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thewayuarent · 8 months

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When things start to fail

SandRay edition

Yes, me again talking about SandRay as I’m their personal therapist good for me I guess. Disclaimer: I do not judge nor Sand or Ray, the most important thing to remember is that all of characters are young stupid insecure boys so everything happening makes a lot of sense. Also let’s remember that it is not about good/bad or right/wrong, it’s about complexity people and their relationships have.

So, this week they’ve reached an interesting point, haven’t they? The point when their mostly surprisingly good communications stars to fall apart. And it was inevitable. Nick and especially Boston don’t minding their own business certainly accelerated the process, but at some point it was going to happen anyway. Because the ultimate question “who are we to each other” been hanging over their heads for some time now and do my boys tried their best to avoid it. But let’s start from so-so good things.

SandRay day together. Ray goes for it like it’s an adventure, not someones real life experience. And of course he is - Ray lives in a different world and Sand’s hardships are not something he’s familiar with. @lurkingshan made a great post about how Ray constantly sees Sand as someone beneath him at well of course he is. And I love what @neuroticbookworm says here that Ray does it unintentionally - that’s just not something he ever experienced in his life. Ray is shamelessly rich and he was like this all his life. I would very surprised if he behaved differently.

That’s interesting tho - I think Ray sincerely enjoys every experience he has with Sand. And in some way he sees Sand as embodiment of freedom. For Ray a lot of it is about wind in a face, and listening new music, and laughing, and drinking, and kissing, and flirting and almost jerking off but no and not thinking about his real problems. For Sand it’s his life. It’s tough and exhausting, but still worth living.

Sand’s 24 hours. I truly appreciate Sand’s approach to life. He tells us that he has 24 hours in a day to work, sleep, being alone and - what I love about him - to dream. And I’m not saying that his life isn’t hard, it absolutely is. But despite that he still has some little things to enjoy. He dreams big. He makes beautiful breakfasts and knows places where to find good music. He has fun in a secondhand store. He finds his happiness in discovering new bands. He allows himself to get drunk and get high.

And I don’t think he never does any of it before Ray. But Ray is important, because Ray is someone he can share all this things with. And while Ray constantly being a bit jerk about that he is really into everything Sand gives to him (subtext here was unintentional but yes, sex is obviously a part of it too). And maybe Ray’s presence allows Sand to let himself go with a flow a bit more. Maybe Ray also symbolizes freedom for Sand.

And I believe that freedom is something both of them desperately need - Ray from his painful past, Sand from his exhausting present. And it all would be so good, it was mostly good for a lot of time, but. Hints were all there since the beginning.

Communication falling apart. So we see them generally enjoying each other. We see them being open and honest with each other. The whole scene where they discuss parents is about trust and vulnerability and it deserves its own post.

Very good-friends-behavior happening here. But also kind of not. And not only because them being ready to fuck each other on a constant basis. Which was hilarious by the way - three attempts to get nasty and all being ruined (1. Thank you Nick; 2. Sand being not so into public sex I guess I don’t believe him for a second he’s clearly into it but whatever; 3. Thank you Nick again and now you bring the whole drama with you good job). But all this cute boyfriends stuff happens left and right? Hugging and smiling on a ride?

Being so into each other that random girl said bye bless you?

Fucking serenade?

Like, guys, you’re not even trying. And they don’t talk about it at all. The last attempt to clarify their relationship was in episode 3 with Sand asking what kind of friends doesn’t stop kissing each other. And than they just. Moved on and never questioned it again?

They are the only couple (of the main three) in the show who doesn’t discuss their status. Even Nick and Boston do it! They are suck at it but it’s at least something. And it’s like Sand and Ray played a bit too much in going with a flow thing.

Sand tells this to his mom

And he seems really upset when Ray says that are friends

And again when Ray says not boyfriend fuck off Nick

And I get it, it really sucks. He is totally in love and his heart breaks a little bit twice in a row.

But it’s Sand who said that

And that

And that one like couple hours ago

So I feel for Sand and I am really sorry for him - my boy fell fast and hard but it’s not like Ray has any idea what Sand wants from him. Oh, wait, he has. Kind of. And he actually tries to make amends and clear the situation. Kind of.

It’s Sand this time who closes up, loosing to his fears and insecurities - and I would guess his last relationship has something to do with this. And of course Ray doesn’t push him into that conversation after one failed attempt. Because he is totally scared of ruining things. And it is so much easier to continue to pretend, for both of them, isn’t it?

It’s also smart thing to not having that conversation before they sober up but will they talk? I doubt it. Also is Ray ever sober, he has a serious problem, my poor boy. Him finishing two glasses of liquor in a row after fight was painful to watch. But I digress.

And the thing is - it isn’t even that tragic. Yes, Ray has feelings for Mew - he tries to move on, he doesn’t expect anything, but feelings (especially so long-lasted) doesn’t go away in a moment. And Ray has a right to falling for Sand while still falling out of Mew. Shit like this happens a lot in real life. It doesn’t mean Sand isn’t special to him only because someone else is.

And I kind of think that they would work it out somewhat fine. Not great, but fine. But here it is, our Boston card. Yes, I blame Boston, that’s my conclusion.

Conclusion. Judging by what we saw in trailer I’m gonna predict that this episode was a start for both Sand and Ray being miscommunication mess. Because both of them are falling for each other. And both are very scared of it.

This is not going to be easy. They will pretend they don’t care for each other and most importantly - that they have no expectations towards each other. They clearly have. We see it with Sand and the moment Sand decides fuck it I’m done we will see it with Ray.

This shit needs a lot of hard work. Will they be able to go for that? Do they even need it? I don’t know. Let’s hope that they will. Or at least that they won’t ruin each other totally over failed relationship.

#I am not totally delusional but I’m also a simp what can I say #I so hope they will figure it out tbh #they are mess but they are my mess and I love them #really Ray’s drinking problem scares me way more than all that feeling stuff #only friends #only friends meta #only friends the series #ofts #sandray #firstkhao #firstkhaotung #first kanaphan #khaotung thanawat

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lurkingshan · 8 months

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I've been following your discussions on ephemerality vs permanence, control & voyeurism, and on that theme I'd be interested to hear your thoughts on Boston having that video of Mew and Ray. It seems odd that he'd hold on to it for two years, without their knowledge, only to use it in a power play that isn't even fully about Mew. What do you think is happening there? I feel like it has to play into the power dynamics in his relationship with Mew, the way they hold each other in apparent contempt but stick together, as well as Boston's voyeurism and how he'd delight in holding some sort of compromising secret against Mew without his knowledge, but I haven't got any fully realised thoughts about it yet, so I'd love to hear your perspective.

Hi anon, thank you for asking! I have mentioned before that it feels like we're still missing a lot of information about this friend group and their history together, so there may be some information coming to give context to this particular incident and why Boston felt the need to record it. But my current suspicion is that his decision to record and keep this was not initially that deep or sinister.

Boston is a photographer; his instinct is to document what he sees. In the very first episode, he was walking around with a camera taking pictures of the surroundings. In the second episode, after he asked Nick to pose for some photographs, we saw how serious he is about this when it was revealed that he has his own private dark room. Most student photographers would use a dark room at school (think Ink in Bad Buddy), but Boston has built his residence around his photography, indicating this is much more than a casual hobby for him. He tells Nick that he likes to have mementos of certain people and moments in his life, and he hangs on to the photo strip from his first hookup with Top (I don't think it's a coincidence that his first time with Top has a connection to his love for photography; that's a signal that this was meaningful to him).

In accordance with this interest of his, Boston is a natural voyeur and keen observer of other people. He notices everything that is happening with his friends, and he is always documenting it, even if just in his own mind. He knows about Ray's feelings for Mew; he also knows Mew does not feel the same. He knows Mew has a chip on his shoulder about his virginity. He knows Top needs to feel like an alpha. He knows Nick can be appeased with some vague weasel words and a small bit of affection. And he uses all of this information to his advantage when the need and opportunity presents itself. He seems to have little to no qualms about doing so; Boston ruthlessly pursues what he wants and he doesn't really have any sense of loyalty.

On top of that, I tend to agree with you that Boston has some kind of longstanding issue with Mew. The way he digs at Mew about his virginity is hard to miss. It might just be that Mew's self-righteousness about sex grates on him on principle, and he wants to knock him down a peg. Or it could go deeper. I have been reading it as something of an inferiority complex, given that we know Mew is also a top student. Perhaps sex is the only arena in which Boston feels superior to Mew, and so he wants him on his playing field so that he can beat him at something. When he first hooked Mew up with Top, he clearly expected Top to sleep with him once and then move on, like he did with Boston; the fact that Mew actually got Top to pursue him seriously threw Boston off and pushed him into a bit of an obsessive spiral over Top.

So, back to your question: why did he record Ray and Mew doing whatever it is they did a couple years ago? At that time, it was probably simply because he saw it, and his instinct is always to observe and document. Boston is someone who likes knowing things and keeping a record, and he always has a camera ready. I'm not sure there needs to be any deeper reason than that. I doubt he recorded it with the conscious thought that one day he would use it to humiliate or expose them, though depending on how early this issue with him and Mew and sex popped up, he may already have been thinking that Mew is a hypocrite and here was his proof. But even if that wasn't the case then, when he saw an opportunity to use Ray's feelings for Mew to his advantage in his play for Top, he pulled this up from the archives and recognized it was the perfect ammunition. And as I mentioned above, he has no qualms about using it to his advantage.

Tagging in @chickenstrangers who I know also had a lot of thoughts about Boston's photography, and @ranchthoughts @waitmyturtles in case you have anything to add on the voyeurism thread.

#only friends the series #only friends #ofts #thai bl #shan answers

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mattybstqrn · 2 days

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⁰⁰⁸ 𝐁𝐞𝐭𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐧 𝐦𝐞

"𝓔𝓋𝑒𝓇𝓎𝓉𝒽𝒾𝓃𝑔 𝒾𝓈 𝒷𝑒𝓉𝓉𝑒𝓇 𝓌𝒾𝓉𝒽 𝓎𝑜𝓊. 𝓔𝓋𝑒𝓇𝓎𝓉𝒽𝒾𝓃𝑔 𝒽𝒶𝓈 𝒷𝑒𝑒𝓃 𝒷𝑒𝓉𝓉𝑒𝓇 𝓈𝒾𝓃𝒸𝑒 𝓎𝑜𝓊"

(irl, messages, insta)

Matt and Sofia awkwardly sat in Matt's car as they drove down the streets of Boston to pick up a pizza. Matt's fingers nervously tapped the steering wheel as Sofia did the same out of boredom except on the side of the door.

They hadn't really said a word to each other. They were both being very awkward, which was normal for Matt and kind of normal for Sofia, but it kind of made the two wish Brooke and Nick were here, they'd get everyone talking and laughing, they were the life of the party.

The tension was clearly there, they could both feel it, but Sofia wanted to talk about something to get rid of it, she just didn't know what.

"So..." the girl trailed off, "So..." the boy also trailed off, pursing his lips, "Are you usually this tired in the car?" he asked the girl as she yawned, "Yeah, car rides are boring and the ones I usually go on are long so I always fall asleep and with the way traffic is right now, I just might," she explained looking around at all the stopped cars, there was a lot of traffic.

The two then started talking about how much they love sleeping for a good five minutes until they both shut up once's they arrived at the pizza place. They quickly grabbed the pizza before stopping at nearby convenient store, Matt just had to get some redbull. Sofia didn't mind because she'd probably buy some to, but they already had some at their house, why buy more when you have like twenty?

╰•★★ ------------------ ★★•╯

Chris - Chrissy😝 Sofia - Sofi🦕

Chrissy😝 where are you guys?? were hungry!

Sofi🦕 you are very inpatient 🙄you know that?

Chrissy😝 idc I'm hungry!

Sofi YOUR brother just had to get some redbull complain to him

╰•★★ ------------------ ★★•╯

Sofia laughed at the boy as he posed for a picture after reading the messages, she then turned off her phone, ignoring the youngest brother's questions, spamming her phone in the process. She was having a lot of fun considering the fact that she was just picking up some pizza, but Matt made it fun, she could tell he was trying to make conversation, he didn't want it to be awkward and neither did she, and she liked the fact that he was really trying to make her comfortable around him.

"Great now he's spamming me," Matt groaned in annoyance as Sofia laughed, "Better you than me," she shrugged walking out of the store and back to the car as Matt followed behind her, playfully rolling his eyes at her.

He could tell that they were going to be great friends and he was ready for it, he could use some new friends, not that his old ones are bad but meeting new people is nice, especially if they are.

Sofia watched as Matt drove the car back to his house, she was good at reading people, and right now she could tell that he was happy, the smile on his face gave it away but she was really wondering why he was cheesing so hard, "What are you smiling about?"

"Nothing," he shook his head as he continued to smile. Sofia looked at him confused but ignored the smile dancing on his lips.

╰•★★ ------------------ ★★•╯

The two arrived back to the Sturniolo household with the pizza and redbull in hand, the group immediately swarmed the two, snatching the pizza, "You're welcome?" Matt told them in questioning tone, "Thank you Matt!" Brooke yelled smiling at the boy as she grabbed a slice of pizza, that was followed by everyone thanking him, Matt shook his head at them before joining them as Mason walked over to Sofia.

"You have fun?" he asked after pulling her into a kiss, she immediately and gladly kissed back, "Surprisingly, I did, who would've though you could have while picking up a pizza?" she questioned, the boy shrugged wrapping his arms around the girl, "I missed you," he smiled down at her, "I missed you too," she smiled as the two walked over to the kitchen.

"Did you have fun? here with them? all by yourself?" she questioned slightly teasing the boy, "I did, Nick and Chris are very funny, and loud," he sighed at that last bit, "I heard that," Nick exclaimed slightly offended, "I meant it in the best way possible!" Mason told him, "He's just messing with you, man," Chris tapped his shoulder, Mason let out a small 'oh' as Sofia chuckled at them.

She watched as her boyfriend interacted with the triplet's, he looked happy, and she was happy that he was also making new friends, she was soon bought out of her thoughts when Matt slid a redbull over to her, "You look like you could use one of these,"

"I really do, thanks Matt," he nodded at her as she gladly picked up the drink, taking a sip, she really could've used one earlier, she was exhausted, redbull really helps.

Their parents came home later than expected so they all stayed over longer and had a great time, they played games, watched movies (they did not) they ate, they talked, they laughed, they had a blast, Brooklyn especially, she couldn't have wished for anything more, she got to spend the day with her favorite celebrities and stay at their house, how many people in the world get to day that? uh not many, she was lucky and she was happy.

╰•★★ ------------------ ★★•╯

Sofia.Freaking.Adams POSTED

tagged // Cocacolaloverrr

tagged // mtwdewlover

tagged // crawfish🦞

tagged // MattyB.Raps pepsilover cocacolaloverrr

tagged // pepsilover

tagged // MattyB.Raps

tagged // Nicolasstromboli

liked by, cocacolaloverrr, nessabarret and 900,586 others

Sofia.Freaking.Adams these mfs are weird 🙄 and loud and crazy and the list goes on. gaslighting is not real you're just crazy!!!

user wtf is going on?

crawfish🦞 I am not weird Sofia.Freaking.Adams you're not but they are

user someone pls explain 😭

nicolasstrumboli bitch you caught me off guard ➡ Sofia.Freaking.Adams sorry but not rlly 🤷🏻‍♀️

cocacolaloverrr i love how confused everyone is 😁 ➡ mtndewlover I'm just as confused but oh well 🤷🏻‍♂️

user care to explain???

user idk what's happening but i'm not complaining

user i already love this new friend group ❤

nathan8 where am i? ➡ Sofia.Freaking.Adams idek

pepsilover love confusing fans😁

MattyB.Raps ...

user is this real???

user HELP😭WHAT TF IS GOING ON?!?!

view more comments

╰•★★ ------------------ ★★•╯

"Okay out the door," Sofia pushed Brooke who was still saying goodbye to the triplets out of the door, "I'm sorry about her, she's obsessed with you guys," she sighed, "I can tell," Chris nodded with sigh, "Next time, if there is a next time, hopefully! she'll act like a normal! person," "I heard that!" Brooke exclaimed from the other side of the closed the door, "Anyways, thanks for letting us come over,"

"Yeah, no problem, text me and let me know when you wanna hang out again," Chris told the girl who nodded, "Will do, bye guys," she waved walking over to her car, dragging Brooklyn with her as Mason started the car waiting for the two.

"You got your pictures and autographs? you happy now?" Sofia asked her best friend whose smile was so big, "Yup, I can't wait to print them out and hang them up!" she happily exclaimed; Sofia sighed at her overly obsessed best friend as Mason started driving.

"Okay we definitely need to hang out with them again!" Nick exclaimed in excitement as Matt closed the front door, Chris nodded in agreement as Matt sighed telling the two, he was going to bed, he was exhausted, today was a big day and Brooke was very obsessed with them, he didn't mind since he was used to it, but his social battery was running low and desperately needed to go to sleep.

"What's wrong with him? Nick asked, "He's probably just tired, but I'll tell Sofia that we have to hang out again before we go back to LA," Nick nodded in agreement before they both decided that they'd also go to bed.

*matthew.sturniolo followed you*

*Sofia.Freaking.Adams followed you*

Audrina Speaks!

Just wanted to say that for those of you who don't know this '

╰•★★ ------------------ ★★•╯' means there's been a time jump/change and I just put it before and after insta posts and texts messages!

Hope you enjoyed! have a great day or night! love you all<3!

#jenna ortega #matt sturniolo #matt sturniolo fanfic #ariana greenblatt #nick sturniolo #chris sturniolo #malachi barton #louis partridge #nate doe #madi filipowicz #sturniolo triplets

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akkpipitphattana · 7 months

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thinking a little more about episode povs & how the multiple important raymew conversations that we don't get to witness the conclusions of fit into that framework.

in ep4 we don't see what happens in the flashback after mew first pushed ray off bc ray doesn't want to think about that! if something more than a chaste kiss happened between them in that video (& we never see the video bc ep3 is nick's pov & nick doesn't give a good goddamn about raymew), ray isn't telling us about it. we don't see the details of mew's rejection beyond the initial "i can't do this", we don't know what he said or how he framed it or how firm he was bc ray doesn't want to remember any of it, though there's also another level here bc within the episode that's actually mew's flashback, & the rest of the conversation they had then isn't really relevant to the conversation he's having now with top.

then in ep6 we don't see how mew initially reacts to ray giving him the recording bc top has no clue whatsoever how mew initially reacted! top didn't even realize that anything was wrong at all until the bedroom, which is also part of why we only find out mew even knew via flashback. the reaction that top understands is the one that mew planned & staged specifically for him. top doesn't give a damn about ray & he either can't or doesn't want to imagine mew's immediate reaction, beyond general shock, to finding out what top did or to hearing the audio -- he doesn't even show us mew actually listening to it, & the flashback cuts off before ray can tell him what the recording is -- & so we don't get the rest of that conversation, even though something definitely happened between them, bc ray loses it & also mew apologizes over it in the next episode. but top doesn't want to know about that, so we don't see it.

& then in ep7. ah, ep7. mew leads the conversation towards him finally giving ray a chance, so he can rebound with the one person he knows loves him more than he could ever love them, the person who he thinks can't hurt him & would always forgive him anything, the person he knows will bother top the most bc "i was jealous of ray" was the only explanation he had for cheating & also top still thinks they have a history mew isn't admitting to (JOJO SHOW US THE FUCKING VIDEO I'M LOSING MY MIND HERE) -- anyway, i'm not surprised mew didn't show us the end of that conversation. i honestly don't think there's any way it could have gone that paints mew in a good light, that maintains his conception of himself as the totally justified victim. plus, the way that him & ray are both taking advantage of each other? that's not the story mew wants to tell himself about them. of course he only gave us the bare bones from which we can draw the conclusion that they're together, more-or-less, & we don't need any details beyond that, but we are going to cut directly to top looking miserable & show his fantasy of dancing with mew morph into a scene of mew dancing with ray, don't read too much into that or anything.

