours, untouched. It was almost empty, a sip left, and it would’ve been completely drained and so, you took it upon yourself to collect the glass, knowing that it was a rule to collect such glasses just in case it’d been spiked. The music was getting better and better which only made you dance more, making Harry laugh and join in. A few moments later, while putting some glasses away, you heard a commotion at the bar, making you turn your head. A dishevelled man was arguing with Harry.

“Who the fuck took my glass!?” He pointed at you and began to make his way behind the bar, “It was you, wasn’t it!?” The slur in his voice made it evident that he was, in fact, drunk.

“I- I, I just- I-it was s-sitting there, almost empty, I-” Harry watched as you stammered and stumbled on your words. He inched closer trying to keep him away. The man kept coming closer which only made Harry grow more protective over you. He held his arm out in front of you to keep you away from the intoxicated patron.

“I will talk t’her, mate, jus’ step outta th’bar.” The man growled in frustration.

“Next time, don’t take someone’s-“

“Mate, jus’ calm down! I said I’ll talk t’her, I’ll get yeh anotha drink, jus’ step out, yeh don’ need t’yell at her, I’s no’ tha’ big of a deal.” You stood behind Harry with the tea towel, that once hung off of your apron, covering your face. The man walked away with a huff, “Hey, yeh okay, love?” You couldn’t breathe, it was like the world suddenly crumbled around you, “Okay, okay, yeh alrigh’, Y/N, I’s no’ yeh fault, I’s yeh job, lovie.” He tapped the other bartender and let them know that he was off to take care of you. He took your hand and led you to the side door which led to the staff entrance. He rubbed your back and held you in his arms, hushing your sobs, telling you that you were going to be okay. After a while, Harry left you to calm down, Josh telling him the he urgently needed to be back at the bar. He left you with sad and sorry eyes, completely regretful and not wanting you to be left alone with your thoughts. You guessed that he knew what this feeling was like. When you had calmed down, you returned to your work and tried to cast away the anxious thoughts of being fired after your first day and to be faced with, once again, with the intoxicated patron who had been the source of your panic attack. Harry checked up on you frequently, rubbing your back comfortingly whilst speaking to you. It was later, after work, when you found out that Harry had spoken to the security guards and asked them to eject the man which made your heart warm. After work, you sat in the locker rooms by your locker and took a deep breath. Harry walked in and gave you a soft smile.

“How’s m’girl?” He asked, taking his jacket, bag, and red and white bobbled beanie out of his locker.

“I’m okay now.”

“That’s good.” He nodded. You weren’t really good at expressing gratitude and making the words ‘thank you’ leave your lips felt almost foreign in the sense that no one had really done this for you before. You cleared your throat and stood in the middle of the room.

“Harry?” He hummed in response, “I- I just wanted to say thank you for what you did.”

“Y/N, I’s alrigh’ I promise.”

“I know but you didn’t have to stick up for me like that but you did it anyway.” He walked over to you and engulfed you in a hug.

“I wasn’t gonna let some drunk guy yell at yeh fo’ summat so trivial, I’d never let anyone yell at yeh if I can help it.” He pulled away from you and looked at you, “A’ve always got yeh back yeah? From now on, yeh got me.” You smiled and hugged him tightly once again.

“Okay.”

“Okay!” He pulled away from you and put his backpack on, “Now, how ‘bout we get a drink downstairs an’ I’ll take yeh t’th’ station, how’s ‘at sound?”

“Sounds good, Harry.”

MASTERLIST

PERMANENT TAGLIST:

@abouttimefortea @minervaem @barnes-heaven @buckyywiththegoodhair @heartmade-writingbucky @hellomissmabel @justanotherbuckydevotee @alphaabucky @naenae87 @sunnyfortomorrow @aya-fay @terralingua-ua@topthis808 @savebxrnes @mizzzpink @janellexox0spiderman @lara-ludbey @bread-poet-society @jjlevin @marvel-fanfiction @zoejohnson8 @frickin-bats @iamwarrenspeace @kenmen02 @captianwintersoldier @bucky-bear-barnes @capsheadquaters @duncedgoofball @amisha25 @miniwroetofreezymd @honey-bee-holly @unstoppableminx @lancefvcker @stranger-stark-montgomery @avxgers @odinhson @marvelouslyme96 @rraise-a-glass-to-freedom @chonisberonica

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cillyscribbles · 5 years

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ya girl did it again

as expected, i love ra’s mentor archetype and will die for him. a lot of feelings and bad book analysis under the cut

whenever i read book 3 again, the time-skip between halt and crowley's first conversation and halt's drunk antics sort of breaks my heart.

halt didn't expect the king to break any rules for him. in fact, "outer halt", the grim and more serious side of him mostly expects the worst of people with a few exceptions: this guy's disrespecting the entire diplomatic service as a whole, which i fully damn called, so i'll make my peace by just calmly throwing him out the window. will got kidnapped, so if i don't get to him in time, he'll get himself killed. i got shot, i'm not helping this mission, you two go on and leave me behind, if i die, i die.

(this whole "i need a very clear-cut purpose/i need to be useful somehow in order to keep myself motivated to move on and, by extension, live. if i'm not working what am i doing" mentality is another one of halt's very prominent traits and opens a whole another can of worms on its own imo)

so. what am i getting at.

halt knew fully and well he was risking his life by getting drunk halfway to a coma and going on to publicly shit-talk the king. i mean, he probably only got drunk so he'd have enough 'whatever, screw it' stamina to do it. of course, it could've been an excuse he could present to duncan, which he does ("i got drunk, said a few things i shouldn't have") but do we really think halt can't fake being drunk? i don't think he would give up his self-control if he didn't have to. this is halt.

to be honest this whole post is just me being emotional because think about it - he left his home one day, expecting the better of the two outcomes of what he was about to do - and the better outcome was getting banished from his country which he'd settled in after he had to run away from his homeland, mind you, and now he'll have to leave it as well. he loves this country. he does. not the land itself, but what is means to him. he's got friends here, his whole life's here, this is his home now, he was happy to be somewhere he felt like he belongs. that cabin in the woods, that's him, that's his safe place and a reminder that he's not an outsider despite not being an araluenian by blood. and he decides to give it up, and it's not temporary, it's for his entire life. that's it. done. even if he survives this, he won't ever see that cabin or those woods or that castle again. and that's only if the king doesn't just. behead him. on a whim or some crap.

sure maybe halt was hoping the king would think about his actual input to this country (araluen would've literally fallen TWICE if halt wasn't there to deck some asses), which duncan obviously did, because he's a decent human being and not a piece of ya know. shit. like ferris. to be honest, halt has no reason to trust kings and nobody can blame him. i sure as heck will not.

so think about this.

at first, halt's not really thinking through it - he's angry because of so much nonsense that's happening all at once. his apprentice's somewhere out there probably dying or being trafficked, the king won't see him at all despite him being one of his best advisers, and his best friend, as patiently as he's trying to sugarcoat it, just won't let him go and try to save a boy that's probably closer to him than his own family ever was.

it's understandable to be angry in this situation, nothing more to be said about this. he's PISSED. now it's worth mentioning that halt's primary defining character trait is looking a law straight in the eye and going "listen up here motherfucker". and what does he do? just that. breaks the ranger-defining oath, throws away all the orders his commander gave him, goes out to commit treason because that's how we solve problems in this house.

but, that's not it. he's not just doing it because he's cross-eyed in fury, even if he is. halt is an emotional character if you take him out of context, but that’s only if you take him out of context.

another thing about him is that he's probably the most cold-driven one. he did not do this on a whim. he absolutely did not fuck up his entire life on a whim. no, my guy went home, let the fumes out and then had a good short mental countdown - what he's going to do, how he's going to do it, and what outcome he's hoping to get.

this dude is a ranger, and he knows the laws inside and out (maybe just so he can exploit loopholes in them, but we all have quirks. so what if forging official documents is his hobby. let him live) so he decides on the most optimal one to break to get his way - and it involves POSSIBILITY OF HIS DEATH. and sure, duncan probably won't snap his neck for something like a few foul words, but, like, the only other option is BANISHMENT. he doesn't know duncan will banish him for a year only (as he's startled and absolutely appalled when he hears that).

so - what do you think? he's short on time, he wants to get on with this as fast as he can, but there has to be a while or maybe just a short moment when he just remembers that he’s human for a minute or two and this is not gonna end well for him no matter the outcome.

maybe it's back in his cabin. maybe he wipes the dust off the table and wonders for a bit who'll be the next ranger of redmont. looks at all the flowers he picked for the cabin to keep it clean and nice. will the new ranger pick some new flowers? or will he let those rot until they're good enough to throw out or use as fire fuel? eventually, he knows, there will come a day when the cabin won't remember him, the flowers will stay outside the wooden walls and his memory will slowly fade from the fief. and it'll probably happen during the next few months.

maybe it's during the ride to the tavern where he'll pass judgement on himself. maybe abelard makes a noise of concern, sensing his rider's uneasiness, and halt pats him on the back, what am i doing, how did it come to this, but he keeps moving because he has to, and he goes on with his plan because it's him or will, and hell shall freeze over before he lets it be will. abelard stays silent for the rest of the way and halt remembers that, if he succeeds, he'll be taking him away from his friends as well - cropper and blaze and the rest. and there's a strange feeling of influence, the realization that he's doing something that won't only impact him but quite a handful of others. so many people he most likely won't see again no matter how this turns out - crowley and pauline and baron arald and even the king. but there's a life on the line, and that life is too important to him.

