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jaskierswolf · 3 years

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Hmmm Geraskier Legally Blonde AU. Music major Jaskier follows his long-time muse Chiridean to law school (what, like it’s hard?) but finds him smitten with all-star student Yennefer. Cue Jaskier needing the broody TA, Geralt’s help in not flunking out. Jaskier ends up rocking the high-profile case of Callonetta, even after evil law professor Stregobor attempts to toss him out. (I also needed an excuse to put Jaskier in a playboy bunny outfit. For reasons.)

I am so so sorry this took so long. I almost made it into a longer piece and honestly I may still use the scenes in this to expand into a longer fic on AO3 if I have time but for now... voila! _____________

Jaskier was tearing his hair out. There was no way he would be able to get the grades he needed to get into law school. He was a musician for fuck’s sake. There were so many words and they were all so boring. The paragraphs blended together and blurred making it nearly impossible to focus. He groaned and thumped his head on the table. He could do this. He wanted to do this. He had just hit a wall. He’d been concentrating so hard for weeks, which was, quite frankly, impressive for him. That sort of focus was usually reserved for his composing.

“Come on, Jask. You can do this!”

He couldn’t do this.

“How’s it going, buttercup?” Triss asked as she popped her head around the door.

Jaskier pouted and gazed wistfully out the window at the parties in the street below. “I should be out there, Triss. I could have been up on the stage or snogging some gorgeous person behind the curtain!”

Triss smirked and put her hands on her hips. “Snogging?”

Jaskier winked. “Or fucking,” he added with a shrug. “Anything is better than this shit!” He said gesturing widely to the the stack of books on his desk.

“You could just give up?”

Jaskier gaped at her and huffed. “My muse!” He whined.

“Suit yourself,” Triss shrugged. “Ready to go again?”

Jaskier groaned but nodded as Triss passed him another test whilst setting an alarm on her phone.

“Go!”

He sighed but began to scribble furiously. He could do this!

__________

He’d fucking done it. Jaskier Pankratz was at Law School. His parents had never been so proud. They’d restored his inheritance to their estate and he finally had access to his bank accounts again. No more living on tips and barista wages for him. He grinned. He’d always known that Chireadan would be the best muse! He strutted down the halls dressed in his favourite black skinny jeans and a shocking pink crop top, his guitar slung over his shoulder and an ice coffee in hand.

It was time for the next part of his plan. It was time to get his muse back!

He smiled and waved cheerfully at his fellow law students as he danced through the corridors, sipping his ice salted caramel latte through a straw. Most of them looked at him as if he was from another planet. Their clothes were black, black and black. Did no one in law school know what colour was? Yes he was wearing black jeans, but his top was brightly coloured and more than a little bit sexy. He’d paired the outfit with some designer sunglasses, a gift to himself to celebrate his reunion with his credit card, and a pair high heeled ankle boots that laced up at the front. His fashion sense was just wasted on these clever folk.

He sighed dramatically and glanced up at the doors. He was absolutely not lost. It was just… nothing was very clearly marked. Perhaps that’s why you needed all the extra tests to get into law school, even getting to class was a fucking exam.

“Are you alright?” A deep gruff voice asked. “You look lost.”

Jaskier spun around and peered over the top of his sunglasses. His jaw dropped. The man in front of him was fucking gorgeous. He had the most beautiful silver hair that was pulled into a bun, revealing a sneaky undercut on either side of his head. He was wearing a black turtle neck that was a tad too tight and stretched over hidden muscles, and on his face were a pair of thick black rimmed glasses. It shouldn’t have been so sexy but holy mother of fuck. Even the ratty old tweed jacket looked good on him.

“Lost in your eyes maybe,” Jaskier winked and bit his lips.

“Hmm.”

And then he turned and walked away. Jaskier pouted. The man must be straight. There wasn’t even a blush on his face, either that or Jaskier was losing him game.

Nah. It wasn’t that. He looked fucking hot and he knew it.

Jaskier hurried after him and placed a hand on his arm. “Wait! No. I’m sorry. I am lost, like actually lost and not just in your eyes, although can I just say,” he gestured to the man’s body. “Wow. What colour are your eyes? Yellow, no golden… doesn’t matter. They are gorgeous.”

The man raised an eyebrow at him.

“I’m Jaskier by the way. Jaskier Pankratz.” He held his hand out to shake but the man ignored it so he ran his fingers through his hair instead.

“What class?”

“Oh umm, excellent question,” Jaskier stuck out his tongue and he dug through his pockets for his schedule. It was already coffee stained and torn in the corner but who gives a shit. “Professor Stregobor?”

The man let out a weary sigh and pressed his fingers to his forehead. “Fuck.”

Jaskier tilted his head and put his free hand on his hip as he sipped his coffee. “Why ‘fuck’?”

“You’re not going to last two minutes. Follow me.”

Jaskier’s eyes widened. What was that supposed to mean? “Oh hang on!”

“Follow me.”

Jaskier’s jaw snapped shut. He hadn’t even made it to class yet and he was starting to regret everything.

_______________

“Come on…” Jaskier drawled as he rest his chin on his hands. The table was sticky and covered in beer but he ignored it. He had a job to do. He jutted out his bottom lip and widened his eyes at Chireadan.

Chireadan like everyone else in this damned party was dressed casually in a rather lovely blue jumper and chinos. Jaskier, who had been invited to the party by one Yennefer Vengerberg, was wearing a black corset, fishnet tights and a ridiculous pair of bunny ears. He should have known better than to trust Yennefer. She was fucking gorgeous and a phenomenal lawyer but she had taken a dislike to him. It was shame. He was pretty certain that under different circumstances they could have been friends. She was just ambitious and did not hesitate to trample on others to get what she wanted. He respected that.

It just had a few unpleasant side effects. Like turning up to a non-costume party dressed as a playboy bunny. At least he looked cute.

“No, no. Out of the question!” Chireadan said in his adorable little accent. It was what had drawn Jaskier to him in the first place. “I’m just not interested anymore.”

Jaskier let out a soft whine and batted his eyelids. “But I need you, you’re my muse!”

“Well you’ll have to find a new one. I’m done being fodder for your terrible songs.”

And like that the spell was broken. Jaskier gasped and sat back in his chair. “I. You. What?!” He shrieked.

“It was just one love song after another, and none of them even made sense? Do you even know how to rhyme? And we’re not even in love.” Chireadan huffed. “I want a girlfriend and I can’t do that with you trailing after me acting like a lovesick puppy. No. Julian. We are done.”

“Oh no. We are not done because you say so. We are done because you are a terrible muse with fucking awful taste in music. I cannot believe I wasted years on you!” Jaskier snapped. “I was just trying to repay you for saving my life but you. you.. ungrateful swine!”

“You’re acting like a child.”

“I’m a musician! I’m allowed to be dramatic!” He yelled and stood up, kicking the chair out from underneath him. “Yennefer Vengerberg will never love you. You’re wasting your time.”

“I know,” Chireadan sighed wistfully. “but I love her.”

Jaskier scoffed and fled the house. His pride was wounded. Not only had Stregobor called him a talentless fool who would never succeed in court, his muse, his precious muse had insulted his songs. He was fucking done with it all. He should never have come here.

His eyes stung and his throat ached as he bit back a sob. “Fuck!”

He shivered just as a heavy coat dropped around his shoulders. He touched the fabric in the dark; tweed. He smiled into his lap; Geralt. He felt Geralt sit next to him silently and he rest his head on Geralt’s shoulder.

“I spoke to Yen,” Geralt said in a low whisper. “I’d like to say she’s sorry for the costume joke.”

Jaskier chuckled. “Of course she’s not.”

“No.”

“Thank you.”

“Don’t mention it,” Geralt grunted.

Jaskier sighed dramatically as he looked up at the stars. “What am I doing here, Geralt? I’m a musician, not a lawyer, and apparently I can’t even do that right.”

“What? Who said that?”

“Chireadan,” he whined.

“He knows fuck all,” Geralt growled.

Jaskier sat up and stared at Geralt in disbelief. “Does this mean you like my music, Geralt?” Geralt scowled and refused to meet his gaze. “Oh come on, I’m having a shit night. Humour me?”

“I like your music.”

“What do you like about it, three words or less?”

“Jaskier,” Geralt groaned.

“Please!”

“It’s catchy.” A pause. “And I like your voice.”

Jaskier swallowed as he tried to remind himself how to breathe. He was certain it was the booze and Geralt actually being nice to him for a change but he suddenly had an overwhelming urge to kiss him. He cupped Geralt’s face, turning it gently so he was looking at Jaskier. “Thank you, my dear.”

“Hmm.”

Geralt’s eyes flickered down to Jaskier’s lips. There was no mistaking that and even in the dark Jaskier was pretty sure he could see a blush on Geralt’s cheeks. He was fairly certain that if Geralt didn’t kiss him now, he might die. He licked his lips and tilted his head at his friend. “Geralt?” He asked quietly.

Geralt hummed, the ever present scowl on his forehead deepening. “Yeah?”

“Kiss me?”

And he did. Then he did it again, and again, until Jaskier had forgotten all the sadness in his heart because all that mattered were Geralt’s lips against his. __________ Tag list: @alwenarin @slythnerd @davidtennan-t @flippinfricks @innocentcinnamonpun @marvagon @elliestormfound @geraskier-trashh @panerato @moonysourenza @artistsfuneral @victorieschild @hailhailsatan @wherethewordsare @havenoffandoms @bitchy-witchy-post-mortem @electricrituals @geralt-of-riviass @00qtee @kittynannygaming @stinastar @scribblesonmapleleaves @thecomfortofoldstorries @fontegagrilledcheese @anythinggoesfandoms @veritasrose @trickstermoose67

#the witcher #legally blonde #modern au #geraskier #wolfie's witcher writing #Anonymous

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dragalialore · 4 years

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MMMM OKAY LET’S TALK ABOUT ALL THAT JUICY GOODNESS IN CHAPTER 16

(spoilers. obviously)

In no real order:

Elisanne resolving her insecurities. The poor girl has been an absolute MESS ever since Harle purposely showed her the exact kind of information that would throw her off her feet. Remember, Elisanne is a Paladyn to the CORE--her entire world revolves around serving church and having the utmost faith in their teachings. The church is closely related to the royal family--recall how the Sacred Shards are said to be fragments of a sword gifted to Alberius, the founder of the kingdom, by Ilia herself. (Or, well, Meene. lol) I’m unsure if we’ve ever heard about any past Auspexes (Auspexi?), but Zethia being both from the royal bloodline and the Auspex of the Ilian church is possibly related. (Maybe their mother was the previous Auspex; it would explain why Zethia took up the mantle at such a young age.) ALL THAT means that Harle revealing to her that the church has been lying about her liege’s origins was a sure-fire way to throw her for a loop. Her faith in Euden was not wavering; her faith in the CHURCH was. This is why, at the end of Chapter 16, she chooses to step down as Grand Paladyn and serve Euden whole-heartedly. She recognizes that the Church’s teaching are not infallible, and that there is no shame in questioning the truths that she knows. This poor girl has been tormented by this anxiety since... what, post-Chapter 11? And she FINALLY found her answer. She doesn’t need the church to be part of her identity, and she doesn’t have to answer to them to have faith. This much is proved when the sheer potency of her prayer, filtered through Zena, purifies Poseidon in one shot.

Leonidas AND Chelle coming to Euden’s aid. FINALLY, the siblings are working together! With the glue that bound them previously, Morsayati, slurped up by their Hot Topic sibling, Leo and Chelle are FINALLY able to move more freely. The cracks in Leo’s armor that Alex found have been widening since Chapter 12; she has a fucking point there. Agreeing to be UNDER someone is the antithesis of Valkaheim’s, and by extension Leonidas’s, ideals. He’s the first-born fucking heir. He shouldn’t have to answer to ANYBODY. So why is he agreeing to be so subservient under a clear evil? The answer is a little clearer when you look at Chelle: the core of Chelle’s character is that she is always planning ahead. I have zero doubt that the second Morsayati offered his deal she was going to take him up on it, because Chelle is always playing every side. There’s no better place to keep an eye on the enemy than at the enemy’s side, and the proof that she was never with Morsayati in the first place is in both Chapter 11 and 12, where she intentionally sabotages the battle in ways favorable to Euden--Chapter 11 where she gives Emile control over androids that he DEFINITELY can’t handle, and 12 where she lets Euden walk right through her camp. There’s also the fact that while Morsayati was in power, they had their own city-states to worry about. Chelle and Leonidas have a responsibility to Chanzelia and Valkaheim respectively; while 16 shows that they’ve been mostly ignoring the rest of the territory, to abandon their own kingdoms would be unthinkable.

Leonidas’s seemingly heel-face turn. I’m not saying he HASN’T gotten character development; we all remember when Leo was introduced as the crazy maniacal first-born who experimented on his pact dragon and blew up his hired assassin without hesitation. I AM saying that Euden’s screaming match with him in the climax of Chapter 12 definitely got to him. Ever since Euden challenged his ideals, rescued him from certain death, and treated him without asking for anything in return, Leonidas has been significantly more subdued. He’s always thought of himself as the strongest and the best, and instead he got his ass handed to him by his youngest sibling that was using a dragon elementally inferior to his own. AND he got chided by his own ex-subject, WHO HE LITERALLY TRIED TO BLOW UP. Talk about a reality check! From then on, interludes do touch on how Leo is keeping track of Euden; probably through Chelle’s network. Despite it being clear that he knows Euden’s movements, he doesn’t really... do that much to stop him, even when Euden launches an attack on Sol Alberia. His sudden character 180-flip isn’t quite so sudden--it’s the culmination of four chapters of reflecting why his kid brother handed his ass to him. It wasn’t the power of friendship, or even his raw strength. Euden’s conviction is what’s let him smash through obstacle after obstacle, and as soon as Leonidas realizes that conviction is shaken, he doesn’t hesitate to help. Leonidas is, and always has been, about valuing strength--and this time, he recognized a different kind of strength in his little brother.