& then their actual relationship is all from boston's perspective, who saw this train-wreck coming a mile off & has no interest in looking away from any of it or in giving anyone the benefit of the doubt. ray's pathetic, mew's just using him, they don't fit together & never have, they're not being honest with each other or themselves, this whole thing is going to crash & burn so hard. & maybe boston's too cynical! but maybe he just sees them more clearly than anyone else is.

THIS EXACTLY!! i’ve been saying since ep3 that we are missing Very Important raymew information, with the flashbacks and the confrontation and the getting together. and it’s purposeful!! storytelling wise yes but because all of these episodes are from different povs. and it’s why i’m SO happy we got them together from boston’s perspective because he is the only one that sees them clearly, aside from maybe nick but nick honestly doesn’t given enough of a fuck about them to be prominent figures. boston, for as much as he’s pissed at them, does care about them and they are important to his life — and he knew damn well this was gonna go up in flames. HE EVEN PREDICTED RAY TWO TIMING!!!!

#like this kind of storytelling kind of makes me think of himym #and how ted is the unreliable narrator and we KNOW he’s changing things #only friends #asks #ofts

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casspurrjoybell-18 · 1 year

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Mutual Desire - Chapter 87

*Warning - Adult Content*

The first few days after returning from his stay at his sister's house were always difficult for Damien Clarke who found it hard to get back to his routine and get used to his family's absence.

The only thing that allayed the pain that Damien felt was knowing that he was going to see them again soon.

Damien was now impatient for Samuel's wedding to take place as soon as possible.

While spending the last few days with his mother, sister, nephew and even Tom, Damien had come to realize the importance of having his family close to him.

He had even started to think about moving to Boston but that idea didn't go too far because Damien had other things to figure out.

Fortunately, time tended to pass quickly and there weren't many weeks left until the wedding.

An hour later, the plane Damien took landed in New York early in the morning.

Thirty minutes later, Damien emerged from La Guardia airport and got into the car of an Uber driver he had ordered earlier.

Sometime later, the car parked in front of the building of his apartment and he asked the driver to wait for him.

Damien exited the car taking his suitcases with him and he made his way inside his block apartment.

As soon as he opened the door of his place and dropped his belongings on the floor, Damien closed the door before leaving the building and going to the car where the driver was waiting for him as he had requested.

Damien had his next destination clearly in mind.

He had been thinking about it nonstop for two days already and he had finally decided that as soon as he landed in New York that he would immediately go see Elijah Clarke.

Damien felt he had wasted enough time already and what he was about to do should have been done years ago.

So, he didn't want to waste another moment.

Damien had a mission in mind and he wanted to accomplish it.

During the drive, he texted Craig letting him know he was back from Boston as well as Nick, who he asked if he was home.

Since it was Saturday morning, Damien concluded that there was a good chance that his best would be home, probably in his pajamas procrastinating.

When the Uber driver parked his car next to a rundown building in the inner city where Elijah had camped his trailer, Damien still hadn't received a response from either of the text messages he had sent.

Before getting out of the car, he thanked the driver while having in mind to later give him a nice tip to make up for bringing him to such a place.

Damien had no idea if Elijah was there and if he had come for nothing but the uncertainty wasn't going to stop him.

Damien had every intention to wait for his cousin as long as necessary and he refused to leave without having seen and spoken to him.

So, he took the same path as last time and with each step that brought him a little closer to the trailer, the rhythms of his heartbeat became more and more irregular.

Damien couldn't explain the reason for his sudden nervousness at the thought of seeing Elijah again.

He knew this had nothing to do with the possibility that he would again come face to face with his cousin's very jealous and intimidating Latino boyfriend or the possibility that he would get mugged or hear gunshot in the distance.

Damien guessed that he was probably dreading seeing Elijah, as he didn't know how he would react.

He could perfectly understand if his cousin would refuse to speak to him or even tell him to get lost.

Damien was aware that he deserved all of that and more.

Despite his fear, he continued his walk and stopped when he reached the closed door of the caravan.

Damien inhaled and exhaled deeply before gently knocking two knocks on the door.

He waited a few seconds but nothing happened.

He knocked again but this time he slammed harder.

A few seconds elapsed and the door which suddenly opened almost brushed against Damien's face who had the reflex to back down in time.

Elijah appeared in front of Damien, his hair loosened and his eyes half-open.

Damien had clearly disturbed his cousin's sleep.

His attention fell on the many tattoos displayed on Elijah's bare chest.

The tats were quirky, artistic and the tattoo artist was clearly talented.

Damien was more of a piercing guy than a tattoo guy but he had to admit that the idea of getting a tattoo had crossed his mind several times.

"Dam? What are you doing here?" Elijah asked softly, his brow furrowed. Elijah rubbed his eyes and then ran a hand over his hair.

"I'm here to see you," Damien Clark said simply.

Elijah's confused expression quickly turned to faint irritation and disappointment.

"I have nothing on me and I won't go get it for you even if you hate me for it," Elijah said with a bit of firmness in the tone of his voice.

Damien understood why his cousin supposed he had come to see him for the sole purpose of supplying him.

Damien had given Elijah every reason to think as such and he was ashamed that he had made him feel that he was just a supplier in his eyes and nothing else.

"I'm not here for that," Damien assured his cousin, shaking his head weakly.

Damien felt Elijah lower his guard a little and looking intrigued.

He offered him a tender smirk in an attempt to completely appease his cousin's apprehensions towards him.

"I'm here for you." Damien watched Elijah's half-sleepy eyes widen in amazement.

"I'm here to suggest that you come and live with me," Damien clarified.

"Without any cost," he added.

Damien had no doubt that Elijah had in no way expected that one day he would be offered to become his roommate.

The incredulous look on his face said it all and it hurt Damien that his cousin could be stunned that he would want to help him, although he fully understood why.

Damien had completely cut off contact with Elijah though it hadn't been necessary for him to go that far.

Damien now realized that other means could have been taken by him.

"What did you say?"

"I want to fix my mistake," Damien explained gently.

"I will never leave you to yourself again. I promise."

Frowning, Elijah stared at Damien with a baffled expression.

"Mistake? What mistake?"

Damien lowered his head and then lifted it immediately afterward.

He contemplated Elijah thoughtfully as a soft smile curved his lips.

"For giving you an ultimatum and then abandoning you. I should've never done that. I should have stayed by your side no matter what and looked after you."

Knowing how much pride he had, Damien was surprised to discover that swallowing his pride and admitting his wrongs was actually extremely therapeutic and did him a lot of good.

Admitting your wrongs was one thing but taking actions that demonstrated that you wanted to be forgiven for those said wrongs was a completely another thing.

Damien intended to do more than admit his mistakes.

He wanted to fix them in any way that was humanly possible.

"I... Give me a moment please... I.."

Unable to complete his words as his voice cracked, Elijah abandoned Damien outside in front of the entrance and disappeared inside the trailer.

Damien climbed the three steps and entered his cousin's very modest home for the first time.

Elijah had his back to Damien, his head bowed and his hands covering his face.

"Eli," Damien whispered as he walked over to Elijah.

His small crying sounds assaulted Damien like a bucket of boiling water spilled all over his body.

"Elijah. Look at me," Damien ordered tenderly.

Damien gently grabbed Elijah by the arm to turn him towards him and though he didn't resist he kept his hands on his face.

Damien tried to remove his cousin's hands off his face but Elijah held them there while continuing to sob.

"Hey. Please, look at me," Damien begged in a whisper.

Damien Clark managed to free Elijah's hands from his face and he was able to see his cousin's tears flow.

Damien never thought Elijah would have such an emotional reaction and he hadn't been prepared for it. So, he didn't know how to act.

He had no choice but to follow his instincts on what seemed like the right thing to do.

"You don't need to give me an answer right away," Damien assured him, gently holding Elijah's head.

"Take the time you need and think about it."

Although Damien's offer to Elijah appeared alluring, that didn't mean Elijah would necessarily accept.

Damien was aware that a decision like this, as obvious as it appeared to be, was food for thought.

He intended to give his cousin all the time he needed so he could come to a decision with peace of mind.

"Why are you doing this?" Elijah questioned in a broken voice, his cheeks wet.

Damien had already told Elijah the reasons behind his invitation to come and live with him.

Damien had realized that his cousin was asking him a question that had already been answered not because he had forgotten that it was the case but because it wasn't really what he was asking.

His question was actually why Damien felt compelled to fix his mistakes.

"Because there comes a point in life when you realize that you've fucked up and the only thing left to do is to do right as best you can."

"But you didn't do anything wrong," Elijah protested.

"I was the one who screwed up. I'm the one who caused all this shit in your life. I'm one of the rotten apples in this world's basket."

Damien shook his head in total disagreement.

It hurt his heart to hear his cousin put himself down in such a way and it only further motivated him to come to his aid.

"No, that's not true," Damien contradicted him.

"Listen, Eli, it's obvious that you're having a hard time getting rid of your addiction, but I'm going to help you get through this. That's what I'm here."

Elijah looked down and also shook his head in disagreement.

"I can't help myself, Dam," he sobbed.

"I'm a lost cause and you'll eventually get tired of my shit."

Damien wanted to embrace his cousin, hug him tight and tell him how he was a strong, talented, good man with a pure heart and that no drugs in the world are ever going to change that.

Damien intended to tell him all of that and more.

He knew he had his work cut out for him to get Elijah out of this vicious and destructive addiction.

"No," Damien said firmly.

"No, I'm not going to make the same mistake twice. I don't care if it takes you ten years or twenty before you get completely clean. I'll always stay by your side whatever the case, as I should have a long time ago."

Elijah snorted and continued to shake his head.

He gently removed Damien's hands that were holding his face.

"I don't deserve it," Elijah said, his eyes refusing to settle on Damien.

"Look at me, Dam. I'm no more than a shadow of myself. You're wasting your time."

Damien forced Elijah to look at him as he lifted his chin with his hand.

"Not too long ago, I was also only a shadow of myself and that made me think of you," Damien recalled, his eyes looking intently at his cousin.

"I thought about the time I abandoned you and how you were all alone with no one to turn to for support and help you with this addiction. I can't even begin to imagine how I would feel if my family and friends decided to abandon me. Yet you went through all this shit and I contributed to it instead of being there for you. I want to fix this. I want to do it right this time around."

Elijah wiped the saltwater off his cheeks, sweeping his hand over them.

"But I was the one at fault. I'm the one who should ask for your forgiveness and..."

"If you forgive me for abandoning you and if you accept to come live with me, then I forgive you whatever you want and all the mistakes that you"ll be making in the future. How does that sound?" Damien proposed with a doting smile.

Elijah stared at his cousin without blinking in a silence where the only sound that could be heard was his sniffles.

"You promise me that you'll always be there?" Elijah said after a moment of silence.

Damien Clark nodded softly, his eyes looking intently at his cousin's tears.

"I swear. I swear it Eli. I can even sign a contract if I have to."

Without warning, Elijah threw himself at Damien and hugged him.

Damien didn't hesitate to respond to the hug.

Overwhelmed by emotions, Damien embraced his cousin and closed his eyes.

"This isn't a dream, right?" Elijah asked in a strangled voice.

"If it is, please don't wake me."

Damien couldn't help but have an amused smile cross his lips.

"No, not a dream," Damien reassured.

"Only reality."

Elijah gave a weak, strangled chuckle.

The two cousins hugged for a moment longer before slowly parting way.

"I'm sorry. Must be awkward for you to see me cry like a wuss," Elijah chuckled, wiping the tears from his eyes.

Damien chuckled too and helped his cousin dry his tears by brushing the water over his face with his fingers.

"Eli, you'd be surprised if you knew how many times, I've cried like a bitch lately," Damien admitted without embarrassment.

"Enough to refill a lake."

Elijah's saddened expression mingled with joy and he chuckled weakly at Damien's confession.

Damien gazed at his cousin with an affectionate smile for a few seconds as he struggled with wanting to take him back in his arms.

"I have some things to sort out with Nick," Damien announced.

"Can you come by my place later? Or should I say, our place?" Damien corrected, giving his cousin a smirk that was gently mocking him.

Elijah gave Damien an amused look and an embarrassed faint smirk.

"I work until 8pm but I can come after that," he informed in a small voice.

Damien took his phone out of his jeans pocket, opened it and gave it to Elijah who then took it.

"I'll wait for you. Give me your number so I can text you my address."

A few seconds later, after doing just that, Elijah handed the phone to Damien and looked away, looking embarrassed.

"Your favorite food is still lasagna, right?" Damien suddenly asked with a smile.

Elijah blinked and seemed to hesitate to answer.

He probably hadn't thought that Damien would remember such a thing, though he looked pleased.

"Uh... yes, that hasn't changed," he said with a nod that Damien found to be adorable.

Damien sent a quick text to Elijah so that Elijah could save his number.

He places his phone back in his pocket, glanced at Elijah, and gave him a tender smile.

"Then, I'll see you later, Eli," Damien said affectionately.

Damien gave his cousin one last long look and turned around.

He walked towards the entrance but stopped when Elijah called out to him.

"Dam?"

Damien half-turned and stared at his cousin who had an expression on his face that he couldn't quite describe.

"Thank you," Elijah said with emotion in his broken voice.

"For everything."

Damien gazed at his cousin for a long time, oscillating between hugging him and never letting go or going to see Nick.

Damien reassured himself that he would see Elijah in a few hours and that from now on he could start doing what he should have done a long time ago.

"Thank you for forgiving me, even if I don't deserve it in the slightest," Damien said his throat tightening.

Before Elijah could contradict him, Damien exited the trailer with a heavy heart but somewhat feeling a thousand times better.

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sabraeal · 3 years

Text

And Spring Became the Summer

[Read on AO3]

The very last of my follower fics for the 700 Followers gifts! This one was the bonus for making it to 750 before December, and I’m so glad I’ve FINALLY gotten this done...so I can do it all over again this year 🤣

The last term paper Mitsuhide writes for his undergraduate career he slips into a glossy plastic portfolio-- double-spaced and double-sided, graphs printed in full color-- and turns in personally.

It’s a wide-eyed TA that takes it, seated behind a desk that’s far too big for her. Or well, she’s not wide-eyed at first; instead she’s bent over her work, only glancing up absently to make sure she has it in hand. But a second one turns absence to alarm, eyes fixing to where he grips the plastic, and suddenly he’s all-too aware how easily how just one of his hands could swallow both of hers.

So is she; her eyes pulse wide, and then she’s tracing the line of his arm up and up doggedly, like as long as she just keeps going, she might hit the end of him. When she finally does, he offers her a sheepish smile, shoulders hunched lessen the blow.

She shrinks back, a mousey brown head peeking above an oversized university sweatshirt. So much for that.

“You could have emailed this,” she squeaks, plucking the plastic sleeve from his grip. “I mean, not that you can’t hand it in. It’s just, er...”

“No one does,” another adds, rolling across the floor with a level of curiosity that he’s pretty sure an in-person paper doesn’t warrant. When she measures him with her gaze, she enjoys every inch. “Pretty old fashioned, if you ask me.”

He recognizes both of them; their names had been on the syllabus at the beginning of the semester. He’d found them both on the department website, Amanda wearing the same Clarines sweatshirt she had on today, and Holly’s clearly from some beach vacation, cropped from the shoulders up.

(“Wouldn’t have pegged you for a stalker,” Obi says, hanging upside down from the armchair.

“I’m-- I’m not!” Mitsuhide sputters, heat creeping up his neck. One day, Obi would slip up and say these things in front of someone who mattered, someone with a much more rigid sense of humor than Professor Gazelt, or didn’t know to take every word of his with an ocean of salt like Dean Haruka, and then it would be him that got seated in front of a disciplinary committee. The last thing he needed to do before even finishing law school applications was explain his brother’s poor taste in jokes on the record. “It’s just...”

“That you’re compelled to look at cute girls on the university website?” he offers, so casual. “I could think of hotter majors, if you wanted. Psych seems like it’s the sort of place real tens might hand out, right? Maybe, uh, Education? Kindergarten teachers always are cute--”

“It’s polite,” Mitsuhide grits out, shoulders hunched up by his ears. “You should know everyone on staff in your department, just the way you should know everyone you work with. It’s the proper way to network.”

Obi watches him with wide eyes, like he’s some kind of zoo animal or-- or one of those really bad cooks on TV, the kind who tries to pan fry a chicken whole. “God, you don’t actually do that, do you?”

“It’s the secret to good business.” At least, that’s what his parents always told him.

“You must be...” Obi savors the moment, looking positively euphoric as he says, “Really fucking creepy at the department Christmas party.”)

“No one did,” says the first-- Amanda, graduate summa cum laude from Columbia-- tone aimed to shush. “I’m, uh, happy to take that, though.”

He gives her his most gracious smile. “Thank you.”

“No,” Holly-- Penn State, no honors-- mutters, casting him a speculative glance from the corner of her eyes. Hers go up and up too, but seem to come to a much more amicable conclusion. “Thank you.”

“Stop.” Amanda’s hands flex on the thin plastic; she has soft hands, a callus only on the knuckle of her middle finger, where a pen might rest. Like Shirayuki, only without the thousand nicks and cuts that dot her fingers, battle wounds from wrangling recalcitrant plants.

Her chin pulls up, set in a determined line as she says, “Congratulations on graduating.”

“Ah...” It’s a kind thought, and meant well, but knowing he’s about to spend the next three years earning the degree that counts softens the blow. “Thank you. I hope you have a nice, um, summer?”

“Definitely will be nicer not to grade papers,” Holly offers, immune to Amanda’s shushing. “Do you have pl--?”

“We should get back to grading,” Amanda says, just to the left of too loud. “Have a nice summer.”

Never repeat yourself, Mama always told him, it weakens your position.

You can never be too polite. That’s what Papa would say, when he thanked the cashier for a third time.

Mitsuhide winces; he’s always hated this, being stuck between his parents. It’s clearly time to leave. “Right. Bon été, Amanda.”

“Was that French,” he hears hissed the moment he’s stepped out the door; the same moment another voice says, “Did I tell him my name?”

He should have just emailed it. Mitsuhide can make any number of excuses about the joys of collating and color printing, about face-time and networking, but at the end of the day, he has to call a spade a spade: this has all been an excuse. A thin one too, to keep him out of the house. To put off what he knows need doing.

Mitsuhide steps into the cool air of the foyer, shivering as it catches the sweat that beaded at his hairline on the walk. His courage peaks as he stands there, right next to the shoe mat, grand stair stretching up before him, still in his oxfords--

And immediately effervesces when he catches sight of smooth, bare legs on the coffee table, fuzzy slippers worth more than his phone perched up on the mahogany. This is it, the moment of truth, fight or flight, and he-- he doesn’t know which way to run.

So he doesn’t. He’s drawn there with inexorable motion, a magnet to a lodestone, the hard soles of his shoes clacking against the wood the only thing keeping him grounded. It takes only a few steps before long, tanned legs lead up to sleep shorts; not the clingy kind that curve and cup, but the ones that hang like boxers around the tops of her thighs, rucking up as she moves. After that it’s a hoodie, worn loose and baggy, like it’s supposed to fit someone twice her size, its hood drawn tight against her face. Nothing...sexy, not the way Obi might say, with far too much eyebrows involved. But still, his mouth runs dry, tongue heavy behind his teeth.