maybe, finally, it's when he's waiting to be called in for his trial with hot drying blood on his face and a feeling that his guts have been ripped out and his head splattered by those clubs the watch carried. maybe it's when he raises a hand to brush off some hair that stuck to his face and he feels his fingers trembling. this is him now, and there's a strange urge to smile. look at me, beaten, bloody and blue, and it's all a part of the plan. what a wretched plan, honestly. he's taken the chance that he won't be killed through this, and there's nothing left than waiting it out to see his future decided. and god knows he didn't want to do that, direct quote - "it's a deep and bitter hurt", he's abandoned everything he'd been building up for years. of course it hurts you fucking self-sacrificing idiot.

can you imagine the absolute disbelief and the relief he must've felt when it was announced that his banishment would last a year? i'm surprised he didn't just plank himself down then and there. i would've. imagine how hard it has to be to intentionally ruin your life for a cause only you seem to believe in, literally tear down everything you've ever worked for, and then be told that it's gonna be alright and it's not twice as bad as you thought it was? jesus christ, the impact of that.

no wonder he's graying at 35. i would've gone into cardiac arrest seven times consecutively just during that single day. so, there. he may be the favourite of everyone and their grandparents, but man, the lengths he's willing to go for the people he cares about still go under-explored. guess that's what i tried to do. it's three am, i have a lot of emotions, and most of them are ra related.

i don't think i've read about a choice quite so difficult in a long time? again, this section breaks my heart. we get so little of his perspective except when he's already leaving araluen. and the guy cries. well-deserved tears. how can you not. honestly the whole point of this post is that halt has gone through way more bullshit than he should've and nobody appreciates him as much as they should. even i. halt o'carrick is immortal and there will be a time when we will give him recognition he deserves, be it willingly or under the pain of death.

#instead of getting some rest i do this #why am i like this #anyway halt is pure and none of you can touch him #ohhhh cillyyyyy but he's a raaaaanger he's a trained muuuurdererr #shut up #he's pure #soft #and wholesome #fight me #rangers apprentice #ranger's apprentice #halt o'carrick #also come at me flanny. i'll clock you in the face. coward #cilly.zip

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wannabanauthor · 6 years

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Bad Book Club: A Simple Favor by Darcie Bell

Spoilers for the book and movie!

Trigger warnings ahead: incest, suicide, gaslighting

@caitlynlynch, please spread the word. You don’t have to read the review.

This morning I saw the trailer for A Simple Favor starring Anna Kendrick and Blake Lively. It’s about a mom blogger named Stephanie whose strange best friend, Emily, disappears. It had a Gone Girl feel to it, and I decided to check it out.

The reviews warned me that it was bad, but once again in my life, I failed to listen.

How bad is it, you ask?

Well, the book isn’t “bad”. It’s very simplistic, and everything was predictable, but it was a page-turner. None of the characters were likable, and at first I thought that was intentional, but by the end, it was very clear that the author was rooting for Emily.

Let’s get started shall we.

Stephanie is a mom blogger who’s really fucking annoying. She’s gullible. Super extremely fucking gullible. She’s a widow with a five year old son named Miles. There’s also a dark secret that one review alerted me to.

One day, her best friend Emily asks her to look after her kid for a couple of hours, Nicky (Miles’s best friend), because there was a work emergency. Stephanie agrees but when Emily never comes by that night to pick up her son, Stephanie panics.

She calls Emily’s job and husband, and they both say that Emily went out of town for a few days for a trip.

But when Sean, Emily’s husband, comes back from London (He’s British by the way), Emily has been gone for six days. They call the police and file a missing person’s report.

Throughout this entire thing, Stephanie is second guessing everything. She believes Sean when he says he “forgot” that he had taken out a two million dollar insurance policy on his wife since the monthly paycheck deduction was so low.

The police find a body at Emily’s family’s cabin, and the DNA matches.

Sean and Stephanie grieve, and while Stephanie is grieving, she’s blogging this whole experience but keeping out the juicy bits like how she’s lusting after Sean and flirting with him. Once Emily is proved dead, they start fucking.

Want to know Stephanie’s dark secret? A long time ago when her father died, she found out that she had a half-brother named Chris. He was the spitting image of their dad, and she was the spitting image of her mom, and they kind of resembled her parents’ wedding photo.

This turned her on. They met up at his hotel and fucked. They carried on this affair for years even after she got married, and he even fathered her son, Miles. Her husband figured out about the affair, asked her about it, she lied, so he committed a murder-suicide by driving into a tree with her brother in the passenger seat. He left a suicide note for Stephanie in the bathroom, and she burned it after she read it because she wanted the life insurance to take care of her and her son.

Now Stephanie prides herself on being a good person or trying to make up for the mistakes she made in the past.

Now turns out, Emily is alive and has been spying on her husband and “best friend”. Turns out, she has a twin who was a drug addict who called her to say she was going to kill herself, and Emily thought this was the perfect time to put her plan into action.

Emily loved being a mom, but her and her husband’s jobs kept them busy and away from their son. When she found out about the insurance policy options, she hounded her husband for awhile until he gave in and agreed to go along with her plan of faking her death to collect the insurance money then running off to Europe. She told her husband before she left to not believe anything that he was told about her being dead.

He didn’t listen, but let’s switch over to Emily.

Emily has an identical twin and got her hooked on drugs when they were younger. Emily walked away from the drugs, but her twin sister Evelyn couldn’t. Once Emily was grown and out of the house, she never told anyone she had a twin. Her twin was in and out of rehab, and then finally called her one day to say that she’s was going to kill herself.

Emily was like “oh no, don’t do anything yet, but also, now I have the opportunity to get the two million dollars”.

Yeah, she’s a despicable character but it gets worse.

She and her sister meet up at the family cabin, and she has a change of heart and gets her sister to change her mind about suicide. Her sister decides to live and go to rehab, but then Emily gets a bit put off by not getting the insurance money. Want to know what she does? Gets her drug addict sister to get drunk on tequila and high off pills until her sister wants to kill herself again.

When her sister expresses doubts about going through it, Emily is like “you have to do whatever you want”. So her sister kills herself. Emily is genuinely heartbroken and blames her husband for “making” her do this to her sister

Yes, you heard that right. The husband she coerced into going along with the fraud scheme is at fault for her encouraging her sister to commit suicide.

Weeks go by, and she visits her home to see Stephanie in her kitchen. She’s mad that her husband moved on without her, even though the fucking DNA matched and he didn’t know she had a twin. She continued to blame him for making her kill her sister, and then she started tormenting Stephanie by calling her and revealing that she wasn’t dead.

Stephanie finds out where Emily’s mom lives and visits her and finds out about the twin. The insurance investigator comes by the house and informs Sean and Stephanie about the twin. Sean figures out that Stephanie knew and they kind of break up.

Emily gets Sean to meet her for dinner, blames him for moving on and vows to make him sorry.

Emily gets Stephanie to meet her and tells her Sean was abusive and made her commit the fraud and fake her death.

Stephanie, who had recently found out that her best friend lied to her about a whole bunch of shit, believes this and goes along with Emily’s plan for revenge.

Emily kills the insurance investigator and gets help Stephanie to help cover it up and plant evidence to implicate Sean. Stephanie also write s a blog post telling Emily’s “side” of the story.

Sean flees to another country.

At the end, two cops come by Emily’s house to question her about the insurance investigator’s death, and she spins the story to implicate Sean and Stephanie.

The book ends with the cops leaving to go investigate this new lead, and Emily is still blaming everyone else but herself for her actions. She plans to run away with her son.

So it pretty much ends on a completely unrealistic and horrible mix of an open-ending and cliffhanger.

Can you see why I’m a little bit peeved?

First off, none of the characters are likable. Second, Emily’s logic made no sense. Third, every single one of them was delusional.

Sean may have been the best out of all of them, but he still did some shady shit.

Emily had Stephanie wrapped around her finger, probably a good case for gaslighting.

Stephanie was so brainwashed that she convinced herself that Sean hit Emily in front of her when he didn’t. She was isolated and in such need of a friend that she easily believed all of Emily’s lies and even agreed to help cover up the insurance investigator’s murder and implicate Sean.

Also, I highly doubt an insurance investigator would let a woman who faked her death get close enough to jab him with a needle filled drugs when the twin of said woman died of a drug overdose and drowning.

So I advise you to skip the movie and book altogether. They may change some big things in the movie, but I wouldn’t advise you to take that risk.

I’m out. I need some food and a better thriller/mystery book to read. Please don’t let me down Jeffery Deaver.

#bad book club #a simple favor #darcie bell #incest tw #suicide tw #gaslighting tw

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spaceorphan18 · 6 years

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Glee’s Final Season [Part 2/4]

Dedicated to @ckerouac and everyone who gave me prompts. This was getting long, so I decided to break it up into four parts - which I’ll post one every evening. :)

For context - This set of episodes takes place five years after the events of season six (effectively season 11??) and ends around the time that the real series finale ends. It is mostly canon compliant – though I did take liberty with a few things, most notably, changing Sam and Mercedes’s story. But for the most part, it should settle in nicely into regular canon – and its intent is that this is my own version of the final season of the show.