The acknowledgement of the state of New Alberia. Whatever the kingdom’s name is right now, it’s super fucky. New Alberia and Dyrenell’s clashes, along with Euden’s tunnel vision for Zethia’s rescue, have left the whole of southern Grastaea in shambles. Faith in the royal family is at an all-time low because they’ve all been squabbling amongst each other without much thought for the common people. Yes, Euden and his folks make it a point to shepherd people to the safety of New Alberia’s borders, along with making regular rounds to take out fiends, but his quest to defeat Dyrenell (read: save Zethia) is all that’s really on his mind. Laxi and Mascula are most definitely parallels to Euden and Zethia; Euden is apt to run into situations without a second thought, not hesitating to fight if it’s clear talking won’t work. Zena, on the other hand, has basically been Euden’s braincell for the last two chapters: Euden is ready to do something dumb, and then Zena says “hey Euden maybe don’t do that actually” and Euden immediately settles down. I’m pretty sure the primary reason she was included in the main cast was so she could act as Euden’s conscience, and the last two chapters have not proven me wrong.

Euden’s potential origins. SO I’ve seen theories floating around about Euden being a changeling or fairy child since the Chapter 12 interludes, and it looks like they’re confirmed in this chapter. Euden’s true nature seems to be the son of an important faerie, Finlorda. However, knowing what we do about faerie lore, it’s got everyone wondering if Euden’s wings were removed to preserve the illusion of him being human. I’m not super sure what to think--I mean, fae lore dictates that faeries reach a period in their adolescence when they get big, but for this whole ruse to work, it would mean that Euden’s been human-sized since the beginning. Does taking a faerie’s wings completely absolve them of their magic? (Note I have yet to read Meene’s story; my perspective may change.) Euden coming from the faerie kingdom casts questions on Notte, too--we know that Zethia found her in the garden after she tried to convince dragons that they were kin. Who is she, really, and why doesn’t she remember anything about the faerie kingdom? Something hinky is going on, and hopefully it’ll be explored in Chapter 18 when they reach the kingdom.

The assurance of Euden’s place in his family. This. THIS is why Euden had such a major freakout. The absolute, gut-wrenching TERROR that he’s been ignoring his country’s plight, his friend’s pleas, all of that for a girl that might not even consider him her brother. That all the mistakes and sacrifices he’s made have been pointless. And let’s also point out that Leonidas REFUSES to recognize Euden as his own brother in his introduction chapter! He literally calls Euden a grain of dust. And yet this chapter. THIS CHAPTER has Leonidas EXPLICITLY telling Euden that regardless of his origins, he considers Euden to be his brother. Those are the words that Euden needed to hear. That is the reassurance Euden was desperate to have. This is the first time anyone OTHER THAN Zethia/Zena has properly acknowledged Euden as family; Phares uses it in passing, Emile hates his guts and insults him, and Beren mocks him with it. His oldest brother and sister heartfeltedly telling him that he is their brother was what Euden needed, and I am so very glad that he got it.

Chelle joining the main party. The first mainworld royal party member! FUCK YEAH!!! I know a lot of people thought it would be Leonidas, with all that emphasis on him in the preview, but like, c’mon. Of course his little sister would steal the spotlight. Plus she has an entire moving ship, so no more camping in the woods for the main party! Woo!!!! It also gives us an opportunity to see how she runs things, and more specifically, how it’ll work in the main cast’s favor now that she’s finally not explicitly against them. I’m super excited. (And hey, Leo might be the next Gala along with Poseidon. Who knows?)

All in all, this was, perhaps, THE most emotionally satisfying chapter Dragalia Lost has put out. Fears were assuaged, families were reunited, problems were solved... someone please put the Stefon meme here. This chapter has everything: family love, guns, sexy new outfits, the characters you love finally being happy...

#dragalia lost #main campaign #chapter 16 #euden #leonidas #chelle #elisanne #god i haven't felt this good post-chapter in a loooong time

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rpmemesbyarat · 3 years

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RP Meme from "Chapter Three: Breath of Life" in the Bastet breedbook from "Werewolf: The Apocalypse" Part Two of Two

You’ve got a mystic insight

You get weird vibes around certain people or places.

Um, what rational explanations?

Something’s going on here!

You can see auras and you’ve learned what the different colors mean.

When the supernatural passes by, you feel it.

You commune regularly with the bizarre.

You’ve got an impeccable fashion sense.

You could be wearing a raincoat and newspaper and you’d still make it look good.

This flair for putting an outfit together and wearing it for all it’s worth gives you some leeway in social situations.

Once you’ve got the edge, it’s up to your personality and actions to make the most of it.

Whether training or talent, you know the ins and outs of wild gymnastics.

You can tumble.

You can do a few tricks

Key? What key?

You know about different cultures — their morality, manners, methods and more.

With a little time to study, you can discover the social niceties or requirements that a visitor might need to know, or learn enough about different social structures, histories and customs to avoid making serious blunders.

You know a few taboos and social mores.

You’re familiar with a few cultures that resemble your own.

You’re conversant with structures that differ a bit from your native culture.

You understand a great deal about many different regions and societies.

Given time, you can fit in anywhere.

The world is your home.

Much of your information is going to be secondhand and worse, and may be wildly inaccurate.

Good thing no one knows about you, isn’t it

You know they’re out there.

You know enough accurate information to get yourself in trouble.

You can hold an intelligent conversation on the subject.

You’ve learned things no one else is supposed to know.

You present a danger to them, to yourself, and to everyone around you.

This is your protectorate and hunting ground, and trespassers are not welcome.

Special magics allow you to do things that are normally beyond your reach, and the animals and plants that live here know you well.

Unless some major force destroys it, this place is safe.

If a newcomer secures an invitation, he’s welcome to pass through.

Usually, the fight isn’t formal, nor is it fair.

By dedicating yourself to the land, you become its caretaker.

Knowing too much can be fatal.

The possibility of discovery should always exist, even if you do nothing.

This might get you into trouble, but it’s a good ace to have up your sleeve.

That same secret, once revealed, can stir up ungodly amounts of trouble.

This may be exactly what you want, or the last thing you need.

Funny thing about secrets, you never can tell which way the wind will blow once they’re in the open

Your movements hypnotize and your words charm, harsh though they may be.

It’s almost impossible for you to look awkward, even when you screw up royally.

Most people respect this talent, and even jealous folks have to at least admit you’ve got style.

Wherever you go, there you are.

While some people may get hung up on social niceties when they travel, you’re not one of them.

With very little effort, you could go from a Soho pub to dinner with the Queen.

Wherever you are, whoever you’re with, you make a good impression.

Knowing just what to say or do can help you save face, and in some cultures, that’s vitally important.

Your memory isn’t literally photographic, but it’s close.

You creep people out.

It’s not the things you say, or your looks, it’s just. . . you.

People don’t handle your presence very well, and animals are skittish around you.

Your actions may put them at ease, or might make things worse, but that nagging eeriness never fades.

Even your best friends admit you’re weird.

You always look awkward, even when you’re totally on top of things.

Everything you do looks, feels or sounds wrong, even if you go about it the right way.

People think you’re a shmuck no matter what you do, and this drives you crazy. Which, of course, makes you look even worse.

Wheee!! Hop aboard the ride of your life — your life, that is!

To you, everything is an endless source of stimulation, and you crave all the stimulation you can get.

You’re too inquisitive for your own good; even most cats have more of a sense of self-preservation than you do.

When a mystery presents itself, you’ll go all the way to hell (literally!) to puzzle it out.

It’s hard to put a finger on why you feel compelled to search out facts, but it often gets you in trouble.

Many complicated problems arise from something that seemed simple at the time.

This is great if a battle is called for; disastrous if the moment requires a cool head and steady hands.

Maybe now’s not the best time to pester her.

Others may notice your unpredictable personality shifts, which might grow so severe that you have to assume other personalities to accommodate them.

If anyone notices the difference, they’re too intimidated to remark on it.

In short, you’re nasty

Your nose runs and your eyes water constantly.

You stink. Badly.

You can even demand your own fame, so long as you can back up your claims.

These elements depend on reputation, not on social roles.

How well can she manipulate rivals?

Is she good at riddles or successful at business?

You don’t have to be nine feet tall to have a fierce reputation.

Sometimes, you just have to look fierce.

A few withering stares and dark rumors will have others making room at the fire.

I shall be silent and quick

I shall watch my own shadow

I shall follow the whispers

Survive, learn and prosper

I shall stand my ground

Let the dogs roll in blood — you’re better than that.

Any monster can kill people, and any sneak can live by her wits.

I shall be bound by my word

I shall act with good grace

I shall govern my tongue

It’s pretty hard to advance without recognition, after all.

No one wants a youngster running amok.

Anyone who doubts your bragging can call on you to prove it.

If you have proof or witnesses, they can help make your case.

Born of human parents, your new life is a mystery and an adventure.

Your kind are all but gone, and you must fight to survive.

You have an open and honest heart, and tackle things head on.

You see life in many shades and prefer complex, artistic pursuits to plainer things.

You like to be left to yourself, and grow angry when someone intrudes on your private pursuits.

#roleplay meme #rp meme #rp memes #rp starters #roleplay memes #roleplay starters #werecats #werewolf the apocalypse #bastet #world of darkness #owod

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duhragonball · 3 years

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Yamcha if you're still doing the character meme?

I am still doing these, and I’m enjoying it, so keep ‘em coming. Before I start, let me promote the original post, in case anyone else wants to start their own thing. I’d link to the OP, but I guess they deleted this from their blog, probably because their notifications went nuts.

Give me a character and I will answer:

Why I like them: Let’s be honest, Yamcha doesn’t get a lot of big “hero moments” in Dragon Ball. Or Dragon Ball Z, or Dragon Ball GT, or Dragon Ball Su-- Look, you get the idea. In most arcs, he’s the first one to get benched. In tournaments, he always loses in the first round. He spent the King Piccolo Saga recovering from a broken leg. Against the Saiyans, he was the first one to die. Against the Androids, he was nearly killed and had to sit out the rest of that arc. In the Buu Sagas he was retired. In a number of major storylines, he just isn’t there, because no one called him.

But he remains a fixture in the franchise anyway, because he’s always showing up for more. Let’s take the Buu Saga as an example. It didn’t surprise me to find out he had retired, mainly from a dramatic standpoint. There’s a lot of new characters in the Buu arc, and it made sense for some of the older characters to step aside and make room for them. But he’s still there, because he wants to see Goku one last time, and he wants to hang out with his friends and watch some of them kick the crap out of each other. It was kind of sad to see him stay behind while the others rushed off to follow the Supreme Kai, but he’s retired, after all. Also, they didn’t stop to fill him in on what was happening. I suspect he might have tagged along if they asked.

As it was, he still ended up getting involved, and he was with the Dragon Team right up until Super Buu cornered them on the Lookout. And the next time we see him, he’s on the Grand Kai Planet with Krillin, and King Kai seriously considers sending them in to take on Buu in case Goku and Vegeta can’t get the job done.

And that’s a big deal, because it even comes up in the anime. King Kai tells them that he arranged for them to keep their bodies as a precaution, but he’s totally in favor of letting them remain on the Grand Kai Planet with all of the other honored warriors, like Goku. So you start with this desert bandit, a highwayman without a highway, probably because he’s afraid of all the women that use the interstate. But he gradually overcomes his fears and insecurities, never completely, but just enough to put one foot in front of the other and become a better man. And finally he ends up receiving a place among the great heroes of old.

So why doesn’t that get more attention? You could make a whole epic story out of that, except it’s not Yamcha’s story. He’s a supporting character. So the franchise itself tends to play it down. Even Yamcha doesn’t really take it all that seriously. I don’t know if that’s modesty or cluelessness or Big Himbo Energy or what, but that’s why it’s so easy for everyone to write him off as a loser or a failure. They’re overlooking the bigger picture.

youtube

The best way to illustrate this is with this TFS short that serves as an epilogue to their DBZ Abridged series. Yamcha goes back to playing baseball for the Taitans, only to get fired, because he’s so talented that he’s literally broken the game, and no one buys tickets anymore. But he gets a gigantic severance package, and he still goes down in history as the greatest ballplayer in history. What always gets to me is that they have to explain to him that this is actually a win. As his coach puts it, “you do nothing but win.”

Like Yamcha himself, we often see him from the lens of these insane Dragon Ball adventures, where you have to have glowy hair and a hot cyborg wife to be considered a success. But to the rest of the world, he’s a jacked up millionaire with fantastic hair, and he’s a real sweetheart. Who couldn’t like this dude?

Why I don’t: As you may have noticed, I tend to only use this section to talk about why I disliked the characters initially. I have to think back to 1999 when I was still having trouble keeping track of who’s who. In particular, I found Yamcha’s presence frustrating because he looked and dressed almost exactly like Goku, but not quite, which seemed bizarre. Later, I picked up on the context, and it didn’t bother me as much.

Yamcha does have a bit of an overconfident streak in some situations, which might look like unfounded arrogance, but I think it’s really just his carefree nature and enthusiastic can-do spirit. He was confident about their chances against the Saiyans, but I don’t think that was him being cocky. He just knew they had all trained hard and he was stronger than he’d ever been. But that’s easy for people to jump on as a reason to hate the guy.

