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inawearyworld · 4 months

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free if you truly wish to be: chapter iv

shit goes DOWN. as y'all have probably gathered. bc. yknow. the plot of the movie. but first there's a song yayyyyyyyyy

2023!wonka x oc, this chapter ~2.5k

god, i love musicals.

(edit: realized after posting that i was looking at the wrong page of the screenplay while writing this and therefore royally screwed up the song structure of a world of your own but it’s fiiiiiiine)

once again, thank you mat for that interview taking a typical one-dimensional dahl villain and letting him be a more complex character. also i should probably throw a content warning on this one for depiction of a slightly abusive relationship

but i promise everything's gonna be okay soon-happy new year everyone!!

part three fic masterlist part five

While going through a time of personal growth involving trying to unravel one’s identity from that of one’s rich and powerful husband, it often happens that there are advantages to said husband being wrapped in worry over a new business rival-and, therefore, spending far more time at the office.

Wren’s favorite advantage at the present moment was that she was the only one to watch the mail come in.

Deep purple stationery was the signal she looked for-and steadily received, then returned with her own emerald letters-every day. The notes included scrawled updates regarding the operation to allow the earnest young chocolatier his day in the sun, anecdotes about the group of launderers that supported it (who she’d snuck out to meet often enough that they now felt like a second family), tales of a mysterious orange man, and exchanges of advice, witticisms, and Shakespeare quotes.

The handwriting was inexperienced, and there were more than a fair share of spelling errors toward the start of their correspondence, but she didn’t care a whit.

We’ve got the shop, Willy had written one day. For now, the task is digging through its decrepit debris and designing its decoration. (The credit for those words goes to Noodle-she says hello.) There are so many possibilities, I barely know where to start.

Start with the “why”, Wren wrote back. That’s what I always do. If there’s a piece I’m struggling to sing and I lose motivation to practice, I go back to the reasons I love the piece, even all the way back to the reasons I love the arts in the first place. Maybe there’s something in there for your shop-what made you want to share your chocolate with the world? (And hello to you too, Noodle!)

My dear Wren, came the reply, you’ve just given me the best of ideas.

He told her then about his mother and the inspiration she provided. Wren would be lying if she’d said a tear hadn’t fallen onto that particular letter.

As for how to keep him safe from the Cartel, police, and every other corrupt authority, Wren did her part by becoming Florence again whenever necessary. She acted less suspicious around her husband, leading him to be less secretive-although the gain in information was miniscule, it was better than nothing.

Felix’s rages would range anywhere from tittering, jealous rants to scheming monologues during which his whole being seemed to take on a lower, darker, more calculating tone. She’d listen carefully to all of these, tactfully calling out anything that might get him to consider he was wrong, but that had little to no effect.

Plan B, then, she’d realized, is all I can do.

So, whenever Felix seemed particularly incensed or just on the verge of coming up with how to destroy his rival, Florence would swoop in with wine and dark lipstick and a low-cut dress. She’d endure being his caged pet songbird, his doll, his perfect plaything, only because she had the growing feeling that things were about to change.

If Willy’s shop becomes successful enough to be completely undeniable, maybe the Cartel will finally acknowledge him as an equal. Maybe I’ll finally be seen as an equal, too. Maybe things will finally be truly fine.

So, night after night, she’d sit on her husband’s lap, twirl his tie, and kiss his neck until he’d forgotten the name of Wonka.

The same could not be said for her.

Due to just how glamorized she always had to be while in public, it didn’t take much to come up with disguise enough to be able to visit the new shop on its opening day.

With a fluttering sense of hope, Wren approached the fourth building of the Galeries Gourmet, blending in seamlessly with the sea of soon-to-be-wonderstruck passers-by. She cast a few nervous glances to the window of the Fickelgruber office, at which the man stood in his usual stance. There was no chance, though, of his recognizing her trademark ginger flame amongst the crowd; it was safely tucked under a dark, low-brimmed hat.

This could have set her mind at ease, but the fact that he looked even more smug than usual as he surveyed the ground below him made her nervous.

Did they plan something?

She was distracted from this worry by a sudden flash of color at the long-empty shop’s door. Willy Wonka stepped through, looking more himself than she could have ever imagined. He addressed the crowd with a flourish, and she marveled at his ability to combine showmanship with authenticity.

He took a skeptical older man’s arm, leading him to the shop’s entrance, and began to sing.

All at once, the shop transformed before all of their eyes, flooding with color, and the music settled into a sparking pulse that thrilled Wren to the core.

Willy grinned, fully in his element, and the doorway went dark. Gloved hands presented chocolate wonders as their creator sang them into existence. When he lit a match, the store seemed to come alive, and Wren gasped.

If his letter was anything to go by, the sight he had created was an homage to his childhood on his mother’s boat, brought to life in a way nearly too beautiful to be true.

Willy and the other man danced up a bridge of sorts as his song continued, proudly offering his shop as a world for each of his customers to call their own. Overtaken and lifted by the enchanting environment, Wren squealed with the rest of the crowd and ran into the shop, ripping the hat from her head and allowing her auburn curls to tumble freely down.

She threw her head back and laughed aloud. Her lack of makeup, and plain blouse and skirt replacing the usual emerald-colored finery, gave her assurance that she wouldn’t be recognized here; this was the closest thing she’d experienced to liberation in a very long while, and she relished it, along with the sweetly simple soar of Willy’s voice across his song.

When she looked up at him again, he was sitting on the boat that floated on the circling chocolate river, and she noticed he’d already been staring with a sideways grin. As the bassline that came from nowhere launched into a rollicking chromatic vamp, he tipped his hat to her, and she gave an enamored wave.

The second verse passed, and suddenly he’d reached her, extending a hand which she took without a second thought. He helped her onto the boat, then pulled her alarmingly close, but before she could say a thing about it, a cloud of smoke appeared around them.

Wren blinked and realized that she and Willy were now at the base of the massive chocolate tree in the center of the shop.

“How did you-”

But he only smiled and started to dance his way up the tree.

“A world of your own,” he sang, then gestured an invitation straight towards her.

This’ll be easy enough, she thought, nearly bursting with joy.

“A place to escape to,” she continued, running farther up the tree to meet him in the middle. His expression filled with awe upon finally hearing her sing, and they began a whirling back-and-forth.

“A world of your own-”

“-where you can be free!”

“Wherever you go, wherever life takes you…”

“This is your home,” she sang to him, twirling herself into his arms and beaming with pride. He’s found it-he’s created it.

“A world of your own,” they finished. He looked at her for a moment, seeming struck, then kissed her hand and disappeared through the branches of the tree to continue with the song’s bridge. She let out a dazed and happy breath, taking a moment to let her gaze roam the shop from her perch in the chocolate tree.

She didn’t know what would happen next, but she’d be damned if she wouldn’t let herself enjoy this moment.

What did happen next was…as an understatement, not what any of them had hoped.

She wished she could say it was a complete surprise, and she wished she could have done more to stop it. The candy started having disastrous effects, the customers understandably balked, and it was clearly not Willy’s fault in the least. In a blur, the shop was in ruins, and Wren sat in shock with the little group who’d worked so hard to make it magical.

The candyman himself was devastated; not just by the massive setback, but by the absence of his mother’s spirit. Wren and Noodle sat by his side, but Abacus ushered them up. It broke Wren’s heart to think of leaving him like this-if the truest and most trusting dreamer on Earth can be broken down, where’s the hope for the rest of us?-but she somehow still felt she had to follow the group out.

She felt a hug around her waist and a held-back sob, and looked down to see Noodle clinging onto her. Wren immediately knelt to her level and hugged the girl close, finding it hard now to keep back her own tears.

“Terrible shame what-”

“Florence?”

Slowly, she opened her eyes, her breath dropping to the floor.

Slugworth had spoken first, a smooth and practiced opening to what would have turned into a gloat. The voice that had interrupted him was genuinely shaken and clearly belonging to her husband.

“I’m sorry,” she whispered to Noodle, who nodded. “You can go, you shouldn’t have to see this-”

“Florence,” his voice came again, at a loss. She took a breath, stood up, and faced him with tears in her voice.

“Hi, Felix.”

Silence.

Slugworth looked with growing puzzlement between the woman and the girl, and Felix could only stare at his wife with dawning realization.

“You’ve been working with him,” he said simply, every usual quirk of inflection having vanished.

For a moment, the wash crew surrounded her in an attempt at a shield, and she heaved a breath to keep back a sob-of fear, of gratefulness for these friends that had become family over the past weeks, of everything suddenly crashing down.

“I’ll be okay,” she said quietly to the wash crew and perhaps to myself. “You all should go. Like you were going to. I’m sorry.”

They didn’t move.

She looked at Piper, whose worried hand was on her arm. There was an unspoken vow of protection between the women in that moment, but Wren’s eyes pleaded, so Piper nodded sadly, took Noodle’s hand, and the group left.

Wren was almost afraid to look at Willy, but she did; the boy was staring at the old chocolate bar in his hands, looking as if he could barely process a thing.

The sympathy in her gaze must have been far too obvious, because she suddenly heard footsteps, felt a hard grip on her wrist, and gasped in pain as it was yanked up and backwards.

“Darling,” Felix hissed with a sinister edge, though his voice was breaking, “I don’t know how or why this betrayal-”

“Betrayal?” she finally cried out, breaking free from his grasp as Willy rushed between them. “You lot have just poisoned dozens of innocent people, all for a business rivalry, and I won’t-”

“If you want your family not to starve, you had better lower your voice,” he barked.

Every speck of air seemed to leave the room.

“...My family?”

“I may have been distracted enough for the past weeks to ignore the mail that came in and out of our house, but I had not always been that blind. I thought your compassion to be an incomprehensible gesture, but I let it slide. When I felt like it.”

…They haven’t gotten everything I’ve sent.

They haven’t-

“In fact,” he continued, “it served as what was almost a pleasant reminder of the truth. For your family, for your stupid dream, and for your sweetly dependent soul-you need me.”

“If you knew I was poor, why didn’t you say anything?”

“Because it’s the same way for me!”

This was the peak of what had been a building explosion, and this was the moment in which they both remembered there were other people in the room.

“What?” the four besides him breathed, almost in unison.

“Oh, you heard right,” Felix launched into speech, the characteristic gestures starting to work their way back into him. “I came from nearly nothing, just the same. But I did what I had to do to climb to the top. I cast them all away, left my old life behind completely, and I suppose it was a foolish hope to think my wife would do the same. But she-but you-you are nothing but a guileless, deceitful bleeding heart.”

“I…”

Tears blurred her vision.

“I am…genuinely sorry that you felt you had to hide your past, but that doesn’t excuse trying to make the rest of the world match your insecurity and fit your little chocolate mold. And if that makes me a bleeding heart…I’m proud of the title.”

For a moment, the man looked as if he would allow his wife’s words to affect him.

Then his face, normally so expressive, turned completely cold.

She’d lost him.

She’d never truly had him to lose.

But she looked at Willy, and she thought of the wash crew, and she realized she finally had a truer support system. And if she could try to start over, find some other way to earn money to send to her family without interception, and some other way to reach the dreams that felt so far away at the moment, she knew Felix would be wrong: she didn’t need him.

After a long silence, Slugworth cleared his throat.

“Get her out of here. We have business with Mr. Wonka.”

What?

Her and the younger man’s eyes widened, and they grabbed each other’s hands on instinct, but a small number of policemen came around the corner of the shop door at Slugworth’s order. They clamped hands on her shoulders and dragged her away from Willy as the Cartel stood silently and watched.

“Wait-wait, no, I-”

“Wren-”

She struggled, fought, kicked, but was forced into the backseat of a police car-

“Let me go, you corrupt bastards-”

“Wren-”

“Let me-”

“Just drop her somewhere in town,” Felix said coolly. “Somewhere that isn’t my home.”

“WREN!”

The car door was slammed, and the last thing she saw was the Cartel advancing on a dazed Willy, opening a suitcase of cash.

All she could do was scream, and the scream turned into a cry.

They did indeed drop her somewhere. She burst out of the car the second it had stopped, and the officers drove away without a word.

Sick with worry and trying to regain her breath, she looked around, almost fainting with relief when she saw the laundry building. Piper, having heard the commotion, stood outside, and they looked at each other for a moment before Wren fell sobbing into her arms.

This is not over.

#fiytwtb #wonka movie #wonka 2023 #wonka #willy wonka x reader #timothée chalamet #timothee x reader #timothee chalamet fic #timothee chalamet fanfiction #timothee chalamet #wonka x reader #timothée chalamet x reader #wonka fanfiction #wonka fanfic #mat baynton #mathew baynton #mathew baynton x reader #mat baynton x reader

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gaeilgeoirgay · 3 years

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Posadh Eagraithe

This was one of the most popular oneshots of my Pride series so I hope you enjoy it :)

Ao3 Link

Summary- Din's Council want him to get married. Except Din is aromantic and he's not interested. Enter Boba Fett.

Din sighs as he settles himself in the council chambers. The throne is surprisingly comfortable, which he appreciates when the meetings drag on. The meeting today is about an offer they’ve received from the New Republic- namely, whether or not Mandalore as a whole will join them. He knows that they joined the Old Republic when the dar’manda New Mandalorians were in charge, but he doesn’t personally think it would be a good idea for the new Mandalore they are building. He serves his people though, and it will be their decision.

The Clan and House alor’e file into the room and take their designated places. Din had learned the hard way that seating had to be assigned carefully after the alor’e of Clan Onyo and Rau had started a fist fight with each other. Twice. In ten minutes.

Din straightens and waits for everyone to take their seats. The Armourer is at his right and he bows his head slightly. He may be Mand’alor but she is an Armourer. More importantly, she is the leader of his tribe. “Su cuy. I have given you a week to speak with your aliit about the New Republics offer. Today, we will decide what to do based on their answers. Alor be Skirata. What have you decided?” Din says, wasting no time. “Clan Skirata votes to not join them.” Kal Skirata says. Din nods and moves on to the next clan.

It appears his people share Din’s opinions. They’re overwhelmingly in favour of staying out of the New Republic. “Alright, we’re not joining the New Republic. What do you propose we do about them?”Ketsu Onyo asks and Din sighs again. He likes Ketsu but she has a knack for asking questions he doesn’t have an answer for. “I’m not sure yet, but we definitely shouldn’t slam the door in their faces. I’m open to ideas.” He replies anyways. “Like you said, Mand’alor, we should keep our options open. How about an alliance? As narudar, until the Empire is completely rooted out. Or for things like hyperspace lanes or goods we don’t already have access too.” Sabine Wren suggests. Din definitely likes Sabine. She’s whipsmart and always has good ideas that are actually relevant to the conversation. Unlike some people.

“The Republic is worth nothing to us! We have allies already- the Tattooinian lanes are open to us, Sorgan, Nevarro and Stewjon supply us with food and we can take care of the Empire ourselves.” Bo-Katan snaps. There it is. “Yes, we do, However, the New Republic is currently the largest political alliance in the galaxy. We have our own political alliance but it’s easier if they aren’t our enemies. There’s no point in making them turn against us, when they don’t generally affect us.” Din says patiently. He doesn’t know how he hasn’t started his own fistfight with Bo-Katan Kryze. He admires his self-restraint sometimes.

A gleam enters Bo-Katan’s eyes and Din pales beneath his helmet. She’s stopped trying to challenge him physically for the throne but he knows its only because the rest of the Mando’ade have sworn to him. “Well, how will the Republic trust us? Our Council isn’t elected and we technically live under an oligarchy. The Republic practices democracy and as far as they’re concerned, you’re ruling alone without any other Mando’ade having the same social and political power that you do.” She says smugly. Oh no.

The only person with the same status as the Mand’alor is the Rid’alor. Din is aromantic. He has never planned on finding a riddur, maybe just finding someone who would raise ade with him, but without a romantic relationship. If Bo-Katan suggests herself as rid’alor, then dignified king or not, Din will throw himself out the window.