How on earth is he going to do this?

“Kiki.” He speaks before he thinks, sinking down on the table. It creaks beneath him, ominous. “I owe you a date.”

“Oh shit.” Obi flops over on the recliner, wide gold eyes peeking over the arm. “Check out the balls on this kid.��

This is a terrible idea. He should have known not to do this in a-- a common room, one where other brothers might be hiding.

“Sorry,” he creaks, levering himself up. “I didn’t realize-- you’re clearly busy--”

“No.” Kiki’s lays her feet right on his thighs, pushing him down with a thump. “You were saying something important.”

He darts a glance to the shadow squirming obnoxiously on soft leather. “But Obi--”

“Obi,” she informs him, as imperious as any C-suite member, “can leave.”

Obi doesn’t so much bark out a laugh as honks it. “Not unless I got time to make popcorn.”

Her head doesn’t move an inch from where she’s got it, chin tilted up to meet his own gaze. Her eyes though, those slide pointedly away, fixed at their corners, radiating malice. Kiki is slow to speak, deliberate when she does, but her eyes-- well, there’s a wealth of words in every look, and right now they’re reading Obi the riot act.

It would have worked better if Obi wasn’t already so used hearing it.

“Ignore him,” Kiki decides, attention snapping back to him. “He’s furniture.”

“Oh, Ms Kiki,” Obi drawls, barreling towards a mistake, “you could sit on me any--”

“You were saying?” she says, every word iron. Obi takes the hint, for once.

“I, uh...well, you paid for a date,” Mitsuhide manages lamely, darting a worried look to where Obi lounges on the chair. “I mean, you paid a lot for a date. And I understand that you may have just wanted to donate to the frat, but if you wanted to--”

“I told you,” Kiki says, dry, toes flexing firmly on his knee. “I expect you to make it worth my while.”

“Ah, y-yeah.” Her saying that while looking at him like she did-- well, his brain had that queued up every time he blinks his eyes. Sometimes it changed venues, and there were some, uh, costume changes at times, but if he shut his eyes right now it’d spool up with perfect fidelity. “I thought it might, um, d-distract you if we tried before finals, but since you’ve finished-- we’ve finished--”

“As of twenty minutes ago,” Obi adds, so helpful.

“--I thought it might be a fun way to relax.” He’s honestly never felt less relaxed in his life just sitting here, contemplating it. Half of it he can chalk up to Obi, curled over the recliner like a gremlin, waiting to wreak his version of chaos the second he can weasel his fingers in, but the other--

Well, it’s hard to ask someone on a date when you know they’ve already got someone in mind for the position. Even if it’s just-- this. As friends.

His heart’s in his throat. At least, that’s what he thinks until Kiki’s mouth curves; then he knows it’s never been in his possession at all, but always utterly hers. “Sounds like fun.”

Tension rushes out of him on a sigh. “Ah, great. I though we might, er, go to Boston? You know,” he hurries to spit out, before any words can fall from her parted lips, “since there’s not much out here we haven’t seen.”

She hesitates. Of course she does. Boston’s practically her hometown, and he’s sitting here, thinking it’ll impress her. Like she hasn’t seen everything that’s worth seeing there twice over and in private. That she hasn’t just told him no outright is a testament to how well Mr Seiran’s raise her, and--

“Let’s make a day of it.”

Mitsuhide startles, nearly tipping off the table’s edge before he glances up, right into her row of perfectly straight teeth. Her mom’s smile, she always told him, but he’s only ever seen it on her. “I-- yes. That’s..good.”

Her lips curl, hiding her teeth. “Let me handle the accommodations.”

“Ah, no.” His head sweeps through big, nervous back-and-forths. “I couldn’t possibly ask you to--”

“You’re not,” Kiki informs him. “I’m telling you. I’ll handle accommodations. You’re seeing to the rest of the weekend, correct?”

“Y-yes.” He tries to fold his arms across his lap, but with her feet right on his thighs, it ends up with his hands covering her ankles. He expects her to move them, but instead her legs still, tendons relaxing under his palms. “That’s the plan, but, really--”

“It’s the least I can do.” She shifts her macbook off the couch’s arm, fingers already flying across the keyboard. “One night?”

“I...” He should decline. He should tell her that if she can drop a whole K on a date with him, he can shell out for one night at a hotel with a higher rating than a Holiday Inn.

But this is Kiki Seiran, heir to Seiran International. She’s not just used to five stars but the penthouse suite. He could book four star cheap on Hotwire, but imagining her in one of those suites, the sheets starched and thread count insufficient--

“Yeah,” he grunts, “one night’s fine.”

“Perfect.” Her teeth snap around the word. “Leave it to me.”

“So,” Obi starts before Mitsuhide’s even hit the last step. “We have a bet going on.”

He grimaces, shifting the duffel over his shoulder. “I’m pretty sure I don’t want to know.”

‘Pretty sure’ turns to ‘certain’ once he catches Obi’s grin. “It’s about whether you’ll get your dick wet.”

“Sorry, not interested.” He heaves the bag beside the front door, brushing off his shorts. “Isn’t it too early for you to be up? I thought you didn’t know about the hours before ten.”

“I had motivation,” Obi assures him, slinking up beside him with a grin a mile wide. “You know, Shiira says that you won’t on the grounds that you’re a gentleman.”

More like the lady isn’t interested. “I already said I wasn’t--”

“Kai says you will,” he continues blithely, “and you’ll come back on time. Shuuka agrees, except that he thinks you’ll miss check out with all the boning down and won’t make it back until evening.”

“Isn’t this breaking the bylaws?” Mitsuhide grunts, slipping on his sneakers. “Don’t we have something about betting...?”

“For money,” Obi agrees. “Zen still wouldn’t put a bet down though.”

That’s assuring at least. “Of course n--”

“Shiira already took his.” Obi shakes his head. “And we wouldn’t allow him to say the same thing except that he thinks it’s because you’re and idiot.”

Well, that’s a little rich, coming from Zen. Mitsuhide was loath to remind anyone that besides Obi, he is the most experienced, but-- some people should be taking that into account. Even if nothing is going to happen.

“Don’t worry, Big Guy.” Obi claps him on the shoulder, smile somehow drifting towards kindly. “I gave you until Monday.”

“Obi--”

“And Kiki will walk in with a limp.”

“Obi, you know that’s not...” His breath hisses between his teeth. “That’s not what me and Kiki are like.”

“You keep thinking that, Big Guy, but--” he leans in, cupping a hand around his mouth-- “my original bet was gonna be Tuesday. Too bad Kiki had already taken it.”

Mitsuhide stares at him, slack-jawed. “W-what did you just--?”

“I should have known, you’re already here.”

His head jerks up, right to the top of the grand stair, the beginning of a quick glance-- but it’s no use. There’s no possible way he could make his eyes focus anywhere but on Kiki, not when she’s wearing-- when she’s--

“Ooh.” Obi’s mouth curls, matching Kiki’s knowing smirk. “Is that a skirt?”

It is. And not-- not her field hockey kit, mid-thigh with shorts beneath, but and actual skirt, one that floats just above her knees, gauzy and floral. A single flash of leg tells him there’s nothing else beneath. Ah, well, besides the obvious. Mitsuhide swallows hard, mouth dry.

She raises a brow, hand trailing sinuously down the banister beside her. “It is a date, isn’t it?”

Her heels clack when she takes the last step into the foyer, clack because it’s the cork of her wedges that hits the floor first, because-- nom de Dieu-- she’s wearing shoes that tilt her a few inches close to him. Close enough that he could just bend at the neck and--

“Ah,” he coughs, fingers clenching in his shirt. “You might be a little overdressed. At least for this first part.”

Both her brows raise now. “Am I?”

“God,” Obi mutters at his shoulder, head buried in his hands. “You could at least say she looks nice.”

Well, when he’s right, he’s right.

“You look, ah, great though,” Mitsuhide hurries to add. “Beautiful.”

Kiki, to his surprise, beams. “Well, I brought a few outfits. I’ll change at the hotel.”

“Ah, sure.” He scoops up his duffel, holding out a hand for her bag as she passes. “You’re ready to go?”

Her mouth quirks at a corner. “As I’ll ever be.”

He hums, uncertain, suddenly left-footed with her so close. They should leave, but that involves a number a movements he’s suddenly stymied by.

Thankfully, Obi opens the door, practically shoving him onto the porch. “All right kids, be safe now.”

“Obi...”

“Don’t worry,” Kiki drawls, sashaying over the threshold. “I packed plenty of condoms.”

The door cuts off Obi’s laugh, but Mitsuhide can’t escape the pounding of his heart.

“You know,” he sighs, trailing after her, “you’re only encouraging him when you say things like that.”

“Oh that’s too bad,” she hums, floating past. “I was trying to encourage you.”

#mitsukiki #akagami no shirayukihime #snow white with the red hair #The Wide Florida Bay #my fic #ans #THESE ARE FINALLY FINISHED #and this little side jaunt is barely started 🤣#i wanted to do the whole date...then convinced myself half...#and now i just have the lead up #but lbr #it's better this way #since we get more chaos agent Obi #which only makes Obi's sensitive feelings about his OWN date funnier #buddy you bought and paid for the shit you're getting #and NOW you don't want it? no wonder Kiki gives you crap

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fallout4reactsblog · 4 years

Note

(If you haven't already) Is it okay to ask if you can do a companions react to Danse being a synth? I have been looking for something like that for a while...

Cait: “You know, it is a damn shame. I bet under all that power armor and testosterone, he’s pretty cute.”

Sole chuckled, but attempted to hide it by frowning. It did not work. “Cait, this is a serious issue. We’re talking about a man’s life on the line here.”

“I am being serious. Are you saying you don’t think he’s good-looking under all that?”

“Well, I’m not saying that.” They opened another bottle of beer for each of them. “I happen to have actually seen him out of power armor. The view’s not bad, I guess.”

It was Cait’s turn to laugh as she accepted the beer, and after a moment, laid her head against sole’s shoulder. Why not, right? It was late, they were both a little tipsy, and what was the harm in a little gossip between friends?

“So, are you going to kill him?”

“Hopefully, he’ll be able to leave the Commonwealth, or at least find some peace here. I think Preston will take care of him, and working with the Minutemen will help.”

She frowned against their shoulder, not content with their response, and for a moment they were both quiet. The only sound in the night air was that of a light breeze through the grass, and a few chirping bugs. It was almost peaceful.

“I don’t get why you’d vouch for him. He’s a synth. Better off dead, if you ask me.”

“It’s complicated.” They pressed a cheek to her hair. “It will be hard to kill him, if I have to.”

“Reckon he’s taken care of that for you by this point?”

They sighed and took another drink from their beer. “I wouldn’t be surprised, but honestly, I’d rather discuss something else. It’s too nice a night for talk like this.”

Cait happily agreed and turned the conversation to other things.

Curie: She wanted to understand. Really, she did, but the things sole was saying just didn’t make sense.

“I do not understand why he would be so upset. Surely to be a synth is a good thing, no? I am very happy to have this body, synthetic though it may be.”

“Danse’s case is different, Curie. He thought he was a human.”

“But he is the same man, synth or no. What difference does it make? Though he has been indoctrinated to a certain way of thinking during his time with the Brotherhood, he must accept his true nature.”

“And he will. It’s just going to take some time for him to adjust. Just like it took time for you to get used to your new body.”

She hummed, curling her fingers into the grass. “I suppose that makes sense. It is a new way of life for him.”

“You get it. He’ll get used to the idea eventually.”

“Oh, but I had you to help me.” Gently, she nudged them with her shoulder. “There must be some way in which we can help him, yes? Some exercise or task that he could do to improve his mindset? Before, we could have perhaps sought the council of a therapist, but finding one seems unlikely these days.”

They laughed softly beside her and agreed. “Maybe you could teach him how to make some of the more science-based weapons mods. Exposure to other synths could help.”

“A wonderful idea! Perhaps I could even discuss with him an automatic chems applicator for his power armor suit...”

She continued on, bouncing ideas off of sole, and hoped that at least one of them would work.

Deacon: “You’re kidding.”

“Cross my heart.” Sole rather dramatically traced an “X” over their sternum. “He’s a synth.”

“Well, I’ll be damned.”

Deacon rocked back on his heels, trying to remember if maybe Danse had been through the Railroad before. There was something awfully familiar about his face, but that could just be because Deacon had seen him around before. After all, he’d met a lot of people; he couldn’t be expected to remember all of their names.

“I was gonna ask Dez or Tom if maybe he was one of yours. It might be easier to know he escaped, rather than that he’s a replacement, you know? Might make him feel more human.”

“Sure, I can ask around.” In the back of his head, Deacon was still trying to remember is the designation M7-97 was familiar. “Someone will remember if he came through. Hell, Amari alone might be able to help.”

They nodded thoughtfully. “I was planning to stop by Goodneighbor anyway. It might not hurt to check in with her.”

“No harm in it. Just, you know, don’t get your hopes up. A lot of people get replaced in the Commonwealth. It happens every day. There’s no shame in being a replacement, either.”

“I know that, but he doesn’t.” They huffed in a way that perfectly portrayed their desire to help and their frustration with the situation. “I just want to give him what peace of mind I can.”

“And that’s very noble of you, boss.” He adjusted his sunglasses to wink at them over the top of the frame. “But be sure to tell him that, if he wants to start all over again, we’d be happy to help out.”

They chuckled, gently punching his arm. “I don’t think I’d ever convince him to do that, but I’ll make sure he knows.”

Gage: “We are killing him, right?”

Sole shot him a glare out of the corner of their eye. “That’s the third time you’ve asked. How many more times do you have to be told?”

“I just don’t want you getting any doubts in your head, that’s all.”

“Well, I’m not. And if you keep bothering me about it, I’ll go take care of it on my own. Is that clear?”

He rolled his eye. They’d been testy ever since they’d gotten the news, which was annoying. It wasn’t like the Brotherhood was good for anything, anyway. What did it matter if they were going to kill one of them. If he had his way, they’d kill the whole lot and be done with it, but sole insisted they still had a use, and they were the boss.

“It’s stupid to run,” he said, kicking at a rock in his path. “He has to know we’ll find him. He can’t hide forever.”

“He was scared. You’d run, if you heard I was after your head.”

“Fuck, of course I would. Difference is, I’d run straight the hell out of the Commonwealth and hope whatever I did wasn’t so bad you’d want to chase me.”

“To be fair, he doesn’t know that it’s me they’re sending. Maxson doesn’t even really know where he is, at least, not yet. They’re probably following us.”

“So let’s kill them.”

“Not yet.”

“It’s always, ‘not yet,’“ he huffed.

They shot him a look that clearly said he was testing their patience. “And until I say it is time, you’re gonna keep your finger off the trigger. Otherwise, you better start running now. I promise not to chase you past the Commonwealth.”

He shuddered at the thought of the Overboss tracking him out of town, and shook his head. “I just do what you tell me. You say, ‘don’t shoot,’ and I won’t.”

“Damn straight.”

Hancock: This had to be one of the strangest days Hancock had had in a long time.

“We’re talking about the same Danse, right? Tall, wears a can around, fluffy hair? Hates my guts?”

“That’s the one.”

“Him. He’s a synth. The guy who hates all ghouls, synths, supermutants, you name it, he’s the one out of all of us that turns out to be a synth.”

“I saw the data with my own eyes.” They shook their head. “There’s no faking that kind of stuff. He’s a synth.”

“Damn.”

He leaned his head back against the couch, staring up at the slowly rotting ceiling. Slowly, he reached over to put his hand on top of theirs.

“So, what are you gonna do?”

“They told me to kill him, but-” They sighed. “I want to at least hear him out, first. He deserves that much.”

“Well, let’s get going, then.” He stood, dusting off his jacket. “I’d hate to keep crew-cut waiting.”

“You don’t have to come. I know you two haven’t ever really gotten along.”

He snorted. “That’s an understatement. But, even if he and I aren’t pals, I’m not about to leave you high and dry. If we’re gonna do something, we’re gonna do it together, right?”

“Right.” With a sigh, they stood, pulling their bag up with them. “Let’s go.”

MacCready: “You have to admit that it’s a little funny.”

“It is not,” sole chided. “He’s had his whole life ripped away from him. It’s not a laughing matter.”

“You can’t say it isn’t ironic, at least.”

They huffed. “I suppose I can see the irony. But that doesn’t make it funny.”

“Maybe not in your eyes.”

They whacked him with a rolled-up Boston Bugle, pulling the swing back at the last minute so it barely tapped him. Still, there was a hint of a smile on their face.

“I don’t know what I’m going to do with you, Mac. You’re a lost cause.”

“Probably.” He rifled through his pockets for his lighter. “But speaking of lost causes, what are you going to do about the tin can? Maxson told you to kill him, didn’t he?”

They nodded. “I suppose we’ll trek out there to Listening Post Bravo. At the very least, that’s where we’d have to go anyway. I just wondered if you had any thoughts about it.”

“No thoughts here. You point, I shoot. Just say the word.”

They folded their arms. “No thoughts? None at all? That doesn’t sound like you.”

He stuck his tongue out at them, still trying to light his cigarette. “No. The guy’s a synth. Do with that what you will.”

“Fine.” They stuck their tongue out back. “Then let’s get going.”

Nick: “Is he doing alright?”

Both he and sole glanced across the street to watch Danse fiddle with his power armor, something he’d been doing for damn near an hour. Nick didn’t think he’d done anything productive except maybe clean a rusty pin.

“He’s hanging in there.” They leaned back against the steps. “It’s not easy, but I don’t think anyone thought it would be.”

“Gotta admit, I’m not so sure I should be here. I might just be making things worse on him.”

“I wouldn’t be so sure. Maybe it’ll help warm him up to the idea.”

He shot them a deadpan look that he hoped read as unimpressed. “With a mug like this? Likely story.”

“I happen to like that mug of yours fine, so hush.”

They both turned back to the former Paladin in question, who was still staring at his power armor. Nick really did feel bad for the guy. It was hard to realize the things you thought you knew weren’t yours to begin with. He ought to know.

“He’ll be alright,” he said, attempting to provide some reassurance to his partner. “If there’s anything I can do...”

That earned him a smile. “Thanks, Nick.”

“Sure, anytime. Just make sure that you remember helping him sometimes might include telling me to beat it. I doubt anyone looks at me these days and wishes they were a synth, too.”

“Don’t be so hard on yourself. I’m pretty sure what you look like is the furthest thing from his mind.”

He hummed noncommittally and returned to watching.

Piper: “You’re not going to do it.”

“Piper...”

“Blue, you can’t. He should at least have a chance to live his life in peace, right? Preston could recruit him to the Minutemen or something. It doesn’t have to end in violence.”

“I haven’t made up my mind yet. I’ll need the facts, first.”

“But he’s your friend. You’re not just going to kill him because he’s a synth. Nick’s a synth, too, isn’t he?”

“Piper.”

“I’m just telling you the truth. If he’s your friend, you should give him the chance to explain himself, and let him go. Not all synths are bad, and he doesn’t seem like a bad guy. A little misguided, maybe, and he’s probably got a little too much machismo for his own good, but that’s not a reason for him to die.”

“Piper, I’m not killing him.”

“Well, good!” She pulled her cap up out of her eyes. “You shouldn’t have to.”

“It’s just not going to be easy to convince him that I shouldn’t. The Brotherhood is all he has. When Maxson makes an order, he follows it without question, without fail. We’ll have to show him that an exception can be made in this case.”

“That’s the spirit, Blue. There’s nothing wrong with going against orders every now and then, right?”

They laughed. “Piper, I don’t think you’re the type of person who’s ever followed orders.”

“I can neither confirm nor deny that...”

Preston: “Danse, do you have a minute?”