Future Trunks claimed that he fooled around while he was involved with Bulma, but come on. Does anyone really buy that? Besides, at best, that would only apply to Future Yamcha, the one who died in the other timeline. Once Trunks changed the past, all bets were off.

Favorite episode (scene if movie): I’m gonna get a little nuts here and go with TFS’s playthrough of Legacy of Goku I, where they decided to level up Yamcha and have him solo Broly.

youtube

Basically, in an RPG game like this, Wolf Fang Fist can do monster damage, so they maxed out Yamcha’s stats to wreck the game’s hidden superboss. You have to skip to 1:40:00 or so to see the successful attempt, but I loved this video. This is where I learned to respect the utterance of “Roga... fufuken!” Broly probably would have respected it, too, except he died from all those hits he took.

Favorite season/movie: You know, that fight with Tien was a classic. Not sure it’s in my top ten, but it’s on a lot of people’s lists, and I absolutely get that.

Dumb as it may sound, I enjoyed seeing Yamcha in the hospital, wrestling with his own despair as he recuperated from his broken leg. And when he shows up at the end to congratulate Tien and accepts Tien’s apology, well, like I said, Yamcha has this great character arc, but it’s easy to overlook with everything else that goes on.

Favorite line: I forget which game it was in, maybe Budokai 3, but one of his pre-fight taunts is “Watch this, Puar! I’m gonna win!”, which always makes me think of Puar sitting just off-camera, watching the action from a little lawn chair.

Favorite outfit:

I may take some heat for this, but I like the Androids/Cell Saga version of Yamcha, with the short, spiky hair. This dude’s long, luxurious rockstar ‘do is a national treasure, sure, but I dig this look more.

Also, I consider Yamcha to be the only guy from the Turtle School who pulls off the slippers and no-blue-undershirt look. It looks off when I see it on Krillin and Goku, but with Yamcha it just feels right.

OTP: This guy gets shipped with a lot of people, probably because he’s one of the major characters without an established love interest. Folks still carry a torch for Bulma, some people ship him with Tien, Frieza hit on him in FighterZ, and I’m still trying to make sense of that. He flirts with your character in the Xenoverse games. Years ago, I considered doing something with that, but I’ve fleshed out my OC enough to where I don’t think that fits.

At the end of the day, I can only see Yamcha getting together with @cozymochi ‘s OC, Marzi.

Brotp: Tien, Krillin, Goku. Hell, I always figured Yamcha was one of the few people Vegeta could get along with to some extent.

I mean, Tien couldn’t stand to be one the same planet as Vegeta, but Yamcha keeps coming over to have hot dogs at Bulma’s place, long after the Namekians have left.

Head Canon: He’s Luffa’s type, don’t get me wrong. I just don’t see any room in my fic for a whirlwind courtship. The stars just don’t align.

Unpopular opinion: I’m not really behind this notion that they should give the humans more stuff to do in future series. When it comes to supporting characters, sometimes they get phased out, and there’s no point in phasing them back in unless there’s a compelling story idea for them.

I think it’s dumb how they teased Yamcha in the Tournament of Power prelude, only to leave him out of the tournament itself. On the other hand, they put Tien on the team and barely used him, which tells me that even if they’d put Yamcha on the team, it wouldn’t have amounted to anything.

I get it, people love these characters and want to see them used more, but I’d rather have one strong Yamcha story than a hundred non-starters. And at this point, I think the only thing anyone can do is rely on fan-created content. Be the change you want to see in the world.

A wish: Crap, it’s after ten pm. I dunno, I wish Marzi was canon.

An oh-god-please-dont-ever-happen: I feel like the character’s already been through worse than I could come up with for him.

5 words to best describe them: Cat loves food, yeah yeah yeah. That’s six, but who cares?

My nickname for them: Yeah, I don’t have one.

#ask duhragonball #dragon ball #yamcha #yamucha #Anonymous

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beetrootpatch · 5 years

Photo

A timeline with Cesaria’s outfits through the years, most of which are based on in-game looks. It seems black and red are his go-to colors, also gold if only he could get his hands on any.

Some more info on each more or less major point in his life lies under the cut:

Sapling 1313:

Awakened in the cycle of night and soon proved to be quite a handful for a sapling. He had a typical fondness for shadows and dark places and would rather pickpocket guards for his own amusement or attempt to sneak out instead of sitting around listening to some mentor. It was around a year later that he eventually left the Caledon, driven by his dream of far away lands.

Burglar 1315-1321:

Having been taught by a gang of bandits he joined on his travels, a life of crime was a natural thing to settle into as Cesaria found his way to Divinity’s Reach. Though rather than for wealth, his interest in being a career thief lie more in the job itself as well as causing trouble. Any excess gold he would give away to the poorer folk of the city and he eventually made a name for himself.

Vigil 1321-1325:

After getting in serious trouble with a Vigil officer, he found himself at an unexpected crossroads and given the choice, enlisted to join the fight against dragons. The start was bumpy since being ordered around didn’t come naturally to him, but once he started to fit in it seemed that he had both the skill and a tactical mind to actually make something of himself. In three year’s time he made it up the ranks all the way to Warmaster.

Pact Commander 1325- present time:

When the discussions of the major orders uniting were underway, Cesaria was quick to volunteer himself to join the new coalition. The idea was attractive not only because of the advantage cooperation would bring, but also because a well-respected firstborn was taking the lead. His view on the war had changed and was bordering on idealistic at this point and later the hard earned victory against Zhaitan that turned them all into heroes didn’t diminish that spirit.

Heart of Thorns:

With the Pact having set it’s sights on Kralkatorrik, a change of targets came as a surprise but it made no difference to Cesaria which dragon they would conquer next. Though flying into Maguuma with high hopes and too much confidence proved to be a mistake. After the ships crashed, many lost their trust in a sylvari leader so with only a handful of soldiers he pressed on into the jungle to find the lost marshal who could pull the army back together. That mission was ultimately a failure, which he took very personally, and the whole experience is still a sore subject.

LWS3:

Taking time off was recommended after the Maguuma campaign and a brief chase of bandit kidnappers, but it proved difficult. Since sitting around in the Grove trying to relax wasn’t really doing much for him, Cesaria soon went back to active duty and took his squad to accompany a colleague on an excursion to Bitterfrost Frontier as protection. Without a war to fight or a clear plan of action, the best he could do was help those who had the smarts to figure out what to do next.

Path of Fire:

The arrival of a new threat to Tyria with four dragons still around couldn’t have been less welcome, but once Balthazar started a war, it was impossible to ignore. Frustrated by the insufficient action of the Pact on the matter, especially since it involved Kralkatorrik, Cesaria and his squad took on an independent role in Elona. No longer tied to a chain of command, they did as they pleased to help the local humans and hunt the rogue god until he was brought to justice.

LWS4:

With both Kralkatorrik and Joko causing trouble, challenges were mounting up and even after the lich king’s defeat, peace didn’t last for long. The Shatterer’s attack in Jahai forced Cesaria to cancel a long awaited vacation and stay put instead to help contain the damage in the area. Easier said than done with portals popping up left and right and the looming fight against another elder dragon has him on edge, especially after the last disaster.

#gw2 #guild wars 2 #sylvari #pact commander #cesaria #he totally blew his first paycheck as commander on that armor #i've been meaning to do one of these SINCE FOREVER #i love outfits also here's the main story line of my main man #i follow the in-game plot pretty loosely #bc i don't canonically consider him -the- commander #not going into too much detail also the most recent episode isn't included bc i still gotta think about that one gosh #i do realize that i already have a -new- outfit for him to add but i'll just... do that... separately haha #OUTFITS #my art #what sock posted art ????

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candyshua · 4 years

Text

It’s a Long Way Home | Chapter 6

Pairing: Joshua x Minghao x Reader

Synopsis: It was dark, and then it was light. You’re finally lucid. After 15 years of not being conscious, you wake up in a desolate and post-apocalyptic earth where infected flesh-eating beings roam the streets. Soon enveloped into a mysterious group of survivors, you consistently wonder who they are. But most importantly, who are you?

Genre: Heavy angst, some fluff here and there

Warnings: Gore, bad language, physical & verbal abuse

Word Count: 3.2k

"What?" Joshua sputtered, and soon you had Minghao's attention as well because he was sitting next to you.

"Were there any special scientists on there? Famous ones?" You further interrogated, as Minghao tilted his head to the side and Joshua was stuck in sheer thought.

"Um...Oh shit-"

"What is it?" Minghao snarled, and Joshua glared at him playfully.

"Dr. Y/L/N. He was up on that station, along with Dr. Preston - also known as-"

"The Doctor." You interrupted. Joshua nodded, and soon it was like everything was coming together. You were putting together a puzzle, with a smattering amount of pieces in the beginning - but now you were almost finished. The picture of you, Y/N Y/L/N, was being created. Your questions were being answered.

It's just, why were you up there? And you were born in orbit? How were you able to walk without the gravity crushing you? Why were you on Earth anyway?

Great, you thought, more questions. That's what I need right now.

"But if-"

"Everybody just shut up!" You shouted, now grabbing the attention of all the members in the room. You even heard a "Hm?" from who you believed was Seungkwan in the "bathroom" (a disgusting room where you dumped your fecal matter into pipes). "I need to remember." You explained, and closed your eyes. You didn't really expect anything to happen, so you were extremely shocked when your father's face appeared in your head, and soon you were on a trip to your past recollections.

"Y/N...They found out - that's why you need to go right now." Your father ordered, waking you from your slumber (but sleep was never a peaceful thing for you).

"What?" You whisper-shouted, and you then saw him holding an outfit in his hands. It consisted of a camouflage jacket, black combat boots, jeans, a necklace with rings on it, and a plain black shirt.

"Get dressed. And here - drink this." He demanded, and you downed the glass of water within seconds. "Y/N?"

"Yeah?"

"I love you. You're no longer their experiment anymore, you're no longer Patient Zero. You're a force to be reckoned with. I'll make sure these people never bother you again, baby."

And soon, you remembered waking up in that same convenience store, in the clothes he gave you.

You didn't realize you were crying - no, sobbing - until Josh was hugging you and Hao looked at you with worried eyes, and the rest of the crew were piled around you out of concern.

"I- my father. He sent me down here." You sobbed, your choking wails and blubbers echoing in the sad entertainment room, and soon everybody except Hao and Josh left, and you were just crying. Why were you crying? Hell, you knew why. You were so fucking confused, the words that emitted from your father's mouth sending you in a downward spiral. Why were you sent down here in the first place? Where was your father?

"Shhh." Joshua comforted, hugging you and stroking your hair. Your heaving breaths that were once swift and hesitant soon slowed down, and your melancholy mood followed you into your state of utter confusion. You realized how weak - no, pathetic - you looked, but you didn't care. You trusted Josh and Hao, and it's not like your sobbing was a facade. It displayed who you were in that exact moment, a confused mess.

To Joshua, you were strong - stronger than him. He respected you greatly, for he knows he wouldn't be able to withstand such utter confusion if he was in your place. Not only that, he had grown to admire you and your very distraught and unique personality. You were intelligent and cunning, but you were snarky and rough around the edges. You weren't weak, and may God help him if he ever manages to anger you, because he knows he wouldn't stand a chance. Holding you in his arms was the least Joshua could do, but he wanted to do so much more.

You had done infinitely amazing things for Joshua in the somewhat brief time you two had known each other, and he feels like he is in great debt. He considers himself lucky to find such a humane person in such an inhumane world. You could've become the most evil person to ever exist, using your abilities for your own personal gain, yet you helped him and Fort Lockwood. You were amazing, and he wished you could see that.

Slowly, as your tears subsided, you got deeper into thought. You analyzed every single word your father said, and you couldn't help but become stuck on the word "experiment".

Is that all you were? Just an experiment?

But, if that was true, then for what?

The next day, the herd was surprisingly gone. They were scattered and no longer as strong, therefore you packed everything and walked out of the small house gratefully. You had finally met Wonwoo while gathering everybody into the cars. They were going to go back to Fort Lockwood, and while distracting yourself with the conversation of this intriguing stranger, you tried to push away the thought about going back.

"May I ask, how did you fortify these basements?" You asked, feigning interest. Wonwoo then went on about working with some other folks you couldn't remember the names of. It's like Minghao could read you, because he then called you over saving you from that very boring conversation.

"Thank you," Is all you said while walking back to the van together. You and Minghao hadn't exactly been alone together for a while, so when he signaled for you to get into the van with him while the others were still occupied, you felt a nervousness tug at your heart.

"I'm driving. You can sit in the front with me, if you want." Minghao offered, and you nodded while opening the car door and plopping into the seat. He went in on the opposite side, and soon a heavy silence immersed both of you.

"I don't know how to drive." You admitted, and Minghao looked over at you with his deep brown eyes, and his shiny black hair, and you felt all the tension that once constricted the two of you dissipate. He smiled at the sudden withdrawal of awkwardness, and soon the two of you were partaking in a very nice conversation just like you used to.

"You need to learn, or else you'll like, die." Minghao deadpanned, and you let out a slight chuckle.

"One of these days I'll learn."

"I'll teach you." He insisted, turning his head to face you. Out of the corner of your eyes, you saw him staring at you, and one might've described it as longingly.

"Okay." You obliged, giving him a weak and tired smile. You then got lost in thought again, thinking about going back.

Maybe, just maybe, you needed to be alone for a while. Maybe without the daily routine you were drowning in, you could figure things out. And suddenly, you felt the urge to confide in Minghao.