Fenn Rau picks up on the implications too and traditional bastard that he is, decides it’s a great idea. Sabine and Retsu seem sympathetic but they’re outvoted. “Alor’e, I understand that we must appear balanced to the Republic but I am sol’karta. I have no need for a riddur.” Din says, a final objection. That softens a few alor’e but Bo-Katan remains unremoved. “You’ve got a week to pick someone, Djarin. Then the Council will choose. They have to be Mando’ade- we’re trying to show them we’re united.” She says, voice hard. Din ignores the technical disrespect and finally just agrees. If he can pick, maybe he can ask another sol’karta Mandalorian.

Suddenly he gets an idea and grins. He has the perfect person in mind.

Boba yawns behind his helmet as court finishes up. Ruling Tattooine is exhausting. His comm buzzes and he discreetly checks it. It’s Din so he motions Fennec to take the throne for a few minutes and leaves to answer it. “Hey Din. How’s ruling Manda’yaim going?” He asks. Din also seems exhausted. “Meh. How’s Tattooine?” Din replies in turn. “Same old. What’s the comm for?” Din and him chat often but this wasn’t expected. “You’re aromantic, right? Same as me.” Din asks and Boba blinks, taken aback. First of all, he didn’t know Din was aromantic and second of all, why ask?

“Yeah, I am. Why do you ask?” Boba says, genuinely curious. The smile spreading across Din’s uncovered face is downright wicked. “The Council, more specifically Kryze, want me to marry another Mandalorian to show a united front to the Republic. Pretty sure that Kryze is gunning for Rid’Alor if she can’t get Mand’alor. I’ve got a week to pick someone or else the Council chooses.” Din says, the smile turning slightly maniacal. “And you thought of me?” Boba double checks.

“Yep. You don’t have to agree but I thought it over. They cant disagree on the basis you’re not Mandalorian, because you are and the Republic knows that. You’re also a fellow king/ruler so it strengthens our alliances. Your buir and ba’buir were both Mand’alor at some point so it shows that I have the support of my predecessors allit. You’re also aro so I don’t have to worry about my spouse wanting a romantic relationship. We’re already good friends so it won’t change much and my son loves you. We actually like each other so its not an unhappy arranged marriage.” Din hesitates in his list before he quickly adds his next pro.

“If we want to add sex into it, I think you’re hot and I wouldn’t mind. That part depends on your opinion though. And possibly the best part- Bo-Katan is going to have a heart attack and Han Solo will have to pretend he doesn’t hate you at diplomatic functions because the Republic doesn’t want to make Mandalore mad.” He finishes. Boba’s surprise has turned to genuine mirth. Din has clearly thought this out, and it makes sense. Boba isn’t exactly averse to sleeping with Din either- he can admit that the beroya is very attractive. "I'll set my course for Manda'yaim then. See you soon, cyare.”

Din is completely right. Kryze looks like she's just eaten several lemons at their riddurok and her face lands itself a spot in Boba's cherished memories. Din is also very experienced when it comes to the bedroom and Boba enjoys himself thoroughly. The best part to their marriage, however, is at the Republic's ball to celebrate their new alliance with Mandalore.

Han Solo does a doubletake when he sees Boba and he spits out his drink. Leia Organa comes over to talk to Din and Solo looks like he’s barely restraining himself from shooting Boba in front of half the galaxy’s politicians. Boba makes sure to be a perfect gentleman, the very picture of a Rid’Alor and Solo’s veins nearly explode.

All in all, he thinks he likes this friends-with-benefits things. The benefits just happen to include pissing off Han Solo, pissing off Bo-Katan Kryze and most importantly, his and Din’s respective Court’s will never nag them about spouses again. Manda, Din is a genius. Even if marrying him means Boba occasionally has to coax a toddler off the ceiling.

#aromantic din djarin #aromantic boba fett #bobadin #the mandalorian #anti bo katan kryze #sort of #din definitely doesn't like her

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mandalorianbrainweasel · 3 years

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Older Boba/That One Cadet?? I like that very much!! How about a first kiss? :3c

Thank you for prompting this because it made me look up his name. Jax! His name is Jax. I love him. I'm sorry for what I put him through in this.

They're like fifteen and this didn't go how I expected, they took over. As you'll see by the word count.

a taste of wasting time

T. Boba/Jax. 1580 words. Inspired by every summer camp I've been to, but the kids have actually been taught weapon etiquette which unfortunately includes the Bullying. Dumb teenagers, mean kids, Boba's potty mouth, survival training but fun, mushrooms, first kiss.

Boba likes the nights on Concord Dawn.

Staying back on Mandalore, in Sundari, is fine. That’s where most of his family is. Para and their riduure, Paz, Kix and Fox, Sati’bu, Ba’tat Arla, the Babas.

He loves his family and he doesn’t really feel a desire to be spending all his time in the Slave I for another couple years straight and he doesn’t really ever feel like spending more than a couple weeks up here with the Mereel side of the family.

And he’s not even here with them, right now. Out of all of the family members he’s stuck with right now, it’s Omega. Sure, a few of the counsellors for the training camp are clones, and more than a few of the other verd’ike are clones, but that doesn’t mean a lot. Most of the other clones that Boba even knew before Para’s quest were Alpha class or Commandos. A few others he’d seen, yeah, but no one is really family-family instead of clan-family.

He’s in a squad with two other clones and three kids from other clans. Omega is off with her squad, well away from Boba, and it’s funny how a training camp that they were both at is the only time in the last two years that he’s gotten space from his sister.

He pokes at the fire in front of him, mostly occupied with staring at the sky while his squadmates are off setting up camp. He got teased for being the spoiled one and how this was probably all he could do.

Omega would probably have tried to take their faces off with her teeth.

He’ll show them, later. This is their first night in the wilds and he’s a damn good shot and Be’baba has been running him through training almost every day since Ursa Wren dragged him to Mandalore. And that didn’t stop after he got his first beskar, like he knows some of the other clans do, leaving training to the Academy clubs and these training camps.

He doesn’t know about what the other clones will have been used to since leaving Kamino, but he knows he’s been shooting and camping long before they ever got to.

“Oh, hey, you got the fire going,” one of the other clones in his squad says, dropping down beside him. It’s the one with the red tint to his hair—Jax—instead of the one who has her dark hair buzzed low—Vril, he thinks.

“What, think I couldn’t even manage this?” he asks, glancing at him derisively.

Jax shifts uncomfortably.

“You didn’t,” he realizes, furious.

“You like in a palace,” Jax points out.

“And you either live in a really nice apartment or on a clan compound,” he points out. “I learned how to start a survival fire when I was four. And I learned how to cook on a fire a couple years later when Buir decided I wasn’t going to fall into a soup pot.”

Jax snorts and covers his mouth before he breaks into giggles.

“Seriously, my squad last year wasn’t nearly as” mean “shitty.”

Jax at least ducks his head, ashamed.

“You do realize I live with my ori’vod, right? The Mand’alor? Do you really think they’d leave me defenceless and unable to take care of myself? We may be a family, but shit happens to everyone.”

“Hey,” Vril shouts, “Stop yelling at Jax.”

Boba and Jax both swivel their heads to her and Boba.

Well, Omega is preferable right now. Even if she might insight a feud over this. And she’s still a last ditch place to go. This area of Concord Dawn is pretty safe for someone wandering on their own.

He tosses the stick into the fire and heads out into the trees, strolling until he’s far enough they won’t hear him break into a run, angry tears prickling at his eyes. He wants the Lieutenants, and Para and Mij and Fordo and Ven’ti, and the Babas. He wants people who don’t want to see the worst in him. He remembers Korkie talking about this kind of thing, when Boba first started going to the Academy. Hell, he remembers stuff like this himself from his first months there.

He makes himself another fire when he comes to another clearing and has made sure none of the animal tracks around it are the kind of things that would bother him or be bothered by him. No tent, but he’s slept without a tent or a sleeping bag plenty of times.

Maybe an hour has passed when he hears more human-like footsteps, and he unholsters the blaster he brought—not one of Buir’s blasters, not for a few more years—and fires a warning shot.

The bolt of plasma sends a tree branch cracking down, and a clone yelps.

He doubts it’s Vril.

He sighs and reholsters the blaster. “I’m this way,” he calls, making another skewer of friendly-familiar mushrooms he’d found around here and setting it at the edge of the fire while he grabbed his own from where it had been roasting.

Jax steps through, rubbing his head. There’s a little scratch on his cheek that looks like it might bruise. “Hey. You...really got far out here. I don’t think I’d have gone this far.”

He shrugs. “I’ve always had to be kind of alone.” He peeks a mushroom off of the top of the skewer and pops it in his mouth.

Jax stares.

“There’s more,” he points out, motioning to the pile he’s made and the roasting skewer. “Wait for it to get brown, though.”

“Oh, uh. Okay.”

Again, Jax sits next to him.

“Sorry about, uh. All of that. I set her to rights about what we’d been talking about. The others, you know, they didn’t believe you?” Jax laughs hollowly. “They told me to come get you back because they’d get in trouble if you died out here, and Vril was too stubborn to come apologize.”

“I’m not going back until in the morning, then,” Boba decides, smiling as he eats another mushroom. “Let them sweat. I have my comm and I was going to ping our counsellor soon. Probably my ori’vod, too. Need to tell some member of the family, but if I tell my sister she’s liable to commit homicide. If not get her squad to join her.”

Jax laughs and finally it sounds like something that he’s letting himself be fully amused by.

Boba averts his eyes and goes back to munching, but he picks the skewer he set for Jax up as soon as it’s hitting the perfect shade and passes it to him.

Eventually, Jax eggs him into an actual conversation, and they chat about education modules—though Boba doesn’t mention his are for university classes. They give a report to the counsellor who agrees with Boba’s decision to let them get anxious with a kind of vicious smile that makes Boba wonder what happened last year. When the counsellor commends Jax for avoiding getting drawn in by bad influences, he really wonders.

But he doesn’t ask, not when Jax looks so beat up about it.

The next morning, after a night where they’d doze until an alarm warned them to check the fire, then doze some more again, they head back to their squad’s initial camp, after bagging up the rest of the mushrooms that they don’t eat for firstmeal.

When they get to the camp, they watch from the woods as the counsellors are scolding the rest of the squad about losing two members and how they’re going to have to send out a search party! Now why would those two have run off, hmm? Did this have anything in common with last year, hmm?

Jax finally has enough and Boba shrugs and starts whistling as they head into camp, the bag of mushrooms over his shoulder.

“Hey, Ordo, I got some of those mushrooms you like,” he tells the counsellor who had been in charge of his squad last year.

She grins, pushing the other young teens out of the way and going for them. “I don’t get how you always find these, Fett’ika! Seriously. I should never have told you they were my favorite, now you have bribery available.”

He sticks his tongue out at her.

“Anyways,” she adds, “We’re adding you two to Squad Beta. It’ll be fine.”

Boba raises an eyebrow. That squad is one from the above year. “If you say so.”

“Saxon’s in charge of them,” Ordo adds with a roll of her eyes.

“Oh, yes, then it will be fine,” he agrees.

Jax looks between the two of them. “Really?”

“Yeah, Aden’tra likes me best,” Boba says.

The rest of the camp goes fine, though Boba doesn’t find out what happened to the rest of his first squad of the year. They’re all packing up to leave when Jax takes him aside, then knocks him back into a tree and kisses him.

“I, uh, sorry. I hadn’t really said that. About the first night,” Jax says, looking down as Boba stares, shocked at him. “I, uh. Really like you. I’m sorry, if that was, uh!”

Boba kisses him this time, then grabs his comm and types in his code. “That’s me. You can ping me whenever.”

“Boba!” Aden’tra hollers. “Come on, Korkie promised to make the fritters if we get back before nightfall!”

He snorts. “I gotta go. Send me a message, okay?”

“Yeah,” Jax says, “Okay.”

#my fanfiction #prompt fill #star satin #Boba Fett #clone cadet jax #look they're very dumb #and I love them very much #after this Boba malfunctions and stops being smooth but that's after Jax can't see him

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papermoonloveslucy · 3 years

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TOO MANY HUSBANDS

April 21, 1947

The Gulf Screen Guild Theater present Wesley Ruggles’ Too Many Husbands, which was a 1940 Columbia Pictures release.

Produced and Directed by: Bill Lawrence

Music by: Wibur Hatch

Synopsis ~ Vicky Lowndes (Lucille Ball) loses her first husband, Bill Cardew (Bob Hope), in a boating accident in which he is presumed drowned. The lonely widow is comforted by Bill's best friend and publishing business partner Henry Lowndes (Frank Sinatra). Six months later, she marries him. Six months after that, Bill shows up, after having been stranded on a uninhabited island and then rescued. Vicky has a tough choice to make.

The Screen Guild Theater (aka The Screen Guild Players), was one of the most popular drama anthology series during the Golden Age of Radio. At this point it is being sponsored by Gulf Oil. From its first broadcast in 1939, up to its farewell in 1952, it showcased radio adaptations of popular Hollywood films. Many Hollywood names became part of the show, including Bette Davis, Bing Crosby, Clark Gable, Judy Garland, Frank Sinatra, and many more. The actors’ fees were all donated to the Motion Picture Relief Fund, an organization that provides aid to retired actors. Screen Guild Theater was heard on different radio networks, beginning with CBS from 1939 to 1948, NBC from 1948 to 1950, ABC from 1950 to 1951, and back to CBS until its last episode on June 29, 1952. Throughout its run, a total of 527 episodes were produced.

The radio show brought movies to radio for thirty minutes each Monday evening on CBS. The show aired for 242 programs beginning with “Yankee Doodle Dandy” starring James Cagney and ending with “My Reputation.” In between were all time classics such as “Casablanca” with Humphrey Bogart and Ingrid Bergman, “Sergeant York” with Gary Cooper and “Holiday Inn” with Bing Crosby, Fred Astaire, and Dinah Shore.

The Screen Guild Players previously broadcast an adaptation of “Too Many Husbands” on March 8, 1942 starring Hedy Lamar, Bob Hope, and Bing Crosby. On September 4, 1944 yet another version was aired by the Players, starring Donna Reed, Frank Sinatra, and Bill Goodwin.

Too Many Husbands (1940) was produced and directed by Wesley Ruggles, with a screenplay by Claude Binyon. The film stars Jean Arthur, Fred MacMurray and Melvyn Douglas, and is based on the 1919 play Home and Beauty by W. Somerset Maugham, which was retitled Too Many Husbands when it came to New York. The story is a variation on the 1864 poem Enoch Arden by Alfred, Lord Tennyson. In the UK, the film was released as My Two Husbands. The film was nominated for an Oscar for Sound Recording. Too Many Husbands was remade as a musical, Three for the Show (1955), with Jack Lemmon and Betty Grable.

Two of the film’s background players, Bert Stevens and James Conaty, were later seen in as extras on “I Love Lucy.” Sam McDaniel (brother of Oscar-winner Hattie McDaniel of Gone With the Wind), plays a porter, just as he will do on “I Love Lucy,” becoming the first black actor to have lines on the series. Star Fred MacMurray will appear with Lucille Ball in “Lucy Hunts Uranium” in 1958.

RADIO CAST

Lucille Ball (Vickie) plays the role originated in the film by Jean Arthur. In April 1947, Ball was awaiting the release of two films: Lured and Her Husband’s Affairs.

Bob Hope (Bill) plays the role originated in the film by Fred MacMurray. Hope had just released the film My Favorite Brunette. Hope and Ball would do four films together, staring in 1949 with Sorrowful Jones.

Frank Sinatra (Henry) plays the role originated in the film by Melvyn Douglas. Sinatra had just released the film It Happened in Brooklyn on April 7, 1947. Primarily a singer, this is the only time he acts opposite Lucille Ball.

Truman Bradley (Announcer) was selected by Henry Ford to be the announcer for the “Ford Sunday Evening Hour”. With his distinctive, authoritative voice, he soon became a radio actor as well as a narrator in numerous movies. Bradley was the radio announcer for shows by Red Skelton, Burns and Allen, and Frank Sinatra.