Former Paladin Danse looked surprised to see him. Carefully, he set the gun he was working on cleaning to the side.

“I suppose so. Is there a problem, Garvey?”

Already defensive. It hurt Preston to see a man, who had once been so confident and proud, suddenly feeling so afraid. Though he couldn’t deny that it was nice to have Danse on the side of the Minutemen, the circumstances were unfortunate, to say the least.

“Not at all. I just wanted to thank you for the effort you’ve been putting in around here. I know that everyone else appreciates it, too.” Gently, he rested a hand on Danse’s arm. “We’re all glad that you’re here, and if there’s anything you need, or any way I can help, don’t hesitate to ask.”

Though Danse avoided his gaze, he could see a touch of relief on his face. “It’s the least I can do. After all, you’re all putting yourselves in the line of fire by harboring me here.”

Preston shook his head. “We just want to make sure you have a place to call home, Danse. You’ve been dealt a rough hand, and I wanted to make sure you were doing alright.”

“I’m... as expected, I suppose. Staying busy has been good. It’s nice to work.”

“The work helps?”

He nodded. “It’s difficult to be caught up in my own thoughts when I’m completing a task that requires my full attention. I appreciate that.”

“Well, there’s plenty of work to be done around here.” He patted the metal arm of the armor. “If you ever want to do some work for the other settlements, there’s plenty to be done. County Crossing just sent word about some ghouls. I was going to let the General know when they got back, but if you want it first, just say the word.”

“Certainly. I appreciate the consideration.”

He nodded, and though they went to their separate tasks, Preston did feel a little bit better.

X6: “So what are we supposed to do with him?”

Sole shrugged as they opened up a box of snack cakes, and extended the package to offer him one. “I’m really not sure. If nobody at the Institute knew he was a synth, then is there a point to bringing him in?”

“Of course.” X6 pulled one of the cakes out of the box. “All synths should be returned to the Institute. At the very least, we should see if we can get any information out of him. He could be a useful asset.”

They nodded, but their eyes were far away. The snack cake in their hand remained unopened.

“Ma’am/Sir, don’t let your fondness for him cloud your judgement.”

They sighed heavily. “But he’s a good man, X6. I don’t want to throw him to the wolves.”

“I know that your loyalties make it hard to be objective in this situation. But if he’s left by himself, he’ll be hunted for the rest of his life by people he once called friends. The Institute can keep him safe, perhaps give him a new purpose. He could make for a fine courser.”

“If he’d ever agree to that.”

He shrugged. “That would be his choice to make.”

“And what if I don’t bring him in?” Their eyes challenged him. “What would you do?”

He stared at them for a brief moment, contemplating his answer. They had been a good friend to him so far, and he trusted them nearly blindly. To grant them one small favor wouldn’t hurt anything, would it?

“I suppose I could turn a blind eye this once. But I wouldn’t advise crossing Father. You may not like the consequences.”

They nodded, offered him the box of snack cakes again, and turned the conversation to other things.

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alecmagnuslwb · 4 years

Text

Year After Year

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1 Twenty

Zatanna stretches out along the couch her feet propped up on the coffee table a large magical tome in her lap. It’s nearing midnight and soon enough her birthday will be over and done with.

The morning had been so busy filled with her attempting to convince Nick that going out to search for a missing page from an ancient book that’s likely sitting in a dragon’s den was too dangerous. It wasn’t until Nick had stormed out ignoring her pleas, John kissing her on the head and following him out to ensure he didn’t get himself killed that she had even realized the date.

She’s never been big on birthdays; they’d been her thing with her mother and after her death she just stopped putting any sort of effort into them. This year was no different, she’s fairly certain she’s never told John when her birthday is and even if in his frequently spiraling state Nick does recall the date he’s likely not to acknowledge it at all.

Which works just fine for her.

The door busts open Zatanna jumping up from the couch in defense mode immediately only to stand down upon seeing its only Nick. A single aged page in his hand, his jacket a little burnt around the edges.

“Got it,” he says roughly already heading for the stairs, likely to shut himself into his room conjuring and doing who the hell knows what until the wee hours of the morning. “Wasn’t dangerous, just like I said.”

“The fact you’ve been gone nearly 12 hours and look a little crispy says otherwise,” Zatanna shouts after him, Nick already halfway upstairs. “Where’s John?”

Nick waves a dismissive hand at the door he left wide open. “Stopped to run an errand.”

And then he’s disappearing around the corner his bedroom door slamming shut behind him. Zatanna flops down on the couch head in one hand and picking at her fishnets with the other. Her worry about John subsides while her worry about Nick increases. What a strange feeling it is to be falling in love while watching your closest friend/ex fall deeper into an obsessive magical hole that you can’t seem to stop him from falling into.

It’s another reason her birthday slipped her mind this year, she’s too busy losing Nick and holding onto John to focus on much else.

Zatanna runs a hand through her hair standing just as she hears footsteps nearing the brownstones door. John steps in a bouquet of flowers in his hands that he immediately attempts to hide behind his back when he spots her standing there.

“Hey, luv I wasn’t sure you’d still be up,” he says smile bright and feign confident, a classic John Constantine grin. She can’t help but smile back.

“You were gone nearly 12 hours after leaving to fight a dragon, of course I’m still up,” she says stepping closer and reaching up to run her fingers along the stubble on his jaw. “Are you hurt?”

“Nah,” he says shaking his head, a bit of ash falling from his hair. He reaches down tugging at his shirt. “Just a bit singed around the edges. Finding it took longer than fighting it.”

He sounds a little sad, the same sadness she carries about Nick’s behavior. They’ve talked about it before, what to do is still a question that hangs in the air and tonight it’s late, they’re both so tired and John is hiding a bouquet of flowers behind his back that she’s too curious about to broach the topic once again.

Zatanna places both hands on his chest, smoothing out his ruined shirt.

“So, what is that you’re hiding behind your back?” she asks tilting her head in a way she knows he finds adorable.

“Ah, that is a gift,” he says stepping back just enough so that her hands fall and the bouquet is held out between them. A gorgeous arrangement of lilacs and lavender, her favorites, just a little crushed at the top from where he’d briskly tucked them behind his back. “For you. Happy birthday luv,” he says urging her to take the flowers.

She does, smelling them and then cradling them in her arms.

“How did you know?”

John just shrugs a smirk tugging at the edge of his lips.

“I have my ways.”

Zatanna steps closer, bridging the small gap of space between them.

“Your ways, huh,” she says eyeing John suspiciously. “Your ways being you noticed my ID when I accidentally left it on your dresser the other night.”

John just chuckles reaching his hands out to pull her in by the hips, crushing the flowers between them.

“Maybe,” he says grin getting cheekier by the minute. “You look great in your photo by the way, clearly witchcraft considering your gorgeous but nobody looks that good on an ID.”

Zatanna snorts before whispering a quiet thank you.

“You don’t have to thank me, I just wanted you to have something, even if there is only about ten minutes left of the day and it’s not much. At the very least I’ll be making sure you get that much every year as long as you keep putting up with me. Promise.” he says rubbing circles into her hips with his thumbs. “Next year I’ll even bake you cake.”

2 Twenty-Three

“Thank you,” she says one last time bowing to the audience before her. She picks up a single rose at her feet smiling before heading back stage.

She passes by her crew a few high fives and congratulations on another successful show given as she goes. She hands the single rose to her favorite stagehand Mikey with a smile.

It’s another birthday in books, this one spent doing what she loves on the stage and hopefully ending in a warm bath with a large glass of wine.

“Ekat em emoh,” she whispers to herself once she’s closed the door to her dressing room and a swirling portal appears before her. She steps through already flinging her coat and top hat off as she enters the Zatara mansion.

She kicks off her clunky heels as she heads up the stairs passing by so many of her father’s left behind artifacts. She closes her eyes moving her neck back and forth to releases some tension, unlacing her corset as she steps into her bedroom.

“It’s your birthday and yet here I am the one getting a present,” a familiar sly voice startles her from the darkness.

“Jesus,” she says clutching a hand to her chest there’s only one person with the access to get past her wards but he surprises her all the same. She turns to see John leaned back in the chair by her vanity legs spread comfortably. A bouquet of lilacs and lavender rest in his lap, his grip on them loose.

“Well now I’m pretty sure that’d be taken as blasphemous if anyone upstairs heard you call me that,” John says that damn little smirk of his just visible in the moonlight.

“Sthgil,” she says waving a hand around the room. A swell of warm low-lit bulbs coming to life so she can see him more clearly. She goes back to unlacing her corset, it’s not like he hasn’t seen it all before. “You’re here.”

“Of course I’m here,” he says standing and getting a little closer as she slips on a Black Canary band t-shirt. “I haven’t missed your birthday yet, have I?”

He hasn’t, not since that first one. They’ve broken up since then, a mini reunion on her birthday last year mere weeks after he father’s death. John had shown up with a bouquet of flowers and a red velvet cake that tasted like beets and just held her all day. Blame and guilt flew out the window for that day, even if the cake tasted like shit.

They’ve been doing a lot of back and forth ever since then, but a few days ago Zatanna had heard whispers of John getting himself into some new spectacular shit and when he hadn’t called for help she assumed he’d be a no show today.

And yet here is, keeping his promise.

“Good point,” she says turning to face him. “Please tell me you didn’t bake a cake this year?”

John laughs, one of those big genuine laughs he so rarely does. All she can do is join along with him, the sound contagious.

“No, no cake,” he says handing her the flowers. “But just you wait I’ll be perfecting that one day, just need some more practice.”

She doesn’t think there’s a spell in this world that could make John Constantine a decent baker, but she appreciates the effort nonetheless. She sits the flowers down on the edge of her bed and folds her arms around his middle, he immediately holds her right back.

“How does a steaming hot bath and some wine sound to you?” she says voice slightly muffled from where she’s buried her face into his chest.

“Anything you want Zee,” he says rubbing his hands slowly up and down her back. “It’s your birthday.”

3 Twenty-Five

“Edolpxe!” she shouts pushing her hands out at the swath of demons before them. She regrets the choice immediately as a rain of demon guts and ichor spew back at her and her companions.

She shakes her hand out not that it does much good then attempts to wipe any goo from around her eyes and swallows once. And ugh, yup there’s some in her mouth. She spits out what she can in digust.

“Happy fucking birthday to me,” she grumbles under her breath.

“You okay Zatanna?” Andrew Bennet asks as he comes to stand beside her, covered head to toe in the same gunk she is. Boston, the lucky incorporeal bastard, floats up beside him a vision of cleanliness.

She nods, “Yeah, just in desperate need of seven or so showers and a giant bottle of mouthwash.”

Andrew huffs in agreement. Boston opens his mouth clearly about to say something that will no doubt drive Zatanna crazy about his clean state, but is cut off by a voice off to the side.

“So, I guess I’m late then?” John says, the purple bouquet of flowers she’s come to expect every year in one hand. “Or maybe judging from the look of you two, just in time.”

Zatanna rolls her eyes. They’ve been going strong for the last few months, had a dinner plan for her birthday tonight and everything. Just this once deciding to do a little more for the day outside of the walls of wherever she calls home, but of course he’d been running late for dinner and not answered his phone when a hoard of demons turned up in the alleyway behind the restaurant.

Luckily Boston and Andrew had answered her call.

“Naelc pu siht ssem,” she says the mess in front of and on them disappearing in a moment. Her mouth still feels gross, but she’s okay with that, kissing John with demon ichor mouth for not showing up on time seems like a good form of payback.

Andrew and Boston bid their goodbyes as she conjures up a portal for them then she walks over to where John stands leaning against the wall lighting a cigarette. He takes a long drag blowing the smoke out to the side before she gets within touching distance of him. She leans up immediately kissing him deeply.

“No offense luv, but you taste a bit like a demon’s asshole,” John says once she’s pulled back taking her birthday flowers from his arms. Well, she thinks, that’s what you get for being late.

She smiles sarcastically up at him. “And you taste like an ashtray,” she says plucking his cigarette from between his fingers and tossing it into a puddle by their feet stamping it out with the front of her tall steel toed heels for safe measure.

“You love it,” he says offendedly looking down at his lost cigarette.

“I love you,” she says pointedly, tangling their fingers together and tugging him along. “I tolerate that.” She flings her head back slightly to the puddle drenched cigarette. “Now come on let’s get dinner I need to get this taste out of my mouth.”

John chuckles as she pulls him along faster, “The ashtray flavor or the demon asshole taste?”

“Both.”

4 Twenty-Seven

“Got any big birthday plans?” Zachary asks as he packs up the last of his gear in a suitcase spelled to have no end.

Zatanna scoffs, “No, you know birthdays aren’t really my thing.”

“Except when Constantine’s here,” Zachary says, a hint of judgement in his voice. He’s not exactly John’s biggest fan, then again most people aren’t.

She ignores the remark patting Zachary on the shoulder as she passes by to grab something from the drink cart. Vegas is always a good time for shows, especially when she gets to see her cousin, but right about now she’s ready to grab a drink and then head home to San Francisco.

Just as she starts to pour whiskey into her glass a fiery portal comes to life next to the drink cart and Zachary jumps into defense mode, hands at the ready. Zatanna however just keeps pouring her drink. She recognizes that magic, feels the pull of it in the air and the scent of a specific brand of cigarettes lingering at the edges; this is no threat.

“Bollocks,” John says as he falls through the portal flat on his back, scrambling quickly to shut it. A decaying green and grey hand reaches out as he does, the portal severing it off as it closes. He falls back again spreading his legs so the hand doesn’t fall on him as it twitches on last time. He falls back to the floor in relief eyes shutting for a second before gazing up at Zatanna.

She takes a sip of her drink regarding him.

“John,” she says swirling the ice around in her glass.

He smiles up at her reaching into the inner pocket of his jacket and pulling out a severely crushed bouquet of lilacs and lavender.

“Zee, these are for you,” he says reaching them up to her. She takes them, their fingers brushing, lingering for a few moments more than necessary.

They haven’t seen each other much over the past year since their last split not long after her twenty-sixth birthday. She stopped calling what they did breaking up, was it really a broken thing if eventually it always came back around whole? It’s to date the longest they’ve gone without being a couple officially or at least sleeping together at some point or another. Overall it’s been an odd year for them to say the least.

They’d saved the world from an apocalypse, but it had cost them a member of their so-called Justice League Dark. A loss that Constantine had taken full blame for, so much so that he went to hell to make it right without telling Zatanna he was even leaving.

She’d almost mourned him, but somewhere in her soul she just knew he wasn’t dead, could feel that he was still alive. Life still had to go on though and back to San Francisco she’d gone. She dated Hal, a nice enough entertainment agent for a bit, but then one day when he witnessed John literally crawling up out of the floor of her kitchen bloodied and more defeated than he had been when he’d left their relationship had effectively ended.

She healed John that night tending to his wounds and holding his hands as the burn of the hellfire still running through his veins subsided. She was still mad as hell at him for the leaving the way he had, but this was who they were, how they worked. They were always there for each other when they needed no matter their status.

He’d left after that, this time telling her where he was going. She dated Monica for a bit and then John turned up with a real bonafide boyfriend named Oliver, not the one you’re thinking. For a moment in time they’d both been happy with other people and for the first time since the day they met Zatanna thought maybe they’d actually well and truly reached their end. The cycle finally come to a close.

But then Monica had accused her of always relying on John and never on her when she was in trouble and even when she wasn’t; then shortly after Zatanna paid a visit to John for help his relationship with Oliver ended abruptly. They both acted like the breakups timing were simply coincidence.

John made a vague reasoning about fucking things up as he always did and Zatanna spouting something about wanting different things, but they both knew the truth. Whether the main reason or not, the fact they were still in love with each other despite all the anger and history was far too clear for their partners to deal with any longer.

Things had been almost awkward between them after that. For months it’d been like they were avoiding talking about anything at risk of admitting they still cared.

If there was ever a birthday she expected him to skip, it was this one.

“I know you aren’t the type to cheat, but the way you two are looking at each other I feel like I should remind you that you have a boyfriend,” Zachary says not so quietly, breaking their staring contest.

Right, she does have a boyfriend. Detective Dale Colton is sweet and caring and doesn’t have a clue it’s her birthday because she never felt the need to tell him. She’s never felt the need to tell him a lot of things. Which should probably be very telling for her, not that she has time right now to unpack all of that.

“No worries there Zachy,” John says shortening the name just to annoy Zachary as he hefts himself up from the ground. “I’m not here for that, just keeping a yearly promise.”

Zachary glares at Constantine before returning his attention to Zatanna. He opens his mouth no doubt about to invite himself to stay and have a few drinks, but she cuts him off.

“Don’t you have a date?”

Zachary holds her eyes for a moment before sighing grabbing his bag and tossing a wave and a birthday salutation over his shoulder before heading for the door.

“Drink?” Zatanna asks John already pouring a second glass, anticipating his answer. “You know,” she says looking at the flowers she’s sat on the drink cart. “These are by far your saddest looking bouquet yet.”

John laughs a small sad thing as he takes the offered drink from her hand fingertips brushing once again.

“Well that’s the kind of year it’s been hasn’t it,” he says tossing back the whole drink.

She frowns reaching out to tug on his sleeve to get his attention.

“Maybe it’s due time we change that,” she says turning away and grabbing the whole bottle of whiskey and heading for the balcony. It’s her birthday dammit and all she wants is to be on real speaking terms with the man she often begrudgingly admits is probably her favorite person in the world.

They settle out under the warm Vegas night talking, really talking for the first time since he left for hell. As the night wanes on their laughter becomes a little less sad and everything around them starts to feel a little like forgiveness, like getting back on track. Damn near almost like friendship.

Not that they’d ever be friends. As Papa Midnite had once put it so bluntly after they’d said as such while bargaining with him, “You’ll never be friends. You’ll be in love till it kills you both. You’ll fight and you’ll fuck and you’ll hate each other till you quiver, but you’ll never be friends.”

They’d ignored him that night, but both were well aware they were kidding themselves if they tried to act like he was wrong.

“Happy birthday by the way,” John says after a while, mere seconds left till midnight. “I’m still working on mastering that cake.”

5 Twenty-Eight

Dinah waves and Ollie salutes as she heads for her room at the Justice League headquarters as fast as she can. She knows that Batman has detailed files about every member right down to what they sleep in every night most likely so no doubt birthdates were included. While she didn’t expect Bruce to be sentimental enough to try and throw a party or something, Dinah and Ollie had both seen a glimpse of her file and expressed an interest in celebrating the day.

She was fairly certain she’d talked them out of it, but she still wanted to get out of there before they changed their minds just to be safe.

She turns the corner to her room now, almost in the clear.

“You lot better be saving the world, if the League’s keeping you out this late.”

Zatanna flips on the lights revealing John lying in the center of the bed on his side like a fully dressed Playgirl model. The expected bouquet of flowers on the pillow near his bent arm.

“Supervillains don’t really stick to a 9 to 5.”

“That,” John says shifting to sit on the edge of the bed, “is why I like my demons, evil wizards and hell beasts they’re a late-night crowd. Interrupt your sleep, but never your dinner.”

Zatanna laughs sitting down beside him and picking up the flowers from the pillow.

“So that’s why you turned me down then? Dinner plans and time management?” she asks looking up from the fresh flowers and into John’s eyes. She’s been on the official roster of the Justice League for six months; she’d ask John to come with her and he’d refused. Convinced that his style would never be okay in the eyes of the capes and tights crowd.

They’re still dating despite his turn down, sort of. It’s complicated. Not the most complicated they’ve ever been by far, but still complicated.

He doesn’t say anything just smiles at her softly.

“So, I know you can get past my wards because I have you keyed into them, but how the hell did you get in here?” she says changing the subject.