"I want to go." You blurted, blinking rapidly.

"I know." Minghao admitted, smiling at you sadly. He was facing you again, and you were facing him. You were fumbling with your hands until he took your hands in his, and soothingly stroked him thumb over the top of your hand. It was a gesture of comfort and acceptance.

"I'll come back, Minghao. I promise on whatever God is out there, I'll be back. I think I just need some time alone so I can figure everything out." You declared, letting your words slur knowing Minghao would understand every syllable.

"Then let me teach you how to drive."

You tied your recently cut hair into a low pony tail, sighing while examining the map that was laid out in front of you. You were in a house somewhere on this street called "Alwood Avenue" merely camping in the residence for the night. You had been going from place to place for about three months now, not knowing exactly where you were headed. You were using this time to finally figure out who you were, and to put it bluntly, it wasn't going so well.

Only a smattering of memories had come back to you on this seemingly infinitely lasting trip. Yet, you had gotten to know yourself much better. It had been 3 months since you've talked to Minghao, Joshua, or anybody really. You haven't come across survivors (face to face, at least) at all. You've watched from afar, making sure they didn't know of your existence. Then, you'd run away, farther from Fort Lockwood.

As you got to know yourself, you knew your promises were a genuine and heavy thing. You knew deep in your heart that you would return to the fort, even if it took years. But for now, you had yourself to worry about.

You boarded up the windows, and blew out all candles except the one that was in your hand. Nightfall occurred early, since it was mid January. The year was now 2041, the new year just passing. You finally blew out the last candle, swallowing yourself into a lonely darkness. You closed your eyes, gun tucked neatly under the couch you were sleeping on. You fell asleep at around six to seven in the evening, because it led you to wake up around dawn, just when the sun rose.

And soon, you drifted off into a slumber, until you were greeted with something all too familiar.

Raw, broken screams were escaping from your dry throat. The pain you were experiencing was unbearable, every single joint in your body was on fire. You screamed until you couldn't emit any sound, but whispers of cries of help was all that could be muttered. The Doctor stood there, face as blank as a wall, and suddenly injected you with a body numbing serum.

Soon, the mind numbing pain faded away into a dull ache, as you struggled beneath the binds that held you tight. "Subject seems to be immune to virus D-3847. Experienced major pain, but no signs of turning were ensued." The Doctor concluded, speaking into a wiry microphone.

"Please stop!" You rasped, your breath heaving and quick.

"Patient is still conscious, shows that she can withstand great amounts of pain. Please write this down, Y/L/N." The Doctor ordered, your father nodding while scribbling down notes. He looked at you with sad eyes, the eyes that screamed louder than a million words, the eyes that screamed louder than you did. You knew he was sorry, and that he had to do this in order to be trusted. You were 19, and you knew you would be leaving soon.

Your dad promised, and he never broke a promise.

"We're done for today. Patient Zero is free to roam the ship once she stabilizes." The Doctor announced, and then strode out of the room. Your father came dashing towards you, unbuckling the straps that clenched around your limbs.

"I'm so sorry, sweetie." Your father cooed, a sign of his voice breaking in his tone. He looked and sounded like he was going to cry, but he kept strong for you. "Once you're down there, nothing can hurt you except the humans."

"Why me?" You rasped, voice hoarse and weak. "Why am I so special? Why do I have to be his experiment?"

"Because you're immune to the virus." Your father vacillated.

"See? You're unsure too. How much longer must I withstand until I'm no longer immune?"

"That's not how it works, baby. Go wander the ship and read a bit, then meet me for training at 4." Your father softly said, and you just nodded and limped away. You then walked into the ship's library, and picked a book about plants off the shelf.

Your eyes tore open, while your heartbeat quickened mercilessly. You looked up to the morning sky, the pink swirls signifying that it was dawn.

You knew what you had just experienced wasn't just another dream. It was a memory, and quite a colorful one at that. You vividly remembered the pain, it seemed to linger on your skin with uncertainty. The shock of what your mind just recollected soon settled in, paralyzing you.

You let out a hoarse cry, tears soon soaking your cheeks in rivers of ferocity. You sucked in harsh breaths, not exactly knowing how to deal with what you had just processed. You were an experiment, that much you knew.

And you were an experiment because you were immune. Immune to what, exactly? That ship was up there for at least twenty years, so how would you being immune to the virus down on earth correlate to anything? How could that possibly make sense? You threw your head back in confusion, your clammy and cold hands shaking slightly. In fact, your entire body was shaking, sweat dripping out of every pore.

You forced yourself to get up, and you went over the map that was on the table beside you. Before that however, you snatched your gun from underneath the couch. You searched the cabinets in the dead kitchen to see if there was any untouched food, and you found a gross looking can of beans which you took gladly. Any food was fine, since you didn't enjoy hunting very much. You knew you were trained in it, but killing animals effected you greatly.

Eventually you knew you'd get used to it. The slitting of throats would become second nature, but for now everything was just a bit apprehensive. Killing humans wasn't an instinct to you just yet, yet you wondered if it would ever be an instinct.

You got everything you needed, and peeked through the slits in the boarded up windows to find only a few of the infected walking among themselves. You walked outside extremely quietly, taking the smallest and most hesitant steps.

You then sprinted towards your car, opening the door and locking it immediately. As the stragglers limped towards you slowly like they always did, you started the engine and drove away, to wherever your spirit wandered to.

You decided to head towards New York City, wanting to go to the convenience store you woke up in. Once you arrived, you ignored the poignant twinge in your heart at the bitter nostalgia that was present in the thick, cold air. The bitter iciness sent you into a magnified clarity, you were hyper-aware of everything happening around you.

You parallel parked quite expertly (that skill being equipped from Minghao, of course) in between two old abandoned cars. You walked into the familiar store and observed the dry, quiet atmosphere. You did get some supplies you needed, like tampons and water, and brought those back to your car immediately. Then, you just walked around the store, looking behind the counter and in that bathroom filled with dried blood. The day was gray, which wasn't an abnormality due to the bleak winter threshold, but you felt more bland than the day outside. You felt like you were expecting something, but nothing was there. You were disappointed.

Sighing, you toyed with the necklace on you, fiddling with the various rings. The rings were merely silver, but no design or imprint was found on them. You walked out of the store and hopped right back in your car.

You noticed a group of about 20 walkers heading your direction, but it didn't really faze you in the slightest. It only made you pick up speed - until it stalled. Putting it retrospectively, your engine stalled. Your car refused to start and a what seemed like a massive group (only growing more massive by the second) of stragglers were heading toward you, and you sighed worriedly.

You checked your rear view mirrors, and even more walkers were heading from behind you. You had no choice but to run.

So, you zipped out of the car and grabbed your backpack, along with a gun and everything you could hold. You cocked your now fully loaded gun, shooting whatever walker stood in your way. You maneuvered yourself through the thickening crowd of the infected, trying to get yourself out of the city.

Then, due to your shit luck, you were trapped. You ran into an alley and found no other way out besides the way you went in, and the infected were just pouring in like rain. And slowly, the realization that this might be it came to your mind. You closed your eyes, bit your lip, and then grit your teeth, because fuck those infected bastards! You weren't going down without a fight.

So, you shot every walker you could, in the heart or head - whatever you could aim for, really. And then, you were out of ammo and you only had your trusty knife with you. Knowing that you were going on a suicide mission, you ran up to those meek bastards and stabbed them where the sun doesn't shine.

You were barely winded, but the incessant monsters just kept pouring in, and you knew you didn't stand a chance. The clear realization was a stoic force in the back of your mind, but you just kept fighting because you didn't have all the answers you needed, you still had so many questions!

Not only that, you weren't going to die at the hands of the infected. You had been through so much, and your death wasn't going to be an anti-climactic one. No, you would make sure your death would be an epic battle, in which you'd win despite if you lived.

You relentlessly stabbed each of the infected that dared to inch near you, until you were very winded. And then, a miracle happened.

The moment you heard a gunshot that wasn't yours, you dove to the side, hiding yourself from the opening in the alley. And soon, the walkers fell like mere dominoes, their deaths caused by rapid machine guns.

Once you were sure they were all dead, you picked up your bag and fully prepared yourself to thank the strangers that had just saved your life. Instead, you came face to face with the opposite of a stranger.

There standing was the group that you had once saved, and that seemed like an infinity ago. And at the front of the group was Josh and Hao, and you suddenly smiled with a temporary peace residing in your heart. The warmth that radiated from them on this cold day was insurmountable. You soon realized that nothing could replace the emptiness in your heart when you were without them. The few of you stood there, smiling like mere idiots, letting yourselves soak in the glory that you had finally found each other on that cloudy day.

"I promised you I'd be back." You shouted to Minghao, trying your hardest not to cry.

"On God!" He shouted back, smiling fervently. You then ran past the two men, and then greeted Hansol, Junhui, Cleo, and Margo. You circled back to Hao and Josh, and you just smiled.

"Welcome back." Joshua croaked, smiling simply. His grin wasn't a weak one albeit, it was a strong and stoic one. It was a grin that had been through so much, but it still decided to bare its hardships and smile. He smiled for you.

And you smiled for him too.

#joshua hong #xu minghao #the8 angst #the8 fluff #the8 x reader #joshua hong angst #joshua angst #joshua hong fluff #joshua hong x reader #joshua x reader #seventeen #seventeen x reader #seventeen angst #seventeen fluff #minghao angst #minghao fluff #minghao x reader

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thanksjro · 4 years

Text

Eugenesis, Part Four Scene Five: Prowl’s Self-Esteem Is Through the Floor At This Point.

Prowl’s sitting in an office, waiting for all the Autobots to vote on whether he gets to lead or not. It’s agonizing. He’s run out of things to organize.

Interesting that the Institute where the Headmasters worked might be doing some shady stuff. Guess it’s not all just frat keggers and failing sociology 101 at the Institute of Higher Programming.

Though I have to question the validity of a report written up by a guy who didn’t even exist in this universe until last month. Throwback, what are you even doing?

Perceptor comes in with the final tally.

108 for Prowl, 86 against. Oh hey, that’s the title of this Part!

Roberts really likes putting leadership positions to a vote. He does it again in MTMTE #26, when Rodimus invoked the Crisis Act on himself after the whole thing with Overlord happened. Good to know he supports democracy.

Prowl isn’t terribly thrilled about just how many folks voted against him, but at the end of the day, all that really matters is that Kup isn’t going to get his suicide mission.

While that’s happening, the Delphi medics are busy tending to an unconscious and bleeding Optimus Prime. Nightbeat’s in the way, pulling a Kup, until Siren pulls him away. Siren still can’t believe Optimus Prime is actually here. I’m in the same boat at this point, though probably not for the same reasons; his is an awestruck wonder, and mine a dulled exasperation.

Back on the Ark, Ultra Magnus is just plum baffled by the Enslaver having disappeared without a trace, but they don’t really have the luxury to think on it too hard, seeing as their transwarp drive is about to crap out. They’ve got to exit hyperspace.

Sorry if this post reads choppy, the narrative is jumping around a lot here. That usually means things are about to pop off.

Over in Haxian’s workshop, a Quintesson trooper- Q-6 is what he’s called- is watching one of his coworkers get outfitted for the teleport, as Galvatron is screaming his own name down the hall.

Oh, good, we’re finally getting back to this idiot.

Haxian tells Q-6 to go shut Galvatron up. He heads over to the cell block to check it out, when things suddenly go silent.

Curious just how the fuck that happened, but okay.

Galvatron’s gone missing. That’s a big problem.

One of the corpses makes a noise, and Q-6, not being terribly trope-savvy, takes a gander into the gaping wound that is Thunderclash’s chest.

R.I.P. Q-6. We hardly knew ye.

Back on Cybertron, the Micromasters Siren sent out for reconnaissance have just landed their ship, starting the walking part of their journey. We’re following Phaser, Sunrunner, Blastmaster, and Treadbolt.

Little character bung-up here: Blastmaster and Treadbolt’s name are spelled wrong. They’re supposed to be Blast Master and Tread Bolt, respectively. Treadbolt is especially glaring, seeing as there’s an actual character from TransTech with that spelling, and his whole thing is that he’s BIG. I know that’s a pretty minor thing, but after all the intricate character inclusions and references Eugenesis has thrown at me, it’s pretty glaring. I even checked to make sure the spelling wasn’t different for the UK comics. I LIVE on the Wiki for this breakdown.

Also, turns out Blastmaster wasn’t always a Micromaster. He got the surgery in the 90’s. That’s not a canon thing, just a funny little Roberts headcanon. Which makes it canon for this novel, it just isn’t… anything that was established by the source material.

It’s important to remember that, at the end of the day, Eugenesis is a fanfic Roberts sold out of a suitcase at conventions in the early 2000’s. Things start to feel a little crazy if you don’t.

ANYWAY.

There’s bit of banter- turns out Sunrunner can’t read a map- and then Blastmaster reveals that the mountainside they’ve been standing in front of is actually a hologram hiding the abandoned Manganese Autobase they’ll be traveling through.

The Micromasters enter Autobase and crawl into a vent, because Roberts is as obsessed with robots crawling through ductwork as he is with mechpreg.

Mechpreg that I have still yet to see, I will remind you.

The fellas move through the ducts for a while, until they hit the inside of the concentration camp. They take a look, communicating through the inter-Autobot radio.

That bodes well.

Back in Haxian’s workshop, our science-inclined tentacle monster is putting the finishing touches on the tele-armor, when Galvatron leaps into the room and attacks. He’s got Q-6 in a chokehold, which is really unnecessary, seeing as he’s very dead. Haxian immediately surrenders, and Galvatron demands to be sent home. He dons the armor, then makes to grab at Haxian to go with him- he’s still just as paranoid as ever, our Galvy.