Peter, the Butler is played by an uncredited performer.

‘TOO MANY’ TRIVIA!

The title is easily confused with the title of Lucille Ball’s radio series “My Favorite Husband,” and her films Too Many Girls, and Her Husband’s Affairs.

Lucille Ball also appeared with Screen Guild Players in “Tight Shoes” (April 12, 1942), “Nothing But the Truth” (May 3, 1943), and “A Night To Remember” (May 1, 1944).

From late 1942 to July 1947 Lady Esther Cosmetics sponsored the show which had been previously sponsored by Gulf Oil. It was first known as the “Lady Esther Presents the Screen Guild Players” and then became "The Lady Esther Screen Guild Theater.”

As is his penchant, Hope ad libs during the script. While hugging Vickie upon his return from the ‘dead’, he says “Let’s just stay like this till ‘Take it or Leave It’ comes on the air!” “Take It or Leave It” was a radio quiz show, which ran from April 1940 to July 1947 on CBS. It switched to NBC in 1947, and in September 1950, the name of the program was changed to “The $64 Question.” Hope often flubs his dialogue, but covers with comedy.

Bill (or maybe it is Bob ad libbing) mentions Dorothy Dix. Author Elizabeth Meriwether Gilmer (1861-1951) was widely known by the pen name Dorothy Dix. As the forerunner of today’s popular advice columnists, Dix was America’s highest paid and most widely read female journalist at the time of her death. Her advice on marriage was syndicated in newspapers around the world with an estimated audience of 60 million readers.

Bill (or maybe it is Bob ad libbing) wonders why Vickie married Henry: “Did you lose a question on “Truth or Consequences?” “Truth or Consequences” was a game show originally hosted on NBC radio by Ralph Edwards (1940–1957), although it also was later seen on television.

Bill (or maybe it is Bob ad libbing) says that the mattress on the bed that he and Henry have to share feels like it has been stuffed with Grape-Nuts. Grape-Nuts is a breakfast cereal developed in 1897 by C. W. Post. Post originally developed the product as a batter that came from the oven as a rigid sheet, which was then broken into pieces and run through a coffee grinder to produce the "nut"-sized kernels.

The first commercial break advertises Lady Esther’s four-purpose face cream. In these live commercials, the spokeswoman in known as Lady Esther, although she was not the actual Esther Cohen that the cosmetics line was named for.

Bob Hope ad-libs about his “Pepsodent contract”. Hope hosted “The Pepsodent Show” from September 1938 to June 1948. The program also featured Jerry Colonna along with Blanche Stewart and Elvia Allman as well as a continuously rotating supporting cast and musicians which included Desi Arnaz and his orchestra.

Henry tells Bill he should leave and join the Foreign Legion. Bill replies that he’ll meet him halfway by going to the library and reading Beau Geste. Beau Geste is an adventure novel by P. C. Wren, which details the adventures of three English brothers who enlist separately in the French Foreign Legion following the theft of a valuable jewel from the country house of a relative. Published in 1924, the novel has been adapted for the screen several times: 1926, 1939, and 1966.

Henry asks Bill (Bob) if he can spell “pithecanthropus" and defines it a the missing link between man and ape. Bob (Bill) replies “C.R.O.S.B.Y”! Bing Crosby was a singer that partnered with Hope on dozens of films, particularly their “road” films. In April 1947, Crosby had just appeared in a cameo role in Hope’s newest film, My Favorite Brunette. By the end of 1947, The Road to Rio will be released. Coincidentally, in the 1942 Screen Guild production, Crosby played Henry, the role taken here by Sinatra.

Just before Vickie breaks it to Henry that she’d rather be married to Bill, Henry (or maybe it is Crosby) sings “Time After Time” (1946), a romantic ballad by Sammy Cahn and Jule Styne, written for Sinatra to introduce in the 1947 film It Happened in Brooklyn, which had premiered two weeks earlier. In return, in the very next scene, Bob Hope warbles a few notes of “Thanks for the Memory”, his signature song.

At the end, Lucille Ball thanks the Motion Picture Relief Fund and it’s country house. In 1940, Jean Hersholt, then-president of the Motion Picture Relief Fund, found 48 acres of walnut and orange groves in the southwest end of the San Fernando Valley to build the Motion Picture Country House. The dedication was on September 27, 1942. The Motion Picture Hospital was dedicated on the grounds of the Country House in 1948.

The final commercial, once again delivered by ‘Lady Esther’ is for Lady Esther Bridal Pink Face Powder.

‘TOO MANY’ CLOSING CREDITS

The announcer (Truman Bradley) promotes next week’s program, Stork Bites Man, starring Jackie Cooper, Anita Louise, and Gus Schilling.

Stork Bites Man was a United Artists film that would not be released until June 1947. It also starred Cooper and Schilling.

Columbia Pictures is credited as the producer of The Guilt of Janet Ames, starring Rosalind Russell and Melvyn Douglas. Coincidentally, Douglas starred in the film version of Too Many Husbands.

The music was arranged and conducted by Wilbur Hatch, who also did the same for “My Favorite Husband” and “I Love Lucy.”

Lucille Ball appeared courtesy of Metro Goldwyn Mayer, producers of The Sea of Grass starring Spencer Tracy, Katharine Hepburn, and Robert Walker.

Bob Hope appears through the courtesy of Pepsodent, and can currently be seen in the Paramount picture, My Favorite Brunette.

Frank Sinatra appears through the courtesy of Old Gold cigarettes, and can currently be seen in the MGM musical It Happened in Brooklyn, also starring Katharyn Grayson, Peter Walker, and Jimmy Durante.

The announcer reminds listeners that part of the country goes on Daylight Saving Time, and that the show will be heard one hour earlier.

#Too Many Husbands #Lucille Ball #Bob Hope #Frank Sinatra #Radio #Screen Guild Players #1947 #Lady Esther #Wilbur Hatch #Dorothy Dix #Truth or Consequences #Pepsodent #Time After Time #Bing Crosby #Beau Geste #Grape-Nuts #Take It Or Leave It

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elliemarchetti · 4 years

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Red Queen Pride and Prejudice AU (Part 2)

Part 1

Masterlist

Tag list (if you want to be tagged in all my work or only a specific fandom/fic dm me or write an ask): @lilyharvord

Words: 2164

That Miss Skonos and Miss Barrow should meet to talk about the party was perfectly obvious, but the attentive invitation Wren received from Miss Samos and Lady Haven was a real surprise: her gentle manner increased the two's goodwill towards her, and although her mother was considered unbearable and some of her friendships, including Gisa and Tramy, not even worthy of mention, the feeling of wanting to get to know better both her and Mare was openly expressed. Wren received this attention with great pleasure, but Mare still saw arrogance in their behavior towards everyone, barely mitigated in the presence of the homeowner, whose admiration for Wren, reciprocated, was more than evident, although the younger had noticed with pleasure that it wasn’t likely to become public knowledge, since Wren combined a great intensity of the feelings with a composed temperament and a uniform cordiality in the manner, which protected her from impertinent suspicions. Mare talked about it with a dear friend, Miss Farley, the daughter of a colonel discharged after a bad wound that had practically made him blind in one eye.

"Maybe in this case it can be positive", Diana replied, "to be able to hide it from other people, but sometimes to be so wary has its drawbacks. If a woman hides her own affection with the same skill to the one who is the object of it, she can lose the opportunity to conquer him, and it’ll be a very poor consolation to think that the world is equally unaware. We’re all free to start a slight preference, is more than natural, but very few of us have such feelings that they really fall in love without being encouraged. Nine times out of ten, a woman would do better to show more affection than she feels. It’s indisputable that Samos likes Wren, but he may never express more than that if she doesn't help him do so.”

“But she’s helping him!” exclaimed Mare.

"Remember he doesn't know her the way you do, therefore he may not understand it," the other wisely suggested. Although Diana wasn’t married, she always had good advice, whether it was sentimental, about family or neighborhood disputes, and the suggestions she was giving her, if it hadn’t been the romantic Wren she was talking about, would’ve been really good; although closer in age, Mare's two closest friends were very distant in terms of social class, and couldn’t be more different in character, which made the idea of organizing a cognitive meeting that wasn’t a social event of extended dimensions, a folly.

"Well," Diana said, "I wish Wren with all my heart to be successful, but if she married him tomorrow, I believe that she would be as likely to be happy as she would be studying his character for a year. Happiness in marriage is just a matter of luck: as much as two people can know each other thoroughly previously, or have similar characters, that won’t affect their happiness in the slightest, as they will always find something later that will divide them. Maybe it's better to know as little as possible the defects of the person with whom

you’ll spend the rest of your life, or we’re all destined to die alone.”

Both girls burst out laughing, and in the hilarity of the moment, it was far from Mare's mind to be in someone else's thoughts; General Calore had barely admitted at first that she was pretty, and at the ball he had looked at her without any admiration, as it had happened in their subsequent meetings, where he had done nothing but criticize her with his friends. But as soon as he convinced himself that her face barely had any nice features, he began to find that her intelligent dark eyes were able to render her expression beautiful, and although his critical eye spotted more than one symmetry flaw in her physique’s proportions, he was forced to acknowledge that she had a lean and pleasant body, and those discoveries had only been followed by others, equally embarrassing. Of all this, she was completely unaware; for her he was only a man who made himself unpleasant everywhere and didn't think she was beautiful enough to invite her to dance. Yet he began to want to know her better, and as a first step towards a direct conversation, he paid attention to her exchanges with others. This way of doing caught the girl's attention, and while they were at the Skonos’ house, where a large group had gathered, she spoke to her friend about it.

"Why was General Calore listening to my conversation with Colonel Farley?"

"It's a question that only he can answer," replied the other, "but if he does it again, let him know you're noticing his strange behavior."

Mare took her friend literally, and the girl soon found herself forced to distract her from teasing the poor young man, who seemed incredibly uncomfortable, inviting her to play and sing for the little gathering. Following her performance, it was her sister who took her place on the stool in front of the piano, and though the youngest of the Barrows had neither genius nor inspiration, vanity had provided her with determination and a pedantic and presumptuous way of doing things that made her get everything she wanted. Mare had been listened to with much more pleasure, although her voice didn't sound so good, but Gisa, at the

end of a long concert, was still pleased to obtain praise and gratitude from everyone, except for the General, who had remained in indignant silence for that way of passing the evening, which completely excluded conversation, and was too busy with his own thoughts to notice having the owner of the house next to him until he started talking.

"What an enchanting pastime for young people!" the man exclaimed, looking at the couples, including his daughter and Mr. Samos, who had started dancing. "On the other hand there is nothing like dancing; I consider it as one of the main refinements of civil society. "

"Of course, sir; and it also has the added bonus of being in vogue among the least civilized societies in the world. Any savage can dance. "

The man just smiled, as if he had realized something that was obscure to Cal, an attitude that annoyed him immensely, but never as much as his attempt to make him dance with Miss Mare, who seemed to have no intention of giving him the honor, despite his good disposition. Her reluctance, however, hadn't hurt her in the eyes of the gentleman, who was thinking of her with a certain satisfaction when he was approached by Miss Samos.

"Can I guess the subject of your reverie?" she asked, turning her gaze to the room and covering her thin, pale lips with a glass.

"I would say not," he replied, sardonically.

"Let me try: you are considering how unbearable it would be to pass many evenings like this, in such company, and I absolutely agree with you. I was never bored that much! The nonsense, plus the noise; the nullity and the importance that all these people give themselves! What would I give to hear your comments on them! "

"Your hypothesis is totally wrong, I assure you. My mind was engaged in more pleasant things: I was meditating on the great pleasure that two beautiful eyes can give. "

Miss Samos immediately stared into his face, and asked him to tell her who was the lady who had the merit of inspiring such a reflection. Cal replied intrepidly, mentioning Mare's name, but had to quickly placate his friend's sarcasm and remind her that he hadn't forgotten their agreement, if only not to attract too much attention. Unfortunately, the General couldn’t suspect that he had been overheard by the young Gisa, who, returning home, reported everything to her sister just for the sake of hearing the malice that her mother would’ve expressed towards that man so cold that he hadn't even bothered to compliment her performance.

"From the way I hear you talk, you must be the silliest girl in the neighborhood," her father retorted. "I had suspected it several times, but now I'm convinced. "

Gisa was so disconcerted that she almost began to cry, and it was only her mother's intervention, and the subsequent quarrel between her and her husband, that allowed her to reach her room undisturbed. As for Mare, she listened, since her father's opinions were always well thought out, and certainly more reliable than those of her mother or even her brothers.

"From what you say, those two have been friends all their lives, and even their parents were friends before them, so it wouldn't surprise me if they secretly agreed to get married, if they were left without a partner for too long,” Mr. Barrow decreed, putting an end to the discussion, at least aloud, as his words reverberated for days in his daughter's mind, until the importance of the news was outclassed by a letter that came directly from the Hall of the Sun: Wren had gone on horseback to a lunch with Miss Samos and Lady Haven, but she had been surprised by a thunderstorm and now remained a guest of the Samos until her indisposition, which consisted of a severe sore throat and a pounding headache that had barely allowed her to write that note, had passed. Seriously worried about the matter, and despite her father arguing that she was going to be fine, Mare had decided to visit her, even though, with the ground made extremely muddy by the rain, making the carriage completely unusable, and given her ineptness as a horseman, she was forced to go by foot.

"How can you be so foolish?"asked her mother, rhetorically, " You won’t be presentable once you get there!”

"I'll definitely be presentable to see Wren, which is all I want," she replied, and Gisa's objections were to no avail since she was even supported by Shade and Tramy, who were willing to visit the Farleys, who lived right off the street. It was just dawn when the trio left the house and took the road to the Hall of the Sun, but as soon as she separated from her younger brothers, Mare continued along the shortcuts she remembered from when she was a child, walking briskly through field after field, climbing over fences and leaping puddles with agile impatience, eventually founding herself in sight of the house with sore ankles,

muddy socks and a face that shone, warmed by the exercise. She was ushered into the breakfast room, where all the residents, except for Wren and Mr. Lucas, were gathered and where her appearance caused a huge surprise; that she had walked three miles so early in the morning, in all that mud, and alone, was almost unbelievable to the two young ladies, and Mare realized they despised her for it, yet they welcomed her with great courtesy, as opposed to General Calore, who spoke very little, and the owner of the house, who didn’t said a word, probably upset by her unannounced arrival, or feeling as if she was questioning whether her friend was being properly cared for. The answers she received regarding that specific issue weren’t particularly encouraging: Miss Skonos had slept badly due to the high fever and she wasn’t feeling strong enough to leave her room. Mare was pleased to be immediately led to her, and Wren, who had refrained from expressing in her note how much she desired such a visit only for fear of creating alarm and disturbing, was very happy to see her come in, although she couldn’t have much conversation, and once Miss Samos had left them alone, the two merely had breakfast in silence. Once they finished eating, they were joined by their hosts, and Mare began to like them more when she saw how much love and care they showed for Wren. The pharmacist arrived, and after examining the patient he said, unsurprisingly, that she had caught a severe cold, and that there wasn't much to worry about; he advised her to go back to bed, and promised to get her some medicine. The advice was promptly followed, as the fever had risen and the headache had worsened. Mare didn’t leave the room even for a moment and the other ladies weren’t away for long either, but since the gentlemen were out, in fact they had nothing else to do. When the clock struck three times, Mare realized she had to go, and she said it very reluctantly. Miss Samos offered her the carriage but Wren seemed so anxious about parting with her that Miss Samos was forced to turn the carriage offer into an invitation to stay for the time being at the Hall of the Sun. Mare accepted gratefully, and a servant was sent to warn the family and to bring back a supply of clothes.

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nightwingshero · 4 years

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HAPPY BIRTHDAY PAIGE

Happy birthday, hun!!! @joeyhxdson and I collaborated to bring you an awesome birthday gift! Em, you did fantastic as always!!! Such a beautiful background and you captured the girls beautifully!!!