John’s smile transforms into a classic Constantine smirk, winking as he pulls a card from his pocket handing it to her. Batman’s Justice League backup ID card.

Zatanna cackles, full out cackles.

“He’s going to kill you if he ever finds out you have this,” she says through gasping laughter.

John reaches out brushing the long dark hair that’s fallen into her face away, “Worth it.”

+1 Thirty

Zatanna pulls her hair up into a high ponytail stretching her neck out. After another great show and a successful mugging prevention she’s ready for a quiet rest of the night in her San Francisco apartment.

She’d moved late last year, tired of living in the Zatara estate all alone. Opting to keep it up and running for when she needs anything and as safe haven shelter to fellow magics in trouble whenever they might need it.

She’s comfortable in black leggings and a Nightwing crop top Dick had sent her as a joke that she wears to spite him constantly. She sits down in front of her vanity about to take her makeup off when someone knocks on the door.

She heads over pulling it open and there he is just like every year except early for once.

“John,” she says but he stops her lifting his hand to quiet her, index finger hovering over her lips.

“Wait just, three,” he looks down at the dented watch on his wrist. “two, one.”

“Happy birthday, luv,” he says looking back up just as it hits midnight the usual bouquet of flowers appearing magically in his hand.

She smiles, loving the consistency of this little ritual of theirs.

“Tup meht ni a esav,” she says waving her hand at the offered flowers. A clear, glass vase appears on the table beside her door the flowers delicately placing themselves inside floating up from John’s hand.

She reaches out pulls him in by his tie, leans up and kisses him hard. He responds immediately hands instinctively reaching under her thighs and lifting her up tight to his body. She wraps her legs around him kicking the door shut before he starts moving, carrying her into the bedroom.

He lies her on the bed removing his trench coat running his hands along every inch of her as he kisses her just right and just so slow. He pulls back something akin to worship and a look in his eyes that seems like he’s just made up his mind about something important. She doesn’t have time to think about it though because soon enough he’s moving down her body and she’s not thinking at all.

It’s hours before they finally leave the bedroom, somewhere in the middle of the night migrating out to the living room lounging on the couch. Zee’s propped up on pillows dressed in only John’s shirt that stops mid thighs with John lying between her legs in an old pair of sweatpants that she can’t be certain who they belong to, his back pressed to her chest.

A cheesy old sci-fi movie plays on the tv as John runs his fingers along her arms that encircle him. She watches as his black tipped nails play shapes of magical runes and charms along her skin.

She recognizes some of them, symbols of affection and protection. She thinks he might be getting openly sentimental the older they get.

It’s peaceful, content, it almost feels permanent. Thirty seems to be making her sentimental too, thinking about the future and all that.

“Shit,” John says lifting up suddenly. “I forgot!”

“Forgot what?” she says watching as he lifts up onto his knees, turns and scoots forward keeping his space between her legs.

“I’ve got another gift for ya,” he says bringing his hands together. “Learned a new trick just for you.”

He smiles saying a few phrases in Latin under his breath his hands slowly coming apart. Bright red magic swirls around them and slowly bit by bit a cupcake appears. It’s lush red velvet with a light cream cheese frosting and top hat shaped candle on top.

“I’m 98% certain this one won’t taste like beets.”

“98%?” Zatanna questions skeptically remembering the horrendous cake he handmade from many years ago.

“I’ve been practicing just like I told ya I would. Now, if you don’t mind,” he says gesturing to the candle.

Zatanna smirks. “Erif,” she says a small flame lighting up the tip of her index finger. She tilts it lighting the candle before holding it up to her lips and blowing it out, holding John’s eyes the entire time knowing exactly what this little trick does to him.

Lighting his cigarettes this way driving him wild has been a favorite past time of hers for a decade.

“Menace,” he grumbles before holding the cupcake closer to her. “Make a wish.”

She appeases him, closing her eyes and making it seem like she’s thinking up a good one, when all she’s thinking about is how good right now feels, before blowing out the little flame.

He pulls the candle from it offering it up to her and she takes a hesitant bite.

“It actually tastes like red velvet,” she says truly stunned, not caring that she’s talking with her mouth full.

“Told ya I’ve been practicing,” he says before taking a big bite of his own and flopping back down into his previous position pressed up against her.

“Only took you ten years,” she teases snatching the cupcake from him and taking another bite. He pinches her thigh lightly in retaliation making her giggle. They settle back in finishing the cupcake and making comments about the terrible movie onscreen.

“I’m gonna stay,” John says after a while. Zatanna hums, she’s starting to doze off the late hour and John warm against her leaving her just too comfortable to stay awake.

“For my birthday? I know. You always do.” She sleepily runs a hand through his sandy blonde hair twisting it when she reaches the ends.

“Well yeah, but not just for your birthday,” he clarifies. “I was meaning stay for a while. Here or in the House of Mystery until someone tries to steal it from me or the old Zatara mansion, lady’s choice really. I miss you Zee.”

Zatanna leans down pressing her face into John’s hair for a moment. “You mean that?”

He nods. “I can’t make any promises, fuck knows I’m shit at keeping them, but I want to stay. I want to do better by us. I want us to stay us. We’ve been at this for over a decade and it’s been made clear to me by just about everyone who’s ever met me that I need to get my shit together in at least one area of my life and I want it to be this one.”

Suddenly she remembers that look in his eyes before he’d cleared her mind entirely in the bedroom. The look that said he’d made up his mind about something. It was this. It was the decision to say all this out loud, to say what he wants and stay, really stay.

Zatanna nudges him to sit up, he gets the hint turning as much as he can to face her.

“I want you stay. I always want you to stay,” she says hand reaching out to rest her hand on a familiar tattoo on his chest, thumb brushing a scar she only just became acquainted with but knows she’ll end up memorizing the shape of. “And as for promises you’re better at keeping them than you think you are.”

She thinks of how he’s always a call away no matter what, how he’s never missed her birthday and how he even finally learned how to make an edible damn cake. He’s better than and at a lot of things than he thinks is.

He leans in kissing her soft and slow.

“I love you, Zee,” he says when he pulls back. “I don’t say it enough.”

“I know,” she says brushing a hand through his hair. “I love you too.”

He smirks leaning in for another quick kiss, just a press of lips.

“Say it backwards?” he says cheekily.

She rolls her eyes but does it anyway.

“I evol ouy.”

She kisses him again a quick hard press of lips sealing it like magic then leans over for the remote flipping off the tv. She maneuvers till she stands, holding out a hand.

“Let’s go to bed.” He takes her hand following her to the bedroom and in the morning she wakes with him wrapped around her. He makes a traditional English breakfast, vegetarian style just for her though it goes against every fiber of his English being and he stays.

Maybe she hadn’t made a real wish when she blew out that candle the night before, but it feels like something they’ve both been trying to get right for a decade came true anyways.

#my fic #johnzee #magicblazer #john constantine #zatanna zatara #venturing into johnzee fic territory cause i love them and there's just not a lot out there

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ctl-yuejie · 7 months

Text

only friends ep 7

1/4

hmm...don't know how to feel about the hospital scene. felt like something was missing. no matter how drunk and drugged up rain was, sand seems a bit too chill for his own good.

wish we could have had cheurm and april waking up in bed being cute as a scene and then have mew knock at the door for emotional support.

top really isn't that clever isn't he? doesn't even consider nick as the perpetrator. however, that might fit with how little regard he has for nick as a competitor.

you know it is coming....but once again cheering for mark's acting here. neo and him really delivered this scene. interesting that boston seems to still want top...hmmm. probably the best thing for nick to be cut off by boston like this. might hurt but at least it's a clean cut.

2/4

hmmm...sand baby...really not sure whether he wasn't hurt by what ray said or if he has other things on his mind.

i actually really like how close ray and mew are and that we are getting heart-to-heart talks like this. the hand-holding was very cute.

i just love when boston raises his eyebrows like, yes, deal with me. maybe better than not meaning your apology, but i am cackling at how not sorry boston is. THE iconic scene from the trailer. perfect balance of someone could seriously drown and it looking very pathetic. particularly Boston's slap of the water in the end. love to see that cheurm (as expected) clearly is the leader of the gang.

when he yelled at nick, boston clearly knew he'd lose his friends but somehow still looked surprised when the whole group shunned him.

3/4

yes!!!! first and nick in a serious scene??? give me more. yes! you tell everyone nick, it's YOUR misguided call to make. (went into this series happy to see neo and mark in bigger roles, didn't expect to enjoy them this much). HOW is it so easy to baby Mark as Nick, he looks so sad and teary-eyed. Boston is a strong man to not hug a crying Nick despite himself. love the initial rejection of Sand hugging him quickly being won over by "please hug me, I am the most heartbroken person that has ever existed". i like that he sees Boston for who he is but also thinks he got close to Boston falling for him. maybe Boston being so hung up about Top gives him hope that that could be him (beyond trying to emulate his style, since Top is Boston's type)

fairly certain that while top might not be that much into mew, he certainly was hurt by his drawings getting burnt. i feel like it's one of the few times he made himself vulnerable by showing mew his hobby (i think there is still a struggle between him wanting to try something serious like this but uncertainty whether he want it to be with mew, or whether mew is the image of who he wants to be vulnerable with. vice versa similar projection onto top by mew in the earlier part of the series).

(again, the soundtrack is just all bangers. my week currently: ofts on saturday - sun, mo, tue, wed, thurs, fri: listening to the ost on repeat)

another unexpected combo? hmm..idk mew, not sure whether nick sees himself fully as the victim here. Ohhh, would Nick want to hurt Boston?? Ahhhh, Nick!!!! This is getting so dark.

Ahaha, I like how we can see that Mew is trying out to be "a villain". even re-using his accident with Top to deliberatedly approach someone this time. (everyone was joking about Neo single-series-ly getting to the top of the list of same-sex kisses in gmmtv, but I see Drake threw in is hat into the ring unsuspectingly). okay, Mew, let's whether you can get out of this in time. omg! he and boston really did a lot more that just what was shown in episode 1...the file is called boston69. p'jojo, please enlighten me.

4/4

ahaha, mew in his new fit is visibly so out of place in his own flat. i like seeing boston squirm. boston hasn't really much regard for himself. he is very egoistic but at the same time, his concern is about the consequences for his dad. not even the consequences for the realtionship he has with his dad. he even told nick, that he wouldn't mind it that gap hat recorded him, if it wasn't for his dad. (rotates boston in my mind for the next 24 hours)

it cannot be repeated enough how cringe top can be. and again, mew hates to be put on the spot. how has he still not understood that mew might let him into his flat to talk but will not tolerate him showing up unannounced overcompensating (possibly clear throughline to how Top's parents and everyone else around him tended to apologies to him). Wish we could have seen more of Cheurm hosing them all down before Top hit Mew.

Somehow they heard me and gave me another Mew Ray heart-to-heart? Khao is so good at making his long crush so visible whenether he is with Mew. Hmm...when will Nick realise that Mew might not have really helped his case (unless Boston approaches him to get rid of the videos for good).

(Oh god, Nick's outfit in the preview...after the kiss/marry/kill game I wait for each week to give me the episode when Sand and Nick hook up)

#only friends #only friends the series

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eightmakar · 5 years

Text

Rule Breaker | One | S.M.

A Baseball!Shawn AU x Original Character

Teaser

Word Count: 4048

Warnings: some cursing, sexual jokes, a fuckboi

Author’s Note: Hello friends! This is a new adventure for me I hope you all enjoy, please send me an ask to be added to the tag list or if you have any baseball related questions! Moodboard by @heavenly---holland, lots of editing and plot help by my personal hypeman @the-claire-bitch-project

Tessa sat in the dugout, staring at her clipboard. The first practice of the season for the Whitecaps had her swamped with things to do: doing an inventory of her medical supplies, helping her mom organize the concession stand in preparation for the first game, making sure all the players had their physicals turned into her, and so much more. She sighed, looking at the list of tasks before penciling in small numbers next to each one so she could make sure she did them in the most efficient order she could.

“Tess!” her dad called from across the field, standing outside the fence. “You ready for papers?”

“Yeah, just a sec!” she called back. She switched clipboards to her list of players on the team, glancing down at the names as she walked across the infield and exited the field. A few names she recognized; most she didn’t. She smiled as she remembered her favorite freshman from last year, Benjamin Berry from Texas, was coming back for a second year with Brewster. She grimaced as she read “Kyle Young, Ole Miss.” Her least favorite person from the team last year. Kyle constantly hit on her last season despite her many firm responses “I don’t date my dad’s players, and even if I did I wouldn’t date you.”

Tessa jogged to the table her dad had set up for her. There was already a line of guys behind it, ready to give her their medical information. She pulled the chair out and sat down, grabbing the pen her dad left on the table.

She smiled up at the first guy. “Hey, I’m Tessa,” she said cheerily. “Name?”

“Noah Bolton,” he replied, shifting on his feet.

Tessa crossed his name off her list and took the manila folder he handed her. “Thank you, Noah,” she said. “Just go over towards the field and Coach Hale will take it from there!”

Noah smiled softly, nodded, then followed her directions towards the field.

The next few boys came up to her uneventfully, until of course, Kyle decided to make a fuss.

“Hi, Tessa,” he purred, placing his folder down on the table in front of her and leaning on it.

She sighed. “Hello, Kyle.”

“You have a good year? You miss me?” He raised an eyebrow at her.

“Yes, I had a great year, 4.0 again,” she said. She crossed his name off the list and tried to take the folder from under his hand.

“Is that also a ‘yes, I missed you Kyle?’ I didn’t hear an answer.”

“No, it wasn’t. I didn’t miss you, I was busy. And I still don’t date my dad’s players. Especially not the ones who harass me about it.” Tessa didn’t care how rude she came off to Kyle; her answer would never change. She didn’t date her dad’s players. And she would never date Kyle. Not in a million years.

“It just takes persistence, Tess,” he said.

“Don’t call me that,” she retorted, clenching her jaw.

“Why not? Your dad calls you that.” Kyle leaned down further, squatting down, putting his elbow on the folder, and putting his chin in his hand.

“Because you don’t deserve to call me that.”

“Oh, c’mon, Tess, we can work this out, baby,” Kyle purred.

“Kyle, I said no. Give me your papers and go to Coach.” Tessa grabbed the edge of the folder and yanked it as hard as she could. She successfully pulled the folder from underneath him, causing his elbow to get yanked out from under his head. His chin hit the table and Tessa smirked as he cried out.

“You’ll regret that later, Tessa,” he snarled, rubbing his jaw as he picked up his bag and his pride. He stalked away to Coach Hale.

Tessa quickly grabbed her phone and sent a text to her parents.

Tess: Kyle’s a problem again. Made me super uncomfortable. Please do something.

Dad: got it.

Tessa sighed and put her phone back on the table.

“Hi,” she said without looking at the next boy in line. “Name?”

“Uh, Shawn. Shawn Mendes.”

Tessa crossed his name off the list then looked up at him. Her eyes widened and she froze, feeling a blush creep over her face.

He was the most beautiful human being she’d ever seen.

He was tall and lean, with a sharp jawline and rosy cheeks that starkly contrasted his pale skin. He towered over her, but he wasn’t intimidating. He had kind, green eyes that seemed to glow in the sunlight. He was biting his lip as he held out his folder in his right hand, which was intricately decorated with a bird tattoo over his thumb. He had another tattoo on the same arm, in the shape of a guitar made out of trees. He made eye contact with her, waiting while she took him in.

“Is, uh, is, uh, everything--” she coughed, clearing her throat, “is it all in here?”

“Yeah, I’m pretty sure,” he said softly, shifting his weight on his feet and scooting his backpack up on his shoulder.

“Uh, good,” Tessa said. She quickly took the folder and mentally kicked herself. What was that question? She didn’t ask anyone that.

“Probably not my place to say this, but that guy before me seemed like a real dick and if you want me to kick his ass I’d be happy to,” Shawn offered with a soft half smile.

Tessa laughed low in her throat, but it sounded like a donkey and a turkey had a child and someone was strangling it. Her face felt even hotter. She was so embarrassed that she made a fool out of herself in front of him on the first day of the season.

“I’ll keep that in mind,” she choked out.

“You know where to find me,” he said. He grinned at her, showing her his perfectly straight and perfectly white teeth that made her want to punch him in the face.

She took a deep breath and righted her thoughts before she greeted the next player in line, but she couldn’t get Shawn’s stupid, perfect face out of her mind.

“Alright,” Coach Hale announced, “Everyone over here, please.”

The Whitecaps players all jogged over to home plate to gather around their coach. Tessa stood next to her dad, holding her clipboard tightly to her chest. Shawn stood next to Benjamin, crossing his arms and making his biceps look enormous. Tessa chewed on the inside of her bottom lip, trying desperately not to stare at Shawn and think about those biceps wrapped around her. Or digging her nails into them. Or kissing them while they walked around in Boston.

She shook her head to dissipate the thoughts that very clearly violated her policy on her dad’s players.

“As you all know, I’m Coach Hale,” her dad called. “Our pitching coach this season is Coach Chuck Jones from UCLA.” Coach Jones waved at the players as Coach Hale continued. “Our hitting coach is Coach Jake Henderson from Alabama. Our two assistant coaches this season are Coach Jack Christopher from Auburn and Coach Nick Byers from Washington. We also have my daughter, Tessa, here with us this season as our Head Athletic Trainer.”

Tessa stepped forward and waved as the boys clapped for her. She panned over the group, seeing Kyle smirk at her on one side and Shawn smile at her on the other. She smiled back at Shawn before stepping back behind the coaches.

“We’re very excited about this season and we hope you all are too,” Coach Hale said. “Our goal here at the Brewster Whitecaps is not just to keep you guys in shape, but to expand upon your strengths you’ve already developed. We aim to send you back to your home programs better than you arrived here. Any questions?”

“Yeah,” Kyle said, stepping forward. Tessa rolled her eyes and sighed. “Can you tell Tessa to loosen up?”

Tessa stepped forward, but her dad put an arm out to stop her. “Young, quit harassing my daughter. If she told you no, she meant it. Cut it out or you’re out.” He glared at him.

Kyle put his hands up and stepped back into the group.

“Alright, we’re going to split up into positions and run a few drills. Pitchers, you’ll go with Jones to talk rotations. Outfielders, you’re with Byers. Infielders, you’re with Christopher. Henderson will be pulling you in small groups for hitting drills. I’ll be bouncing between everyone. I already have notes from your coaches, along with videos of you all playing, but I won’t make anything decisions on the lineup until I see you play in person. Tessa also has a big say in who starts where.” Her dad looked proudly at her.

He was absolutely right. Tessa had a keen sense of batting lineups; she was excellent at arranging the guys to capitalize on their strengths. She’d never liked the press box with her mom, so since she could walk she had her own helmet and stayed in the dugout with her dad. Growing up, the guys always called her Coach, too, just like they did for her dad.

“Any questions?” Coach Hale asked. “No? Good. Break off with your coaches.”

The team dispersed and Tessa had to consciously keep her jaw shut watching Shawn run. Most of his height was in his legs, but damn they were nice. And his ass. God, she needed to not break, after all these years, she couldn’t break now.

She was surprised when Shawn jogged over with Coach Christopher. With his height, she expected him to be an outfielder. As they started running their drill, Shawn went to first.

“What do you think?” her dad asked.

“Um, wh-what?” she stammered, taken aback.

“Who?”

“What do you mean?” Tessa acted like her dad didn’t know her better than she knew herself.

“Who’re you staring at, Tess? I’ve never seen you this off before.”

Tessa bit her lip. She was a horrible liar, and her dad knew it.

“The Mendes kid,” she confessed softly. “He’s just . . . wow.”