Haxian refuses, seeing as the parameters this set of armor is set for won’t allow both him and Galvatron to survive the trip. Galvatron shoots him in the chest, and Sharkticons start pouring into the room.

Galvatron books it.

He’s still weak from the Inhibitor Chip, so he runs, only realizing the layout of the building isn’t terribly conducive to escape once it’s too late. The tele-armor then decides that now would be a good time to be ready to go. Galvatron punches the button, and is whisked away from the workshop

To the Kledji concentration camp.

Talk about out of the frying pan and into the fire.

The Micromasters see him pop into existence, smoking and red-hot from the teleport, and are understandably confused.

The Kledji guards, not knowing that it’s Galvatron under the armor, welcome him with open arms. Galvatron responds accordingly.

Himbo supreme defending his title, I see.

The Micromasters are a bit thrown by this development, but opt to stay on-mission, and merely observe.

Galvatron approaches the prisoners who were being transported when he showed up, and tries to ask what’s going on. He doesn’t get anything out of them, seeing as they’re under the influence of the Chips. Galvatron isn’t feeling too hot himself, but he can’t worry about that now, because more guards are coming his way.

As Galvatron fights more Quintessons, the armor he was wearing gets kicked around until it slams against the grate the Micromasters are hiding in, revealing the aqua fortis the original trooper was supposed to deliver.

Then the Quintessential Flying Fucks show up- looks like the gang’s back together again.

Galvatron is subdued, and Jolup decides that it would be very funny to inject him. Galvatron disagrees, turning into a gun to escape their hold. He skitters towards the grate as well. This grate must be magnetized or something.

The Flying Fucks stomp on Galvatron a few times, knocking him out before injecting him again. Now, they don’t know where the hell is neural cluster is in gun-mode, so they just kind of eyeball it before throwing him on the ground again.

They takes their eyes off of him for two seconds, and then he’s gone.

…

So, Galvatron’s missing, but the grate he landed in front of is off. The Quintessential Flying Fucks remember that Micromasters are a thing, and order the ventilation shafts be flame-cleansed to deal with them. Hope it was worth it to save the head of that faction you’ve been at war with for several million years, guys.

Back at the College of Knowledge, Chromedome and Perceptor are having a little chat about frequency calibrators, like the huge nerds they are.

…Criminy, what body part is that supposed to be? I’ve seen it used to refer to hands before, both in fanfic and canon work- hello, Animated- but here that doesn’t really fit. I’m going to assume arms. It’s his arms.

Chromedome, don’t you lie. You’ve never been happy a day in your goddamn life.

Then Chromedome realizes it’s been nearly half an hour since he last dragged Prowl, so he asks Perceptor why he voted against the guy.

Perceptor reasons that Prowl is level-headed and responsible, but just not…

Chromedome coming for his life. Jesus.

He then asks who Perceptor would want in Prowl’s place. Perceptor avoids the question, redirecting to a very interesting-looking staircase. The stairs lead to a downloading theatre, where lectures were once held. As Chromedome reminisces on his alma mater, Perceptor finds some pieces of equipment that might be of use. Very peculiar pieces, that belong to a teleport system, and certainly not at a place of higher learning.

But Chromedome doesn’t care about that, because he’s just found motherfucking SOUNDWAVE hiding and passed out in a pile of junked computers.

Back at the camp, the Quintessential Flying Fucks are having a meeting about Galvatron. Xenon called and said they’d be improving the Chip, soon as Haxian stopped being grievously wounded. The Fucks didn’t mention Galvatron having escaped, or the Micromaster infestation. With two escapes in as many days, it would really make them look bad.

Then Sevax brings up a really good point: nobody- not one of the prisoners, or Galvatron- has recognized their Decepticon bodies. They’ve seen that they’re Decepticons, but no sense of familiarity, no being called a Cybertronian name, has happened. Just what the fuck were the Fucks before they were Quintessential?

The other two can’t be bothered to care.

Returning to Prowl’s crisis of self, Soundwave’s been dumped on a table, just laying there while everyone argues about what to do with him. Prowl just sort of watches it unfold around him.

Kup, that’s not good gun safety.

Prowl makes the call to revive Soundwave. Kup agrees, much to everyone’s surprise. But there’s a problem! Soundwave needs an energon transfusion if he’s going to survive. A majority of the Autobots just straight-up leave the room at this point, not wanting to give the Decepticon anything. Prowl’s ready to donate all on his lonesome, when a few folks come back to help.

This is why he was dry in MTMTE; too busy giving it all away to Soundwave. The secret fifth Conjunx. Nobody tell Rewind.

Just outside, Kup watches the transfusion begin.

Okay, Kup, whatever. Be inexplicably creepy, I don’t even care anymore.

Credit to u/Araknidude on Reddit for the cursed transformation image.

#transformers #jro #eugenesis #part four #maccadam #Hannzreads #text post #long post #prose writing

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trevorbarre · 4 years

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Some thoughts on Mike Barnes’ new book on early- 70s ‘’Progressive Music’: Part One

I got an early copy of Mike Barnes’ no doubt soon-to-be-essential A New Day Yesterday: UK Progressive Rock and the 1970′s a week or so ago, and have just finished it, so feel the need to reflect on this huge tome, a work that has been long in the waiting. My own immersion in this music lasted from around 1970 to 1972, but Barnes sites it from, essentially, 1969 to 1974. It’s a shame that the author doesn’t make this more clear in the book’s title, as single years marked significant developments and changes in this period, By 1975 and thereon, the seeming fluidity of the early years had ossified somewhat into what became known as ‘Prog Rock’, ‘Jazz Rock’, ‘Art Rock’, ‘Free Folk’ and other fanciful terms, contemporary and retrospective, often proving to be unhelpful and reductive.

First of all, this book is massively researched by an experienced journalist, who has produced what is, so far, the definitive biography of Captain Beefheart, Its factual and descriptive heft is considerable, and it is unreservedly recommended to anyone with an interest in the subject. It coincides with my crucial teenage years, from 14 to 19, and it is wonderful to read a work that should really have been written decades ago. There have been a few books on ‘Prog’ and ‘Fusion’, but none, as far as I can ascertain, on the so-called ‘underground’ British scene that followed on from psychedelia and the more baroque pop music of the late 60s (1966-69). 1966-1979 was arguable the years of the most accelerated developments in popular music since the arrival of Elvis in 1955 (also the year of my birth). Crucially, the music started taking itself seriously, for good and bad, and becoming at the same time ambitious in the extreme at certain points in the story.

If I were to write my own version, I would differ from Barnes in several respects, and these variations, having given the book a more than enthusiastic thumbs-up from the get go, take up the rest of these blogs about the book. Firstly, I feel that there were several precursors, in the 1966-69 period, that deserve fuller exploration and acknowledgment than they get in Barnes. Certainly. at the time, these bands/individuals were seen as critical, subversive (’underground’) facilitators of these forward-thinking (’progressive’) sounds. This list of these below is far from exclusive, some are now mostly forgotten, but most have places in the rock Hall of Fame:

Led Zeppelin: now seen as Heavy Metal in excelsis, but their early albums were a real smorgasbord of invention and risk-taking, most famously the middle passage of Whole Lotta Love, which ‘blew the minds’ of ‘heads’ everywhere in 1969.

The Nice: it’s great to see this important ‘transitional’ band getting full attention in the book. Emerson’s Hendrix-influenced Hammond organ mayhem was a signature live experience at the time.

Guitar mayhem was another thing, and the following three bands featured it abundantly, and all had ‘progressive’ aspects to their studio and live presentation.

The Jimi Hendrix Experience/The Who/Deep Purple - in the frilly-shirted figures of Hendrix himself, Pete Townsend and Richie Blackmore. The late 60s was a great time for Marshall amp providers/repairers (auto-destruction dated as far back as 1967 with the first two). Even a cursory look (not enough room here for further examination!) at the end-of-decade works of these three bands demonstrates their spirit of adventurousness and willingness to move beyond the norms of conventional, three-minute pop tracks.

Cream: should have featured much more in Barnes’ narrative, as they were crucial both to the burgeoning ’heaviosity’ of the new rock, and the co-writing of exceptional baroque pop songs (Badge being just one example).

Black Sabbath: ‘Heavy Metal’ came years later. In 1970, the shtick of their first album, with its occult suggestiveness and cover, put them up there in Aleister Crowley territory (along with the likes of Jimmy Page, Kenneth Anger and Dennis Wheatley).

Ten Years After: now a footnote in history, this band, basically a blues outfit, became briefly a major player, after the Woodstock Festival of 1969. The 1970 album Cricklewood Green features 50,00 Miles Beneath My Brain, a space-rock invocation worthy of Sun Ra. The ‘mind-manifesting’ properties of LSD affected even the most plodding 12-bar exponents.

Chris Welsh was allegedly the first journalist to use the term ‘progressive rock’, in 1967, but said “we didn’t use the term all the time - it was just “current bands”. I have a feeling the phrase was used rather more later” (page 364). It’s almost comparable to, fifty-odd years later, the multi-faceted dance music scene loosely agreeing on the tongue-tripping term ‘Electronic Dance Music’ (EDM) to yoke its disparate elements together.

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mrsrcbinscn · 4 years

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BDRPWriMo Task #28 - Closet

BDRPWriMo Task #28: Your character’s closet! Or, 15 iconic Franny Robinson outfits

1-4. Franny’s (four) wedding dresses

Cornelius and Franny’s wedding was heavily influenced by Cambodian wedding traditions. [read here and here, later I’ll post a full HC post about what Khmer traditions they followed and how, and which ones they forwent - like obviously Neil didn’t pay a dowry for Franny]

A traditional Cambodian wedding is comprised of many ceremonies, music, meals, gifts, and guests lasting for three days and three nights. Cambodians choose the number three because of its relation to “three jewels” of Buddhism: the Buddha, the Sangha, and the Dhamma. So Neil and Franny’s wedding ceremonies lasted three days, only family and close friends were invited to the majority of the ceremonies, with the Actual Wedding and reception happening on day three.

Neil paid for all of her mother’s surviving (post Khmer Rogue years) siblings and extended family to fly in from Cambodia if they’d remained there, or from the other countries they’d been resettled as refugees to. For some of her siblings and cousins, the lead up to the 2002 wedding was the first time Sophea “Sophie” had seen them since before the fall of Phnom Penh in April 1975.

They wore traditional Khmer wedding costume for all three days, but Franny changed into a Western style dress shortly after the first dance.

Day 1

Day 2

Day 3 - The Actual Wedding

Apart from her wedding, she has four aesthetics:

Stage

#vintage

Professional pencil skirts and pantsuits

Dress to DEPRESS

5. Nature Dress

Franny wore this nature scene dress when she accepted her most recent Grammy award.

6. “Who’s This Farmer’s-Wife-Lookin’ Girl?”

... was the first thought Atlanta Jazz Festival 2005 festival goers had when Franny Robinson stepped onstage in a dress and boots straight from her closet.

“I didn’t have things like stylists or sponsored outfits back then,” said Robinson in a 2014 interview. “I’d already made a bit of splash as far as songwriting went; by then I’d had full or partial credit for writing and-or composing twenty-two songs. Mind you, I’d only graduated from NYU with my Bachelors’ in ‘02, and finished my Masters’ in England in ‘04. But as a singer, I had only released an EP and featured on other singers’ tracks. I wasn’t, you know, Franny Robinson yet. The 2005 Atlanta Jazz Festival was the first in a series of test runs.”

When asked why the Atlanta Jazz Festival when she was already living in England at the time, Robinson answered, “Atlanta is my home. The jazz festival was one of my favorite things about growin’ up here, so I wanted to launch my music career here.”

To this day, the outfit remains one of the most iconic Franny Robinson looks. Instagram captions of fans wearing similar outfits often read “channeling my inner Franny Robinson today.”

7. Baby Pink Cherries

In 2009, Franny and her lifelong friend and song-writing partner, bluegrass and folk singer and multi-instrumentalist Daniel Maitland (fc: Martin Sensmeier), formed the duo Dara & Danny.

From an article:

Robinson and Maitland have known each other since middle school, when Maitland moved to her small town outside of Atlanta from Alaska. They started out as fiercely competitive rivals before Maitland proposed they marry their talents and begin playing music together. It was a match made in music heaven.

Even when Franny went to NYU and Daniel went to East Tennessee State [the only university with a Bachelor of Arts degree in Bluegrass, Old Time, and Country Music Studies, which he holds], they remained in steady contact and spent their summers at home playing and writing together. The first few years of their music careers were spent breaking into their respective primary fields - jazz music for Franny, bluegrass and folk for Daniel - and coming together to write music and lyrics for each other.

It was again Maitland who proposed they perform together, this time, professionally.

Dara & Danny, a duo made up of jazz musician and bluegrass musician, flirts with jazz music but is primarily influenced by bluegrass, folk, and indie rock a la Rilo Kiley.

“Dara & Danny is where I get to explore the music besides jazz that made me. I grew up in rural Georgia, bluegrass, country, folk music, that was all around me. And I loved it. I love all music,” Robinson said. “Like, I love hip-hop. My husband got a crash course in Outkast and the rest of the Atlanta hip-hop legends when we started seeing each other.”

The pink cherries dress was worn at the 2010 CMAs when Dara & Danny performed. They weren’t nominated for anything that year, but were super jazzed to have been invited to perform.