Thank you @xbaebsae and @returnofthepd3 for allowing me to include your lovely deps!!!!

I wrote a fic to go along with it, since I can’t be there to party with you, Em and I decided that it was important that our deps threw something together for Veronica. You’re a total sweetheart and my best friend. We love you and I hope you have an awesome 21st birthday!!! 💖💖💖💖

“Happy birthday, asshole.” Wren said with a smirk as she elbowed Veronica. She rolled her eyes at her best friend, swatting her on the shoulder with the back of her hand.

“Yeah, thanks.” Veronica replied sarcastically.

Wren hummed, taking a sip of her beer as she watched Mary May walk back to some other customers on the other side of the bar. “Any big plans?”

“No, I don’t think so.” Veronica fought the urge to sigh. Chances were that she would just go to her mom’s and hang out for a bit. She knew she would whip up a cake, despite her mom trying hard to keep it a secret. It wasn’t exactly a secret when she did it every year, but it warmed her heart at the thought behind it. “Maybe go see my mom, then rent a movie to watch with Olive.”

“Lame.” Wren threw her head back and groaned. Veronica shot her a look.

“First of all, fuck you. Second of all, you love my mom.”

“Yeah, but that means you’re getting cake without me. Also, why not throw a party?”

Veronica hesitated before pressing her own bottle to her lips and taking a drink. It wasn’t that Veronica hadn’t thought about it, it was just that…well, she didn’t really know what to do or who to even invite. She stopped having birthday parties after her dad left, and it wasn’t like she ever felt the need to start that back up again. But each year, as she contemplated, she would end up just doing the same damn thing.

It was the first birthday she was celebrating since Wren became her partner at the Sherriff’s Department. Wren was a bit older than her, by only a few years, and Veronica was worried at first that it would make a difference. But it really hadn’t. They became fast friends and had each other’s back. Wren was the voice of reason when Ronnie needed it and Ronnie always had a way of helping Wren loosen up a bit when it was called for.

Placing her bottle on the bar, she glanced at Wren. “I don’t know, I guess I just never get around to it.”

Wren threw her a look, her hair shifting and showing off her new blue flannel. “Says the person who makes sure that every single one of us is here on St. Patrick’s Day. You know how to throw a party.”

“I’m okay with drinking with my best friend.” Veronica turned away, fidgeting with her jean vest. “I got some new stuff from Sharky to smoke later, so I’m good.”

Glancing at her phone, Wren hopped off the barstool. “Hey, I have this really cool idea. Come on!”

“We’ve been drinking, Wren. Where the hell should we be going?” Veronica snorted and she knew she wasn’t wrong. They had been here as soon as Spread Eagle opened, Whitehorse being kind enough to give them the day to enjoy Ronnie’s day. To say they had a few would be an understatement, but Wren threw a mischievous look over her shoulder.

“Don’t tell me that Veronica Rook is scared?”

With a huff, Ronnie followed suit, calling to Mary May to keep their tab open. The brunette gave a triumphant smile and Veronica rolled her eyes. Stepping outside, she frowned as she watched Sharky jump out of his jeep, with a weird trailer hooked to the back of it, the loud barking almost making Veronica flinch. What the fuck was going on?

“Hey there, Shorty!” Sharky waved at her before adjusting his cap and turning to Wren. “It’s all ready. Whenever you are.”

“And he’s still at the station?” Wren asked, throwing him a worried glance.

“Well, that’s what Hurk said.”

Relief washed over her partner’s face. “Good. That’s good.”

“Yeah, what the hell is going on here?” Veronica finally cut in, causing Wren and Sharky to exchange glances. Wren shrugged, throwing Veronica a smirk.

“You remember when we had to arrest Zip at the farm a while back? And we had to run after him?”

Veronica wrinkled her nose. Of course she did. It hadn’t been that long ago, about three weeks if she had to guess. Her and Wren both had to chase the guy down, not only was he causing issues for the farmers, but he had a few counts of slander against him. John Seed, Grace Armstrong, and Adelaide Drubman being a few of his victims in that damn magazine he wrote.

He had taken one look at them before he had dropped his protesting sign and ran, jumping a fence and flinging mud as he went. They were right on his heels, trying their best to herd him in the pasture they were in, but they were almost certain he was on something. He had been seen hanging around Tweak the last few months, so it wouldn’t have been too shocking, and they later found out that they were right. But it was bringing him in that made Veronica cringe, because all three of them ended up in the mud, both deputies trying the best they could to keep the man down, and still, long enough to cuff him.

Veronica would’ve paid serious money for COPS to have been there to film it.

Or at least, that’s what she originally had thought. While her partner seethed in the driver’s seat on their way back to the station, Veronica couldn’t help but laugh at the absurdity of it all. And she told her partner as such, adding that there was never a dull moment in Hope County, in which she received a withering glare from Wren in return. She had only shrugged. It wasn’t until they got to the station that her mood took a dark turn, with John Seed’s stupid smug face. She could still hear his damn taunting. It took damn near a week to remove all the mud from her hair.

“What about it?” Veronica asked, not pleased at the reminder of the incident.

Wren’s smirk twisted more, and Veronica immediately recognized the dark mischief in her eyes. “Are you ready for vengeance, my friend?”

Taking a step forward with her hands on her hips, Veronica narrowed her eyes. “What are you up to?”

“Get in and you’ll find out.”

The brunette turned, taking the keys Sharky offered up, and hoped in behind the wheel. Veronica grumbled, wanting to go back into the bar for another round. She wanted to celebrate her birthday, not do…whatever the hell these two had in mind. And once she was buckled and ready to go, she turned to her best friend.

“Dude, seriously, what are we doing?”

“We’re going to break into John’s ranch and leave him a present.” She replied, finally, and Veronica’s eyes widened.

“We’re what?!” she gasped, both from shock and excitement. But being the cop that she was, Veronica felt the apprehension set in. “You know that’s illegal, right? What if we get caught?”

“Is it so illegal if I have these?” Wren fished a set of keys out of her pocket, dangling them in front of Veronica’s face. “Besides, didn’t you just say that you bought a little something from Sharky to smoke later?”

“That’s different!” It wasn’t. Not really, but Veronica was focused on the set of house keys that hung delicately from Wren’s pointer finger. “How the hell did you get John’s house keys?”

“It’s not at all different!” She snatched the keys back with a wicked grin. “And a lady never reveals her secrets.”

“Bold of you to call yourself a lady, Wren.”

“I’ve been called worse.” She teased, starting the car and putting it in gear. “Besides, if you stopped staring at John’s ass, you would catch on to the things that go on around you.”

Ronnie threw her head back and laughed as the wind gently played with her hair as Wren drove. “That’s the pot calling the kettle black.”

“I can multitask.” Wren smirked with a shrug and Veronica laughed harder.

The rest of the drive was in comfortable silence, Veronica giving up trying to figure out what the hell was going on. Wren wouldn’t say a damn word, and Ronnie knew it. Part of her was okay with allowing it to be a surprise, even if she wasn’t entirely sure what was going on. The idea that they were getting revenge was sweet enough. She couldn’t wait to see his damn face when they…well, when they did whatever they were going to do.

Ronnie didn’t know what to expect when they got to the ranch but being completely empty wasn’t it. Wren pulled off to the side, putting the Jeep in park and looking over. “Okay, I’m gonna jump out and guide you. You think you can back this thing up to the door?”

“Wren…” Ronnie started, her curiosity getting the better of her.

“Just back it up! You’ll be fine!” Wren gave a bright smile and jumped out. Veronica huffed, climbing over, and adjusting the seat before shutting the door so she could use her mirror. With Wren’s guidance, she began to align and back the trailer up slowly to the double doors of John’s ranch. Finally, with Wren giving her the signal, Veronica stopped and put the car in park and shut if off.

She found Wren already unlocking the doors to the house as the barking continued. “You gonna fill me in now?”

“You know how John is a dog person?”

Veronica threw Wren a look as if she were insane. “No, he hates dogs. Him and Jacob were giving each other shit over some of the wolves that Jake was training at the F.A.N.G Center.”

“Exactly.” Wren breathed out, pushing the doors open, lining them up with the trailer as makeshift borders. “He loves them so much, we’re gonna leave him some.”

It was like her brain short-circuited. Ronnie could’ve sworn that she had heard Wren wrong, and she was trying to put it together. “You…holy shit!” she breathed out as a wide smile made its way across her face, her hands running through her hair as it all came together. “Oh my god, he’s going to be so pissed! Where did you get all the dogs?”

“Yeah, about that.” Wren looked sheepish. “They have some domesticated wolves up at the Center, the same ones that Jake was training and working with. They’re from that guy that had that illegal zoo, I think? Well, some of them got transferred here since they had the room. I called in a favor, and well…”

“Wolves. We’re going to put wolves in John Seed’s house?”

“Muddy wolves.” Wren corrected. “It rained, and the owners let them run along and play in the mud. Just for the occasion.”

“Remind me to never fuck with you.” Veronica laughed. “You wrathful ass.”

Her best friend scoffed as she approached the trailer. “Oh, like you’re any better.”

“Hmm. Maybe we should get matching wrath tattoos.”

“I suffer from more than just the one sin, Ronnie.” Wren laughed. “Alright, I’m gonna open this quick, and jump to the side. Make sure to keep the door steady, we don’t want any to get away. They’ll have my ass.”

“I gotcha.”

Ronnie grabbed a hold of John’s door, holding it in place as Wren unlocked the metal door. She was fast, opening the trailer door and getting out of the way. And it was a good thing, too. Wolves, as Ronnie learned, were hyper. They darted out, at least five of them, and into John’s ranch and they were caked in mud.

“Close the doors!”

Before the wolves had a chance to turn back around, they slammed the doors shut, Wren locking it quickly.

“Holy shit, I wish I had their energy.”

“They’re young.” Wren replied with a heavy exhale before throwing Ronnie a bright smile, her hands resting on her hips. She gave the front doors another thoughtful glance. “Still technically pups, I think.”

“Wren, puppies chew on things.”

“Hmm, yeah?” She twisted on her heel, finally facing Veronica with a curious look on her face.

Veronica gave a light scoff. “I’m pretty sure there are some things in there that they’re gonna chew on. And I don’t know about you, but I don’t think John is gonna like that too much.”

Wren tensed, a crease forming in her brow as Ronnie’s words processed. Veronica bit her lip to try and hold back her laughter. She couldn’t believe it. Wren clicked her tongue, glaring at the ground with a sour look on her face, making Veronica lose it.

“Oh my fucking god! Of all the times you gave me shit for not thinking things through—”

“Shut up, Ronnie!”

The blonde doubled over, her arms wrapping around her abdomen as tears formed. “Oh, John is going to be so pissed! I can’t believe you didn’t even consider that!”

“Hey, it’s not like he isn’t rich enough to replace the furniture!” Wren insisted, throwing her hands in the air. “He can just buy more! And it’s not like he’s going to know who did it. Right?”

Veronica stood straight, wiping away her tears. “The man is a lawyer, Wren. I don’t think he’s stupid. No one else would dare do this shit.” She shook her head.

Wren huffed. “Well, he ain’t got proof. I was told to leave the trailer here so they could transport them back to the Center.”

They decided to leave it on the other side of John’s hangar, out of sight to not immediately tip him off. Veronica helped Wren unlatch the trailer, both working up a sweat from the summer heat. It was starting to get dark, but the humidity was still hanging heavy around them. Veronica sighed, hopping up on some black crates.

“I need a cigarette.” She groaned as she pulled the pack out of her vest pocket, putting one in her mouth as she lit it.

Wren opened the back of the jeep, grabbing a couple of beers and using her shirt to pop the tops. “I hear that. Have a beer, too.”

Veronica grabbed it, saying thank you as Wren leaned against the crates. Ronnie took a quick swig then sat it down beside her. Wren checked her phone again making Veronica roll her eyes. “Checking to see if you got any sexy texts?”

“Not likely.” Wren muttered, but Ronnie could see the light blush on her face.

“How’s Game of Thrones going? Did you get to the part where—”

Wren’s blue green eyes snapped to Ronnie’s blue ones, piercing her with a glare. “Don’t you dare ruin that for me, Veronica Rook, so help me god.”

She only laughed in response, taking a pull from her cancer stick. “I won’t ruin it, I promise. But hurry up, I wanna talk about it with you!”

“Tsk, I’ll get around to it eventually.”

“Which means you’ll finish it in a year.”

They both laughed and it stayed that way for a little while. Ronnie did know why they were just hanging around; she was starting to get antsy. John could come home any moment, and as fun as it would be to see his reaction, Ronnie didn’t wanna be the receiving end of that man’s rage. Pointing that out to Wren, she checked her phone, and agreed that it was time to go. Hoping in the driver’s seat, Wren sent a quick text, probably an update to the people at F.A.N.G Center, before they were on their way.

Pulling off to park, Ronnie eyed the bar suspiciously. There were more cars here than when they left, but it was strangely quiet. Never had she seen something like this, and she was about to voice her concern to Wren, but she was already out of the jeep and shutting her door. If Wren wasn’t concerned, it was fine.

Right?

Veronica wasn’t so sure, and she suddenly missed her service pistol. She both chose not to carry since they were going to the bar to celebrate. At the time, it made a lot of sense. But now? Not so much. Her heart was pounding, not sure of what to expect, so she had no issue going in first when Wren motioned for her to. She was ready for anything.

Well, almost anything.

What she wasn’t expecting was the bar being so full of people, or for those people to hope up from hiding. From behind the bar, out of the kitchen, and even behind the chairs.

“HAPPY BIRTHDAY!”

Someone, somewhere, had a confetti gun and made it rain in rainbow paper. Veronica eyed the green and pink birthday banner that was definitely homemade. Her hands found her mouth, covering it as tears swelled, pure happiness taking over completely as Wren threw her arm around her shoulders.

Everyone was there. Adelaide stood with Mary May, Evie with Joey hugging her from behind, Rey waving with Sharky and Hurk jr, and even Rheese had been able to make it as she stood with the Rye’s and Grace. It was overwhelming, and she was passed around, greeted and hugged. Veronica was smiling so much, her face was starting to get sore, and she was sure her makeup was done for with all the crying. She couldn’t find it in herself to care.

To say she had a blast, was an understatement of the century. A game of darts with Rey that ended up proving Veronica had terrible aim while drinking, but neither of them cared. It only roped her into a drinking contest with Rheese, the blonde bound and determined to beat her this time. Rey and Wren placed their bets as Evie took her job as referee seriously. It got to the point where they had just started chugging with their friends chanting and cheering them on. Rheese placed her arms around her, pulling her close in a tight hug.

“IT’S YOUR MOTHERFUCKING BIRTHDAY!!!”

It got Wren and Evie rowdy, and one thing led to another, resulting in a karaoke battle. Wren dragged her with her, Evie following with Hudson in tow.

They all agreed to one song. But one turned to three, and eventually, they had lost count. All that mattered was that Sharky was singing along in the audience as Hurk jr waved a lighter in the air. When they were fully out of breath and sweaty, they stopped, asking which team had won. Sharky just shrugged.

“I just thought y’all were havin’ fun, didn’t know I was s’pose to be judgin’.”

They just laughed, stumbling away from the karaoke machine giving their friends high fives as they went. It was then Veronica’s mom came out of the kitchen, her and Ronnie’s friends leading the entire bar in singing Happy Birthday. The cake was bigger than Ronnie was used to having, two tiered and the icing matching the banner.

“Make a wish!” Rey called with a wide smile once the singing died down. Veronica giggled, racking her brain for something to wish for, but for once, she couldn’t think of anything. She had everything she wanted right here…well, almost everything.

With the thought of pretty green eyes, Veronica blew out the candles, everyone clapping and cheering. It was Mary May who cut the cake, helping Ronnie’s mom pass out slices to everyone. The group of friends finding a table for themselves. Wren leaning back, resting a leg on Ronnie’s chair, and Ronnie doing the same. Evie plopped herself down on Joey’s lap while Rey pulled her knee up, her arm holding it close as she took a bite. Rheese, dragged a chair loudly across the floor, making a few people stare as she swung it around and straddled it. Evie winked at her, running a finger in the icing of her cake.