Coach nodded slowly, staring at Shawn with her. “I’ll keep an eye on him for you. His coaches from Toronto say he’s great, his height is a real advantage at first. He’s a power hitter, believe it or not. He led their team in home runs and triples last season.”

“Really?” Shawn didn’t look like he had that much power in him.

“Oh yeah, he had 25 homers and 16 triples. 20 doubles, too.”

Tessa gaped at her dad. “Seriously?”

He nodded again. “I’m thinking clean-up for him.”

“I agree, but . . .”

“But what, Tess? Whatcha thinking?”

“In the Majors, a lot of managers are putting their power hitters in the two spot. They get more reps that way. So just keep that in mind, Coach.”

He laughed. “I will, Coach.” Her dad walked away, over to the infielders.

Tessa quickly walked to the dugout. She grabbed her backpack of supplies and her helmet, along with her notebook and her roster. She plopped down in the grass in front of the dugout fence, placing her helmet on her head. Tessa spread her supplies out in front of her, separating each group of supplies into piles. She opened her notebook and tallied up each pile. She sent a text to her mom to let her know which supplies needed replenishing.

Once her tallying was done, Tessa settled in to take notes on the new players. Naturally, her eyes fell on Shawn first.

She looked at his statistics listed on the roster. 6-foot 3-inches, 195 pounds. Number 8 on the team. First baseman. Batted a .346 in his season at Toronto with a huge slugging percent of .750. He had 75 RBIs, so he did well in pressure situations with men on base. She definitely thought he’d be a cleanup hitter, not in the two spot, unless their lead-off man was good at getting on base. Tessa made a note in her notebook.

The infielders took a break after a while. Shawn jogged over to the dugout, grabbing his bottle of Gatorade and then coming to sit next to her in the grass.

“You taking notes on us, Coach?” he teased.

She showed him her notebook. “Actually, yeah. I help my dad make the lineup.”

“Oh shit,” Shawn said. “He was serious about that?” He leaned over to look at her notes.

“Yeah,” she said, scooting closer to him. “See, here’s what I have about you. You had 75 RBIs in your school season, so you produce in pressure situations with men on. That’s good for the clean-up hitter. You also had a lot of extra base hits, so again, you’re good in the run production department. You’re not good at stealing bases, though, your stolen base percentage sucked ass.”

Shawn laughed. “You get that from my stats?”

Tessa nodded. She opened her mouth to say something else, but Kyle jogged over to the two of them.

“I thought you didn’t date your dad’s players,” he asked.

“I didn’t realize I couldn’t speak to my dad’s players without dating them,” she retorted. Shawn smiled at the grass. “He also asked what I was doing, so I was being polite and showing him.”

“What are you doing?” Kyle sassed.

“Don’t pretend like you’re interested.”

“I’m interested in you showing me some other things.”

Tessa bolted up. She was as tall as Kyle, about 5-foot 8-inches, and she glared at him face-to-face. “You heard my dad,” she growled.

Shawn stood up, ready to defend Tessa at a moment’s notice. But she didn’t need it.

“He can’t stop me from getting what I want,” he said with a shrug.

Tessa was fuming. She’d made herself very clear. She shouldn’t have to keep fighting him off. It was bullshit that he thought he was entitled to her attention. She wanted so bad to show him how much she hated this, but Shawn intervened.

“Hey, man, fuck off,” Shawn said, putting himself between Tessa and Kyle. “She said no, get over it.”

“You would defend her,” Kyle spat. “She’s not gonna date you either, asshole, she doesn’t date any of us. It’s her rule.”

“So?” Shawn said. “I can’t be polite and want to be friends?”

“Sure,” Kyle sneered. “That’s all you want.”

“Young!” Coach Hale called. Tessa had never been so relieved to hear her dad’s voice. “Back off!”

Kyle glared at Shawn and Tessa before jogging to Coach Hale. Tessa’s balled fists were finally able to relax as she sat back down against the fence.

“You okay?” Shawn asked, squatting back down next to her.

“Yeah, I’m fine,” she said curtly. She didn’t realize how close he was to her then; if she had, she would’ve calmed down much faster. “Thanks for sticking up for me.”

Shawn smiled. “Don’t thank me,” he said. “It’s bullshit that he thinks it’s okay to ask you all the time when you’ve clearly said no. Some guys can’t get that through their tiny brains.”

Tessa laughed, hoping Shawn wasn’t one of those guys.

“Mendes is a pretty good guy, huh?” Coach Hale asked Tessa on their ride home.

“He seems like it,” Tessa agreed. “He stood up for me today and told Kyle to fuck off.”

“Damn. Didn’t expect that from the Canadian kid.”

Tessa laughed. “Me either. He was impressed by my notes.”

It was Coach’s turn to laugh. “Even I’m impressed by those notes, Tess. You’re the best coach we have out there.”

Tess rolled her eyes. “Sure, Dad, because I’m definitely a university baseball coach.”

“You could be if you wanted to.”

“Dad . . .”

“Tess, I’m serious. You know I am.”

Tessa smiled, because she did know. She knew her dad would love for her to be the first female head coach of a university baseball program.

“But like I said, I actually talked with Mendes for a bit, too. He’s really calm, like strangely calm. But overall, I really liked him. If he’s the one you wanna break your rule for . . .”

“Dad,” Tessa protested.

“Tess,” her dad teased. “If you wanna date Mendes, go for it. I’ll be your wingman. I’m fully supportive of this, honey.”

Tessa laughed. “I know, dad. I know.”

Tessa loved batting practice. To her, there was nothing like the sound of the bat smacking the ball out into the outfield. She could always tell what kind of hit had been made based on the sound the bat and ball made.

She sat cross-legged in her spot in front of the first-base fence, watching the Whitecaps take batting practice with her notebook splayed out in her lap. She gnawed on her lip while she watched, taking notes on her guys.

Benjamin: swings down and under the ball. Needs to even out swing.

Kyle: Swings too early & too hard. Easy to make chase. Needs to sit back and wait.

Noah: Swings too late & too hard. Second-guesses himself. Confidence.

She looked up from her notes as Shawn stepped into the cage. Her breath caught for a moment, not expecting to see him up next. She licked her lips as he set his feet, standing fairly tall with his legs barely bent. He looked over his shoulder at Coach Henderson, methodically moving his bat like the ticking hand of a clock. Coach Henderson gently tossed him a ball which Shawn sent sailing into deep left field with a thwack.

Tessa watched as Shawn knocked pitch after pitch into the deep outfield, many of which went soaring over the outfield wall. She counted the number he hit in a row, trying to find something to critique about his swing.

She caught a small hiccup in his swing. Really, in his feet. She thought she saw him shuffle a little extra after he planted his feet, so she stood up to get a closer look.

Henderson chucked another ball at Shawn and he swung at it, making solid contact. Tessa watched him plant his front foot too close to his back foot, then scoot it forward as he swung. It was awkward, this extra sliding motion, and she was sure she could help him fix it.

She padded over to her dad to inform him of what she saw.

“What’s up, Coach?” Tessa’s dad asked.

Shawn was leaving the batting cage, but Tessa stopped him. “Hang on, Mendes, take like two more, please!”

Coach Henderson looked at Coach Hale, who nodded to confirm Tessa’s request.

“Watch his front foot,” Tessa said, low in her voice.

Henderson tossed another ball at Shawn, who smacked it straight down center field, but did his weird front foot shuffle, which almost caused him to be late to the ball.

Coach Hale nodded again. “I see it,” he said to his daughter. “Good spot, Tess. It’s taking some of his momentum to the ground and not to the ball.”

Tessa smiled. “Exactly.”

“Good catch,” he said again. “You tell Mendes, I’ll tell Henderson.”

“Me? Why do I need to tell him?”

Her dad just winked before walking over to Coach Henderson. Tessa rolled her eyes before walking back towards the dugout, where Shawn was putting up his bat.

“Hey, Mendes,” she called.

“Hey, Coach, whatcha got for me?” Shawn asked, turning around. He pulled his helmet off his head and ran his fingers through his dark, damp curls.

Tessa fought back the urge to kiss his stupid rosy cheeks. “Um, so, I noticed you do this weird foot thing when you hit,” she began.

“Oh shit,” he said, “what is it?”

“It’s, uh, kinda hard to explain, but it’s easier to show you. Can I see your bat?”

Shawn obliged, handing Tessa his bat. She put her notebook down to take it.

“Okay,” she started, holding the bat in its proper position. “You pick up your foot just like you’re supposed to, but then you place it too close to your back foot. It’s bad for your balance, first of all, but then you scoot it up towards the pitcher as you follow through. I’m worried you’ll hurt yourself.”

Shawn looked thoughtfully at her. “Can you take a video of me doing it next BP?” he asked. “I’m kinda confused, but I’ll do my best to work on it.”

“Oh! Yeah!” Tessa’s face felt hot. Why didn’t she think of that?

“Thanks, Coach,” Shawn said with a half smile.

Tessa giggled, making the noise that prissy high school girls did when their crush may have looked in their general direction. It was slightly better than the donkey-turkey noise from the day before, but only slightly. Why the fuck could she not act normal around him?

“Anything else, Tessa?” he asked expectantly.

Tessa wanted to ask him a million things. What kind of bird was his tattoo? Why did he have a guitar tattoo? How did he get that adorable scar on his cheek? Did he think she was weird? Would he want to get dinner with her sometime? What was his family like? What was his Zodiac sign?

The million questions she had jumbled all together in her brain, causing her to mumbled a smattering of words to Shawn.

“Um, I, uh, I, tattoo, it’s really, um, cool, dinner?”

Tessa wanted to smack herself. She’d never been like this around her dad’s players or boys in general. What was it about Shawn that made her so nervous?

Shawn raised his eyebrows and blinked. “Pardon?” he asked politely.

“Fuck,” she muttered. Then, louder, she said, “Sorry. Would you, uh, like to have, um, dinner maybe? I know you . . . um . . . eat…”

Shawn smiled. “Yeah, I do eat,” he chuckled. “I’d love to have dinner.”

“Oh, great!” Tessa said excitedly. She began to walk off, back towards her dad. She caught herself halfway out of the dugout, then turned around and went back to Shawn, shaking her head. “I forgot to tell you when and where.”

Shawn was still smiling. “What did you have in mind?”

“Oh, fuck.” Her eyes went wide. She didn’t think she’d get this far. “Um, I, uh, have a house, like with my parents, of course, I’m in college and don’t, like, have my own house, but like, um, I could c-cook something for you tonight?”

“I’d love that,” Shawn said enthusiastically. “Pick me up at 6?”

Tessa’s eyes shone. “Y-yeah! I’ll, uh, I’ll get your number from the roster.”

“Or I could just give it to you here,” he offered, referring to her iPhone that was in her hand as they spoke.

“Oh,” she squeaked. “Yeah. Uh. Yeah. That’s, uh, that works.” She bit her lip, unlocked her phone, and handed it to Shawn. Smiling, he selected the “Contacts” app and put his number in.

Tessa’s heart raced as he handed her phone back to her. “Just shoot me a text!” He said. Tessa nodded, then awkwardly waved as Shawn jogged back to practice.

She looked down at her phone in disbelief. She saw his name and number illuminated on her screen and smiled.

“Whatcha smiling at, Coach?”

Tessa’s head shot up and she hid her phone. Her dad stood next to her, grinning from ear to ear. He’d seen every bit of what had just occurred.

Tessa blushed furiously. “Got any good date meal ideas for me?”

Coach Hale chuckled. “How much time do we have?”

“I’m picking him up at six.”

Tessa’s dad nodded slowly, thinking about his options. “What does he eat?”

Tess froze. “Um, I’m not sure, Dad, probably food?”

He laughed. “No shit, Tess. We’ll go to the store on our way home, how’s that?”

“What do baseball players even eat off the diamond?” Tessa asked with wide eyes.

“Tess, I just asked you that!” Coach laughed.

“Oh, God, Dad, what did I do?” Tessa panicked.

“It’s fine, Tess, I’ve got your back, alright? What about burgers and brats? We can grill out together maybe?”

Tessa thought for a moment. “Yeah,” she said slowly. “Yeah, yeah, yeah! Perfect!”

Her dad chuckled “I’ve gotcha, Tessa, don’t worry.”

Tessa hugged her dad, squeezing him tightly. “Thanks, Dad,” she said into his chest. “I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

Coach Hale hugged his daughter back, kissing the top of her head. “I take care of my assistant coaches, don’t you remember?”

@astrospideys @gottaletgopete @spiderboytotherescue@elentiya02 @musiclover1263 @illuminateshawn @flickershawn @hollandbaby@hollandroos @smallerinfinities @harryandmolly @parkerpuff @keepingupwiththeparkers @tomhollandeu@dtftomholland @checkthisoutmaybeifyouwanna @shawnm521 @ilovejackavery @littlemissbaksi @accalialionheart @ashwarren32 @softboyshawn @onmyshawn @sippingchai @wanderingmendes @sbawnmendes @accioalena

#shawn mendes #rule breaker #shawn mendes au #baseball!shawn #shawn mendes fanfic #shawn mendes fanfics #shawn mendes fanfiction #shawn mendes fanfictions #shawn mendes imagine #shawn mendes imag #shawn mendes x oc

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snowbellewells · 6 years

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Captain Swan is my Favorite RomCom: “While You Were Sleeping” (Part Five)

So here’s the next installment, I think we’re down to just about two more, unless something changes. Hope you enjoy!!

While the little misunderstanding has complicated Emma’s life and made her feel all kinds of guilty, she can’t quite want things back the way they were either...

And I apologize now, I know this has no cut line, but I just can’t get it to work for me on mobile. I’ll try to do a morning reboot form my desktop with the cut!

Part Five

By: @snowbellewells (TutorGirlml on ff.net)

The morning after taking Emma to dinner at his folks’ and their near-silent drive back into the city, dawned chilly but bright; though Killian Jones woke to it groggy and angry with himself in the rented hotel room he’d booked in order to be in the city - nearer to the hospital for his brother and the various appointments he needed to attend while in Boston. He knew he had pushed Liam’s fiancé out of her comfort zone - despite his initial good intentions - and he had been beating himself up for the overstep ever since realization hit, mere moments too late.

Stumbling over the nondescript carpet, hand rubbing blearily over his face and his unshaven chin as he made his way to get his morning’s first cup of coffee, Killian kicked himself once more, berating his impatient prying. ‘So what if she has secrets?’ he scolded himself again. ‘Everyone does. You certainly have a few yourself. Just because she wouldn’t tell you her whole life story after knowing you less than 24 hours does not mean she’s hiding things from Liam - or that she has anything serious to hide at all.’

Cursing himself for a fool, and then literally cursing in pain as he clumsily managed both to burn his finger with the tiny complimentary coffee maker and spill the precious brew in the suite bathroom, Killian knew what the issue really came down to. He was disappointed, saddened, struck once again by his own bad luck - the sheer indisputable fact that he didn’t deserve good things, the things he wished for most. Of course Liam would meet the ray of sunshine that was Emma Swan first; he was everything that Killian wasn’t. Ever since they had been in prep school with his citizenship awards and class offices, Liam had been successful, admirable, well-liked...perfect, for all intents and purposes. Though he would never lord it over his five years younger brother, reaching adulthood had not done much at all to bring Killian out of Liam’s impressive shadow. He was successful in his work, even generating surplus for charitable giving, had made a good name for himself in the business world, drawing new customers even as he retained his ethics and honor, had a large, well-situated apartment and nice car, dressed well, and still retained his decent heart and character. What woman wouldn’t choose Liam Jones as a fine man to marry?

Killian sighed, running a frustrated hand through his sleep-disheveled hair and this time managing to pour his coffee into a nondescript white hotel mug - oddly missing his own chipped mug with the jaunty silver anchor on it that Nick had gifted him last Christmas. Not that he was a bad guy or a poor catch, but he certainly looked less promising on paper. He didn’t bring in the paycheck Liam did, nor did he carry the type of prestige his brother had earned. He was more of a jack-of-all trades who had turned his passionate interest in boats and sailing into a modest living at best. Though he well knew he would make a devoted, loving mate for the right woman, she would need to share his love of the sea and adventure, his family, and his simple, uncluttered lifestyle. He didn’t require the material trappings Liam could offer a woman, and if his brother had won Emma Swan’s heart, then Killian knew that he couldn’t truly compete.

And yet...something about her spoke to him, whispered that they could understand each other in a way most would not. He had been to her apartment - and though it had been clean and comfortable, it was nothing fancy. He might have even deemed it sparse, if it weren’t for the unique, cozy touches he had noted scattered throughout her living space: a hand-knit woolen blanket with her name woven in purple draped over the couch, not only a purring pet cat, but adorable personalized dishes for the clearly spoiled creature in pride of place on the very table across from the spot Emma clearly occupied at meals herself. Though he couldn’t pretend to known her whole life story, he sensed a woman with simpler tastes similar to his own - more interested in people and connection, items of sentimental value more than material worth; a kindred spirit more interested in experience than routine complacency.

Hanging his head, Killian sipped his caffeine Black, berating himself for wanting his brother’s fiancé – however briefly – before he shoved the thoughts far into the recesses of his mind, for thinking recklessly that he could make her happier, that he could read Emma Swan like an open book. Wincing at the sharp, strong flavor of the unsweetened beverage, still rather warm and burning his tongue a bit, Killian couldn’t help feeling as though he had earned the slight pain to the roof and sides of his mouth for his disloyal and traitorous thoughts, for his ever-cursed and unlucky timing and desires making him feel as though he had finally met the woman who could complete him and make him smile as he had ever seen his mother do for his father his whole life long.

Finishing the cereal and sausage link he had gotten from room service for breakfast, Killian tried to shake lingering romantic thoughts about Emma Swan from his tired brain. He had things to do, calls to make back to work to see that things were covered with his business and shop while he was here awaiting any changes or news on Liam’s medical progress, and errands to run before he was to have lunch with his father. It would do him no good to dwell on the fact that Liam had been incredibly devoted to his college sweetheart - a brilliant lass named Belle French, a PhD candidate currently abroad studying and lecturing upon ancient texts in Brittany - until a painful falling out they’d had a scant five months before over their future and settling down. Though Killian hadn’t heard as much from his older brother, he had always felt that Liam and Belle would find their way back to each other. Perhaps that was why this seemingly sudden engagement to Emma Swan, whom none of the family had even met until two days ago, didn’t quite add up. Of course, Killian also knew that could very well be his own foolish and impulsive heart influencing his thinking.

At any rate, as he gathered his keys and coat and made his way out of his hotel room, locking it behind him, he needed to focus on the rare chance to spend some quality time with his dad, to talk seriously without interruption. Though David Jones had not outwardly fought or dismissed Killian’s decision a few years back, to start up his own business rather than continuing serious apprenticeship to take on the family farm someday, Killian knew there had to have been a part of his father who found it difficult for a second of his three sons to turn away from the livelihood he had worked hard to build, to provide for them all and hopefully hand down into their care. Just as with Liam - though surely his elder brother’s success must have helped to soothe the blow - Killian knew his choice must have hurt his father, which he had never wanted. It was why he had hesitated as long as he had before striking out on his own.

It couldn’t be fought however. Eventually, he’d had to be honest with himself, and with his dad. There was simply something about boats and the sea which called to him. Though it had not been easy the day he’d brought those concerns to his father; it had been a dry mouthed, hands sweating sort of moment in truth. Yet, Killian suspected, that the way the soil, working the earth and being outdoors in the open air amidst his sheep fed his father’s spirit, helped David Jones to understand his middle son’s yearning better than Killian could have hoped. Beyond that, very thankfully, Nick seemed to adore the family farm - even now as he was almost through trade school for animal husbandry and agribusiness management. Nothing seemed to thrill the youngest Jones brother more than being home on the farm during breaks and vacations, and he loved his father’s flock more than anyone but David himself ever had or would.