Dara & Danny, funnily enough, has been Franny’s most commercially successful project. Meaning, tracks have featured in movies, tv, and its what gets the most radio play. Her work in jazz is more highly critically acclaimed, and she is much more prolific with composing jazz music than anything else, but there are more people who first discover her through Dara & Danny that then find out she’s a world class jazz musician than the other way around.

8. Met Gala 2018

You know, the Catholic-themed one. She wore a dress depicting Adam and Eve.

9. National BIcon Franny Robinson

Franny is known for not changing gender pronouns when she sings songs originally performed by men. Prior to her coming out as bisexual in 2017, Franny dodged the questions by simply saying, “That’s how the song was written.”

In 2018 she appeared in a 1940s aesthetic music video for a song by her friend, fellow jazz singer, and out lesbian Lora Lopez. Franny starred as her love interest. There was seduction, there was making out, there was stealing from men. It was so gay.

The ‘Making Of’ video is hilarious because Lora kept laughing every time she grabbed Franny and kissed her because the first time she grabbed Franny she was like “oh my god I’m sorry, was that too rough?” and without thinking Franny went “you’re good, I like it rough, you can make it real kinky and slap me if you want.” Because that’s the kind of jokes Franny makes. And for like five takes Lora could not stop laughing when she grabbed her and kissed her.

10. Seoul Hanoi’d at Glastonbury 2016

Franny’s second most active music project - apart from her constant solo work - after Dara & Danny is Seoul Hanoi’d, the best pun I have ever made in my life. She is a founding member and co-lead singer of the band. Seoul Hanoi’d is a genre-bending performance group entirely made up of Asian-diaspora singers and musicians whose main careers are in various genres.

[I’ll make a full hc post about Seoul Hanoi’d later, too!]

The name, a pun on ‘so annoyed’ comes from the capital of South Korea and a city in Vietnam. Seoul Hanoi’d currently consists ethnic Korean, Vietnamese, Cambodian, Malaysian, Indonesian, Mongolian, Kazakh, Chinese, Nepalese, and Thai diaspora who rotate out for live shows as their schedules permit. The "core” members are almost all at every performance. Of the core members, Franny is absent the most however, because of her wildly busy schedule. She has a hand in composing almost every original song, arranging most of the covers, writing a huge chunk of their lyrics, and is the common thread between most of the other musicians, so she is considered the leader of the group.

Franny wore this outfit during their set at Glastonbury 2016, their first year performing there.

11. Swynlake Adult Prom 2019

The Gatsby-themed one? That was Franny’s JAM. She killed it with her art deco dress!

12. Postmodern Jukebox

Franny’s been featured in a Postmodern Jukebox video, and wore this green velvet dress.

13. Twinning Pink Ao Dai at a Vietnamese Festival with a Vietnamese Friend

The co-lead singer of Seoul Hanoi’d is a Vietnamese-American named Vanessa Pham. Franny and Vanessa met when they were students at NYU through their involvement with the university’s Asian Student Union. Franny, a jazz studies and musical theater performance double major from Georgia, and Vanessa, an engineering student from Texas, found that they had a lot in common.

They were both the only daughters of war refugees who came to the United States in the 1970s. They were both from the South. Franny even spoke Vietnamese almost as well as Vanessa, as she spent her first four years living with her mother in the home of a Vietnamese couple who’d taken her mother in when she was pregnant with her. In both Franny’s hometown in Georgia and Vanessa’s in Texas, the small Vietnamese and Cambodian diaspora groups were very interconnected, so each other’s culture was almost as familiar to them as their own.

They both liked to put bacon in their cheesy grits and put hot sauce on their rice when their moms weren’t looking. They both loved authentic Chinese food as much as the next self-respectin’ first-generation gal, but they also could put away some crab rangoons because cream cheese was truly king. They both could absolutely destroy their older brothers in a fight. They both knew all the worlds to every Dolly, Tanya Tucker, and Dixie Chicks song, but also found their parents’ old Khmer or Vietnamese music comforting.

Franny could count on one hand the number of other Cambodian students she’d met in her time at NYU, so even meeting Vietnamese Vanessa who knew how to order in hesitant, broken Khmer at the Cambodian restaurant they found was exciting. More than that, Vanessa was hilarious! And smart! And such a good, loyal friend. She had a hidden talent as a singer and wanted to do music like Franny, but her parents made her go into STEM for ‘job security.’

Vanessa graduated with her engineering degree and went on to get her masters’, but after working as an engineer for four years she quit to pursue music. It was shortly after she took the leap that Franny approached her to form Seoul Hanoi’d.

On Franny’s Instagram, there’s a picture of her and Vanessa wearing matching pink ao dai at a Vietnamese culture festival earlier in 2019 with the caption, “Thank you for sharing your beautiful voice, laughter, and culture with me for twenty years and counting!”

“What I love the most about Asian cultures is just how many of them there are.” Robinson said in a 2019 interview. “I love when my Desi friends are like ‘hey! be my plus one at this wedding!’ and they invite me to wear their traditional clothing while celebrating with them. I love learning new Vietnamese phrases from my friends. I’m always so honored when I’m invited to participate in my friends’ cultures, because I know when I invite somebody to Cambodian New Year events, or a traditional wedding, its because I trust them to appreciate this important part of me and participate respectfully. Our cultures are so diverse, and beautiful, and vibrant!”

There’s a similar picture of Vanessa and Franny together at a Cambodian New Year celebration, where Vanessa’s wearing traditional Khmer clothing with Franny.

14. Plaid Dress

Franny wore and performed in this dress at the 2011 International Bluegrass Music Awards when Dara & Danny won the New Artist of the Year, and Song of The Year.

15. That Kickass Outfit

Franny wore this outfit when she attended and performed at the 2015 BRIT Awards, and won Best International Female Solo Artist.

#bdrpwrimomckala #&&...hc

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softmoxymuffin · 5 years

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“Confessions in the Bitter Cold”

i had uploaded this on my ao3 weeks ago but i seem to have forgotten to upload it here coz i could not find it anywhere so im uploading it right now im currently working on chapter 9 and 10 and maybe an epilogue

this is kinda long.. but it pays off with the angst in the end.. thank you for being so patient with me i hope you guys like it

Chapter 1: Check Please

Chapter 2: Airplanes and Automobiles

Chapter 3: Tellin’ the Folks

Chapter 4: Hot Cocoa and Surprise Hugs

Chapter 5: Breakfast Sandwiches

Chapter 6: Learning Experience

Chapter 7: Keeping up Defenses

Chapter 8: Confessions in the Bitter Cold

The next day Seth didn’t really get the time to overthink what had transpired yesterday. That morning he was greeted by his family downstairs in the kitchen. His stepdad was frying up some bacon and eggs, while his mom was making fairly high stacks of waffles for all of them. Over the meal Holly had gone ahead and reminded everyone of tonight’s event. It wasn’t only going to be first Christmas party they would have for the students of Black and Brave but also the first time most of them would get to see 392Dport which was also Seth’s new venture with 392 coffee. Thankfully, she had gotten a catering service to provide the bulk of the food so she didn’t have to do the majority of the cooking but she had tasked herself and Dd to work on a couple of desserts to add to the party. Holly then pointed to Seth, Dean, and Brandon to prepare the coffee shop for the event. Other than Dean playfully pouting about not being able to work with the food, everyone seemed to take their task in stride.

The boys had gone to the coffee shop late that morning. The space had fortunately been cleared for use just about a week ago with all of the basics being more than ready. What the boys now had to do was some cleaning up and set all the tables and chairs accordingly as well as decorate. Holly had also informed them that some of the other furniture she had ordered for the place were supposed to be delivered that afternoon plus some nice flower arrangements. Hefting a couple of boxes of Christmas decoration and a couple of brooms and rags the boys set about to work on the place to get everything ready.

As Seth had gone about cleaning the front and the windows of the building he couldn’t help but look into his new coffee shop and just feel a deep sense of thankfulness. If you had asked him a couple of years ago that he would be where he was right now he would have taken the news with grains of salt. He had always made sure to aim as high as he could and work as hard as than he could. He knew he’d get far if he’d just kept at it but to think that after more than ten years in the business he now has a school to his name and even a small café for his community. Seth couldn’t help but feel incredibly grateful for it all.

He took the time to look into the window he was cleaning. Brandon was busy wiping off the chairs and tables already there. Dean was sweeping up from one side of the open space from the other. At least he was until he took up the broom and started to play with it as if it were a guitar. Some song, most probably classic rock, playing in the background. Seth couldn’t help but laugh at what Dean had consider dancing which was mainly just him wiggling his hips around. It only seemed to get worse when he held the broom to Brandon who then joined in with singing along to the song.

At that point as much as Seth was having fun watching his best friend and brother goofing around, he knew he had to put an end to it. He loudly but gently tapped against the window a couple of times which finally got the two boys to stop and stare at him. He pointed to his watch with a mildly impatient expression on his face as if to say ‘stop fooling around and hurry up’, which only made the two playfully scowl and gave him the middle finger. Looking like he was offended, he huffed an annoyed breath. Putting those two together might not have been the best decision Seth thought, but the two had actually stopped with the dancing around and continued to put the place together.

It took all afternoon but the boys had finished their work a couple of hours before the party was supposed to start. The new furniture had come in on time which was good. They had to assemble a couple of coffee tables and shelves together, which was bad. Thankfully Seth took charge of actually patiently reading the instructions rather than ‘winging it’ as Dean would say. The flowers had come beautifully which they had placed all around. A box of a couple of knickknacks and books to make the space feel homey and warm. They finished it off by putting up a few simple Christmas decorations around. Seth and Brandon opting for putting up the tinsel and Christmas lights, while Dean actually opted to put together artificial tree to one corner where all the gifts would go. Once they were finally done they had stepped back to take a good look and clapped each other on the back for a job well done.

Right as they were putting the cleaning supplies and boxes way, Holly, Dd, and Hector walked in carrying a couple of food containers. Even though Holly had said she had hired a catering services, she seemed to still have found the energy to prepared quite a few desserts for tonight’s event.

“Wow, you did a good job boys!” Hector congratulated them.

“I’m glad you got all the furniture ready, was worried that would come late.” Holly said as she put down the desserts on the open counters. “It looks so good. Thank you boys.” She added with a sweet smile.

“It was no problem mom.” Brandon had replied with a smile of his own.

“No problem for you, you didn’t have to try and translate microscopic Swedish in to English.” Seth huffed with playful annoyance.

“Told you, you didn’t have to.” Dean joked which only made the Armenian more annoyed rather than playful.

“Hey, who put up the tree?” Dd had asked as she walked towards the medium sized, decorated plastic tree in the corner.

“Why? What’s wrong with it?” Dean asked somewhat worriedly.

“Nothing,” Dd was quick to answer. “It’s really pretty Dean.” she reassured before taking out her phone and taking a picture of it.

“You put that up Dean?” Holly asked as she gestured towards the tree.

“I mean, I tried.” Dean shrugged sheepishly.

The plastic tree really wasn’t much. It was mainly bought a week or so ago just to add a festive feel to the café for the party. Holly provided the boys with a box of old Christmas decorations to put on it, not really thinking about it. Now finally seeing it all on there, Holly hadn’t realized.

“I made this in the 3rd grade.” Dd pointed out at a pink and gold glittering cat that hung near the top branch.

As everyone else stepped closer to the tree it was only then that the rest of the family had realized that every ornament on the tree was something homemade from their childhood past. A paper candy cane with Brandon’s name scrawled in red crayon that also said he was only 5 years old when he had made it. A gold star with Seth’s two year old face on it that said it was made on his second Christmas. Bits of memory lovingly put on the tree giving it color and life making the café feel like home.

“Thought I'd stick to the sentimental stuff. I didn’t use a lot of the other ornaments. Didn’t seem like it needed anymore…” Dean explained as he scratched the back of his neck nervously. “…they’re still in the box though if you want me to get them.” Dean offered pointing to the broom closet where they had put the things away.

Holly could only shake her head no as he made long strides towards the young man and enveloped Dean in a giant hug. Her warmth seemed to radiate from her. Even Seth could see that from a couple of feet away, he could only imagine how Dean must have felt.

“Thank you Dean.”

His friend had only gave a sheepish smile back and shrugged it off like it was no big deal.

“Hey, you boys better go home to get ready for the party.” Hector pointed to the wall clock telling them they had just a little over an hour to drive home, take a shower, and get dressed.

The three boys drove back home. All three making their way to their respective rooms to get cleaned up. Seth and Brandon having to fight over their shared bathroom, with Brandon getting there first. It wasn’t until Seth had been waiting for 10 minutes when he realized his parents bathroom was left unattended.

When he finally finished he made his way to his bedroom. There he went through his things hoping to find something somewhat good enough to wear to a party. Not needing to go too formal, Seth finally got a red button down shirt which he paired with black skinny jeans and black boots. He had neatly combed and tied his hair in a bun. He looked at his mirror to check for anything else he might have missed; his shirt was iron, his jeans looked good, nothing in his teeth. He took a couple of sprits of his cologne and walked out of his room.

For the third time this week he knocked on Dean’s door, for once being sure that the other man was on the other side. After hearing a few grunts from inside, Dean finally come out looking fresh himself. Dean was wearing the same boots he had been wearing all day. He changed from his light tattered jeans to a darker and cleaner pair that had absolutely no holes in them. His shirt was a nice fitting olive green button down that hugged his broad shoulders and tucked in his small waist, a waist Seth still sometimes couldn’t believe belonged to the taller and broader man in front of him. Dean’s hair was combed back neatly, his usual curls seemed to behave for once. Overall, Seth thought Dean looked really good.