“Hey babe, watch this.” Evie teased before smearing it over the side of Joey’s face. Wren snorted before taking a bite, and Joey eyed Evie mischievously. Grabbing the icing flower on her cake, Joey moved to smash it on Evie, but the blonde shifted, moving out of the way last minute.

Rey, however, wasn’t so lucky.

The flower smacked Rey in the chest, sliding down. She carefully grabbed it, eyeing Hudson as she set her foot back on the ground. Moving forward, she took a chunk of her cake before throwing it back. The alcohol, unfortunately, affected Rey’s aim, making it Rheese in the face. The table grew quiet, but Wren cackled, laughing loudly and Rheese fixed her glare on her.

A smirk made its way across her face as she grabbed the whole cake, flinging it at Wren. She squealed when the cake hit it’s mark against her own face. “Motherfu—”

The table erupted, cake and frosting painting the table and floor. Ronnie ducked, pushing away from the table in hopes to escape as Wren smashed her piece in Rey’s hair, but she wasn’t so lucky. Rheese grabbed Veronica’s plate and smashed it against her face. She could taste the icing and she was almost certain some of it made it in her nose.

“Guys! Seriously?!” Mary May called, her hands on her hips as she assessed the damage.

“And that’s my que.” Rey said with a laugh. “I’ll catch you later, dears. Don’t have too much fun.”

They hugged before Rey made her exit, waving as she walked out. Wren called back, promising to clean up when everything was done. Fairgrave gave her a look before shaking her head and returning back to the bar. They erupted in laughter, ordering another round of drinks.

Slowly, things began to die down, Evie and Joey announcing their departure, leaving hand in hand. Rheese stayed for a bit longer before she, too, called it a night. She gave quick hugs, wishing another loud happy birthday that made Veronica blush. Wren and Veronica sat in comfortable silence a little longer before Ronnie felt a gentle touch against her shoulder, and looking, she found the familiar green eyes and bright smile.

“Hey.” Ronnie said, her voice just a bit shaky.

“I heard it was your birthday.” Faith replied, her soft voice almost drowned out by the music still playing. “Wren mentioned that you were having a party.” Ronnie whipped around to throw a look at Wren, but she was taking another drink and looking innocent as the bottle hid her smirk. She smiled, turning back to Faith as her heart pounded.

“Oh, yeah. It was a bit of a surprise. I’m sorry that I didn’t get a chance to say hi earlier.”

Faith just laughed. “No worries! You were having fun with your friends. Unfortunately, my brothers couldn’t join. Joseph had some counseling to do with some troubled followers and Jacob isn’t exactly the social type. And John, well…” Faith glanced at Wren briefly. “He’s a bit busy dog sitting, I heard.”

Wren barked out a laugh and Ronnie couldn’t fight the smile on her face. “You heard about that?”

“I’ve heard a few things.” Faith replied with a twinkle in her eye. Leaning forward, she placed a kiss against Veronica’s cheek. “Happy birthday, Veronica.” She whispered in her ear. Ronnie couldn’t bring herself to say anything as Faith walked away. She touched her cheek, still feeling the warmth of Faith’s lips still burning against her skin. Guess her birthday wish came true after all.

“So?” Wren asked, looking at Veronica. “Good day?”

Before Veronica could answer, the bar door flew open. John Seed, muddy and disheveled, stood in the entryway. “Blake!”

Wren’s eyes widened as she paled, and Veronica howled. “The best!”

#deputy veronica rook #deputy wren blake #deputy rhiannon rey jackson #deputy rheese anne bennett #evelyn mcdaniel #happy birthday to paige #far cry 5

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galaxysedginess · 4 years

Text

The Lawful

Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply

Relationships: Obi-Wan Kenobi/Satine Kryze, Obi-Wan Kenobi & Anakin Skywalker, Bo-Katan Kryze & Satine Kryze

Characters: Obi-Wan Kenobi, Satine Kryze, Anakin Skywalker, Darth Maul, Bo-Katan Kryze, Ursa Wren

Additional Tags: Satine Kryze Lives, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Episode: s05e16 The Lawless, Angst with a Happy Ending, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Near Death Experiences, Romance, Obi-Wan Kenobi Needs a Hug, Questioning the Code

Ao3 Link

“Attachment, Rang a pesky voice in his head. He was unsure whom it precisely belonged to, but for that matter of seconds, as he drank in the sight of seeing and feeling her alive, he shoved away his doubts."

Or, what if Anakin came along to rescue the Duchess of Mandalore?

The blood was pounding in Obi-Wan Kenobi’s ears as they bounded by means of jetpack through the skies of Sundari, smoke and blaster bolts streaking the once pale beautiful horizon. Not for the first time since their capture and subsequent escape, he wished he still donned the Mandalorian helmet that he’d “borrowed” earlier. He rapidly blinked, trying his best to avoid running into one of Mandalore’s grandstanding skyscrapers or any of the ex-Death Watch warriors that escorted him. Truthfully, he wasn’t sure which would be worse.

As Bo-Katan narrowly avoided collision after Obi-Wan had veered a bit too far to the right in attempting to evade shrapnel from another explosion, he deduced from her clipped tone that he may have better luck with the former as opposed to the ladder.

“Watch it, Jetii .”

“A bit tough to do with the change of scenery.” He countered back, managing a level tone despite the twist in his gut at seeing the seemingly utopian landscape reduced to yet another war.

The part of him that would normally take the moment to question the Death Watch’s motives was subdued by the situation at hand, which seemed to position them as allies in a turn of fate. Thank the force for that, because had it not been for their intervention, this would not have gone nearly as smoothly as he would have liked.

A blaster cannon soared from behind them, barely missing in part due to Bo-Katan’s unwavering determination to whip them every which way to shake off the enemy. He was grateful for it, but that didn’t stop the grimace that rose in his throat as they barrel rolled yet again.

He really hated flying.

He forced his eyes to remain forward and called on the living force to guide them through the despair, pulling from the light. He had to admit that it was difficult, surrounded by such destruction. Beneath them, a hospital was destroyed. To their left, a school and onwards, a market place. All were casualties in a needless fight that was orchestrated from the bloodthirsty dark side.

Who could want any of this?

If there was one thing Obi-Wan had learned through the countless tragedies from the Clone Wars, was that maybe, there was no such thing as true peace. Not the lasting kind, anyway.

Despite the chaos and mayhem that quite literally engulfed them in their haphazard attempt at an escape, topped off with Maul’s squadron of Mandalorians in tow, he still couldn’t find it in himself to wholly believe that. Not when there was still a chance.

Not when even through the smoke and the blood that polluted the once regulated airflow, he could make out the distinct and faint scent of water lilies brushing against his nose. Regardless of her several days of encampment and near-death, Duchess Satine Kryze still clutched onto him with the strength of a stubborn Tooka cat on its favorite scratching post, even if properly strapped to him prior. Obi-Wan could hardly blame her though, seeing as he was also determined to not allow something as frivolous as a faulty harness to be the cause of Satine’s demise.

Not when it seemed far too achingly close just minutes before.

He didn’t so much as have a moment to consider if she was truly alright, but he guessed that time would have to be for later. They had to move .

“Kenobi! Up ahead!” Ursa Wren shouted above the sounds of blaster fire from the treacherous crimson-colored warriors at their tails.

He did not need to see the ship to know that Anakin was close, the warm bond that had been kindled and strengthened after years of training. It felt a bit like a light at the end of a dreary tunnel. Anakin had not been keen on Obi-Wan’s direct orders to stick with the ship, but he’d hesitantly relented after it had become obvious, try as he might to deny it as he may, this was personal for Obi-Wan.

He would not be dragging Anakin or anyone else down with him on this mission.

However, in this present moment, when all he could taste was smoke and stray wind-beaten blonde hair, he was relieved for his former apprentice’s decision to stow-away (even if it had caused him grief earlier). The ship was beaten to a pulp, but it looked like in Obi-Wan’s absence, Anakin had made some modifications to it.

“Always on the move.” He internally chided, but again, could not stop the flush of elation that permeated across his chest, freeing some of the tension that had been knotted there ever since he first received Satine’s distress call.

That reprieve, unfortunately, was instantaneously cut loose when he felt himself whipped backwards and away from the ship that they were heading towards. Bo-Katan turned, mid-air and despite not being able to see her facial expression thanks to the mask on her head, he knew what she saw was far from good.

“Leaving so soon?” A raspy familiar voice shouted from behind them and Obi-Wan cursed.

He cocked his head over his shoulder, noting that none other than Maul stood on top of a speeder, darksaber drawn and ready, two of his faithful warriors at his side. His eyes perfectly matched the roaring fires that burned behind him. Obi-Wan did his best to shield Satine from seeing him, squeezing her tighter to his chest.

“You should know about running away.” He goaded, though Bo-Katan grunted in disapproval at his banter.

“You cannot run from destiny, Kenobi.” He said almost softly, gritting his yellow teeth as he stretched out in the force to attempt to pull them in as though they were caught in a ship’s tractor beam. “I have taken your master and now, I will have your beloved too.”

Obi-Wan resisted to his best ability without dropping Satine, placing them in what felt like a reverberated limbo, dangling above her people who cried for help as their newly “pledged” leader strove only for his own gains, which evidently included making Obi-Wan’s life as difficult and miserable as possible. On one end, there was victory in the form of retreat, with the engines running the promise for what would hopefully be a new tomorrow for Mandalore and its people. On the other, a painful and torturous end.

The aching in his bones and muscles said otherwise, but he knew, deep in his soul that this wasn’t the end.

He meant it earlier when he’d insisted it took strength to resist the dark side and he hadn’t just meant from the moral standpoint of pushing against darkness, but the sheer physicality of warding off Maul’s strangling grasp. Slowly, but surely, the jetpack began inching forward yet again and Maul released an infuriated scream, no doubt channeling the deepest of anguish to overpower Obi-Wan.

“But you won’t have Mandalore.” Came Bo-Katan’s grated voice, not muddled with resignation, but resolve, as she and her fellow “deserters” charged forward in an attack sequence that was clearly rehearsed beforehand.

“Bo!” Satine’s voice broke through the disarray for the first time in anguish.

“GET HER OUT OF HERE!” Bo-Katan shouted with only a single glance backwards before throwing herself directly in front of Maul and his readied blade. She parried him, prepared for the strike, but it was unclear how long even someone as strong as herself could hold off against the former Sith lord.

Cold realization settled in to Obi-Wan as he felt Satine’s pain through the force. This was her sister.

Once again, he regretfully didn’t have time to ponder this news. Maul’s cronies, dead set on appeasing their new leader, shot skillfully at Obi-Wan, and managed to scuff the left turbine engine, sending sparks as he and Satine briefly wavered. There was a single second where time passed terribly slow until Obi-Wan used everything left in him to push them forward through the force, throttling through the small entryway of the ship and skitting to an ungraceful landing across the durasteel floor of the ship. He didn’t release the breath he’d unknowingly been holding until the thrum of the ship indicated that it had launched into deep space.

They laid there for an uncertain amount of time before the shock of their own escape settled into their bones. It was Satine, who raised her head first, looking fearful at what she might find in his gaze, but for once, he did not hesitate or subdue himself when he reached forward and framed her face in his gloved hands.

Her alabaster skin was dusted in soot and her eyes were bloodshot from exhaustion and immense sadness, making the intensity of their azure depths all the more captivating. He couldn’t remember last seeing her hair absent of any regality or so wind-swept, but the image reminded him painfully of a different time when Mandalore had been on the brink of swallowing itself whole and when they’d stolen glances and held hands beneath a shared cloak. Except this time, he came so narrowly close to losing her, that the weight of that guilt nearly crushed him.

“Attachment .” Rang a pesky voice in his head. He was unsure whom it precisely belonged to, but for that matter of seconds, as he drank in the sight of seeing and feeling her alive he shoved away his doubts.

She was alive. Right here in front of him. Closer than she’d been in years.

He also had to force away thoughts of when he’d last held her.

She opened her mouth to speak before closing it, taking in his face with her eyes with the same line of reverence that he felt.

“I’ve loved you always. I always will.” She’d said that. Those had been her chosen final words and he winced at how little he deserved them. How he didn’t deserve her or this moment of reprieve.

At the reminder of her close-call, he perked up instantly, feeling a bit ridiculous not to have immediately addressed her wounds.

“The darksaber.” Was all he could blurt out as he tenderly inspected the patch of exposed skin on her torso.

“It’s just a graze.” Was all she said in a hoarse voice, eyes still glued to his face as she reached out and smoothed what would likely become a scathing bruise across his cheekbone.

“A bump.” He said gently and held the hand that touched his cheek, feeling queasily reminiscent of when he believed for a moment that she was to die in his arms. She had literally met the blunt of the darksaber and yet she could only think of him. Both were of equal standing in terms of colloquialism, but neither were too fond of words at the moment. Obi-Wan didn’t have any for how he felt. Jedi weren’t supposed to, anyway.

Even that thought didn’t yet shake him as they still sat tangled together, simply amazed that the other was here.

“Ben.” She said gently, hardly above a whisper and the resurrection of the old nickname both tickled and pricked something soft in him that he believed had long since been put to sleep.

“Satine.” He said, trying to sound level, self-assured, but feeling none of that. “I thought…”

“I did too.” She swallowed and nodded before pressing her forehead to his. “I did too.”

“I wanted you to know-” He began speaking before his mind could catch up with him, paranoid instantly where his words would lead him without abandon, but showing no signs of stopping as he felt himself melt into her.

“-Well, don’t everyone thank me at-” A smug and approaching voice cut off surely at the sight of the uncharacteristically vulnerable scene he’d unknowingly interrupted.

“-Once.”Anakin winced as he leaned against the hanger door, shrugging in apology to Obi-Wan, who was trying very hard to give him a disapproving glance that was supposed to convey that nothing was happening, even if, Obi-Wan, himself wasn’t even sure if that were true. He just couldn’t tell whether he was grateful or wistful at his former padawan’s interference.

For Satine’s part, the bubble had been effectively popped as she straightened and stood to her feet, somehow looking regal even in the same clothes she’d worn for well over a week and with the dark circles under her eyes. There was still immense sadness there, no doubt for her people and for the sacrifice of her sister, but she’d returned to being the leader again.

“I am eternally grateful for the assist, Master Jedi.” She said in an even tone that didn’t dare suggest she’d been so close to crying.

Anakin nodded stiffly, shooting a brief glance at Obi-Wan to try and get a better read on the room before deciding it was best not to pry too much… Yet.

Obi-Wan grimaced as he knew what unrelenting teasing was heading his way once they were out of harm’s way.

“We’ll get you to safety, Duchess.” He said kindly. “You can count on us.”

She seemed to bristle at that and Obi-Wan could see the argument forming on her tongue about how cowardly she was being or that her safety would be a price she was more than willing to pay for her people. However, she swallowed them and nodded curtly instead. The exhaustion seemed to weigh on her for the first time as well as real dread. He wanted to probe for more, to try and help, but he knew this wasn’t the time. Satine would need and want space, which he would certainly give her.

He would also do everything in his power to get Mandalore back for her again. For the galaxy. Surely, that’s why.

“Yes, I can.” She finally said smoothly, sneaking a look at Obi-Wan that made him question for the millionth time in knowing her if she could read his mind.

And as Anakin retreated back to the cockpit and implored Obi-Wan to follow to discuss what half-truths they would tell the council as to why they broke rank to rescue Satine, Obi-Wan knew he was lying to himself.