Reaching the ground floor, Killian passed through the hotel’s open lobby and made his way to the parking garage across the street where he had left his truck the previous night. It was time - for the moment at least - to leave his scattered thoughts and the fleeting warmth in his chest caused by his memories of the way light had glanced off the gold in Emma’s hair and the bright, unguarded sound of her laugh. He needed to see to his business and worry about his family, not nurse pipe dreams with no hope of coming true…

~~~~~~~~*********~~~~~~~~

By that evening at the end of her shift, Emma felt no less conflicted over the secrets she was keeping, the things she had refrained from telling Liam’s family - and Killian in particular - and the convenient misunderstanding she had allowed to let stand; giving her the chance to experience what it felt like to have a whole, vibrant family for the first time, but also taking advantage of the Jones’ kindness shamefully. Equal warring parts of her had run back and forth in her brain all day as she took tokens and watched the trains fly back in and out of their station almost constantly. And despite the guilt she was suffering and the frustration with herself she felt for not correcting Nurse Ariel’s mistake immediately, before she’d known what she would be giving up, Emma found that as she clocked out for the night, there was still just one place her feet would carry her.

Stopping by her favorite street vendor for a quick bite to eat for supper, Emma was at the hospital and making her way up to Liam’s floor before she had even made up her mind to follow her gut. She waved to Ariel, who was on the phone at the nurses’ station and gave her a rather sheepish smile but still waved back enthusiastically, and then let herself into Liam’s room.

Upon entering, Emma felt her shoulders relax and a sense of relief coming over her, almost affirming that this was where she had needed to be. Perhaps it was the dim lighting in the room, the calm quiet where so much of her day had been full of bustling crowds and hectic noise, or maybe it was even that this man who had intrigued her for so long from afar - fiance or not - needed her in some way.

It was a double room, but as he had been two days ago, Liam was the only occupant presently. Even if unaware, he was very much alone, and Emma couldn’t stand that. She’d been all by herself for too much of her life; she wouldn’t leave another person in that painful solitude if she could make it otherwise. Settling in for the evening, she pulled the nearby chair right up beside his bed, sat down, and reached out to take his hand in hers.

Twining their fingers together, Emma gently squeezed Liam’s digits, whispering as she pulled his arm carefully over to press it against her chest while she began to speak. Bowing her head slightly, she whispered near him into the quiet room. “Liam? It’s your fiancé… Emma…” Though she had begun her statement with an almost sheepish laugh, as if he might wake up and appreciate the humor of the wacky situation with her, her words were cut off by the lump that rose in her throat which she had to swallow hard to speak around.

“Oh, who am I kidding?” she sighed, her eyes stinging with unwanted emotion as she looked down at the handsome man, peaceful and still as if merely sleeping. Where before she had always found herself wanting to wind her fingers through those stubbornly curling, close-cropped tufts of sandy hair, Emma suddenly pictured dark tendrils falling over his brother’s strong brow instead. This man - while he had intrigued her and drawn her in with his kind smiles and friendly greetings each week - she didn’t really know him; never had known him, truth be told. She merely wanted to brush an almost sisterly touch of fingertips across his cheek, hold his hand, and see him wake up - for the sake of his family who loved him dearly, for his own sake, as he didn’t deserve to be struck down so senselessly, and for hers, so she could explain what had happened and hope that - just maybe - he wouldn’t hate her and the rest of the Jones family wouldn’t either.

Finally giving into the urge, Emma laid her cool palm over his slightly warm forehead, wishing to bring him some comfort and to let him know he wasn’t alone before settling into her seat more comfortably, propping her chin on the fist of her free hand while the other still held his large one, rubbing gentle circles over the space between thumb and forefinger. “We both know I’m a complete stranger to you. I don’t know why I’m still pretending when you’re the only one here. You may think I’m the worst sort of person when you wake up, but it truly was a big misunderstanding. I didn’t know how to stop it at first, and then things just got out of hand. Your family…” she paused again, pressing her mouth into a thin line as she tried to bring the welling regret and longing under wraps, “they’re pretty wonderful really. You know that, right? I mean, they just took me in, and they’re so warm and funny. Even though my adoptive mom was great, she’s been gone a long time. It’s just been, well me and my cat,” a strangled little laugh escaped and she wiped a hand across her eyes, sniffling, “for years now. Like I was in the beginning…” She trailed off, shaking her head as the man she was speaking to remained motionless and unresponsive. “Sheesh, just listen to me,” she finally finished off, blowing out a breath and straightening slightly. “This must sound crazy!”

Turning to reach for her jacket and preparing to go, Emma touched Liam’s arm one last time, a parting squeeze of farewell. “Ever been so alone you’d spend the night confusing a man in a coma?” she asked self-deprecatingly. Then, she stood and leaned back down to press a light peck of a kiss to his hairline whispering, “Wake up soon, Liam.”

Then she was gone, slipping out of the room and soon the hospital without ever noticing Killian, who had arrived not long after her to check in on his brother. He had frozen in the doorway behind her, stunned into silence by the admission he’d overheard before he could announce his presence, and had just barely remembered to retreat down the hall far enough to escape detection when Emma had gathered her things to leave. Emerging after a moment, he stood dumbfounded in his brother’s doorway, conflicting emotions all swarming behind his eyes. “Bloody hell,” he murmured, running a hand over his face, “Now what are we supposed to do?”

Tagging: @csromcom18 @searchingwardrobes @kmomof4 @whimsicallyenchantedrose @kday426 @linda8084 @teamhook @revanmeetra87 @laschatzi @jennjenn615 @therooksshiningknight @resident-of-storybrooke @bcmbbcs4evr @coliferoncer @vvbooklady1256

#csromcom2018 #while you were sleeping au ff #movie au #cs modern au #part five

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jumphq · 6 years

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Post-Mortem, Sparrow Tour 2018

This was a month that felt like four months. I don’t mean that in a bad way. I mean that in the amazing way that doing all sorts of brand-new things and being very much in the moment seems to slow down time. There are articles written about this phenomena, actually: https://www.psychologytoday.com/us/blog/the-empowerment-diary/201705/how-slow-down-time. According to this article, the reason September went by so freaking meaningfully is that we were bombarding ourselves with Firsts. First big tour in support of Sparrow. First time in a long time heading back to the Northeast and Midwest. First time I had to add an actual keyboard to the list of instruments I bring on stage, and within that one instrument there were dozens of sounds I had to reproduce. Etcetera, etcetera.

We worked hard. I don’t know if it’s readily ascertainable that being in a rock and roll band is tons of work by looking at one. It’s fun work, usually, but has its moments of being very intense. Especially when a new album comes out. There is radio to do in the mornings, interviews scattered during the day, loading in and out of venues, and we added soundcheck meet & greets that meant that once we arrived in a city, we were going to be working from then until show, basically.

It’s so fulfilling, though. I am the kind of person that works hard, all the time. I push and push myself (sometimes for no seeming reason), and am frustrated and disappointed with myself when I don’t get enough done. I would be classified as a “type-A” person, and I don’t mind. But sometimes I’m just working on “things” that I’m not as passionate about. An eight hour day of working on something I’m not emotionally connected to is much more tiring than working sixteen hours a day on something I believe in and care about. Being in JLC is that kind of job.

We needed every second that we had to put this tour together. These new songs are hardto play. There is so much going on in each and every song on Sparrow. Not necessarily more than on earlier recordings, but keep in mind that we never had to re-learn songs after other albums; we had been playing them live forever before we got to the studio and didn’t change them much after. There has always been a “live version” and a “studio version” of early Jump songs.

Not this time. Jay spent a crazy amount of time accessing the original recording files and turning his voice and Ward’s cello parts into samples that I could play on the keytar. While Evan didn’t really want to play to tracks, he add some electronic drums to his repertoire to approximate some of the parts live. Ward brought two guitars on tour for the first time, and Johnny played not only electric bass but a beloved new Moog Phatty. It was complicated, felt a little bit fragile, at first, but once we got the hang of things it was fun.

Hurricane Florence, while not visiting Charleston, still brought chaos to the city. There was anxiety felt wondering whether we’d be hit and how that would affect our practice. Shops and roads started closing down and we made a move so the entire band could be close by in case of flooding. In the end we were very very lucky, but there were still repercussions for us. We were trying to fulfill our PledgeMusic items, to get them sent out before tour, but this didn’t happen because mail basically shut down in NC, SC, and GA. This put us a full week behind, and we spent the rest of the month trying to catch up on many things.

Even in the last few days of rehearsal we were all feeling a bit overwhelmed. We camped out at the Footlight Player’s Theatre and the goal was to have a “listening party”, a final rehearsal before we hit the road, and that night, to be honest, I was not ready. Lyrics weren’t memorized and I had to think way too much about parts and how to play them. We were being hard on ourselves, though, and the response was so encouraging afterwards I didn’t mind spending the rest of that week’s dinner breaks to get in some extra practice so that the songs could feel comfortable.

Once the shows began, a quick weekend to some of our favorites: Charlotte, Atlanta, Columbia, where we were starting to find our groove. Raleigh, though, and the Lincoln Theatre, was a special surprise. It was Sunday, we hadn’t had a day off in three weeks, we were exhausted. It wasn’t the largest crowd we’ve played to, but that show was so much fun. People there were there to have a good time, and it put us into overdrive. Thank you so much, Raleigh.

The next leg was in the Northeast (and DC, where I insulted many a mid-Atlantic inhabitant). We hadn’t been there in fifteen years, but every show was sold out or nearly so, and that made us feel so great. These shows were our first of the City Winery gigs, and they were good to us. Great sound, great food. There were many highlights, for me, up North. We had a duo of ASL interpreters in DC that had mad sign-singing skills, and were more fun to watch than we were. Our show at Le Poisson Rouge made us feel so sexy to sell out such a great place in the Big Apple. Performance-wise, the NYC show was my favorite performance-wise; I felt really “on” that night. The super-intimate punk-rock feel of Union Pool in Brooklyn was refreshing after the lovely but slightly clinical City Wineries. We had to put Wardie in a corner to fit on stage, and many Dirty Dancing jokes were necessary. Our old pal the Mommyheads came to play with us, and they were as good as they were 20 years ago. Lots of our fans came just to see them that night and I didn’t mind at all. We had a lovely evening off with three people that pledged for the album and got to go to a Dr. Who-themed bar with us. The trio couldn’t have been more interesting and fun to hang out with: the professional bassoonist, the research monitor, and the Facebook developer. Loved that evening, and Ward got to show off his hipster Brooklyn knowledge by taking us to great places for dinner and dessert.

And Chicago! My kind of town. Chicago was a big deal for me personally, because I knew that the audience was going to be made up of a lot of friends and family that had never seen the band before, never seen me in that light, literally. I was a little nervous about that show, and I rarely get nervous. I also wanted very much for Chicago to be the show that was 100% accessible to the d/Deaf and hard of hearing. City Winery worked so hard with me to provide CART real-time captioning for all the goofy stuff we said in-between songs. And the captioning of the lyrics was provided by my other passion job, CaptionPoint, built by my wife Lindsay and run by my dear friend Lora. It was even more successful than I had hoped, the captions looked great on both sides of the stage. It was the first time Lindsay had ever been able to fully experience a JLC show; I am sure that our stage patter was absolutely worth the wait.

Wow. As I’m writing this I realize again how relatively short the tour was: after Chicago there were only three more dates. But it felt like we did so much. We saw so many of you, talked to everyone as long as we could and took pictures. The “soundcheck parties” were so fun for us. Seeing everyone again was energizing, to me. I wished at times that I could have spent more time. You said such wonderful, heartfelt things, things that I heard very clearly and appreciated completely. I am honored that this band and music and community has meant so much to you over the years; you mean everything to us. When people told me that they liked Sparrow I knew they were telling the truth and not just making conversation. Nothing could have made us happier. Like I said: fulfilling.

Athens was a highlight: we hadn’t seen the GA Theatre since it burned in 2009. The renovation was beautiful. They managed to keep the vibe of the place while making it all so much…better. But the fans in Athens have always been a special breed and we could have played on the streets if that was the only way to get to them. In the new GA Theatre we didn’t have to.

And finally, the Charleston Music Hall. Our new home. Our new “Dock Street”, a place that just makes us feel like the chamber-pop stars we are. We will see you soon, CMH.

This post is a marathon. If you’ve gotten this far, you must be a fan of the band, so I appreciate it. I want to thank many people for making this tour and this year possible, because…contrary to pop belief, we are not a famous rock band with loads of cash and there were many many donated hours that made this tour work.

Our manager Vance’s sidekicks on the Crew were Nick Stewart, the Ultimate Intern, hazed by his boss into oblivion and seemed to love every minute. He sold you tee shirts this time, but he’s going to be running something big someday. Herbie Jeffcoat, monitors and front-of-house, the sweetest “country boy” (his words, but also true) you could want on your team. Especially funny this time was hearing Herbie converse in his potent Southern accent with the FOH in Boston with a potent accent of his own. Translators were required.

Mike Rogers: what a treat it is to have gotten to know you both as a professional sound engineer and family member. I think that if Dad and your Mom had a reason to work with each other growing up like Evan and I have with you, our families would be closer than they are. Let’s keep working at it.

Alison Kendrick! The person that would be sooo bad at being a ninja because she simply wouldn’t be able to be quiet because life is just SO MUCH FUN and worth every giggle: thank you. Teasing aside, Alison is a complete and utter professional, a doer but more importantly a Problem Solver, and I truly would not have been able to do all the things internet-related without you. Thank you for being a mentor and a real friend. If you’d like to work with Alison yourself, please go to akshouts.com

Our uncomfortably attractive lawyer Gabe Fleet is genuinely fun to hang out with, giving attorneys a good name. Old pal Josh Terry and his amazing team in Maddison and Jen at Workshop Management opened doors that are closed to most people so thank you for helping us walk through them. New friends Sue, Lindsay and Tyler at Stunt Company put us in front of the movers and shakers and some (NPR, Paste, American Songwriter) actually liked what they heard.

Chris Slack, you hold all the archival keys to our kingdom and are dear to us for much more than that. Nate Baerreis and Ed and Val Schooling Brantley made us look so cool, so often. How, we will never know. Thank you.

Thanks to our families who let us be gone as much as we have been, this year. Some of you haven’t experienced not having us around, and I know it was hard, but thank you for being so supportive. We love you.

And Chief “Not-Getting-Paid-What-He’s-Worth” is Vance McNabb, who is still working on this tour two weeks later and won’t be done for a while. There are no ways to thank you, V, except perhaps to find a way to make Sparrow huge so you can get a massive raise and hire tons of people to help you. So, we’ll work on that.

Actually…will y’all please help us work on that? If not for us, for Vance? Thank you. And thank you most of all, for letting us make this album. Sparrow is a beautiful thing to us and we’re so lucky that you wanted to hear it. We are lucky that we got to make it. But it isn’t over, is it? There are ways we can try to keep this machine going, if you are willing. More in another post.

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holotape-diaries · 6 years

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[Trinity] Direction

Still bunkered down in the Red Rocket for now. I’ve elected to give everyone some downtime because we’ve been pushing pretty hard of late, despite our stops. We’re going to spend a few days in this region, then trek back to the greater Boston area. We need to swing by our base in Jamaica Plains to manufacture some equipment, then we’re taking back The Castle.

When daytime came in Diamond City, I still felt like I was being watched. I still do. The only other person in the group who seems to feel this way is Dogmeat, who is always a little on edge around everyone but me right now. Thankfully he doesn’t seem to be the type to bite (unless you’re shooting at him). We left Publick Occurrences and I had a meeting with the Mayor’s Secretary, purchased myself a home within Diamond City. I spent the rest of the day getting that furnished up to suit the needs of our team (weapon and armor fabrication and upgrades, ammo manufacturing, etc), as well as decorating it some to make it feel at least a little bit homely.

When I wrapped up in our new base, Nick put his hand on my shoulder, and stated he would like to take me to a place called Good Neighbor. He knows someone there who could help me look through Kellogg’s memories. I felt a lump form in my throat, but agreed, and we headed out. Goodneighbor isn’t that far from Diamond City, but certainly feels like a great distance when you account for the inevitable gun fights in between. The raiders, super mutants and triggermen seem endless in the Boston area. I suppose its an area rich in resources, relative to the rest of the Commonwealth, but still.

Goodneighbor was different from Diamond City. Diamond City is very much a city of established rules, where people just want to survive. Goodneighbor seems to be very dog-eat-dog. As I step into the gate, I get accosted by some random thug asking for ‘insurance money’. I threaten him in return, and he backs down, but then the Mayor of Goodneighbor comes out and stabs him! He introduces himself as John Hancock, and “apologizes“ for the conduct of the thug. I recognize a veiled threat when I see one, so I thank him and let him know I’m not going to be any trouble. He sneers at me (I think? He’s a ghoul, that might just be his mouth), and I’m left to my own devices.

Nick started making his way to wherever it is we’re going, and I let him know I’ll meet him there. This is going to be pretty big for me, and I want a drink. He lets me know the joint is called The Memory Den, and he’ll meet me there.

I stepped into a bar called The Third Rail, which was a surprisingly nice place, all things considered. It even had live music, a singer named Magnolia. I get myself, Heather, Piper, and Preston drinks, and we sit down. Out of the corner of my eye, I can see two Gunners harassing someone in a side room. They don’t look aggressive, but I’ve learned not to trust the group. I stand up, letting my little group know I’ll be right back. As I stride towards the back room, I get stopped by a ghoul in standard merc gear – leathers, combat armor. He introduces himself as Edward Deegan, and that his employer has heard about me, and is interested in acquiring my services for a difficult job. I tell him I’ll think about it. Edward tells me to head to the Cabot House and ask for Jack. I’m a little stunned as he walks past me. The Cabot House? The Cabots were a family from my time, a very wealth family too. I remember the name Jack Cabot too. I clear my head, and keep walking towards the back room. No way it’s the same Jack Cabot, likely a descendant.

Preston has joined me at this point, having seen me get stopped by Edward. He notices what is going on in the back room, and nods to me. We walk into the back room, and can now overhear the conversation. The man getting harassed is called MacCready, apparently an ex-Gunner now trying to work as a merc in Gunner turf, thus these two toughs here to warn him. They finish their piece, and walk past us, the quieter one slamming his shoulder into mine. When I don’t give as easily as he hoped, he calls me a “fucking bitch” and reaches for his gun. The wiser of the two makes him stay his hand, and they leave without any blood being spilled. MacCready was laughing at them as they go.

“The fuck do you want.” is the greeting he gave me. I inquired about the two thugs and he told me to stop poking into other people’s business. As I turned to leave he asked if I needed to hire any protection, he was looking for work after all. I let him know that I’m not looking for protection, but I am looking for more traveling companions, as I intend to take on the Institute. His eyes went wide and I could see the hesitation on his face. He gives me his price. I talk him down, he agrees. We head back to the table and I buy him a drink, introducing him to Heather and Piper.

As we’re leaving, we overhear conversation at a nearby table, something about someone named Cait and a place called The Combat Zone. Piper and Heather seemed to react somewhat somberly to the news. When asked, they explained who Cait was, and that the Combat Zone is a known raider spot. I made a mental note to stop there.