“Hey, you two match.” Brandon came out of his own room and pointed to their outfits.

The two looked down and realized they did sort of match with the Christmas colors of red and green making them look extra appropriate for the event. Brandon opted for a soft looking blue sweater and khakis. With all three of them finally ready, they were relieved to find out that they had at least 20 minutes before any of them could be considered late.

They hopped in Seth’s car and drove the short way to the café. Entering the coffeeshop was already somewhat full of familiar faces. Some students who had gone to stay home for the holidays had actually traveled back for the party. The nine students who had decided to spend the holidays that the school had arrived as well. The catering came, and all the food was ready. Drinks were being poured. Christmas songs were being played. Friendly laughter and chatter could be heard all around.

Greeting the students and some of their friends and family who they decided to bring along was fun, especially seeing some of them had brought their little brothers and sisters to meet Seth Rollins and Dean Ambrose in person. They had taken quite a few pictures with them. Talked pleasantries with their guests. Seth found himself in a chat with one of his student’s dad’s who wanted to learn exactly how the school operated seeing as his other son wanted to follow in his big brother footsteps.

In the middle of the conversation, Seth couldn’t help but noticed Dean sort of just standing to the sidelines. People were flocking towards him for pictures and autographs, but the more of them came he kind of just stuck to leaning against the far off wall getting out of other’s way. The younger wrestler was tempted to cut the conversation short to check on his friend. Fortunately, Holly seemed to have seen the same thing and approached Dean offering him a plate to eat. It was comically sweet seeing a 5’3, 50 year old woman seemingly protect the 6’4, 225 lbs. man from his all-too-friendly public. Seth breathed a sigh of relief as he watched Dean take the plate and went off to eat somewhere further away from the crowd.

Dean was not exactly the party animal the public thought he was, at least not anymore. Seth was indies around the same time as Dean and he had heard the stories about him. He heard of drunken debaucheries from Ohio all the way up to the east coast. He heard of his drug use during his time in Puerto Rico. He heard Dean as Jon Moxley almost like a myth, the general people not really knowing how to deal with him and his ways. The crowd ate it up.

Nowadays, Dean was calmer. He knew how to have a good time but knew how to keep it to people he trusted. He knew how to get along with tons of people, but also had a damn good bullshit meter that could sort out those who were genuinely interested in him and those who wanted something from him. He had given up the drug use, for that Seth was sure and was thankful for. He had lessened the drinking considerably. Dean was calmer and was taking better care of himself, instead of having absolutely no regard for his body. But after all that, Dean Ambrose was not anyone you would consider a wall flower.

With a sudden halt to the Christmas music, the familiar warm and maternal voice rang through the café.

“Hello everybody and Merry Christmas” Holly greeted, which was met with applause and a couple of toasts from the crowd. “As all of you know this is the first ever Black and Brave Wrestling Academy Christmas Party. This is a time for everyone involved in the school to come together to celebrate and give thanks to what this first year has brought us… Honestly, if anyone had ever told me 30 years ago that I would be helping run my son’s wrestling school I would never have believed you.” The crowd laughed and applauded appreciatively for their adopted mother. “-But if I did give the news a chance and believed you than I would not have any doubt that the son who would be hardworking enough, determined enough, and passionate enough to be able to build that would be my son, Seth Rollins.” She ended her little speech by pointing out Seth and motioned for him to come up on the platform to say a few words.

“Thanks mom,” he said with a small kiss on her cheek. “Merry Christmas everyone. First of all I’d just like to thank each and every one of you who came down here. It has been a very eventful couple of months for us. Building this school had been a dream of mine for many years. I wish I could say I had been dreaming of it 30 years ago, but that just wouldn’t be true… The truth many of the things I have done were never planned outright. I had dreams but targets like the school, and this café, and the achievement’s I’ve garnered over the years were mainly me just taking as many opportunities I can take and doing the best I could with them, and I have been blessed.” The drop in Seth’s voice was noticeable and had a couple of his students cheer him on to continue.

“But as much as I am blessed by all of these things, the biggest blessings I have in my life would be them.” Seth then pointed out to his family who were standing by the sidelines. “I would have nothing without any of you. Absolutely nothing without your love and support and understanding. You made my dreams your dreams. You made my efforts to be yours as well. You’ve patiently waited for me on this crazy journey and went ahead and walked down this difficult path with me. For that I am always so grateful…” Seth voice cracked then took a deep breath before composing himself to continue. “Mom and Dad, thank you for everything.”

Seth then raised his glass in the air. “To my family; both blood-” he motioned towards his family. “And not-” he had moved to gesture towards where he had last seen Dean but only saw the seat he left behind. But before his confusion could be noticed he turned his glass towards the crowd and recovered. “-thank you everyone, enjoy the rest of your night.” He along the rest of the people took a sip of their drinks.

While the crowd had smiled and moved to give each other hugs or went back about to their business, Seth couldn’t help himself but frown as he stepped of the platform. He was greeted by his smiling parents. His mom giving him a hug and a kiss on the cheek. His dad giving him an encouraging pat on the back. Both his siblings giving him hugs, Brandon teasing him for almost crying in front of everyone. It was a happy moment for him, but something held him back.

“Had anyone seen Dean?” he asked, doing his best to keep his worry at bay.

“He was just-” Dd had turned to where the other wrestler had sat earlier, only to see what Seth had seen from the platform. “He was just here.”

“I hadn’t seen him leave.” Hector reassured his son.

“Wherever he is I’m sure he’s alright.” Brandon offered.

“I know where he went.” A familiar young voice had spoken up.

Seth had turned and was greeted by the face of Jesse, one of the students from the academy. He looked a little different with the swept back hair and glasses, but still easily recognizable.

“I ran into him when I was going out of the bathroom.” He explained. “I think he went out back onto the deck.”

Seth gave a slight smile for a thank you before he had made his way to where the young man was pointing. One of the features Seth was looking forward to regarding the coffeeshop was a nice outdoor deck overlooking the river. From there you were able to see the school and even a glimpse of his home on the other side. He had opened the back door and was unpleasantly greeted by the December cold.

Just as he was about to close the door again, he had spotted a glimpse of the man he was looking for. He was standing leaning against the railing eyes towards the freezing cold river. He had nothing else on except for his shirt and jeans. The sight made Seth turn back around to put on his coat and grab Dean’s as well. Before he went ahead and opened the back door again, Seth found himself trying to calm himself down, like he was psyching himself out before a big leap. Why exactly he felt the need to do that he wasn’t sure, but it made opening that door a little bit easier for him.

He quietly approached the other man. His back hardly even shivered under the harsh cold. For a split second he feared getting the other man’s coat for him was not something he might have wanted. But that second passed and Seth didn’t care whether Dean would take it or not, he was going to put on his damn coat.

“Hey,” he called out. The other man slowly turned towards him. “You forgot this.” He raised his coat open and without telling him putting it over his broad shoulders. Thankfully the other man had wordlessly slipped it on, like it was a forgotten after thought.

Seth copied Dean’s position; facing towards the river and his arms crossed on the railings. Neither man looking at the other in the eye, but a silent acknowledgement was there. It felt like how they were in the ring. Even if they didn’t have a clear view of each other, they seemed to know exactly where the other one was.

“They really liked the Christmas tree out there.” Seth pointed out, thankfully made the other man smile.

“I’m guessing you haven’t spotted that one ornament with that baby picture of you butt naked on your living room carpet.” He answered.

“What?!?!” he Seth was sorely tempted to run back inside only to look for that offending decoration but was stopped by his friends laughter. After an exasperated sigh Seth turned back towards the other man and sarcastically said; “Haha, very funny Ambrose.” When his words only garnered a shrugged from the older man Seth felt the need to ask again. “You’re only joking right?”

“Nope,” he answered with that ‘p’ sound popping from his lips. “But it doesn’t have your name on it, so maybe you could get away with saying it’s actually Brandon.”

“How do you know it wasn’t?” the Armenian countered.

“I’d recognize that pale ass anywhere.” He joked with a giant grin on his face.

“That's disturbing,” he replied and his best to look serious but when he saw Dean’s face trying to hold back his laughter, Seth himself lost it.

The laughter died down and the cold didn’t seem to bother Seth as much as it did minutes ago. A comfortable blanket of silence fell over them. It was easy to just be quiet with Dean, but Seth knew he couldn’t have it easy. Not now.

"Seriously though, they loved the Christmas tree, mom especially." he nudged the older wrestler with his shoulder.

"It was nothing." he answered with a small smile. "It was kinda nice. Hadn't put up a Christmas Tree like that like ever."

"What do you mean?" he asked.

"We weren't that big on Christmas growing up. Dad was out of state. Mom was working nights. My sister tried to cook for us two, but we never saw the point of having a tree without presents. So, we just never had it." he explained simply. Seth feeling sad for younger version of Dean having to go through that, but oddly happy to have him finally open up to him.

Maybe it would be a mistake, but Dean gave him an in so Seth decided to take the leap.

“That why you left?” he asked cautiously.

Dean sighed but then shook his head. “You were having your thing with your family and your kids… I don’t know… just didn’t feel right to be there.”

“Dean, you’re a part of this too…” Seth reassured him, which only made the other man laugh but with no humor.

“I’m really not… I mean this is the very first time I’ve ever been here. I’m basically just passing through.” He pointed out with another noncommittal shrug.

The thought of Dean thinking that he was some sort of drifter in Seth’s home made his heart ache.

“Dean, none of this would have been possible without you.” Seth reassured the other man, who again laughed humorlessly. “I’m serious… You think I would have gotten as far as I had and as fast as I had without your help? Dean, before you came to FCW I was more than ready to jump ship off to TNA. I felt like the only indie shmuck out there in the sea of baby oiled body builders and football players.” That finally got the other man to smile. “Then when we got the call for The Shield… I couldn’t have asked for any better partners than you and Ro. Like I don’t think that would have gotten as far as it did with anyone else. Then when we had to break do I need to remind you who gave me my push?” he asked.

The rhetorical question making the other man pause remembering what happened that night almost 5 years ago.

*flashback*

They had just come from a successful night from Payback 2014. All three were riding high entering the arena for Monday Night Raw until they were called to the office. There in Vince McMahon’s office, barely an hour before the show started, they were informed that The Shield was to disband that night. It was a complete shock to the three of them and the urge to object died on their lips once Vince had said it was non-negotiable.

All three sat there in disbelief as Vince, Hunter, and Stephanie as well as some people from creative were there to explain what exactly was going to happen tonight. They shared their plan to have Dean Ambrose, being the most experienced and seemingly the leader of the group, to betray the group by landing a couple of chair shots on both Roman and Seth from behind.

It was the middle of this meeting when Dean was bold enough to actually speak up.

“No,” Dean said, his face expressing his deep thought.

“What do you mean no?” Hunter asked angrily, “You heard what Vince had said, this is non-negotiable.”

“No,” Dean repeated. His boldness making Seth’s hair stand on end. “Not about the break… but about me.” He added which got confused reactions from everyone else in the room. Dean then leaned forward as if he was about to share some secret with the room. “I can’t turn heel…” he spoke as if he were pointing out the obvious because; “It would be too fucking obvious.”

That caused the people in the room to raise their brows in surprise. Roman even turning his chair to look at his best friend in the eye like he was crazy. Seth just looking on wanting to listen to other any other alternatives at this point.

“Don’t you see?” Dean asked the room before he stood up to make his point. “I’m already the heel of the group. For those who knew Moxley then they’d know how much of an asshole I was and expect it. For those who’d only known me as Ambrose everyone knew how much of an asshole I’d been in this group…” he proceeded to remind them of what has transpired over the last couple of months. “I’m unstable. I’m a lunatic. I’m a loudmouth, power hungry, asshole… of course I’d turn heel.” He pointed out almost sounding like he was ready to agree with them only to turn a sharp left. “Which is why I can’t, it’s too easy.” He added as he crossed his arms and casually leaned against the conference room tables, like he wasn't making a multi-million dollar company move to his whim. Everyone else quieted down not knowing what to do with Dean’s information.

“So…” Hunter was the one to break the silence. “What do you propose?”

Dean took a thoughtful look around the room. Suspiciously eyeing his bosses and the companies creative team. His eyes only somewhat softening when they fell on Roman and Seth. His sight shifting from one to the other. His eyes having a intensity that made the other two shiver in their seats.The gears in his head moving with unspoken ideas.

“Seth should do it.” He finally answered after a long pause.

“What?!” the rest of the room exclaimed, along with Seth himself. Roman just sitting there in shock at the words he was hearing.

“He’s the one that makes the most sense.” Dean continued, “I can’t do it because it’s basically what everyone already expects. Roman can’t do it coz, let’s admit it, you’re pushing him for the face of this company and we can’t have him turn heel,” he directed to Vince accusingly.

“Seth,” Dean sat down and moved his chair closer to him as if he was imparting important wisdom. “You’re the quiet, evil mastermind. Of course you’d be the first to betray us. You’re whole character had been building us up to break down everything in our path. You’ve been put up as the brains of the operation… it wouldn’t make sense for you to not see me turn on you. What makes sense is you turning on us… I mean… no one would ever believe it. No one would ever believe that you could do that to us. It would fucking shock the world.”

Seth just sat there listening to Dean’s words. Words that were soft enough to touch him but almost sharp enough to hurt. Deep down he knew Dean was making sense, but the thought of it scared the crap out of him. Could he really?