#Star Wars #Obitine #tcw #Obi-Wan Kenobi #Satine Kryze #myfics #The Lawless #fanfic #swtcw

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dsmroleplay · 3 years

Text

#DetoxHorrors #DSM #SPN Part One

Written by @TridentHunting & @bigbadethan

Sienna: -The bar was a little warm from all the bodies crammed together in the small space so she ordered a glass of tea. Putting one foot under her and grabbed a scrunchy gathering up her long blonde hair and putting it up in a bun. Catching a headline on one of the news outlet’s she’d marked. The headline read “Recovering Addict Goes Missing.” and while it didn’t scream at her as supernatural she was compelled to read on. Wallas Wren and Brent Hayslip had both been at the brand new facility for Church of Christ starting their lives over when Wallas went missing as the two had been out exploring the area. Brent was being held without bail under suspicion of murder. His pastor Jack Reeves had stood up for him but no one was listening. Reeves believes that something was out there with them. “I’ve known Brent all his life and while he has had addiction problems he’s always been open and honest. He’s /scared/ and believes someone grabbed Wallas." The running theory was that the two had slipped off from everyone to get a little high struggling with coming down off their vices.

Local police found a bloody shoe that facility counselor Mark Hamby confirmed was one of Wallas’ shoes. Local Sheriff "Longmire” said that is office was working around the clock to find Wallas and that blood tests were being done on the evidence as well as on Brent to see if he’d ingested anything that might explain his claims of seeing dark shadows. Local doctor Randy Callowhand had weighed in that with addiction issues these men had hallucinations were totally plausible and sometimes a side effect of the medications used to help bring them off the substances they abused. Scrolling down she’d read through the comments from the public on the article. It wasn’t to kind. “Two addicts, who cares.” and so on even some theories they’d been messing with “bathsalts” and Brent had killed Wallus in his high. Si sipped her water Tapping her pen to her lips she laid it down and looked up Leesburg Idaho. The first pictures to come up were of a retro picture of miners. Reading on “Gold was discovered at Leesburg, Idaho in 1866 by a party of men led by F.B. Sharkey. The town took its name from Confederate General Robert E. Lee. As with much of the territories of Idaho and Montana, Leesburg contained many Confederate sympathizers.

Supporters of the Union started the settlement of Grantsville directly adjacent to the camp, but eventually the larger community came to be known as just Leesburg." Reading on she saw the actual mining site had been vacated and was secluded. The Church of Christ had bought the property and turned it into a new addiction get away center for long term addicts. It had only been open about six months when Wallus disappeared. Looking at the history of the place, there could be a lot things to grab Wallas out there including wild animals but it was a perfect breeding ground for a Wendigo as well. She’d have to see if she could round up a hunting partner for this excursion so she saved the information. to her computer and forwarded it to several hunters emails. Now she’d prepare while waiting for a partner.-

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Ethan: -Ethan walked around the stark home that looked out to the ocean. It’s always the oceans and seas that comfort him. Maybe it’s the sound of the waves or the vastness of it all. On the surface, the sea is calm and peaceful but he knows in its depths there is turmoil and chaos. He laughs, not a happy laugh, but the irony doesn’t escape him. Setting down the empty glass that once held bourbon, he then walks over to his office and takes a seat. The smell of leather hitting his nostrils like an old friend. Hitting the tab for emails, he takes his time and sifts through them. One, in particular, catches his eye. The name instantly brings a smile to his lips, his hand running down his beard as he reads it. Not once. Not twice, but three times. Typing out a reply for the email, he answers simply. <You need me, I’ll always be there. Send me the coordinates and I’ll be there in the morning.> He hits send then sits back in his chair. Yes, calm and peaceful on the outside, turmoil and chaos on the inside.-

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Sienna: -She was rereading the article just to see if anything stuck out when an email notification popped up on her computer screen. Clicking on it her eyes widened, it was E. She read his reply, how long had it been since she’d seen him? Years she was sure. They’d kept a wide birth, especially on her end. There was a time she couldn’t even be in the same room with him. God she hated Colt because of E. Colt was a hard reminder of things. But like all things pain fades, she still didn’t like how Colt was but she’d seen him suffer on more than a few occasions so even her hatred towards him had dwindled. Hell she worked for Blackwater. Typing back.- “I appreciate that mister if you have time. But don’t put yourself out on my account. 45°13′26″N 114°6′50″W . It’s good to hear from you either way. Hope you’re doing good. -Si

:::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::

Ethan: -The sound of email notifications brought him out of his daydreaming. He read the email, but didn’t reply this time. He did however memorize the coordinates then shut off his computer. He was going, that’s all there was to it. Maybe, she didn’t expect he’d answer her first email. Hell, it caught him off guard too. Rising from the leather chair, he goes to his vault. The scanner there scanning his eye and the prints on his hand. Was it too much, maybe but the time he spent with the SEALS taught him many lessons and preparation was key. The heavy titanium door swung open and Ethan walks inside. Oh, the weapons cache he has would give the staunchiest hardcore terrorist or service man a hard-on. Grabbing his old duffel bag, he begins to load it with what he thinks he might need, and maybe a few toys just for a little fun. He just hopes Sienna will be happy to see him.-

::::::::::::::::::::::::::

Sienna: -From lack of response she figured he’d thought better of it. What made her reach out who knew. She wasn’t to far out from Leesburg and she wasn’t going to get any sleep anyway so she grabbed a hamburger to go and got back into her truck. Maybe she just needed to know he was okay and that was enough for her. Turning up the stereo she pulled out of the parking lot and got on the freeway setting the cruise control.-

::::::::::::::::::

Ethan: -Bag packed, Ethan stands out on the balcony, watching the sun go down. The yellow and oranges streaking the sky in brilliant hues. He’s in no rush, he knows he can be where she asked him to be in the blink of an eye. He’s nervous. He tries to shake it off, but he can’t. He didn’t like the way things ended the last time he saw Si. Maybe she can forgive him and they can start again. Clean and fresh. Maybe it’s just a pipe dream but he truly wants to. The thought brings a sincere smile.-

::::::::::::::::::

Sienna: -She'd managed a few hours of shut eye in the backseat of the truck. Rubbing eyes she sat up and looked around before opening the truck door and getting out to stretch. Pulling on a camo long sleeve over the white tank top she strapped a gun holster to leg and grabbed her jacket slipping it on. Grabbing her backpack putting it on and then shouldering the AR-15 she pulled the GPS from the front console and put on her hat. Normally she would not hunt alone but she wasn't even sure if this was a legit hunt so she'd scout first. Running through a list of possibilities as she checked the GPS. Once she got it up and going she put a sat phone in the left pocket of the BDU's she was wearing and took off in the direction that lead to the mine.-

::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::

Ethan: -Ethan stands just inside the mines entrance. He hadn’t gone in, he was waiting for Si. This is her case, he’s just there to have her back. Okay, maybe that’s not the only reason, but it’s all he can handle until she either a) shoots him or b) she gives him a hug and a smile putting him at ease. He prays, literally for the later. Hearing her approach, he steps out of the shadows and waits for her reaction.-

:::::::::::::::::

Sienna: -Looking round to see if anything stood out but nothing had so far but as she came on up around the trail she smelt a cologne that only one person wore that she knew. It stood out from the pine tree scent, swallowing hard she came rounded a tree and there he stood. She had to to catch her breath and it had nothing to do with the elevation.- I'd ask if your lost but since I sent you the coordinates I know you're not... -She couldn't but help but smile and walk over to give him a hug fighting tears. They'd been friends along time and she couldn't help but just be thankful to see him again.- You big asshole, I think I should shoot you just because.

:::::::::::::::::::

Ethan: -When he saw her, he couldn’t help but to walk towards her, his arms wrapping around her small frame. He is a giant next to her. When she pulled away from the hug, he instantly felt a loss.- I can live with asshole, but I can’t live with you wasting ammo. -With a shrug, he turns towards the dark mine entrance.- What are you thinking? Ghost of a pissed-off miner? Demon? Please don’t say windigo. Those things are butt ugly

:::::::::::::::

Sienna: The angel makes jokes now, I like it. -smiles- It can wait, look at me. How are you? And it's not a waste of ammo if it makes me feel better.

:::::::::::::::::

Ethan: Jokes and sarcasm are part of my charming personality. -He gives a light shrug, pondering her question.- I’m okay. Hanging in there. Doing the angel thing. I try and keep busy. How about you? You look great. -big smile and an innocent wink-

::::::::::::::

Sienna: -Hands-on hips she rolls her eyes.- Okay charming, I'm gonna shoot soon. -Laughs- It's good to see you, I hope you stick around. So... I had thought to scout the mine before night hits but what do you think? Might be better to check the area around for anything out of place... only thing is they had a bunch of rangers, sheriff's and search parties up in here if there was any clues they probably disturbed it.

::::::::::::::::

Ethan: That is a big 10/4 on the destruction of any clues. Let’s just go in and see what we find. -E stops and cants his head just slightly and inhales deeply.- I...can smell it.

::::::::::::::

Sienna: My own extra-large blood hound. -Teasing smile.- Well can you tell what it is by the smell?

#DSM SPN RP

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naomipkx · 4 years

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Naomi Powell-King’s Summer + Future Plans - @gallaghertasks

“thank you naomi for being one of my favorite babies. from you running into things to you being late to all of your classes to your beautiful positive energy, i’m gonna miss you, stupid.” - kashia, the mun that cried several times while writing this task

The Powell-King sisters go on a road trip!

She got back to their shared apartment in Texas late that night, exhausted from staying for graduation and the flight back home. Sitting on the couch, sound asleep was Wren, the TV playing some random Netflix show and a blanket pulled over her. It was at the sight of her younger sister that Naomi smiled, locked the doors, and dropped her bag. Walking over to her, she sat down next to her younger sister, snuggling up next to her. This woke up the younger of the duo, a soft “welcome home” slipped through her lips, causing Naomi to laugh softly to herself. She was home, safe, loved, and warm. The two fell asleep together on the couch, Netflix soon asking “Are you still watching?”

The plan was for the duo to go on a roadtrip, a bunch of destinations in mind. They were happy to be back together, since they’ve rarely stayed apart. Naomi was the one to raise Wren ever since the death of their fathers. She was always by the other’s side, or at least, the best she could be as a spy. Maybe that was why the duo always loved and looked forward to these moments. Because of Naomi’s line of work and the dangers of it, that maybe they’ll never see again. That Wren would be all alone in this world, losing three of her only family members. Thoughts like that always made her stomach churn, there was no way she would leave Wren alone like that.

Their road trip was filled with laughter, lots of girl talk, and talks about their semesters. Wren met someone, a very pretty computer science nerd by the name of Nolan (”They’re really cool, Nao,” Wren said, her cheeks turning red. “And they only live like an hour away from us and said that they want to hang out with me this summer.”). Naomi didn’t share about what happened at Gallagher, not having the heart or energy to relive the stress and pain. Instead, she gave her sister a gentle smile and said that the semester was tough but that was the norm at Gallagher. But losing two students was not a norm and no one should expect for it to be.

It lasted for about two weeks; going to different restaurants, taking pictures, weird stop stations, and just being normal. The two spent this time together as if the world was to end after two weeks, for all they knew, it could. But for the time being, they were both normal. Wren made Naomi buy a polaroid camera, as a way to document different points in her life. It was used at every moment during their road trip.

Naomi went back to work, both spy related work and her self-defense training job. Contact with the other alumni was rare, everyone went back into work mode thus limiting their amount of contact with each other. It was only Bobby ( @bbygrvr ) (”Bobby, I swear to God I’ll break your hand if you keep asking me if everything is bigger in Texas.”) who she stayed in contact with, the two were planning their own road trip but make it Vin Diesel. Her mind stayed on one individual the most and it was Elise ( @eliseprks ). The last time she saw her, it was when they all captured the Brotherhood members at Gallagher. There were tears threatening to run down her cheeks, the betrayal and hurt was apparent. But she kept it together because she was working, no one needed for her to be so emotional.

Even as the days went by, it just didn’t sit right with her. None of it made sense; why in the world would Elise Park help the Brotherhood? Was that really the end of the Brotherhood? More questions rushed through her head, zero answers following after. It was a certain phone call that gave her the opportunity to answer them.

Strike Team

As soon as she got Roman’s ( @grayroman ) phone call, she went to her office with a request to help out with another mission. “More Gallagher business, huh?” her boss laughed at her, she didn’t return the laughter. Permission was given to her and she immediately got a plane ticket to D.C. “I’ll be home soon,” Naomi said too Wren, hugging the girl. It was a promise that was always kept between them, that she would always return after a mission. A hard promise to keep but it was going to happen.

There began the integration of Elise, well, it was more of Naomi making fun of the other for wearing orange and promising that they will get back at the Brotherhood if it was the last thing she did. Which became the beginning of the Strike Team.

It was nice, being with everyone again, or at least, mostly everyone. There was Roman, Jack ( @jvckstone ), Irene ( @ofgunshy ), and Elise. It was the five of them, inside of a dingy office that became their home for the next few months. Time spent looking for clues, in front of a computer, sorting through files, talking to different people who may be connected to the Brotherhood. But there were also days spent eating, laughing, pictures being taken of each other, lots of jokes, and, well, love. That was the best part of this mission for Naomi was their new family dynamic. The others would never say it out loud, maybe too scared to admit to it, but she did. Every single minute, hour, and day, it was her that would comment on their dynamic and how happy she was. There were times that her energy seemed unnecessary, the air being serious and everyone so focused. But maybe it was appreciated, as she centered all of them, bringing them back to Earth. Maybe it was her energy that kept them calm, that gave them the strength to go on. She hoped that it was that.

When they were able to find a lead, it was both great and heartbreaking news. Great because the Brotherhood was finally being destroyed, heartbreaking because this... the Strike Team, this family was going to an end. And she didn’t want this dynamic to end, no matter what. But a job was a job and it needed to be completed.

Everything was going just as planned. The members were being taken down, Tristan was found, information to completely taken down the Brotherhood was uncovered, things were good. Until they got to the hospital and everything went downhill. She watched him fall, tried to call out for help, for someone to save him. But he didn’t want their help. Jack had accepted his death back at the house. Her shouting came to an end, replaced by tears. This wasn’t supposed to be the end of their mission, not like this.

But this was their norm: you were bound to lose someone important to you.

Home, Love, Family

Months had gone by and there was still an obvious missing piece in all of their lives. Their newly formed family had lost a member but it didn’t break their bond. It showed all of them how important connections and family was, it just would’ve been better if they had their other family member. For Naomi, it was too close to losing her fathers, just this time she was there to watch as he died. None of this was fair but that was the career that she agreed to, death was an included feature.

But even so, the Strike Team didn’t die. Naomi, who only had one family member, had gained three more. She had people there who cared about her, people who she could count on and call if she needed help with anything. The Strike Team were together for Jack’s funeral, for Elise’s wedding, and years later, at Wren’s graduation.

And throughout it all, Naomi just knew that Jack was beside them all. Because she loved that cheesy crap, that a person always remains somewhere deep within you even after they die. Because that was Naomi for you, a woman who believed in such cheesy and mundane things. It was apart of her brand after all.

#gallagher:task #ft. grayroman #ft. ofgunshy #ft. jvckstone #ft. eliseprks #ft. wren powell-king #did i mcfreaking cry writing this #YESSIR #death tw #when i say that i love all of you and this fucking team #i'm so glad that i didn't drop naomi back in march #because i wouldn't have been able to join in on this adventure #i'm gonna miss her so much #also this ending was wack #but i miss all of them

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sky-scribbles · 4 years

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Tagged by @theebonhawke for the OC interview meme, tysm! I’ll take the opportunity to gush about my miniature child Wren!

Tagging @visionmarred, @monty-s-joy, @jaegerjaguar, if you feel like it!

name ➔ 'Wren Serrano. With a W. You know, like the bird.’

are you single ➔ ‘I guess not. It’s hard to tell. For me, anyway. Never had an easy time getting my head around how relationship rules work.’

are you happy ➔ ‘Rarely. But, you know. There’s stuff more important than my happiness.’

are you angry ➔ [A short silence; then their lips flicker into a thin smile.] ‘O, that my tongue were in the thunder's mouth. Then with a passion would I shake the world.’ [Another pause.] ‘Shakespeare.’

are your parents still married ➔ 'My - oh. Those. Let’s just move on.’