Heading to the Memory Den, I was greeted by an older woman dressed very extravagantly. She directed me to the stairs in the back of the room, indicating “the doctor and Nick are waiting for you already.”

Downstairs, Nick introduced me to Doctor Amari, a scientist specializing in the human brain. She was the one who designed the memory pods in use here. After some talk, it was determined that we could hook up the augmented piece of Kellogg’s brain I recovered from his person to Nick, as it had synth connectors attached to it. In combination with this, I could hop into a memory pod and witness the memories stored with in, with Nick being the engine, as it were.

Reliving Kellogg’s memories was hard. He’d clearly had a hard life, and had lost everything he cared about, like I did. The only difference is Kellogg knowingly brought it upon himself, my life was ripped away from me at no fault of my own, short of existing. I had to re-live Kellogg killing Nate, this time from the perspective of Kellogg. I had to see my baby taken away again. I had to see Shaun, older, taken away by something called a Courser.

The group discussed something about teleportation, and a man named Virgil. I wasn’t really paying attention. Piper looked at me sadly, handing me some tissues. I was crying. She took me upstairs to sit with Nick while the rest of the group discussed the plan. I felt week, drained. Piper asked Nick how he was doing, as he went through the same thing I did. Kellogg responded. I drew my magnum and leveled it as his head, yelling that I put him down once, and I will happily do it again. Nick threw his hands up and shouted for me to stand down, and what the hell was I doing. Piper forced my arms down, and looked at Nick concerned. Apparently some echoes of Kellogg can remain for a little while, and we just saw one. Nick apparently had no idea when it happened. I sank into the chair next to him, exhausted.

Piper let me know that everyone got to watch what I was witnessing, so I didn’t need to talk about what I saw. She told me she was sorry for me, and hugged me. She told me that when I was ready to talk, she would be there as a friend. Nick offered the same.

Eventually we headed back downstairs to get caught up on the plan. Virgil was in a place called The Glowing Sea. Apparently its where a bomb fell, and was massively irradiated. So I needed to find/make some Radiation Protection suits.

We left Goodneighbor not long after. I honestly didn’t feel like talking to much, I felt like an old wound had just been reopened. I needed to take my mind off of what I’d just witnessed. We headed to the Combat Zone, and I proceeded to clear it out. Apparently Cait was a cage fighter here, serving as entertainment. Tommy Lonegan, her handler, opted to let me buy out her contract, as I had just killed all of his clientele. I did so. Cait seemed to know her way around a fight, and after I explained our goal, seemed to be on board.

New members in tow, we headed out for Oberland. Nick had been complaining about his equipment for a while, so I said we’d swing by Red Rocket after Oberland to grab his jacket, something he greatly appreciated. Folks at Oberland agreed to join us with us now that we’ve taken care of their problem. Preston raised the possibility of taking back The Castle at this point, as the Minutemen had enough members, between our personal work and the work of other contingents, that we could mount an effective effort to take back the Castle and man it properly. Given that I didn’t feel quite ready to head to the Glowing Sea just yet, I made that our next priority goal.

That’s how we ended up here in Red Rocket. Preston has headed up to Sanctuary to check in on folks there, as did Heather, who wants to see if she could sell any of her alternative medicines. I asked Preston to get strong setup as a member of the Minutemen, operating his own unit, either on his own or with others beneath him. He can’t really travel with me, given my propensity to break into locks and terminals and his disagreement with that, but I can still definitely use his talents if he’s lending them. In a couple of days we’ll head back to Boston. I have a feeling that the Castle is going to be a big step for us.

#fallout 4 #character story #trinity

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fallout4holmes · 7 years

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Entry 16

As I made my way through Boston past its mutants, raiders, ghouls, and mutated urban wildlife, I discovered the small city-within-a-city of Goodneighbor. Perhaps ‘discovered’ is the wrong word, as the town is hardly hidden. Though surrounded by strong walls that keep its presence secure and easily overlooked, near the door is a giant neon sign, complete with arrow. I admit, my curiosity was primarily drawn by wondering who in their right mind would use such a garish shade to alert people to their presence.

Inside was a “guard” of sorts. It was a typical extortion set up, intimidate the newcomer to enforce superiority and/or make him leave, take his possessions through violence if not handed over. I do not intimidate easily, and was starting to look forward to the oncoming fight just to eliminate that smile from his face, when a… startling figure stopped us. It was a ghoul, dressed in a tricorn hat and eighteenth century style coat. It was immediately clear “Mayor Hancock” is the man in charge, and scolded the thug for not welcoming me with open arms. I hardly expected such. My opponent protested, which I initially thought understandable, given how I had snuck or fought past raiders to an unlocked, unguarded door with a neon arrow pointing to it, but something in his wording made it clear he wasn't worried about the people on his doorstep. It was the same sort of wariness about outsiders I heard in Covenant, a fear of infiltration by “them.” A thinly veiled threat to Hancock’s authority was made. Hancock stabbed him three times, and sighed almost apologetically as the body hit the ground. He asked if I was alright, apologized for the trouble, and welcomed me to Goodneighbor, “a city by the people, for the people.” A place for people with nowhere else to go to call home. My initial impression thus far has been less than favorable. At least now I can say I finally met one of those mentally intact ghouls Preston told me about. Another runs the supply shop, Daisy’s Discounts. Daisy is charming in an odd way. She seemed impressed, or at least amused, that I didn't run away screaming at the sight of her.There was no need to mention that after seeing her Mayor in action, I was far from disturbed by a woman in a business suit cleaning a counter, even if she does look dead. The weapons shop next door is run by KL-E-O, a vaguely humanoid robot with a macabre intelligence. It thinks it's a woman. This is, somehow, bizarrely fitting.

...

There is an establishment called The Memory Den. The madam of the house is a human called Irma, and she is assisted by a Dr. Amari. Inside, one may purchase the use of a chair which will enable the user to relive a memory. For a good memory, this can be quite engaging, and a unique if perhaps extreme method of escape. Or so I'm told. The idea was of course intriguing, and so I tried it, no specific memory in mind, but simply to experience a flash of home, a moment before everything went to Hell. As the dome closed around me, trapping me inside the chair, I had a sickening moment of panic. I doubt I will ever deal well with that feeling of being trapped behind glass again. My panic doubled when I heard the proprietor casually order, “Just look for the strongest memory.” I knew exactly what the strongest memory in my mind would be.

And it was. Oh, God, it was. The Nightmare, that damned Vault, watching two figures come for my child… but I could move. The machine somehow enabled me to view the memory from another angle, to move within it as if I were not trapped. I watched in horror as they pulled my son from his mother’s arms, shooting her when she refused to let go. I saw her murderer’s face. The memory ended, Irma helping me out of the chair, trying to be consoling as she apologized. Of course she could have no idea. All I wanted was to be rid of that place, but she said something then that gave me pause; “What you need is a detective.”

I very nearly laughed. She continued, recommending a Nick Valentine in Diamond City. “He's the best.” We'll see. At any rate, I was in no mood to go anywhere except out of there. A cigarette helped to calm my nerves, as did the spectacle unfolding in the square. Hancock was speaking to his people. He stood on the balcony of the state building as the residents of Goodneighbor gathered. He gave a little speech about the Institute as the root of all evil - an odd juxtaposition considering the time I spent with another group who thinks the same thing - and managed to end on a self-aggrandizing note, to no surprise. The crowd cheered, dispersed, and I decided I needed a stiff drink.

The Third Rail is as close a thing to an old mobster lounge as one could expect to find in a town populated by ghouls, criminals, and outcasts. At least the singer is talented. I was somewhat surprised, and increasingly annoyed, to find everyone assuming I was a gun for hire. I've frequented worse establishments, but each of those times it was for the purpose of a specific case and I was actively trying to appear tough. Tonight, I simply walked in, and the first thought in everyone's mind was “that wanderer is clearly looking for violent and dangerous work.” Even the bartending robot, whose approximation of an accent I won't dwell on, offered a “clean up job,” funded by Mayor Hancock no less. I have never had any interest in political maneuvering, especially not when it involves murder. I hurriedly finished my drink, and got out.

As much as I would have loved to leave this place, I needed to sleep. The hotel, by the definition that it is a building with rooms for rent, was cheap. I found a familiar… hat and coat, staying here. It was the Vault Tec salesman who put us in that place. They wouldn't let him into the Vault. He survived, and has spent the last 200 years as a ghoul, trying to get by. He knew nothing of the cryogenic units. He seemed somewhat jealous, that I made it to the future as if nothing had happened. I didn't feel like telling him why he shouldn't be. I can't imagine what actually living for 200 years would do to a person. He was lonely - apparently only Daisy is his age. No one else understands. I told him he could stay in Sanctuary. I'm not sure why, it just… seemed the thing to do. (chuckles) Won't Preston be surprised?

And so I sit in this hotel room. I don't know what I'm going to do next. Perhaps I'll try to find that detective. Diamond City. Mama Murphy said I should go there, practically the first words out of her mouth when we met. That's almost enough to make me not want to go. I'm tired. I'm not making sense. I'll think it over in the morning.

#fallout 4 #sherlock holmes #crossover #fan fiction #goodneighbor #hancock

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purkinje-effect · 7 years

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The Purkinje Effect, 4

Table of Contents

On his way out of the Science! Center, Galen decided to continue touring the city a bit to bide his time, and resumed rounding the bases. He stopped briefly at the elevated Second Base intersection and glanced out over the water that had pooled in the center field. When he noticed the water pump, he wondered whether it was a manmade reservoir. The buildings which hugged the outer field were on stilts, he realized, due to this water body. Waterfront property. Heh.

Strolling down Third Street, he noticed a neon sign advertising “Valentine’s Detective Agency.” They’ve even got themselves a dick or two. Supposing I’m not the only one with a mystery to solve out here. He picked up pace to insist he was minding his own business when a gaggle of guards came out of the other set of dugouts. Home team’s dugouts might have been fashioned into a watering hole, but the visiting team’s dugouts had become the precinct offices, it seemed. The direct foil of home team vs. visitors made Galen feel like the main source of contention in this unassuming town was keeping the drunk tank locked. They must have good liquor, he nodded sagely with a raised brow, skipping briskly across Third Base to round the home stretch.

As he’d strolled, he’d figured he’d scope out the marketplace, but as he passed by the barber shop for the second time that day, he couldn’t help but think of Piper again. He didn’t have much left to burn on supplies, anyway. With the fatigue of resolve embattling him, he pushed the door open to the establishment, only to find Publick Occurrences, like the Science! Center, doubled for a domicile. Most of the end tables were once newspaper dispensers.

“He’s from someplace called Blackstone,” he heard a youthful voice report upstairs. “An’ I didn’t catch the whole thing, but he eats some real weird stuff. I heard ‘im mention he eats MUD? Gross.”

“You did good, kiddo. You’re gonna make a killer reporter when you’re older.” A pause. “Oh, right. I didn’t forget, I swear. You earned these Sugar Bombs, Nat.”

“Right. ...Thanks.” The youth, who, clad in half a dozen kinds of mismatched plaid, ran down the stairs with her prize--a huge box of cereal--she stopped on the third-to-last step and stared at Galen, and he cleared his throat awkwardly. “Piper! you’ve got company,” she hollered, sprinting out the front door with her Sugar Bombs, likely thinking he’d tailed her home and risked Piper rescinding the reward.

Piper came downstairs and coolly welcomed Galen.

“Sooo, you finally decided to take me up on my offer.”

“Sister?” He thumbed at the door as it finally clicked shut behind him.

“Yeah. About that...” She waved at her couch, but he shook his head. “Diamond City gets kinda... speculative when somebody new breezes through that leaves an impression. Aaand... you certainly have left an impression. I’m guessing you haven’t even been here two or three hours, and already half the people I’ve talked to since we met at Power Noodles are talking about ‘that strange pink mechanic.’ The rumors fly out of hand, and oftentimes it’s up to me to nip ‘em. Or substantiate ‘em.”

“I definitely stick out up here more than back home,” he joked dryly. “Look, I came here wantin’ to apologize for how I came off earlier. Finding you had your sis spying on me, you really are as nosy as I thought. I imagine you’re real good at what you do for a living.” He offered a handshake, and she took it enthusiastically. “Galen.”

“Galen. I’m Piper, though I guess you already knew that.” She rummaged through one of the old newspaper machines across from the couch, to find a pad and pencil, and she began to scrawl immediately. “So. Tell me a little more about your vault.”

“It’s in Blackstone Gorge. 82. About two or three hours’ walk from Pawtucket. What’s left of it, anyway. Your sister heard right about the mud thing. The most common reason we go up top is to collect a few buckets’ worth, and come back inside with it. The more I talk to people above-ground, the more I realize that there’s very little normal about Vault 82, even as far as vaults go. I. How long was she followin’ me?”

“Not long, I promise. It was her idea. She’s an entrepreneur, sees an opportunity and seizes it. Knew she could shake me down if she came back with dirt. ...Figurative dirt.” She started turning her memo pad at a slow increasing angle to enterprise on her margins, but shortly after righted it to continue. “Word is you’ve already seen Dr. Sun and Dr. Duff since you stepped foot in town. You’re certainly on a mission. And you didn’t pop into Nick’s place far as I know, so it’s not about a missing persons case or a legal dispute.”

“Nick?”

“Tricky dick Nick Valentine,” she grinned. “I’d wager my hat you couldn’t have missed his office sign.”

“...I came here cause a my appetite,” he half-lied, bristling over how invasive all her investigative nerve felt.

“And an appetite, you’ve certainly got.” She pantomimed him with the bowl of ramen from earlier and he rolled his eyes at her. “Clearly it’s more than that, if you’re seeing not one but two doctors about it. You said you eat mud--we’ve got mud here. But everybody comes to this city looking for answers first, supplies second.”

“Somethin’ we been eatin’ has been makin’ us sick. I’m out here tryin’ to find somebody that knows anything about Vault-Tec equipment, or even a nutritionist. I can’t go home without answers. A fix would be ideal, but I’ve at least gotta get to the bottom of this.” Already he felt like he’d given her a double-wide opening to eviscerate him, and he squirmed preemptively, trying to hide the anxiety with a gesture which asked permission to light up a smoke. Piper nodded, and with a flick of his silver flip-lighter, he was puffing away at another cigarette.

“There’s equipment malfunctioning in your vault, then? You... feel responsible for it, don’t you?”

“They kicked me out, okay?” He flung back his hood at her matter-of-factly, then started pacing. “Yeah, I do feel responsible for the food dispensers goin’ F.U.B.A.R. I ain’t got an explanation what’s wrong with the things, but a handful of my people’s thinkin’... That what gave ‘em reason to kick me out might substantiate their theory I changed settings on the vats or something. Why would I do that! I eat that stuff, too! My brother caught me bingeing on rations. To be fair, even if we did fix the machines, how we still have any paste left is a wonder after two centuries subsisting on it. I don’t blame ‘em for kickin’ me out, even if I didn’t do squat to the machines. I’d a done the same.”

“Yikes.” She had to sit down to process what he was trying to tell her. “What is this... paste? That’s the stuff you took to Duff, right?”

“We only had one food source serviced in 82: food paste. It’s like gruel, but it doesn’t taste like much of anything. First 170 years, nobody had any issues with it. It just stained us pink. At least, that’s what most of us assume turned us all pink. When the machines bugged out, the pink color went from a tint to nearly neon.” He tried his best to be tactful about his personal tone regarding chronology, considering how poorly that had gone over with Sun. “People have started dying in my vault since the machines fritzed, Piper. I don’t know if the paste is missin’ a key ingredient, or if it’s startin’ to finally spoil, or if somebody really has tampered with the machinery. But I figured... somebody out here could give us answers, if people could analyze the paste and tell me what’s wrong with it. All our leadership team has passed away. All of it, and only been replaced spottily from our own people, not Vault-Tec’s.”

“Vault-Tec, Vault... Tec. Mmh.” She tapped her pencil on the spiral of her memo pad. “I doubt you’d find answers at any of the other vaults in the commonwealth. I only know of three. 114′s a hotbed for organized crime, was never finished out and it runs a good length of Boston’s subway lines. 81′s deeply isolationist and they keep to themselves so much, only reason anybody knows about ‘em is the handful of times in the past decade anybody’s come up top for supplies. And allegedly there’s one north of Concord, 111. But no one has ever seen evidence the lift’s ever produced a single soul. No telling if there’s anybody alive in there. However.......” She began to tap her foot instead of her pencil. “There’s a regional office for Vault-Tec in Boston Proper. I’m not sure what kind of district lines their company drew when it came to office jurisdictions back in the day, but that might be a good place to start. I’ve heard they got surplus equipment. And you might even find some terminal entries that’d be relevant, provided you know your way around a keyboard.”

“First place I went from 82 was Worcester. C.I.T. Worcester is overrun with super mutants, but I managed to get a pamphlet before I got caught and had to run for my life from one of those damn lunatics with a nuke.” He pulled it out from a handful of wadded papers in his bag, and smoothed it out on top of one of the newspaper machines. “It was about the different campuses. There’s supposed to be one at Cambridge, one at Jamaica Plain, and one at University Point. They’re smaller trade schools, specifically for biology and med students. If I could find anything about if and how this paste is adversely affecting us, I’m positive it’d be there.”

Piper went pale at mention of the locations.

“Jamaica Plain’s mostly underwater, as is most of University Point. You really can’t trust prewar maps, these days. Most of the cape’s vanished, for one thing. And from what I heard recently, University Point may be above water, even if only barely--but it’s more than a no-go. That’s Institute territory now. As far as Cambridge, that building’s also overrun with super mutants. An alarming trend, I’m noticing. It’s nearly flattened either ways, so I’m not so sure you’d find much.”

“Am I hearing this right? A reporter trying to dissuade somebody from trying to uncover the truth. That sounds mighty yellow, if not outright yellow-bellied,” he grinned, offhandedly eating his cigarette butt.

“Hey!” she objected, slapping her lap with her memo pad. She cleared her throat lyrically. “Hey. All I’m saying is, you shouldn’t go about it alone. Let me come with you, Blue.”

“Maybe if you stop callin’ me that,” he started, beginning to size up whatever she had in the offices. His eyes fell on a can of cutting fluid, but he retained a poker face about it. “ ...I haven’t got supplies to travel on.”

“Go see Myrna at the surplus. She’ll hook you up.” Piper dug around in a magazine machine, producing a carton of Grey Tortoise cigarettes. “Somethin’ t’barter with. Don’t worry about getting me anything, I’ll be good to go by the time you get back.”

“I’m gonna stop back by the Science! Center to see if Dr. Duff’s got any answers for me, before I do anything else.” He was met with a shrill, awkwardly dismissive bark. “What?”

“You’d have better luck asking Takahashi what’s in that stuff. I promise you, you’re coming out ahead if you don’t go back to her. The volatile chemicals she plays with... Let’s just say the ventilation isn’t so great in that building.” When he squinted at her, she added, “She’s got a half dozen screws loose, and has enough trouble keepin’ up with the eleven students from the schoolhouse. She’s not even allowed to chaperone them anywhere after last time. Believe me. Just go straight over to the Surplus, and get ready to hit the road-- Galen.”

His lip turned, brow arched, at the carton in his hands.

“Myrna. Surplus. ...Got it.”

“Keep the Synth talk to a minimum around her, by the way,” she called downstairs. Piper had already started up to her bedroom, flinging things around eagerly. “She’s probably the most paranoid person in the city. If she asks why you’re pink, tell her you got something for it from Doc Sun. She’ll be fine then on, long as you keep your gloves on.”

“And maybe when I get back, you can tell me why we’re NOT starting with the Commonwealth Institute of Technology,” he ribbed, feeling like she was deliberately withholding information to string him along.

“Oh, Christ, you’re in luck it’s a long walk to North End,” she moaned.

#fallout 4 #fallout 4 fanfic #fo4 #fo4 fanfic #piper wright #fallout oc #fo4 oc #nat wright #geek #the purkinje effect

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