Also note: I’m not that great at picking out music for these episodes, so feel free to fill in those blanks yourselves ;)

Previously on Glee:

Part 1

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Episode 11.7: Drinking the Kool Aid

Kurt, Blaine, Rachel and Santana decide to visit Quinn. Kurt and Blaine are wanting to see if she’s still offering to donate eggs for their baby. Santana and Rachel find it skeptical, but Kurt and Blaine recount how in college Quinn offered. Rachel offers her own eggs, to which Santana makes a million jokes, but Kurt and Blaine are a little hesitant about that.

Quinn has a nice place on Long Island. When they meet her - she’s acting a little weird (which Santana points out right away). Everything about the house is too neat and clean and quiet, and Quinn is acting like she’s forty-six, not twenty-six. Quinn give a run down of her life - she’s a real estate agent with a good firm, still married to Puck, and living the life she always wanted. Kurt and Blaine are ask about the egg donation - to which Quinn replies a little hastily yes, as long as she’s paid. A middle-aged Hispanic woman comes in, and yells at Quinn about not keeping quiet. Quinn waves her of as a cleaning lady, but the lady bites back that she is no cleaning lady, and Quinn better know her place.

That’s when Santana tells her to spill it -- so Quinn does. Quinn’s actually the older woman’s house cleaner, she’s allowed room and board if she keeps the place clean. She and Puck have been divorced for a couple of years - after he took off on her. Quinn wanted children, but Puck did not -- claiming he was going to end up like his dad. She lost her job due to lay offs, and has been struggling ever since. Kurt and Blaine apologize for coming - but Quinn says she’d still like to help if possible. She still keeps in touch with Shelby (Rachel’s mom), and Beth is doing great. Quinn says she knows that she’ll never be a real mother, but if she can help give the world children to caring parents, then it’s worth it. Quinn officially agrees to donate eggs, and Kurt and Blaine say they’ll pay her.

They, however, still need a surrogate. Rachel offers again - but Santana claims that Rachel’s too selfish to do that. Kurt and Blaine take her up on her offer.

As a post-wedding present, Brittany gives Mercedes a voucher for a free yoga class recommended to her by her coworker Mary Hollaran. Brittany, Mercedes, and Tina go - only to find that everyone in the class is way too happy. They find that the key to this happiness is some Stanley Kubric-esque mind control videos they are forced to watch before doing the yoga. Brittany thinks there’s nothing wrong with this, but Mercedes and Tina decide that they’d rather not be apart of the strange cult-like yoga class.

And meanwhile, still, Artie and Sam get addicted to a virtual reality game all weekend, and don’t even notice that everyone’s been gone for two days.

Episode 11.8: Freak the Freak Out

Rachel tells Jesse about wanting to be a surrogate. She thought he’d be upset -- but he’s fine with it. The producers of her show, however, are less than enthused. She just started her show, and now she’s going to have to leave it after a few months, breaking a contract. Rachel tries to tell them that she can come back after she’s given birth, but they aren’t as open-minded about it. Rachel then has doctor’s appointments - and when they start to tell her how her body is going to change, she begins to get cold feet about the whole thing.

Rachel then takes a trip with Blaine -- he and Kurt are redecorating and slowly looking at baby related things. Blaine also takes a moment to tell her that he knows this is a big decision for her, not to rush - there are other options, and that they won’t feel bad if she decides to bow out. Rachel tells him he’s going to make a wonderful dad. Blaine then tells him, he’s a little nervous about it -- he thought he’d always be the one ready to go, but Kurt’s the one taking charge in everything, and he’s a little nervous, too. Rachel tells him they’ll be nervous together - and says that she’s fully in.

Mercedes confides in Kurt that her second album is doing extremely well -- so well that her label has asked if she wants to do a three month national tour. She really does but she says she isn’t sure how Sam will take it - especially since he has a job that he can’t up and leave. Kurt tells her that marriage is hard -- he definitely know, but to talk to Sam. He’s sure he’ll be more open minded about it than she thinks. Later - Mercedes does come clean to Sam, and he’s more than supportive, even if he’s being honest, and is a little scared as well. Mercedes feels better about it, and decides to tell her producer that she’ll be going on tour.

Kitty’s in town and meets up with Artie, Tina, Santana and Brittany. They all go out clubbing. Tina gets super drunk and ends up making out with a girl - to which she freaks out about. Santana and Brittany take her home, where Tina decides she needs to reevaluate her entire life. Santana says she’s doesn’t have to -- because Tina is probably not gay (though Brittany is excited about the idea of another bi-corn), but experimenting, and there’s nothing wrong with that.

Meanwhile, Artie and Kitty have a nice time where they catch up - and Artie learns that she’s married and has a kid. Artie’s a little surprised by this, thinking he was gonna probably hook up with her that night, but Kitty says she just wanted to see how he was doing. And while the encounter goes well, Kitty mentions that they’re fundamentally different in that she’s, deep down, someone who wants a more stable life, and Artie’s always going to be a player -- to which Artie feels like he needs to reevaluate his life’s choices.

Episode 11.9: Dance, Dance Resolution

Blaine, Sam, Artie, and Tina take a trip down to Chicago to see Mike. Mike’s doing choreography for a new ballet - and is excited for everyone to come see it. While they’re there - they catch up with Mike -- Sam talks about how he’s going to cope with Mercedes leaving, Artie talks about trying to find inspiration for a new film idea he’s toying with, Blaine talks about the idea of becoming a father, and Tina laments that her life isn’t really going anywhere.

Later, not able to sleep, Tina is up, and Mike joins her. Tina puts forth that maybe they should hook but, but Mike doesn’t think that’s a good idea, to which Tina asks why not. Mike, while he admits he’s single, doesn’t think that she should run back to him every time her life isn’t turning out the way she wants it to. Tina knows he’s right, she’s just tired of being the one not going anywhere. Mike opens up a little - stating that he isn’t sure what he’s doing either, but is just enjoying life as it comes. And offers some advice to Tina - that instead of living in the future, she needs to live more in the present. Tina thanks him - and says she does need to stop comparing herself to everyone else and focus on how awesome she is (to which Mike agrees - she is awesome.)

The next day, after the ballet -- Tina notices that there’s a ballerina who looks just like her. When she goes to check it out a little more, she runs smack dab into an incredibly handsome guy, who introduces himself as Jon. The two talk for a few moments, before Tina blurts out that she’d like to get some coffee. Jon agrees to the date.

Meanwhile, Mercedes begins auditioning girls for backup dancers (with the help of Rachel and Brittany and Mercedes’s choreographer Lynn), things get out of control when one of the producers starts making choices that go against the what Mercedes wants.

And after a few rejected auditions, Kurt decides he needs help with his dancing. Since Santana is the only one available, she offers to give him some tips.

Episode 11.10: The Greatest Adventure in the History of Basic Cable

Due to some major snafu somewhere, all the lights in New York City go out. And these are the stories of those stuck in the blackout.

Story 1: Tina and Brittany -- Brittany was coming to visit Tina at work, and because Tina’s TV station is right near where Brittany films her Youtube show. Often times they head out to dinner together after work, and this being a Monday night, they were both headed to Rachel’s. Except the lights go out - and everyone is advised to stay in the building. Tina is freaking out - because she doesn’t like the dark, and because she’s missing Skying with her new long distance boyfriend Jon. Brittany, however, thinks the whole thing is delightful - and gets the staff to engage in a game to pass the time -- one where they break into teams, and have to act out old sitcoms that people have to guess. Tina is reluctant to get involved first, but when she finds she is super good at guessing old TV shows, she’s the most enthused person there.

Story 2: Rachel and Artie: Rachel and Artie are in Rachel’s apartment when the lights go out. It’s a little awkward - then Artie suggests they light candles. As they do so, Rachel kind of haphazardly talks about her show, but Artie is strangely quiet. After settling in and sitting there quietly - Artie remarks that he and Rachel aren’t really friends. Rachel says sure they are - and recounts the time they went off to find his laptop together. Artie reminds her that it’s been five years since then, and says that she probably can’t even tell him his birthday. It’s true but Rachel doesn’t remember most people’s birthdays. Artie says that if they didn’t have mutual friends, then they would have never spoken past high school. Rachel says that’s fair - but there’s no reason they can’t get to know each other better now.

They decide to play a game of get-to-know-me. Artie starts sometimes he wonders if he’s not good at being in relationships and confides that what Kitty told him when she was in town shook him a little. Rachel admits that she often feels insecure, too, sometimes worries that she’ll wake up one day and still be that loser she was in high school. Artie confides in her that he sometimes feels like that too - and how it’s weird that even being adults, there are parts of who you were in high school that haunt you. After they’ve gotten into more conversation, Rachel tells him that she has a secret - and because Artie is there, and they’re now real friends, she’ll tell him first.

Story 3: Blaine and Santana -- Blaine and Santana are coming home on the subway. Santana is annoyed at Blaine because he might have had a client lined up for her (a coworker of his) but he backed out last minute - and Santana blames Blaine for it. Blaine blames her bad attitude. The two are argumentative as the blackout occurs.