NINE FACTS

birthplace ➔ 'Nevada. Technically.’

hair ➔ ‘Black. I dye it, though - usually teal or purple. White sometimes. Probably not smart to stand out, but... it feels good. Feels like me.’

eye colour ➔ 'Dark brown. Guess that’s part of why Ortega says I look like a bird. I mean, that and the fact that I’m miniature.’

mood ➔ 'Uncomfortable. I don’t usually talk this much.’

gender ➔ ‘Uh. No.’

summer or winter ➔ ‘Winter. People don’t question the layers so much. And, you know, more excuses to stay at home curled up in five blankets with coffee and a book and just. Not leave.’

EIGHT THINGS ABOUT YOUR LOVE LIFE

are you in love ➔ 'I... look, I don’t know if I’m feeling the same thing that rea- that other people feel. It’s probably nothing close. But it feels real enough to me, so... what the hell. Yeah.’ [Heavy sigh] ‘I need a coffee.’

do you believe in love at first sight ➔ ‘I love Shakespeare too much to say no. Couldn’t happen with me, though. Too demiromantic for that shit.’

who ended your last relationship ➔ 'A telepathic nightmare and a bunch of worse human nightmares. Though... maybe it wasn’t as ended as I thought it was.’

have you ever broken someone’s heart ➔ ‘That happens when you die and leave people behind. And it’ll happen again. I should never have let this thing with Ricardo go as far as it has.’ [They clasp their hands, so tightly that their fingers shake.] ‘Fucking selfish.’

are you afraid of commitments ➔ ‘Would you commit to something when you’d get rejected eventually? I’m just... trying to be less hurt. And to hurt them less.’

have you hugged someone within the last week? ➔ ‘Forget a week. I think Ortega considers it an unforgivable failing on his behalf if he lets me go a day without being hugged.’

have you ever had a secret admirer ➔ 'Turns out I do. I mean, I don’t know he admire admires me, but he looks up to me. For some reason. It’s kind of awkward, but... he’s all right.’

have you ever broken your own heart? ➔ ‘Yeah. And I will again.’

SIX CHOICES

love or lust ➔ 'I mean, it’s not like I really know how to deal with either, but... love, I guess?’

lemonade or iced tea ➔ ‘No. Coffee.’

cats or dogs ➔ [Slowly indicates the vast black cat lying in their lap.] ‘This is Hamlet. He’s perfect.’

a few best friends or many regular friends ➔ 'A few best friends. Wouldn’t know how to handle more.’

wild night out or romantic night in ➔ ‘Can’t really do wild nights out when you’re not a fan of bright lights, loud noises, crowds, losing control, risk-taking, strangers... Anyway, turns out romantic nights in can be... nice.’

day or night ➔ 'I mean, if I’m not having nightmares... there’s something good about night. The quiet. The way everyone on the streets is out there because they want to be, not because they’re shuttling to some dead-end job. Just feels different.’

FIVE HAVE YOU EVERS

been caught sneaking out ➔ ‘Yeah. Paid for it, too.’

fallen down/up the stairs ➔ 'Look, when you work with Ortega... stuff happens.’

wanted something/someone so badly it hurt? ➔ 'Yeah. To finish the fight I’ve started. To make the world hear me. And... I’ve wanted someone too. More than I thought this tiny, beat-up body could want anything. Like I said, though. More important things than what I want.’

wanted to disappear ➔ 'You don’t get this good at disappearing if you don’t want it.’

FOUR PREFERENCES

smile or eyes ➔ ‘Mm. Both. But it’s still so... weird when people smile at me. For real smile, I mean. And it’s good weird. So let’s go with that.’

shorter or taller ➔ ‘Find someone who’s shorter than me. I’ll wait.’

intelligence or attraction ➔ ‘Intelligence. At least that makes sense, attraction’s just... complicated.’

hook-up or relationship ➔ 'You could give me a manual on how to hook up with someone and I still wouldn’t be able to. Or interested.’

FAMILY

do you and your family get along ➔ 'I... did mean what I said about skipping family questions.’

would you say you have a “messed up life” ➔ [Pause. More pausing. Then very quiet, slightly breathless laughter.] ‘I need a coffee.’

have you ever ran away from home ➔ 'Still running. Soon I won’t have to anymore.’

have you ever gotten kicked out ➔ 'If only they’d let me go that easily.’

FRIENDS

do you secretly hate one of your friends ➔ ‘I thought I did. Now... now I actually know him, and maybe I didn’t hate him. Maybe I was just scared of what might happen if he asked too many questions.’

who is your best friend ➔ 'Ortega, I guess. Being a best friend isn’t mutually exclusive with being kind of sort of dating. Apart from him, Hamlet. The Rat King. And... yeah, Daniel’s nice to be around.’

who knows everything about you ➔ ‘No one. Including myself. Who is it that can tell me who I am? [Smiles.] That’s... also Shakespeare. Honestly, that guy lived centuries ago and I feel like he gets me better than anyone else does.’

#oc interview #oc: wren serrano #fallen hero #fallen hero: rebirth #eye contact #just one more of these left to do!#*slaps roof of wren* this bad boy can fit so much nerdiness in them

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bunkershotgolf · 4 years

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LedgeRock, Rees Jones plan May debut for new 17th hole - Renovation continues through spring, at a safe social distance

LedgeRock Golf Club has broken ground on the renovation of its 17th hole, with plans to reopen the infamous par-4 by the middle of May.

The project has been undertaken by superintendent Alan FitzGerald using in house crews, under the direction of architect Rees Jones, who authored the original design at LedgeRock GC back in 2006.

Notably, the work has been funded not via member assessment but via voluntary membership donations — one reason the work was authorized and ground broken with such speed.

“LedgeRock is a different sort of place. They aren’t much for lengthy meetings and drawn out procedures here,” says FitzGerald, a native of Ireland and the only superintendent the club has ever had. “People are really invested in this place. I suppose that informs the way things get done around here.

“I was in Orlando for the Golf Industry Show in late January and I was explaining to Rees Jones what we had in mind for 17. He said, ‘Well, I’ll be there as soon as you guys are ready to go’ — thinking that’d be months or at least weeks down the road. Well, I got home a couple days later, our General Manager Gerry Heller secured the funding authorization from our members, and I called Rees that first week in February: When can you be here?”

Most course renovation work in the Northeast is undertaken in the fall, allowing construction crews the opportunity to work until the snow flies. That schedule also allows seeded turf to mature all the following spring, once the snow melts. But Fitzgerald’s in-house construction capability affords him an extraordinary flexibility — to undertake renovation in February, for example, and have golfers playing the new hole by May.

FitzGerald was involved in the original construction at LedgeRock. The Penn State graduate also gathered considerable course renovation experience during assistant superintendent stints at famed Pine Valley Golf Club in Clementon, N.J., and the luxury Mt. Juliet Resort in his native Ireland.

“We had thought about trying to do 17 when we renovated no. 10, last spring, but for several reasons it didn’t make sense,” GM Gerry Heller explains. “One reason we pulled the trigger this winter was Alan himself. The work his team did at the par-3 10th hole was so well received (and under budget, I might add). Once we had gone over the project at 17 in real detail — to confirm all the numbers were solid — the members didn’t see any reason to wait.”

The weather has cooperated, even if the prevailing national health situation has not.

“We were well underway by the time the Covid19 situation hit home here in the U.S.,” Heller says. “But golf is one of the few sports where social distancing can be effectively maintained. After consulting with Alan, his crews, Rees Jones and his lieutenant Bryce Swanson, we continued full speed ahead. There are extra precautions to be taken. But outside, on your own, working a bulldozer is about the safest place to be these days.”

LedgeRock Golf Club opened in 2006, 15 minutes southwest of Reading, on 212 acres of terrain marked by striking elevation changes and riven by half a dozen roaring brooks. In today’s uncertain market — an average of 150 courses have closed each year since 2008, according to the National Golf Foundation — LedgeRock has thrived by doubling down on golf itself. There are no tennis courts or swimming pools here. Just its nationally ranked golf course and one of the Northeast’s most expansive practice facilities, which doubles as a sort of social hub — another clubhouse just down the hill from the clubhouse. Further down the hill sits Kohl Lodge, where national and regional members can stay the night.

The par-4 17th at LedgeRock has always been demanding. Its sharply uphill approach — over a cross bunker to a green nestled into a steep hillside — is one reason it’s the no. 1 handicap hole, the club’s most difficult hole.

“In many ways it has always played as a half-par hole, a tough par-4 for long hitters and a par-5 for shorter hitters,” architect Jones says. “And the cross bunker was an issue.”

Phase 1 of the renovation project, now underway, replaces the cross bunker with a single small bunker on the right, creating a generous lay-up area short and left of the putting surface. Jones also reimagined the green complex at 17. Where it had been flanked left by a greenside bunker, with bluegrass rough behind and right of the green, Jones artfully designed greenside chipping areas right and left, allowing players a variety of recovery shots.

Beyond the green, a wide fairway-cut swale has been created to catch approach shots that, in the past, would skitter over the green into thick rough.

“On a hole this long and this uphill, players naturally take a bit of extra club — to be sure they ‘get there’. But that downhill chip from the rough over the green at 17 was very difficult,” FitzGerald says. “Now they can putt from back there. They can putt from everywhere around the green, including short left. Better players chip, but that’s a tough shot off a tight bentgrass surface. The green surface has not been touched. But everything around it has been radically expanded, regraded and softened to give players the chance to recover, if they happen to miss the target.

“We made the decision to sod these renovated areas with bentgrass, to move things along schedule-wise. The plan was to get it open by May 1, but I think mid-May is more realistic. Either way, we’re only losing maybe a month of play on the hole.”

Phase II will be undertaken in October, on a more traditional renovation schedule. The design calls for significant widening and regrading the landing area on 17, which is flanked left by one of LedgeRock’s many babbling brooks. By widening the landing area, more golfers will be inclined to hit driver — which should shorten the length of the uphill approach shot.

“The grading on 17 fairway will accomplish two things,” FitzGerald explains. “We’re making the fairway more concave, so off-center drives will kick into more advantageous positions. But we’ll also be building up the left side of the fairway to add more landing area. When it’s done, that fairway will be one third large.” The sort of renovation/reinvestment taking place at LedgeRock is not on the radar at most private clubs in 2020. Berks County alone has seen a dozen golf properties shuttered over the last decade. Reading Country Club, just north of LedgeRock is operational but not as a private club. In the Harrisburg area, Blue Ridge CC, Wren Dale GC and Felicita GC have all been shuttered since 2012. “We do feel as if we have reimagined the traditional private club model here at LedgeRock,” Heller says. “Our national and regional membership programs are part of that evolution. Your golf course has to be truly top drawer to make that work, of course. But again, I have to credit our members for the attitude and atmosphere that prevails here. They’ve allowed us to streamline operations and decision-making. I’ve been in this business for 35 years. I’ve never seen a project approved in this way — with voluntary donations vs. a club-wide assessment — or this quickly.

“But you know what? Guess who benefits: The members do. They’ll be playing that new hole in May, instead of waiting till 2021.”

#LedgeRock Golf Club #Rees Jones #Mandarin Media #golf #sports

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magicallygrimmwiccan · 5 years

Text

Only Time

Summary: They used to spend almost every moment of their lives together. Everything changes once high school hits, and Roman begins to realize that his actions have consequences.

Notes: This is my half of an art/writing trade with the wonderful Wren (@dailypattondoodle or @moonfang03), who wanted some twin Logince with angst and a fluffy resolution. Welp, hope you enjoy this :) This is going to be posted in a couple different chapters, purely for the sake of my editor and formatting on Tumblr. Hope you enjoy, Wren!

Logan and Roman Everhart had always been non-normal children. They were an adopted set of identical twins, something very unheard of by most. Their adopted fathers were always quick to defend the legitimacy of their claim to parenthood, however, with Roman and Logan none the wiser. The twins also never quite seemed to act their age. Roman began to recite Shakespearean sonnets at 8 without being in an acting company. Logan was reading high-school level chemistry textbooks at age 10 and actually understanding them. Roman was fluent in at least 3 languages including English by the age of 11, and Logan could translate texts in at least 5 by the same age. Their fathers were extremely proud of their children (although baffled over how they learned these things that quickly) and encouraged their interests as individuals.

At the same time, however, both were still just average children. Roman enjoyed going to movies and playing outside and doing sports while also joining a Shakespeare youth company and a choir outside of school. Logan found a STEM group outside of school and joined that while also enjoying reading in his spot on the windowsill in the living room. Both boys had their differences, both from each other and from other children, of course, but first and foremost, they were brothers. They did everything together as children, from watching new shows and movies to starting new books and even trying to cook together. In other words, they were siblings. Yes, they fought, and had their differences, but at the end of the day, they were each other’s best friend. The two of them were always there for each other. Well… until high school, that is.

The first day of high school, Roman met the other theatre kids and was instantly enamoured by them. They understood him perfectly. They supported and participated in his dramatics. They didn’t laugh when he began to geek out over the latest Disney news or the latest Broadway musical or the newest episode of a cartoon show that he really should have stopped watching years ago when he got “too old for it”. They were there with him, just as passionate about the same things. Oh, sure, they all had their differences, and drama, but overall, Roman knew that he had found a new family in this small group of social outcasts in the theatre department at his new high school.

Logan, however? Logan struggled. Not only was he seen as a freak for his selective mutism (and yes, it was selective, he had a hard enough time talking normally so it wasn’t much of a stretch to only communicate in sign), his uncommon interests pushed him even further away from his peers. While he made a couple of friends, mostly fellow science fans, they had lives and responsibilities away from him and their group, and, as all of them were introverts, they tended to not meet up outside of school very often. As such, Logan was extremely lonely without Roman. But this was fine, he told himself. Roman was a social person by nature. He needed people to talk to that weren’t his brother. Logan had no reason to be upset, right?

“And then he just started bawling! I mean, it’s understandable, that spider was far too large for any five year old to handle, but I think that’s the most emotion he’s ever shown in his life!” Roman finished, head thrown back from the force of his laughter. The rest of his friends giggled a bit as well, all too used to hearing about the adventures of Young Logan and Roman.

“Roman, you’re so mean to your brother!” Mabel giggled, tossing her long brown hair over her shoulders. Her brown eyes twinkled with mirth as she almost dropped her fork into her pasta. Roman snorted and rolled his eyes, far too used to Mabel’s clumsiness.

“Mabel, you have no room to talk,” he shot back, grinning. “I seem to recall you telling us stories about being an absolute menace to your brother one summer when you were 12?” The other six people at the table laughed and oohed along with Mabel and Roman like the immature freshmen that they were. People at nearby tables shot them looks but did not speak up, ultimately succumbing to the apathy high school filled you with and returning to their regularly scheduled lunches. Nonetheless, their table did quiet down, not wanting to cause a fight to break out in the crowded lunchroom.

“Hey, speaking of brothers, I haven’t seen yours in a while, Roman,” Shiloh mentioned, instantly dampening the mood of the conversation. While Logan was liked by all at the table, more than one person had a complicated relationship with him, whether it be from classes or indirect experience through another person. Roman blinked in shock at Shiloh’s statement, mind whirling. He had just spoken to Logan an hour ago, hadn’t he? Outside of Logan’s Honors English classroom? And hadn’t his friends been with him? No, they had not, he concluded as the memories solidified. He had talked to Logan alone.

“He’s been busy with classes. He’s in all honors, remember, and he has a lot of activities to do outside of school,” Roman answered, voice even and unconcerned. Why should he be concerned, after all? This was normal behaviour for Logan, who did not like to talk to most people that were not in his immediate circle of Trusted Humans. Plus, these were not Logan’s friends. Acquaintances, yes, but not friends. Logan had his own friends, a couple of fellow sciencey introverts who did not mind Logan’s methods of communication. Why should Roman be concerned, then, that his friends had not seen Logan for a bit?