“Dean, You do know what you’re suggesting here, don’t you?” Hunter again broke the silence, his question only met a casual shrug of agreement from the wrestler. “You are suggesting that we redirect a push tailor made for you to someone else entirely. You are throwing away an opportunity to make the biggest noise in the company to date; to cause the break in The Shield. Do you have any idea what you’re giving up?” Hunter asked him as if he were truly a lunatic and not just a character he played.

“If I did it, then I’d be wasting the biggest push the company could ever give on a shitty outcome anyone could have easily seen from a mile away. I’m not throwing the opportunity away, I’m trying to make it stick.” He explained. “And it will… if you have Seth do it.” Dean pointed to Seth like he was the answer to every question.

Another tense and pregnant pause fell over the room. The team not knowing exactly what to do. Whispers going back and forth from writers, angrily blaming each other for not thinking this shit through. The silence was finally broken, but not by Hunter.

“I like it.” Vince finally spoke with a clap. “Be ready by 8.” He instructed everyone. “And you!” he pointed to Seth alone. “Don’t screw up.” he warned before motioning for everyone else to leave his office.

Once outside and away form earshot Seth grabbed Dean by the arm and made him turn towards him.

“Dean, what the fuck were you thinking?” Seth asked without waiting for an answer. “You just threw away your shot.” Which again only made the other man shrug and purse his lips like it was nothing. “Is this a joke to you?” he finally asked angrily.

Roman was about to step in to calm the situation down but was stopped by Dean’s hand to his chest silently telling the other man that he could handle this.

“Seth, there is no other way to do this.” He answered plainly. “As much as I hate it. It’s best to end on the top. No one will see it coming… and definitely no one will see it coming from you of all people. Like I said, nobody is ever gonna think you could betray us.” he added with a comforting hand to Seth’s shoulder.

“But your shot.” Seth repeated.

“I’ll get another one.” He again shrugged it off, but Seth finally saw how genuine it actually was.

“Are you sure?” he asked again, knowing full well that when Dean Ambrose wrapped his mind around something it would take heaven and hell to pry it out of his grasp.

Dean only smiled softly at him and spoke “Like I said before-” He then leaned in close to whisper something in his ear “You’re the only one worth fighting around here.” He added his smile growing big and as he clapped the man on his back right before he had made his way to their locker room

***

That was 5 years ago, but the memory was still fresh in Seth’s mind. The generosity Dean had showed him all those year ago. The skill. The experience. All of it. Dean was like no other. Like had had said earlier in his little speech, he would like to think he had gotten this far this fast by himself, but being honest with himself he would never have gotten this far without Dean.

“You changed my life Dean…” he said.

“Seth, you are incredible. You’re talented. You’re hard working. You’ve taken every obstacle that’s ever faced you and threw it out of the way.” He pointed out. “You could have easily gotten here without me. No problem.” He spoke with a certainty that was almost as frigid as the cold.

Seth looked at the man standing in front of him. His voice rougher than usual. His eyes droopier than they normally were. His body slouched over a bit more than before. This was not Dean, not him completely. Dean was tired, Seth couldn't believe he never noticed it before.

“What happened to you?” he asked out of nowhere, his question making the older man stop and stare at him in confusion. “What made you come here Dean?” he asked more clearly this time. The question only making the other man turn away not being able to look at him in the eye.

“You have been running around all over the place since you got here. Never stopping. When you weren’t helping me, you were helping mom cook. When you weren’t doing that you were heading to the hardware store for something for my dad. When you weren’t doing that you were going off shopping with Dd. Then fixing this place up, cleaning with Brandon and putting up the tree in the middle of the café. Then before all this you had driven more than 12 hours straight just to get here after you had just landed at home in Vegas…” all the worries and fears Seth had been feeling for his friend over the past couple of days finally spilling out of him in torrents. The dam of social niceties finally breaking from the deep need to know what was going on with his friend. "What made you run?"

When Dean still refused to look at him in the eye, Seth raised both his hand in defeat not knowing what else to do and started to walk backwards to leave the other man to retreat shamefully back inside.

“I got robbed!” he finally exclaimed, causing Seth to stop in his tracks and turn back towards him more confused with the answer than he should.

“I got robbed.” Dean repeated defeatedly, with something else sounding very foreign for him that Seth couldn’t pin. “I got back thinking I’d come home to my house in the desert and my girlfriend waiting for me.” He explained. “Instead, my house was ransacked. My TV, refrigerator, and microwave gone. My furniture just also gone. The only things left was my bed, some clothes, in the few memorabilia I had kept from before.”

From everything Seth was expecting to hear, this was nowhere near to it. He stood there next to him, watching him as he spoke his frustrations to the night air, not able to look at Seth directly. That’s when Seth realized that unfamiliar hitch in Dean’s voice was something he never really heard before; shame.

“Why I drove all the way out of here? I don’t really know. God knows it’s not the first time I’ve ever been robbed. Just the first time I had stuff truly worth robbing.” He bitterly laughed at his own joke. “I was only supposed to drive to the police station to make a report. That was it. But the second I got back in my car after that, the thought of going back to my sad and empty house just fucking broke me. I couldn’t. So I turned the other way and drove as far as I could. I didn't care where.”

“For most of the drive I was trying to convince myself that it was a misunderstanding.” He began to talk with his hands, wildly gesturing the way he usually would when high on emotions. “I was willing to believe it was anything; a biker gang, a cult, damn aliens, but it wasn't. I reached Nebraska when the cops called back.” He paused to look down sadly and made a fist angrily, swallowing the urge to hit something. “They found Melanie trying to pawn my stuff along the strip, with her husband.”

‘That bitch!’ was what Seth wanted to say but bit his tongue, not wanting to stop the other man from finally spilling everything he had been hiding.

“My so called girlfriend and her husband, had been forking my shit all over town since I left.” He added. “I fucking gave her the keys to my place. I practically fucking invited her to rob me, like a dumbass.”

Again, Seth had wanted to say something, hating the self-loathing coming from the other man, but controlled himself until he needed to.

“I don’t even know anymore what I’m bitching about.” Dean said frustratingly. “Like I said, it’s not like it’s the first time I was ever robbed. It’s not like it’s the first time some girl just ended up using me and tossing me aside. It’s not like it’s the first time I came home to an empty house.” His voice sounding so defeated.

Dear God, Seth wanted to say something.

“I just thought it would be different, you know?” he asked rhetorically. “All those times before. In a different life. I had just accepted it all making up excuses; I was robbed because I lived in a shitty neighborhood with people low enough to trade their grandma for weed and coke. I was used coz maybe even though they told me they liked how tall I was, and how blue my eyes were, or how deep my dimples were. I was still trailer trash to them, maybe good for a good time but not for anything more. I was betrayed coz let’s be honest who would stick around with a coked up junkie teenager who was obsessed with professional wrestling.” He spoke about himself with such hate. “I mean the drugs were bad enough, but have me be a dumbass only good at fighting and getting hit, how the fuck was anyone ever supposed to stick to that.”

Seth’s heart was aching for him. He wrung his hands constantly like he physically had to stop himself from speaking.

“Then it all started to come around.” He finally started to speak with an inkling of hope in his voice. “Got signed to WWE. Got put in a stable with you and Roman. Getting the matches and screen time anyone in their right mind would fucking dream of. Like I had finally made it.” He spoke with a sad smile. “And yet, shit like this still happens.”

“This happening to me again and again; even outside Cincinnati, even after getting clean and mostly sober, even with the job, even with the fancy house, and the six figure salary. Even after all that, and this shit still happens.” He seemed to be at a lost for words, fearing what he was thinking of saying next. “It gets a guy thinking you know; Maybe it wasn’t the neighborhood. Maybe it wasn’t the drugs. Maybe it wasn’t the local skanks I had blamed. Maybe it wasn’t the job or the paycheck. Maybe it wasn’t the lack of success, nor fame, nor common sense that did me in.”

“Maybe it was just me…” heartbroken voice just aching out of him. “Maybe I’m the fuck up. Maybe, just maybe… I was just never supposed to have anything good in my life for myself.”

‘That’s not true,’ Seth wanted to say.

“Maybe I’m just destined to be a sad and lonely fucker who dies alone in the middle of the desert.” He spoke with such sad resignation.

“No,” Seth finally spoke. He stood right next to him until their sides met.

Seth’s warm hand reaching down to find Dean’s and intertwining them in a strong grip he did not want to let go. Dean’s eyes turned as he followed the sight of their hands clasped, his face growing in confusion. Questions dying on his lips once Seth put his free hand against Dean’s winter bitten cheek, feeling even warmer against his cold skin.

Seth just couldn’t listen to another word. Not one more hateful comment Dean could make about himself. All the other words Seth had wanted to say died out once he came face to face with him. It was then he had realized no words would ever be good enough to tell him what he felt.

He inched closer and closer until their noses met. Seth's hot breath against his lips. Just as Dean was finding the words to ask, Seth answered before they could leave his mouth. His lips sealing them from ever being uttered. Soft and chapped and a little dry, but Seth could honestly say he’d never had a kiss meant so much to him. He wanted to drown all the words he had said just now; every hateful and angry word towards himself, and replace them with nothing but good. He wanted to pour every ounce of comfort, and care, and warmth, and good, just plain and simple good in this kiss.

A simple tentative touch of the lips slowly grew. Every turn of Seth’s head towards him wanting to taste him deeper. His mouth opening for him wanting Dean to fill his mouth with whatever good could muster out of himself, wanting to prove it had always been there. Their beards causing a delicious friction to grow between them. Their tongues practically feeding each other muffled moans. Dean tasted like mint and wine and warmth, Seth never knew and never wanted to stop. He had let go of his hand but only to have his hand wrapped around the nape of neck. His fingers meeting soft curls. Winter be damned. He didn’t wanted to let Dean go. Never.

It was Dean who let go.

Seth felt a soft push against his shoulders. It was so sudden, Seth’s lips were still puckered and wet from the kiss when he was forced to make space between them. His eyes slowly opening. Warm and worried brown met confused and concerned blue.

“Seth, what was that?” he asked, voice on the edge of conflicting emotions.

“I-” Seth lost his words in all his thoughts. His hand that was still wrapped around Dean’s neck were also being pushed away. “I-”

“Seth, what-” Dean struggled with his words as if they were also lost I the confusion. Stepping away from him. “Why did you kiss me?”

“I…” he started to answer but couldn’t find the words. He couldn’t find the exact words.

“Seth?” Dean asked once more.

“I just-” Seth started. “I couldn’t- I couldn’t let you…” Dean’s face growing even more confused. “I couldn’t listen to you talk like that anymore.” He said sadly.

The way Dean’s face dropped, he knew those were not the words he had wanted to hear.

“So, I say some sob story and now you’re all over me?” Dean’s voice growing in anger coming from somewhere Seth didn’t know.

“No, Dean…” he tried to reach out to him but was only brushed off.

“So what is it then?” Dean asked. “What changed?”

“I-” Seth again having difficulty finding the words. “I don’t know…”

Dean’s face falling even further; from confusion, to anger, to sadness. “You don’t know?”

“I don’t…” Seth tried to speak.

“You don’t know?” he asked. “You really don’t know?” Seth could only sadly shake his head, not knowing what the other man wanted to hear. “Coz something must have changed…” he added.

“What do you mean?” he asked back.

“I mean, you’ve never wanted to kiss me ever before.” He pointed out. “Now suddenly you do? Just like that, out of the blue? No reason why? What?”

“Why does there have to be a reason why?” Seth asked desperately.

“Coz I’ve been in love with you for 8 years!” he finally confessed. “You have never wanted to kiss me. You had never even looked at me twice.”

Seth froze. The chill of the winter night seemed to have seeped into his bones along with the desperate confessions of the man in front of him.

“I was never an option to you. I was never anyone like that to you before. Like ever.” His voice defeated and confused. “I was just crazy Dean with the jokes and the stories and the flirting and a good time. That's all I was. I was never… I mean, you never took me seriously before. You never wanted me before. You never could. Why would you?”

‘Was that how Dean really saw himself in Seth’s eyes?’ Seth was desperate to pull Dean in an show him how wrong he was.

But again Dean pushed him away.

Before Seth could try and reached for him again, Dean turned towards the back door opening letting the warm glow of the inside out. There stood Holly with hugging herself tightly as she called the boys inside before the cold got worse.

Seth couldn’t care less about the cold.

But Dean took the opportunity and ran out. Seth went and followed him. Through the crowd, Dean seemed to just blend in as he gently pushed people aside with a couple of quick ‘excuse me’ and muffled ‘sorry’. Somehow blocking Seth’s own way through the crowd to catch him.

It was when a fan tried to pull him for a photo when Seth saw Dean’s quickly retreating form go out of the front door.

Seth as quickly but as gently as he could got through the rest of the crowd to go out the same door needing to catch up to him. But once he got outside in the cold winter night in the middle of the intersection in front of the café, Seth had no idea where Dean had ran off to.

His dream and his nightmare coming true all in one night.

‘Dean was in love with him.’ The realization ran through his head unbelievably. ‘Dean has been in love with him for 8 years.’ How had he never seen it. Suddenly, a flood of all their times together in the past came rushing through him. Every late night talk. Every day off spent together. Every fight. Every drive. Every disagreement. Every day. Every night. Every word.

Dean had always been there to give him everything, and he never noticed.

How could he have never noticed?

#blagamuffin writes stuff #check please series #ambrollins #ambrollins fanfiction #dean ambrose #seth rollins #ambrollins falling in love #love confessions #christmas time coz i write so fucking slow it hurts #fanfiction

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Ideally, a customer request is going to be solved the very first time round. Segmenting your emails will say that. Compare how you describe yourself to the way that your customer describes you.

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