They’re stuck in the subway car with an elderly couple, who finds them a cute couple even when fighting. Santana, finding it amusing, jumps on the lie, and claims that Blaine is her husband, to which Blaine rolls his eyes, but doesn’t refute. The elderly couple says they might be able to help with their problems, and Blaine says he doesn’t think so. They ask how they met, and Santana sarcastically recounts the time Blaine met her on a staircase and how he knew they were destined to fall in love. Knowing that he’s being mocked, Blaine hits her right back, stating that they then they had a ton of meaningless sex because Santana doesn’t know how to deal with her feelings. The elderly couple don’t seem to be discourage and continue to inquiry about their issues.

Blaine says he does not understand why she’s so upset - and Santana says that she need to find work soon. Blaine tells her that if she’d be a little more of a planner and less of a fly by the seat of her pants person, then maybe she’d be in a more secure position, to which Santana tells him he really needs to let loose every once in a while - and if he thinks he’s going to be a decent dad, he’s gonna have to learn to take whatever curveballs life throws at him.

The elderly couple recount their own differences, and say that their marriage has worked because they learned how to complement and support each other. Blaine relents first, and says he’ll still help her find a new client - and get organized. Santana reluctantly gives in and tells him that while she still thinks he could relax a bit, he’ll still make a good dad. The elderly couple tell them they know they’ll be together for a long time - to which Blaine and Santana have a good laugh, though don’t correct them.

Story 4: Kurt and Sam -- Kurt and Sam are stuck in the elevator of Rachel’s building. Kurt, who can’t believe he’s in this situation again, takes a seat and gets out a magazine from his bag. Sam, however, is freaking out a little and tries to get out. Kurt consoles him - telling him they’ll be fine. Sam wants to know how he’s so sure all the air won’t leave or something. Kurt tells him about what being locked in that elevator was like - and even though there’s no bathroom, it’s not such a bad experience.

Sam asks Kurt to talk about that time -- that he’s only seen Blaine’s fictional version of it in script form, but he’s never heard them talk about the experience. So Kurt recounts the story - about how Sue kidnapped them, but it wasn’t so bad. Kurt discovered how deeply he loved Blaine that night -- and while he’s always known Blaine was the one he’d want to be with -- that night confirmed that they could survive anything together. Sam thinks that’s sweet - but is still feeling edgy, and wishes Mercedes was there to calm him down. Kurt asks what Mercedes would do to do that -- and Sam says that she sometimes sings to her. So, Kurt sings him a song, and Sam relaxes.

Story 5: Mercedes and Jesse -- Mercedes and Jesse were the ones getting the Monday night dinner, and were on their way back home when the lights went out. Because they can’t take the subway, they decide to brave walking back home in complete darkness. There are some strange things going on around them, noises they aren’t really sure of, but they decide to continue on. Not all of the journey back is scary -- there’s a street performer playing a sax, which a group of people huddled around him, a bunch of local business offering walkers a safe place to go during the blackout, and - as Jesse points out -- for the first time ever, he can see the stars over New York, and it’s a beautiful sight. They make it home alright, and even dinner hasn’t cooled off completely. And Jesse and Mercedes look back and can always say they remember the day when the stars came out.

The lights are eventually turned back on, and everyone makes it back to Rachel’s apartment just fine. Tina and Brittany have a new game to play, Jesse and Mercedes talk about the stars, Blaine and Santana pretend their married (to the confusion of Kurt and Brittany) and Kurt talks about how he needs to avoid elevators from now on. Rachel says she’s happy they’re all there - all of her friends (including Artie!) and reveals her news -- that she’s been to the doctor to confirm -- she’s pregnant!

Episode 11.11: None of Your Business

With the popularity of Jane Austen Sings! Rising, Rachel ends up in the tabloids more than usual. There are numerous reports of her questionable behavior, along with accounts of her beginning to look fatigued and gaining weight. Rachel mostly ignores them until one reporter starts to follower her around, and takes snapshots of her and Kurt coming out of a baby clothing store and publishes that she’s having an affair with Kurt - and that she’s pregnant. She yells at the reporter, who followers her for more of a scoop, telling him that it’s none of his business what’s going on -- but that only fuels speculation.

Santana nags at her that she should step in (again) and help clear her image. Rachel thinks she can control it, until after a show one night, instead of fans, she’s bombarded with press. Rachel hires Santana to clear things up. Santana invites select press into Rachel’s home (even though Rachel isn’t thrilled about it) so they can do a piece on how loving she is -- and the gang goes overboard telling the press how wonderful she is. Rachel also let’s lip that she is indeed pregnant, which is what everyone really wants to hear.

More speculation about the affair rumors circulate. This time Kurt and Blaine step in to let Rachel know it’s okay to talk to the press about it (now that it’s been enough time). The announcement that she’s carrying the baby for her friends wins her favor of the public - and sales pick up even more for Jane Austen Sings! Due to the fact that Rachel will only be with the role for a limited time. Rachel even learns there’s Tony speculation - and gets excited.

Meanwhile, Blaine begins production on his musical Trapped in an Elevator: A Love Story. It begins to take up a lot of his time, and he starts to notice that Kurt’s acting a little different -- he seems more distant and not as happy as usual. Amid all the rumors swirling around Kurt and Rachel, Blaine thinks he should talk to Kurt about it - but Kurt tells him he’s fine.

Elliott comes back into town, and Kurt and Elliott begin to spend more time together - lifting Kurt’s mood a bit. Blaine doesn’t think much of it, until the same reporters thinking Kurt and Rachel were having an affair are now spotting Kurt and Elliott frequeting an old theater together. Blaine, wanting the full story, confronts Kurt about it. While Blaine doesn’t think Kurt’s cheating on him, he does think there’s something else going on - and Kurt admits there is.

Kurt takes Blaine to the old theater -- it’s just the two of them, as the place has been run down for years. Kurt admits that he’s been having a little bit of a hard time -- Blaine’s got his show, and he has his fashion line, and they both have a baby coming, but he misses performing. So - he has been talking to Elliott about a particular opportunity. He wants to renovate the old theater and make it their own. Blaine, a little skeptical, says he isn’t sure they can afford a theater - but that’s when Kurt says they have a wealthy backer - April Rhodes. She’s the one who owns the theater - and will basically pay them to open it and run it and produce shows to be in it. Kurt says he knows it’s a little bit of a gamble, but it could mean a more secure life for them and their baby down the road. But he won’t make any final plans unless Blaine’s completely on board. Blaine says that he is most definitely on board, as it’s something that they can build together.

[As the show ends, the two share a kiss on the empty stage - and Blaine jokingly asks if Kurt’s more open to sex on the stage now.]

Episode 11.12: Truth Be Told

On her webshow, Brittany reveals some personal truths about her and Santana’s life - including some things that Santana preferred to keep quiet - including the fact that she’s having trouble keeping work. Santana and Brittany argue about it - and Brittany isn’t sure why Santana is so upset since she talks about all of it in the open, and all the time. Santana explains that there’s a difference between personal discussions and public discussion - because Brittany doesn’t seem to know the difference. Brittany tells Santana she shouldn’t be ashamed of who she is - or that sometimes she needs help.

Santana stays mad until she’s approached by a representative of a feminist group - a proactive group that lends itself to young girls in need - who would like Santana to be an official spokesperson for the group. They’re offering a lofty and secure job, to which Santana has a hard time saying no to. Brittany is excited for her - but Santana tells her that while this whole thing worked in her favor, that she wants Brittany to promise that no more secrets be revealed on the show anymore - to which Brittany agrees. Brittany then has Santana on the show to use it as a platform to talk about the new group she’s representing.

Tina’s long distance boyfriend Jon comes to New York and has dinner with Artie and Artie’s new girlfriend Linda. Everything is fine until afterwards when Artie confronts Tina that he doesn’t think Jon is a very good boyfriend because he seems more interested in his work than her, while Tina tells Artie that she thinks Linda is only interested in Artie’s work as a filmmaker because she’s an actress. The two come to blows over it - and decide that they just need to spend more time away from each other.

The more Mercedes plans for her tour, the more Sam feels like he’s being left behind. Sam feels guilty for wanting more attention - especially when this a big thing for her, but Mercedes says she understands - because they’ll be a part for months, and she admits to him that as much as she’s excited for the tour - she’s going to miss him incredibly. Mercedes promises to make some Sam time each day before she leaves, and that no matter where she is, he’ll always be with her.

Kurt, Blaine, Rachel, and Jesse play a couples game to see which couple knows each other better - and they all find out there are still some things about the other one that they never knew.

Episode 11.13: Girls in Bikinis, Boys Doin’ The Twist

Brittany is out Christmas shopping when she sees Vice President Sue Sylvester sneaking into a hotel with a man. She goes home to tell Santana - who doesn’t believe her. They stake out the hotel, and confirm it’s Sue - and Santana sees that the guy is a well known Democrat Senator. Santana wants to spy on her to see if she can get any good blackmail going - when Rachel hears about the plan and wants in. Santana does think she’s in any place to be stealthy, but Rachel insist that they go. They manage to sneak into the hotel alright, but are eventually caught by secret service. Sue, however, recognizes them hauls them into the the hotel room. Sue wants to know what’s going on - and Brittany lets slip that they were planning to blackmail her. Sue claims there’s nothing interesting going on other than she’s trying to work across the aisle to get legislation passed for people with disabilities. Santana doesn’t necessarily believe that’s the full story - but they leave anyway.

Meanwhile, Tina confronts Artie to make a truce. She tells him that she hates fighting with him, especially since he’s been avoiding her. Artie reluctantly tells her that she was right - that his now ex-girlfriend Linda was using him to get in his newest film. They begin to talk, and Tina admits, that while her long distance relationship is going fine, her life feels hollow without him in it. Arite tells her that he’s missed her, too - and the two of them make up. Artie then tells Tina about a film he’s writing. The lead role was originally written for Mercedes, but since she’s leaving, Artie wondered if she would take it on. Tina agrees.

Blaine takes Kurt to their theater - where he’s says he’s giving Kurt his Christmas present early. The stage is decorated with fake snow and a Christmas tree, and a picnic layed out for the two of them to enjoy. Blaine says with all the change happening in their life, and because next year won’t be the same, he wanted to share a few special moments with Kurt just the two of them. Kurt’s touched, and says while he’s happy where their life is headed - he wants to enjoy just he and Blaine a little while longer, too. He joins Blaine on stage where the two of them quietly enjoy their meal, and their company.

Sam throws Mercedes a Christmas-slash-Tour-Kick-Off 60’s themed party - where everyone shows up to do a gift exchange, and where Mercedes goes around the room and tells everyone that she loves them and goodbye (for a short while). Afterwards, Mercedes and Sam have their own special moment together.

On her way home, Santana spots Sue again at the hotel, and this time she notices Sue give the senator a quick kiss. Santana’s quick to take a snapshot - happy to finally have some leverage with Sue - and knows some young girls who would benefit from having a generous benefactor such as Sue. Santana wishes herself a Merry Christmas as the episode ends.

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Part 3 Part 4 AO3 - FULL

#s.o. writes things #glee's final season #i'm still loving how this is turning out #feel free to add music as you will!

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thesportssoundoff · 6 years

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What a 23 page report tells us about Urban Meyer and sports in general

First and foremost, I'd absolutely recommend that anybody who has an opinion on the investigation without reading the investigation findings which can be found HERE (http://a.espncdn.com/pdf/2018/0823/ohiostatepdf.pdf) read it. Read it once, get any sort of emotional issues out of the way and then read it twice with a clearer head. Stuff like this, serious issues about morality and sports trying to co-mingle, often needs multiple lookovers. This one is a neat and tidy 20-some odd pages so it's not like it'll take too much time out of your day and by report standards, it's written clear enough that anybody can parse through it and get it. Also in the following bit, domestic violence is going to come up and while I'm not much for trigger warnings, I do think a fair and honest "HEADS UP!" is necessary for a subject such as this.

The outrage has simmered down. By normal read and react (or just react) standards, the Urban Meyer situation has basically come and gone. His three game suspension is known, we raged about it and people moved on as they often do. It's hard to stay mad at something for too long when social media is basically a treadmill of rage; by the time you get mad at one thing, something else is already coming up so you're never allowed to fully decompress. You can't "get it out of your system" so to speak. I feel like on issues like this when we're discussing potential/alleged violence against a spouse, it matters to read through the reports and try to find the best image possible. Reading through the report I have zero doubt that Zach Smith is an abuser in some form or fashion. If not physically then emotionally since chances are a guy with a severe drinking problem who seems to also have a severe anger issue and poor impulse control probably has no issue yelling or menacing somebody. The report wasn't about Zach Smith's indiscretions (not entirely at least) and was instead about Urban Meyer. It's what I have to assume (because otherwise why read it) a good faith assessment and report on the findings of what Urban Meyer knew, what he alleged to know and what we ALL now know about the Zach Smith situation and how Urban Meyer and Ohio State handled it. For those who wish to care, here are my own personal thoughts based just upon the findings:

1) For SOME reason, Urban Meyer's loyalty to Zach Smith is cast iron which makes zero sense

The 2009 arrest for a domestic incident is discussed and covered pretty clearly early on. Zach Smith brings home a drunk co-worker to sleep on his couch (because why else do you bring a female co-worker to your home to sleep on your couch after a party?) and his wife is upset. It's alleged that Zach Smith throws her against a wall, an allegation that ultimately leads to an arrest but not a charge from Courtney Smith. From there though and spanning two different universities, it sure seems like there's nothing but bad behavior from Zach Smith. From trips to strip clubs (which aren't illicit except for when you're doing it on the company dime/company time) to truancy in paying back bills to the school to other red flags amid the school. The biggie though is the 2015 investigation into more domestic violence allegations from Courtney Smith. At that point, Urben Meyer is faced with a difficult choice on a one v one issue. Zach Smith has to this point exhibited plenty of fireable behavior and now he's under investigation for domestic violence. For some reason Urban Meyer puts up with it, offering yet another warning. At this point Zach Smith continues to act like a problem (it's not illegal to sleep with a co-worker or to take dick pics but it's probably unbecoming for a dude in the middle of a domestic violence investigation to do it and to do it WHILE at work) until the restraining order is brought down in 2018. THEN and only then does Urban Meyer make the move to fire Zach Smith and the move is made, according to the information presented, because Urban was jumped on the news by the media.

For some reasons by which I simply can't comprehend, Urban Meyer's rope of trust for Zach Smith wasn't just long enough to hang himself but to hang Urban Meyer, Ohio State's Athletic Director Gene Smith, the Ohio State University and practically all of Ohio at once. For reasons I can't figure out, Urban Meyer decided that he would stake his perfectly crafted reputation as the guy who viewed this as more than football and who preached family and values and so on so so forth on a guy who ultimately would betray that trust time and time again is just unfathomable. Remember Urban Meyer had Aaron Hernandez on his football team at Florida and he somehow survived the eventual fallout of that with his reputation intact! He rode Tim Tebow and the Tebow-isms of Florida while having guys like Chris Rainey on his team. He left Florida citing health and family, took a year off for a major media gig and then bailed and went to Ohio State for the largest contract in history at that time. This was the world's most bulletproof built reputation and he somehow found a way to ding it over an assistant. Even the report seems baffled, speculating that it may due to Zach Smith being the grandson of a mentor of Urban Mayer's. Even THAT seems like a stretch and IF that's the reason then Urban Meyer got this point politically by accident because no smart man would be that loyal that far down the chain of command. Zach Smith wasn't his defensive coordinator or a close aide, he wasn't a guy in a high spot on the totem pole. He was the wide receivers coach for the love of God. He wasn't there for 15 years having a long track record of proven results. In fact even in 2015 and 2016, Urban Meyer was concerned about Zach Smith showing up late to work (!) and having a generally poor level of performance!

It's stated that Urban Meyer had never fired a coach before and that may have played into it. I don't know the veracity of that claim but if so I guess it makes a little bit of sense as to the apprehension. Still Urban Meyer has truly nobody to blame but himself for all of this because it's not like Zach Smith's character was sterling and beyond question. Anybody who knows me knows I'm a guy who values second/third/fifth/twelfth chances in life. You've probably seen me argue for dudes like Greg Hardy and company, acknowledging the right to be mad at those people for fucking up while also acknowledging the human right to be able to atone for errors and also the right to make a living (as other sports people have argued, what IS a guy accused of a crime supposed to do for the rest of his life? What is acceptable for him? Can he run a store? Can he cook your food? Clean your subways?). Zach Smith just keep making errors and Urban Meyer continued to put him on his coaching staff and the report offers no real solid reason for any of that.

2) "So I’m To Believe...”

My Con Law professor used to start a sentence with "So I'm to believe" whenever he was hinting that somebody was losing their end of a classroom debate. It's stated a few times in the report that Urban and Shelley Meyer had discussions about Zach and Courtney Smith. It was at least known to the couple that those two had problems, so much so in fact that when the 2009 incident between the Smiths occurred, the Meyers suggested a counselor to the duo. As such, I'm to believe is that Urban Meyer and Shelley Meyer had consistent dialogue about everything except for when Shelley was presented with texts of abuse and photos from Courtney Smith? And I'm to believe that Shlley Meyer contacted police about a domestic violence investigation but didn't tell her husband she was doing that? That at no point during this period of time Shelley and Urban NEVER talked about allegations of domestic violence in 2015? Even if Shelley Meyer thought that Courtney Smith was being less than honest about the Zach Smith situation, I'm to believe she NEVER mentioned that to Urban Meyer? It's a lot to believe, ain't it? Shelley Meyer is deemed as "supportive" of Courtney Smith but not supportive enough to say "Listen there's some shit going on, what are you going to do about it?" to Urban Meyer?

3) A three game suspension is worse than no suspension

Honestly there's no "Better than nothing!" here. There are three options here; 1) no suspension, 2) a lengthy suspension or 3) dismissal as the head coach of the Ohio State Buckeyes. To offer up a three game suspension is a slap in the face of the concept of good faith. If he violated enough ethics to be suspended, it should be a much lengthier punishment than three games. A three game suspension is like saying "We don't necessarily think he did anything wrong but we hope you feel better about it!" He won't miss Penn State, he won't miss Michigan State, he won't miss Michigan hell he misses ONE Big 10 game and it's Rutgers! No disrespect to the fine Rutgers football squad but I think Ohio State should be able to manage without Urban Meyer. Again if you feel like he violated something in your code of conduct, suspend him for more than just a quickie three game set. Six games and you'd have plenty of people believing in you. Fire him if you're TRULY convinced he did something wrong. Three games just feels hollow and vacant, like an attempt to make this go away with a terrible placating tool.

4) It's only a problem when a) someone gets hurt by it or b) someone finds out about it

The response of Urban Meyer at the Big-10 press conference is covered but what truly matters are the responses of the people involved. Gene Smith advises Urban Meyer to be as scant with details as possible, Once the shit hits the fan about a potential media snowstorm on Zach Smith, Urban Meyer instructs his coaches to keep the focus on the team and the players. On one hand, sounds like a coach aiming to keep everybody in line and out of the way of what's to come but Urban himself seems to have no idea how to handle the situation either. In fact, he asks people in the organization for details on 2015 which suggests he actually may not have known about it. Now granted that in and of itself is compounded by Meyer's text from before August 2017 of last year disappearing entirely for whatever reason. Strange as that may be. Shelley Meyer expresses concern for the safety of some people (Zach himself? Her family? Courtney?) when she discusses and I quote here on page 12, Section A; "“I am worried about Zach’s response. He drinks a lot and I am just not sure how stable he will be. Afraid he will do something dangerous. It’s obvious he has anger/rage issues already.”" Everything after the fact paints a bad light on what feels like a cover up, even if the information presented seems to suggest something far less nefarious. It has that “It’s only a problem if” vibe to it.

5) Urban Meyer's memory loss is troubling

Urban Meyer is 54 years old and expected to the head coach at a major college university. At numerous times during the investigation, it's mentioned that Meyer either can't recall exact details or just flat out can't remember things. If we believe his texts, Urban Meyer genuinely had no recollection of the 2015 investigation. He did know about it but couldn't remember it per the investigation. In the same investigation, Urban Meyer claims to suffer from memory loss as well. If this is coincidence or an act, he's the most committed actor in history. If it's real? I think we need to ask if a coach who can't remember poignant events in time relating to his coaching staff is truly the best candidate to coach a football team going forward regardless of the ethical concerns.

At the end of all of this, there's some serious ethical issues we need to try and learn from here.

I hope this won’t be the case but I believe we’re all one day going to be in Urban Meyer's shoes. I can't speak for what Courtney Smith has gone through. It's an avenue of life I haven't had to walk and hopefully will never have to walk. Hopefully my sister will never have to walk it either and hopefully no sibling nor mother of anybody who reads this will ever have to walk it. I can only speak for myself when I say that I've known victims of domestic violence and I've known those accused of domestic violence. Domestic violence is a visceral and emotional act; it invokes emotion from those who deal with it and those presented with it. Urban Meyer may truly be a man who values women and abhors those who put their hands on a spouse, namely women who are more often than not the victims. What Urban Meyer may not have been prepared for is the likelihood that somebody close to him would be the accused. It's a lot easier to hate domestic violence until you know the guy who is accused and until you hear them plead with you that they'd never do that. It's harder for you to accept it because YOU want to believe it. Look at your average social media kerfuffle when somebody is accused of something heinous; the majority of the people lambasting them probably turn hat quickly when it's somebody they like accused. We all hate domestic violence until it looks us in the face with somebody we care about. We’ve all probably heard a joke about domestic violence and let it slide unitl it stops being funny when it’s someone you kno wwith bruises. When it's you/us/we, it''s never as black and white, no matter how much it is to everybody else. Even to the very end after firing him, Urban Meyer was telling his staff that Zach Smith needed their help moving forward (on page 11). Urban Meyer was presented on two different occasions with the belief that somebody close to him who he admired was in fault of violating a code of ethics he subscribed (or alleges) to have subscribed to. In those instances, he trusted a man who ultimately in the end betrayed him. Why? I guess it doesn't matter now but it definitely is something to consider. If anything, I suppose Urban Meyer's situation will force us all when/if that time comes to truly question what it is we believe about people and whether or not "*So and so* would NEVER do *such and such*" is really the best way to show faith in a situation as nuanced, painful and complicated as this.

This ethical conundrum of trust and who we trust is magnified with celebrities and athletes and people we THINK we know. Ohio State fans have poured out in support of Urban Meyer with the belief that he didn't know or did the right thing or whatever the case. Our society (and I imagine societies before this) believe we know the people we see on TVs, football fields, basketball courts or on our youtube channels. The star worship is strong and it's getting stronger in part due to the goal of making the world as connected on an individual basis as possible. Nobody wants to believe that somebody could make an error that grave because we "know" them. We "know" them because we see them on TV four months out of the year, follow their tweets and instagrams and believe in something they do to a borderline unhealthy level. We idol worship and just hope like hell we've picked the right idol to bandwagon on. For Ohio State fans, they "know" Urban Meyer's code of ethics because he tells us them and then wins football games. If Urban Meyer did the former and not the latter, would this whole incident just be a convenient excuse for some people to want him gone? We "knew" Bill Cosby because he was funny, right? We don't really know anybody outside of the persona they want us to believe in---and sometimes we all need to remember that before we grab pitchforks or take stances. At the end of the day, I hope this incident convinces people to either wait for a reason to believe one way or another and not allow blind faith and the belief we "know" people to convince ourselves to pick a side long before we need to take one. It's okay to let the facts play out; so long as you're consistent in who you're choosing to let the facts play out on.

And lastly, the biggest problem is one that I think we can all see happening on a day to day basis. That is "When is it okay to talk about somebody's alleged transgressions?" For Urban Meyer and the Ohio State Athletic Department, so much rested on whether or not Zach Smith was charged with a crime. On multiple instances, they admit that a large portion of their reaction was due to Zach Smith not being charged with a crime (that they knew of at least). Even in the end of the report, they state that Ohio State leaving it in the hands of the law was not the best idea in absence of an internal investigation. Ohio State was waiting for the police or a judge to give them some sort of clearance and they waited too long because these things aren't rapid action. They were putting their hands in the legal process to solve their issue for them which is a problem in 2018. It's a smart strategy, I suppose, in that they are the people best equipped to handle that. At the same time, you run the risk of putting somebody else in charge of a problem. "So and so has never been charged of a crime!" doesn't neglect the investigation or the arrest. It's a fine line to walk; being fair to due process while acknowledging an issue at hand. Ohio State relied on the legal system to solve their problems which in turn is the challenge for pro sports today. We acknowledge that leagues/teams aren't equipped to deal with legal matters and yet we want them to. Why? Because most people don't really trust the legal world either. What is due process in 2018 and how do we balance good faith with our emotions?

#football #Urban Meyer #thoughts #meandering rambles #too much words

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nomanicsdak · 3 years

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New Post has been published on https://manicdak.com/athenian-ping-pong/

Athenian Ping-Pong

Huh, I hear tell on the internets that people are already getting tired of Assassin’s Creed: Valhalla? Meanwhile, here I am, still playing Odyssey until the eventual heat death of the universe. As long as I am having fun on my journey is all that matters! Right?

Anyway, first and foremost in this session, I’m going to peruse Lemnos island, of the Skyfall puddles, for more locations. The first thing I stumble my way into is a cultist who for some reason is being set upon by a group of five or six Spartan soldiers. I don’t even have to do anything. I just roll up on them and confirm the kill. Thanks, my brethren!

All the Bounties

There is nothing more to do on this island, and despite my best efforts, I can’t run my bounty up higher than 3 guys. I head all the way back over to Elis again to complete more locations and while I have 3 bounties on my head, I complete the last fort here. I stroll on in, because my goal is to be noticed and get these 5 bounties without civilian casualties (even though I know that’s the easiest way to do it.) I get the guards to to chase me around and eventually manage to kick my wanted level all the way up to five!

As soon as the trophy registers, I run the heck away from there and pay off all my bounties. I know, another trophy is to become the best mercenary and an easy way to defeat other mercenaries is if they’re all coming directly to me, but I still have stuff to do! The last thing I need is to have an important quest interrupted by “Wisteria the Floral” trying to murder me.

I do however, almost immediately get my bounty back up, so let’s rethink that strategy. I let them come at me and basically have four of them hit me at the same time. I only die once though! And now I am a Tier 3 mercenary! Only two more tiers to go before I am the top dog! Woohoo!

I let my bounties stand and head off on a quest. I am back in Sparta now, on my way to clean up a bunch of undiscovered stuff in Athens. How there is still stuff I haven’t done in Athens by now is beyond me.

Some lady, Xanthe, the magistrate, is all excited and knows who I am. Let’s see what she has in store for me.

An escort mission??? Bah.

Is he Old Enough Though?

Basically, I have to escort her son to his military training because his parents are too busy. Like–he’s old enough to be in the military, can’t he just go there himself? I will do it anyway, of course. Should be easy enough. (Famous last words?)

Surprise! It was easy enough! Less of an escort mission, and more of a me following this literal child up a mountain. Once I get there, the trainer wants to battle me because, Sparta! I suppose. Afterward, I learn that some of his students have gone missing including the little kid’s brother. Now I must go and find/rescue them. Alexios hints that maybe some other beast, not wolf or bear, has gotten them. I mean, we just battled a Minotaur; it wouldn’t surprise me.

Okay, wait…the camp is like a hundred meters away from the training grounds. How in the heck did the trainer lose them? Also, how did he miss the body that is up here? Anyway, the dead guy is not the brother. Come to find out that he is hiding out in the cave of sorrows, which sounds like a familiar place that I’ve been to. Let’s check it out. When I arrive, it looks like some rogue Athenians got to them. Well, in any case, I provide rescue, give bro a pep talk, and return to give Xanthe the good news. In return, she gives me more tasks.

Apparently, I am to go around town and advise some people. My own personal self help tour, I guess. Lady, I have got things to do and mercenaries to defeat! C’mon!

As you can probably guess, I am going to do the quest, though.

1st: Lady who thinks her farm is cursed

2nd: Help some lady get control of her wild daughter

3rd: Taming more Precocious children…didn’t I do this quest already? It seems very familiar.

1. I have to take an “offering” to her husband who is hanging out on a beach. The Offering is actually a gift basket full of booze and shrooms. All us dudes party down and are so messed up we don’t notice a Trojan (Athenian?) horse full of Athenian soldiers roll up on us. We defeat them: end of Quest, but I have to wonder why on Earth anyone would want to check out a Trojan horse after what happened with the first one? ( PS: I later find out that this quest is not part of Xanth’s tasks. Oops)

Neigh? Nay.

2. The Wild daughter just wants to adventure and have fun. Sounds fine to me, but instead I just offer to teach her how to be the best Spartan she can be. She flirts with Alexios, I don’t flirt back, but it all leads to a pick nick under a blossoming tree and nothing else. Quest finished!

3. This isn’t the same quest, because all I have to do with these precocious children is tell them the story of Perseus. Apparently there are clues to how that goes down around the building they are in, but I just barrel right on ahead and begin the quest without checking anything out first.

I cannot back out of this cut scene now, and instead of choosing to look up the actual story on my handy laptop, I just plumb the depths of my brain for memories of Clash of the Titans. Did Athena really have a mechanical Owl???? Was there a Kraken? Did it get released? Apparently not because the kids hate my very inaccurate retelling. Lol, I pass the quest anyway.

Alright, Xanthe errands completed. I do not have an option to go back to her, so I just keep it moving.

I spend a lot of time clearing locations around Athens that I missed, and now I have finally found another quest.

My dearest friend Sokrates, has a stolen horse.

It is not his stolen horse, alas. He knows who did it and now he is going to pose his questions of morality on to me. ‘Krates…you know what my actual job is? We’re gunnin’ for top mercenary honours; nobody should be trusting questions of morality to Alexios at all.

Okay, the thief did it because his only horse died and he can’t afford a new one. He didn’t take the best horse, and it will help with the farm.

Bro, you can keep the horse, I steal horses all the time even though mine is a whistle away. Seriously, who am I to judge?

I return with my opinion to Sokrates and he hits me with a Trolley problem. Gosh, dangit. I am not in the mood for this deep thought in a stabby game, right now.

Alexios is tired of ‘Krates philosophies and mental tests now, so we leave to find another quest.

It always ends up with someone drunk and/or poisoned on the floor

I head on across the way to another exclamation point and find none other than Alkibiades, fresh off another successful party and still super drunk. We are going to bask in each other’s hotness for a moment before he gives me an escort mission. Gotta help this poor, even drunker, politician who clearly didn’t know what he was getting into back to home. I get to ask Alkibiades about his hard partying, wily ways, which I already know all about.

Then I take the drunk politician to his “home” which turns out is a set up. Once I clear out the ambush and save the guy, Alexios wonders who it is that set them up.

Uhhh, not the dude that told you where to go and wouldn’t let the guy sleep it of at his place? Nooo, never. Couldn’t be. I return to Alkibiades for another quest and he doesn’t exactly admit that he set us up, but he set us up.

As for this new quest…not to put too fine a point on it, but he wants me to retrieve a dildo from some lady he done wrong. Once again, the things I do for you, Ace.

Haha, the good news is that I already have it in my inventory.

Why do I have it???? Where did I get it??? How long did I have it???? For Zeus’s sake.

Turns out it wasn’t his to retrieve in the first place, and I actually stole it to Alkibiades’s political advantage somehow. You did not have to lie to me to get me to do this quest, Ace. You should know that by now. Anyhow, I don’t get all the details about why this needed to be done, and As for the end of the quest, well, let’s just say all the effort didn’t go to waste. *shrug emoji* Alkibiades is right, I have given up saying no to him. Haha!

Now that I’m finished here, I have a new quest from Sokrates. THESE TWO ARE GOING TO BE THE DEATH OF ME!

Okay, well, I find a quest to help a slave get his freedom. He tried to pay for it, but of course the master didn’t let him go. Because people that own people are such stand up and trustworthy guys. Let’s go take him out!

I go talk to him and find out that he’s a card carrying cultist who isn’t trying to hide and he’s baiting me because Phaidon needs his papers to be free and “the Master” is hiding them, so I can’t just kill him. I have to do an assassination of his choosing in hopes that he’s acting in good faith. I doubt it, but I don’t get the option to tell him to go fuck himself.

What are the chances indeed.

This quest is entirely confusing. After standing firm in the belief that all are created equal when Sokrates ask me about it, I get a quest update to return to the cult dude. Alexios tells him he won’t do his bidding, he tells me he won’t be freeing anybody and that’s the end of the quest.

Instead, I hit the road and meet Sokrates, who I’m sure is going to pose some philosophical and unhelpful question. Where is Ace with his goof-goof-dildos when you need him???

Sokrates now has me questioning myself on whether I should just sneak-stab this slave owner a-hole when he’s not looking, even though he’s on my culty hit list already and I have to if I want to Platinum this game. Instead, I let some dude out of a nearby cage so I get attacked first which makes the decision easy!

I don’t get a new quest from Alkibiades after this, but I do uncover a new cultist who is nearby!

I finish her, and another branch of the cult tree!

I click on over to the map to find a brand new quest, and it seems like this ping-pong match between Sokrates and Alkibiades quests is not over yet after all. I trek on over to him for another escort mission. To make a medium story short, I’m taking a woman to a sanctuary to escape her abusive husband, and Alkibiades is helping her out of the goodness of his heart. So, not everything he does is self-serving after all, which Alexios doesn’t quite believe at first.

Afterwards, I return to Alkibiades to find out that he is getting married now.

Wait, what??? Alexios, notably as confused as I am, wonders why he hasn’t heard of this woman before. Ace does not tell me everything about his life though, alas. I now have to help him steal some flowers and a wedding ring from some love temple which is way more difficult than it should be at this point.

The Lucky Lady

I also have to present these items to the lucky lady for him and she straight up informs me that she’s totally using Alkibiades as a step up on the ladder to ruling Greece. Like, girl, you are telling your nefarious plans to the wrong person. Not that I think Alkibiades is going to give two shits; I think he probably has his own nefarious plans, but I’m still going to rat her out.

I am right of course, but he insists he is marrying for love and so that the people can see a more serious side to him. Their joint ambition to use each other to take over the country is just a bonus. We know how that works out because of history I suppose, but Godspeed anyways, bro!

I also get a recap of all the quests I’ve been running around doing for him this whole time and his reasonings behind his plans. All in the name of moving up in the world, except for helping that last lady escape her husband. He confirms that one was just the right thing to do. I already basically knew all of this though. The big question is, am I not going to get any more quests from him now???

Am I nearing the endgame? Will I actually finish a game of Assassin’s Creed? Are we ever going to travel back to the present times?

Find out next time!

#Alkibiades #assassin's creed #odyssey #Sokrates #Assassin's Creed #Games #Odyssey

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onhowtobecrazy · 6 years

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Compromised | Bill x Laura (BsG)

@thisisamadhouse Marie, my wonderful sister, happy birthday once again ♥ a day late because being sick totally thwarted my plans. Here’s you Space Parents goodness, I didn’t even do angst, be proud!

A/N. First part of a two-chapters “what if” post-Hand of God in season 1, where the Commander and the President celebrate their unexpected and welcome victory against the Cylons... and it’s all about sexual frustration. Rating will go up in second chapter ;)

“You seem distracted.”

Laura stopped sliding her finger over the rim of her wine glass and looked at Adama, subtly leaning on the table towards her as he watched her with a gentle smile that showed curiosity rather than concern. She smiled back, straightening up in her seat and taking a burning sip of ambrosia, her tongue shuddering under its bite. Even if she closed her eyes, there was no way her memory would be able to replace the taste of the strong, green liquor with the heady delicacy of wine.

And memory was all they had left.

“Something on your mind?”

“You could say that again.”

Just like ambrosia would never make for an honest substitution of more refined beverages, the hurried, stolen moments of pleasure she'd found at her own hand in her rare times of solitude would never replace the triumphant bliss of shared sexual intimacy.

She was craving it.

She'd always lead a healthy sexual life (she couldn’t say the same for the relationships that intersected with it), and she never denied herself when she had an itch to scratch. Her frustration at the forced celibacy her job entailed was scraping her raw. It wasn't like she could just frak anybody. Had she been President on the colonies, she could have managed casual relationships, but neither the circumstances nor the place were propitious to any kind of illicit intimacy. And that was just what she needed. A good, uncomplicated frak with someone she could trust, no drama, no consequences.

It was even harder today, after Kara's embrace. It woke something in her, a stirring that had her realize she hadn't felt a friendly body pressed against her own since the attacks. If you added the constant duress she was under, the decorum she had to maintain, it was no wonder she was so wound up.

“Wanna share with the class?”

She chuckled politely, noticed how his eyes had gone from curious to teasing, and wondered how much impropriety she could get away with tonight.

It wasn't that she hadn't thought about it.

Besides the obvious fact that their paralleled positions in the fleet made them suited for each other like no one else in their need for secrecy and mutual understanding of their respective duties, she had to admit Adama had a distinctive charm. She wouldn't have called him handsome—not at first sight, certainly—but there was something appealing in his charismatic presence, his quiet strength, his weathered features. Piercing blue eyes, a soft smile, a voice meant to soothe and seduce; yes, she might have thought about it, once or twice.

She wondered if he had, too.

“I know there's very little time for the two of us to dwell on the life we've left behind, but I found myself thinking a lot about simple things I missed, lately.”

“Such as?”

“Well, to be honest with you, commander, I was thinking of sex.”

To his credit, Adama didn't choke on the drink he'd just brought to his lips, but she noticed that he took a long time to swallow.

“Don't you miss it?” she asked, pushing a little farther.

After all, he'd been the one to invite her over to his quarters for an intimate dinner, again. Last time, she'd been surprised at her inclusion to the family with Lee and the Tighs, but had kept quiet about it. She was beginning to suspect that Adama was the kind to adopt on sight. But beyond the little knowledge she’d gained of the man these past weeks, she found him hard to read on certain matters. Was she meant to take his invitation as forwardness? What to make of the flirtatious banter that had replaced the bickering between them? Should she take his compliments as more than him being a gentleman?

“How about you come to my quarters this evening to celebrate? We can have dinner, just the two of us.”

The offer had thrown her off as much as Kara’s hug had, and she’d reacted in the same way. She accepted without a second thought, patting the hand he’d gently laid on her arm to draw her attention away from the elated crowd cheering about their hard-earned victory over the Cylons.

“That’s a nice idea. Let’s have a do-over with fewer arguments.”

“I promise no drunken nuisance this time.”

“Oh, Commander, you weren't that drunk.”

He’d frowned, as she’d expected, then gave her a wry smile. “Funny.” She couldn’t help a little condescension.“You always seem surprised.”

He'd taken her hand when she joined him in his quarters later, after a quick trip aboard Colonial One to freshen up and change clothes, and for one, crazy second she had thought he would kiss it. His eyes had lingered on her blouse, the same burgundy one she'd worn last dinner, which she thought he would comment on, but all he said was “You look nice, Madame President.”

She'd smiled easily as he'd drawn the chair for her, and sat with a grateful nod. “Thank you, Commander. I'm afraid it's as close as festive as I can get with my limited options. We did say we would celebrate. Didn't we?”

But the hardest piece of William Adama’s puzzle was probably to have to guess how he would now answer her deeply personal, and some would say, inappropriate, question.

“What makes you think I’m not having sex? Things can get quite cosy on this ship.”

She giggled, relieved to have him playing along, and raised her eyebrows at him.

“Besides the obvious fact that the both of us are way too busy for fun time off? If you were getting in on the regular, Commander, you'd be easier to deal with.”

She took another sip of ambrosia, a bigger one this time that singed her throat in a way that was starting to be pleasant. Adama lowered his chopsticks on the table and crossed his arms, seemingly forgetting all about the little food he had left in front of him to focus on challenging her. “Are you advising me to get laid to facilitate your political agenda, Madame President?”

She hummed and pursed her lips in a malicious smirk. “To be perfectly honest with you, I'm more interested in my own sexual satisfaction. Doesn't mean it couldn't meet yours.” She pushed back her chair, crossing legs and arms, dropping the teasing for a more earnest expression.

“Have you ever thought about it?”

“You mean us—"

“Frakking, yes, that's what I mean.”

She watched intently as he rose from his chair and made his way slowly around the table to her side, leaning his hip against the edge and looking down at her with troubled eyes.

“How much of that is a game, Laura?”

She didn't know when they had switched to first name basis, but she figured they might as well given the personal turn their conversation had taken. Maybe it was the alcohol making her so bold; maybe it was a conversation waiting to happen. Whatever the reason, she went for it.

“Actually, nothing. I'm quite serious. We both have unique roles in each other’s lives; we’re both acquainted with the demands of the job and the need for discretion. I like you when we're not butting heads, and I find you sexually appealing.”

He stopped her with a hoarse laugh that seemed to be part unease, part frustration. “Well, isn't that the kind of talk everyone dreams of hearing?”

He left her side to go and sit on the couch, and she turned sideways on her chair to keep facing him. He spread his legs and leant his arms on his thighs, bending over and looking at the floor. She could see a despondent shadow closing in on him.

“I'm guessing your unenthusiastic reaction to my proposal has more to it than you finding me unattractive.”

He laughed again, a wounded sound. “I didn't know it was a proposal, yet.”

“It is. If you want it.”

“If I want it…”

He looked at her, and she realized the mistake she'd made by pushing him. There was something naked and shocking in the sudden yearning she saw in his eyes, and she shivered on her seat, squeezing her legs tighter together.

“Do I want it.”

She turned away from him and hastily reached for her drink, downing it in one go, gasping as the burn seemed to spread to her lungs and veins.

“I was a little afraid of that,” she admitted once she could use her voice.

“Can you look at me?”

She didn't want to; but she did, twisting on her chair again and meeting Adama’s eyes without flinching.

“It wouldn't be the first time I engage in a casual affair. I tend to favor it over a steady relationship—I’m a solitary type. I was involved with someone in a, ah, sensitive situation before, and I’ve always been able to compartmentalize, do my job, live my life as I intended. But he was... not quite willing to even try. He kept some expectations.”

If he was surprised by he revelation or guessed who it was about, he did not let it show. “Expectations are not always a bad thing.”

He seemed calmer, as if the cloud of dark energy that had seemed to suddenly surround him had lifted, leaving room for an attentiveness that was as thoughtful as it was a little unnerving.

“Until it becomes about being owed something.”

He stayed silent for a while, mulling over her words. “You think I have expectations?”

She made a face as she formed her answer, wanting to say it right. “Not quite. With you, it’s—you’re emotionally compromised. With your crew, your pilots. It makes things complicated.”

“It also makes it human.”

“Yes. Yes it does.”

They held each other’s eyes. A moment passed, and with it the chance to change the course of this night. Then, Adama slowly removed his glasses, and carefully laid them down on the coffee table in front of him, settling back into the couch with his hands crossed low on his stomach, his face tired, and weary.

“So, where do we go from here?”

She hesitated for a second before rising up and crossing over to him, sitting carefully to his right, not too close, but close enough to whisper.

“William…” she began, but he interrupted her gently.

“Bill. William was someone else.”

“Bill,” she amended, and waited a beat, savoring the new name on her tongue. Bill. Laura. The simplicity of their names combined in her head was almost shocking, somehow. Easy names for complicated people.

“I trust you. Maybe I should have started there.”

She gently took one of his hands in hers, urging him to stop looking down at them and meet her eyes.

“How much?” he asked softly, and she couldn't help but smile at his greed.

“I trust you to make me feel good.”

His hand flexed reflexively between hers, and she slowly brought it to her mouth, brushing her lips over his knuckles, drawing a shiver from him.

He let her play with his hand until she rasped her teeth against his palm, drawing a groan out of him and spurring him into action, both hands coming up to circle her face, bringing her to him, his lips teasing the side of her mouth.

“Why now?” Bill murmured against her cheek, and she froze, lips tingling with anticipation, her tongue burning with truths she couldn't tell.

Because I'm dying, Laura wanted to scream. Because I'm high on drugs half the time and seeing snakes and gods now what else next time. Because I think there's something bigger than all of us that’s coming and it's about to change everything I thought I knew of myself and the world and I'm terrified and clueless and alone.

And it's a kind of loneliness I've never asked for.

“Maybe because I've had a very bad day that ended wonderfully. Maybe because tonight it feels like we've won. And maybe just because I want this. Shouldn't that be enough?”

Bill seemed to believe it was. He pulled back, just enough, and let her enter his eyes, intent on giving her a last warning, a gentle thumb tracing the line of her jaw.

“I won't pretend I don't get attached.”

“And I won't pretend I can give you more than what I have.”

Laura was relieved to see him smile—relieved he didn’t push, but didn’t back down either. She had a fleeting, amusing thought about their strange, so often strained but oddly gratifying relationship where conflicts bloom but they kept each other honest and fighting, able to agree to disagree and move on—sex wasn't about to change things much, it seemed.

When he finally—finally—closed the distance between their lips, Laura sighed into the kiss and banished all intrusive thoughts from her mind.

TBC

#space parents #bsg fanfiction #laura x bill #roslin x adama #adama x roslin #bsg #once again I hope I'm not making a mess of characterization #do not fear the smut is coming #lolymoon writes

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