“Yeah, true. I dunno, though, he used to stop by at least once a lunch period. He hasn’t done that for at least two weeks,” Shiloh continued, chewing his bottom lip. Dani murmured in quiet agreement and shoved the rest of her sandwich in her mouth, and Mabel sighed, eyes flickering with melancholy. None of them would admit it, but they missed Logan’s visits, if only to see his adorable banter with his twin.

“He’s probably just busy, okay guys? Nothing’s wrong,” Roman huffed, stabbing violently into his pasta. “Why are you worried, anyway? He’d tell me if something is wrong.” Dani and Shiloh looked at each other across the table, silently communicating with eyebrow raises and glances. Clearly, Roman wasn’t paying attention to his sibling. Should they tell him, or let him figure this out on his own?

The bell to signal the end of lunch interrupted their decision making, and the group all stood to scatter to their afternoon classes, groaning the entire time. Roman hiked up his backpack and stalked off to algebra, slipping into his seat just before the late bell rang. Logan was fine, he knew. His friends had no reason to make such a big deal over this. Right?

Logan choked back his tears as he checked his phone for the fifth time in the last minute or so. Roman wasn’t coming, it was clear. This was far from the first time Roman had skipped their meetings, and it was very unlikely to be the last. He had a life, and friends, and better things to do with his time than spend time with his stupid nerdy brother who was still far too clingy at age 14. Five more minutes, he thought, I’ll give him five more minutes. He was already five minutes late, Logan knew, but he was not quite willing to accept that fact yet. He was not ready to admit that his brother was abandoning him.

Five minutes passed and Roman was nowhere to be found, as was normal lately. Logan sighed and began to walk towards his next class half an hour early as usual, ignoring the pangs and tearing in his chest. He should be fine, he couldn’t possibly expect Roman to spend every moment with him, he should be happy for his brother and his new friends. Logan knew that change was natural in high school, yet he somehow still felt awful over it. He should have made more of an effort in his younger years to talk to people other than Roman. Maybe then he’d know how to deal with this.

“Logan? You’re here early again. Is something wrong?” his Trig Honours teacher asked, concern dripping from her voice. Logan swallowed down his feelings, shifted his binder to his right arm, and lifted his left hand to reply.

No, I just finished lunch early and my friends are busy. May I please stay in here? he asked, hand shaking slightly at the thought of rejection. His teacher must have noticed and smiled at him, waves of calm radiating off of her.

“Of course you can stay in here, Logan. In fact, could you help me grade the Algebra 1 tests? If that’s not too much trouble,” she replied, holding up a stack of paper. Logan nodded and set his materials at his desk before walking back over and settling down to help grade. Grading relaxed him and took his mind off of his issues.

“So, Logan. Do you need to talk?” she asked, looking over her glasses. Logan shook his head, focusing on correcting a poor freshman’s factoring. She sighed and went back to silence, allowing Logan to stew in his thoughts. Far too soon, the rest of his class began to filter in, and Logan had to go back into his daily schedule, still raw and uncertain about what was going on with his brother.

Luckily, school was over quickly, and Logan began his walk home, not willing to wait for Roman to finish play practice today. Plus, he had homework, and Dad would need help making dinner since Papa was working late tonight. It’s not like Roman would worry, anyway, Logan knew as he reached the front door, reaching into his pocket to grab his house keys. He walked in the door, the scent of burning sugar hitting his nose.

“Logan? Can you help me? I can’t… figure out how to cook!” Dad’s voice called, tinged with panic. Logan chuffed, threw his backpack onto the couch, and walked into the kitchen, eyes widening as he took in the destruction around him. Flour dusted every surface. Eggs were splattered across the table. Sloppily chopped cloves of garlic lay on the floor, and a bottle of olive oil lay on its side, thankfully sealed and not leaking. In the middle of this cooking disaster zone stood Virgil Everhart, a famous author who still didn’t know how to cook at age 30. Logan smiles slightly and walked over, picking up a discarded chopping knife.

What are you trying to make, Dad? Virgil sighed and turned back to the stove, shutting it off and taking the slightly-smoking pan off of the burner.

“This… this nice pasta recipe. And we had all the things to hand make pasta… and I wanted to surprise Patton with something special? But… I failed,” Virgil muttered, gesturing around the room. Logan nodded and gently took the pan from Virgil. He grabbed out all the ingredients he was going to need and set to work, smiling.

I can do this, Dad. Just focus on cleaning up, Logan signed before setting to work. Virgil shuffled around behind him, cleaning up everything that he had almost destroyed and handing Logan the olive oil for later. Logan snorted and took it, giving his Dad a large smile and a big thumbs-up. Virgil was trying to learn a new skill, it was clear.

“Okay, it’s all cleaned up. Can I help?” Logan shook his head and finished kneading the dough, beginning to set it up to roll it out and cut it. The kitchen descended into silence as the two worked, Virgil mostly handing Logan things and stepping back and watching his son make the meal. Logan was just finishing dishing the pasta into bowls when the front door slammed open and Roman’s voice came floating in.

“I’m home, everyone! Do I smell garlic?” Logan stiffened a bit but focused on finishing his task while Virgil went out to find and talk to Roman.

“Yep. Logan actually made dinner. Talk to him,” Virgil drawled. Logan finished topping everything with parmesan and hurried towards his room, snatching a bowl on the way. No, he wasn’t avoiding Roman, what were you talking about?

He walked into his room and softly closed the door before collapsing into his desk chair, pulling out his math textbook and flipping open his notebook. This was not the first time he did this, eating dinner and doing homework while avoiding his family, and it would be far from the last time he did this. He shoved down the bubbling heat, stabbed his fork into a mushroom, and threw himself into graphing conic sections for the second night in a row.

“So… Roman. We need to have a talk,” Virgil started, sitting down with his noodles across from his more extroverted son. Roman blinked and looked up, mouth full of pasta and carrots. Confusion painted his face, which Virgil would find adorable in any other scenario, but right now made anger bubble in his gut. It was clear Logan was hurting, and Roman should have noticed and known, but he clearly had no idea, and that made Virgil angrier than he thought.

“About what? My grades are fine, I’m not having issues… what’s up, Dad? Is someone dying?” Roman babbled, eyes wide and panicked. Virgil sighed and pinched his nose. Wow, how did he raise such a dramatic child? He blamed Patton.

“No one is dying. You’re not in trouble. It’s Logan.” Roman’s face paled and he almost dropped the bowl, catching it at the last second. “I… what? What’s wrong with Logan? Is he being bullied? Is he okay? Is he sick? Does he have depression? Who do I need to fight?” Roman rattled off, fists clenching and teeth gritting. Virgil actually… felt scared of his son at that moment. That… that should not happen.

“Whoa, hang on, Roman! Slow down! No, Logan is okay in most of those fields. Please let me talk!” Virgil babbled. Roman quieted down, brown eyes wide with expectation. Virgil sighed, steepled his fingers, and began. “I… I believe Logan may be exhibiting symptoms of depression or anxiety. And… I want to ask you if you have any idea why?”

Roman frowned and began to think. He seemed to finally stumble across a solution and his eyes widened, horror and despair filling their cocoa depths. “I… holy shit. I have no idea,” he whispered. Virgil sighed, took a bite of his pasta, and began to think about how to explain things to his son.

“I… you talk a lot about your friends, which is great, don’t get me wrong, but you also used to talk about Logan… and I’m wondering if you’ve just stopped talking to him?” Roman frowned before comprehension dawned.

“I haven’t been talking to him… oh crap, we were supposed to meet up at lunch today… oh crap!” Roman bolted upright, face pale. “I… where’s Logan! I need to talk to him! I- I need to fix this!” He sprinted out of the room, leaving Virgil alone to eat his pasta and contemplate all the horrible outcomes this situation could bring.

The front door opened again and closed again, and Virgil looked up to find Patton smiling softly at him. “Hey, honey, what’s going on?” Virgil sighed and pecked Patton on the cheek.

“Roman and Logan… are having some issues. They’re talking it out now.” Patton nodded and sat next to him, squeezing his hand.

“It’ll be fine, darling. They’re strong. They have a great bond. Everything will be okay,” Patton whispered. Virgil leaned against him, smiling softly.

“I hope so, Patt. I hope so.”

Knock knock. “Logan? Can we talk?” Logan’s head snapped upwards and he gulped at the sound of Roman’s nervous voice. His brother only sounded nervous when things were serious. Had Logan done something wrong? The mere thought sent nasty whispers through his brain, and he tried to block them out, focusing on the present. He stood and walked to his door, opening it to find Roman fidgeting with his sleeves in the hallway. “Can I come in?” Roman asked, eyes shining with something Logan couldn’t decipher. Logan nodded and let him in, closing the door behind his twin before sitting back in his desk chair while Roman perched on the bed. Silence reigned as the brothers faced each other, neither putting forth any words. Finally, after a solid three minutes of silence, Roman placed his hands on his knees, sighed, and began.

“Logan. I… you’ve been acting off lately. A bit more… depressed? And anxious? And I’d like to know what’s going on.” Logan bit his lip and wrung his hands together, trying to formulate a response. Should he be honest? Should he tell Roman the truth about his feelings? Or should he try and make Roman feel better? Looking into Roman’s earnest eyes, however, Logan felt all plans of lying leave his head. He had to tell his twin the truth.

I… have been feeling abandoned lately? You have been skipping our lunch meetings to hang out with your friends… and we don’t talk much anymore… which is fine! You have your own friends and your own life. I just feel a bit sad and hurt over it, Logan signed. His hands shook as they formed the damning signs, his hands lowering when he was done. Silence reigned, and Logan’s throat began to close up. He was so stupid, why couldn’t he just push his feelings down, why couldn’t he grow up and let Roman go-

Logan was suddenly yanked into a hug and he gasped, tears bubbling in his eyes. “You’re okay, Logan. You’re okay. I’m so, so sorry, bro, I didn’t know, I’m so sorry,” Roman sobbed, squeezing Logan. Logan slowly lifted his arms and hugged Roman back, finally allowing the tears to stream down his cheeks. There the two brothers sat, crying, for a length of time neither could tell, simply basking in the presence and love of the other, their best friend since birth. Eventually, Roman pulled back, sniffing, but kept his hands on Logan’s shoulders, giving him a watery grin.

“Okay. I promise, I will not forget our meetings, okay? In fact, I’m going to start spending all of lunch at least once a week with you. How does that sound?” Logan’s eyes widened and he frantically shook his head. No, he didn’t want that, Roman’s friends would start to hate him for taking Roman away-

“Hey, Logan? My friends will understand, okay? You come first, anyway. If they can’t handle me spending time with my brother, then they weren’t that great of friends in the first place,” Roman stated firmly, his voice cutting through Logan’s spiraling thoughts. Logan gulped and raised his hands.

I don’t want to cut into your time with people you enjoy, though. Roman growled and shook Logan gently.

“Logan. You matter more, okay? Plus, they all miss you. Just… trust me on this, okay?” Logan slowly, shakily nodded, and Roman smiled softly. “Good. That’s great, Logan. Now, yell at me if I do anything stupid, okay?”

Logan snorted. You’ll be smacked about ten times per day, then. Roman blinked before his cheeks puffed out.

“Hey! That’s rude!” Logan giggled, and Roman simply pouted more in an effort to be the largest drama queen on the planet. This caused Logan to giggle harder, and finally, Roman broke down laughing as well, happiness welling up in both sibling’s souls. They ended up cuddling on Logan’s bed and watching Netflix, somehow, but neither complained. This was the most time they’d spent with each other for a while, and neither was willing to have this end.

What neither knew was that, when they eventually fell asleep, Patton slipped into the room and tucked them in, plugged in Logan’s laptop, and dropped a soft kiss onto both of their foreheads. “Sweet dreams, kiddos,” he murmured before leaving, smiling to himself. His kiddos were finally beginning to make things better, and nothing could be better in his eyes.

“Logan, calm down. They all like you, remember?” Roman murmured, nudging his brother in the ribs gently. Logan gulped and adjusted his grip on his Caesar salad, staring across the lunchroom at Roman’s usual table filled with loud, laughing theatre kids. Mabel was draped across Dani, the two girls watching something on Dani’s phone. Shiloh and Tommy were shouting in Hebrew about math homework (Logan could only tell because he glimpsed their open math textbooks), and Clair was giggling along with Cory and Kate about cute humans. Overall, an alien environment to Logan. He didn’t fit in; he didn’t belong there. Roman huffed and grabbed Logan’s arm, yanking him after him as he marched over.

“Friends! Countrymen! Gentlewomen! Lend me your ears!” he called, causing the entire cafeteria to turn around and stare at them. Logan flinched, but Roman and his entire friend group took this in stride, grinning.

“Yes, Your Highness? What say you?” Shiloh yelled back, his voice lilting with sarcasm. The entire table chorused agreement, a cacophony of sarcasm erupting from the table. Logan flinched back, but Roman pushed onwards, gently shoving him in between Shiloh and Alfred. Logan simply fidgeted with his fork and waited to be kicked from the table.

“I say that my darling advisor, my dear brother, will be joining us today!” Roman chirped, lowering his volume. The rest of the cafeteria ignored them once again, and Logan swallowed as all the eyes at the table turned to him. He was acutely aware of how his argyle sweater vest and tie made him stand out among this group of fashionable teens. He fidgeted, not used to this much attention. Mika and Wirt were much more subdued and hated eye contact as much as Logan did. This… this was not in Logan’s comfort zone at all.

“Cool! So, Logan, do you listen to musicals? I just finished listening to the UK version of Heathers and do I have some opinions,” Mabel answered Roman, slamming her fist into the table.

“Oh, en guarde, bitch, you do not get to trash that recording!” Tommy yelped, slamming his fist into the table. Mabel yelled a challenge back, and Logan soon found himself embroiled in a conversation about which version of Heathers was better, a topic he knew nothing about. However, he found this conversation… pleasant, even fun. All of Roman’s friends were very welcoming and warm, and all of them took their time and let him sign, Roman translating for him. Never once did Logan feel excluded. This was… nice. He smiled his first genuine smile in months. Things were finally looking up.

Notes: And that’s Chapter One! I’m most likely posting Chapter 2 tomorrow (fingers crossed!). Hope you all enjoyed this!

#sanders sides #logan sanders #roman sanders #twin logince #patton sanders #virgil sanders #parental moxiety #angst #fluff #hurt/comfort #selectively mute logan #i am an evil author #writing trade #chapter one #only time

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aka-willow · 4 years

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Forever Young

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Words: 662

Characters: Willow Wren, Marty Fields, Annabel Carson, Kate Gray, Peter Parker, Ned Leeds, Michelle Jones

Prompt/Tag:

“real smooth, tripping over air.”

“anything, just call me, okay?”

Summary: Willow and her friends attend the December school dance and later bail to see Star Wars

Timeline: December 2015

Song: Forever Young - Alphaville

A/N: i was supposed to have my graduation tomorrow lmao so i’m coping by writing a TON

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Slow 80s pop played over the massive speakers in the gym as I walked into the dance with Marty and his friends—the room covered with winter-themed decorations and lit by string lights. I spotted Peter and Ned, who were standing with a few freshmen from the decathlon team, including M.J., who threw me a friendly middle-finger as I walked over. It caught me off guard, she had barely given me a “hi” before and I stumbled over the slightly big flats I was wearing.

“Real smooth, tripping over air,” M.J. said, and I found myself laughing as I approached the group and I got a rare smile back. The dance floor was crowed with people, so we stood on the outskirts, for now, observing the dance.

“Hey, Willow,” said Peter. “We didn’t think you’d make it!”

I rolled my eyes. “Marty’s friends take forever to get ready. Where’s Kate?”

“Right here,” said Kate, joining our small circle of people. “Sorry, was getting some water.” She nodded at my dress. “I have no idea how you’re never hot.”

I was sweating a little, but I shrugged. “Thin blood.”

“I told you we should have worn ties,” Ned said to Peter. “All the juniors and seniors have ties on.”

“You guys are fine,” Kate said. “Can we go dance? Please?”

Ned and Peter exchanged a glance. “Like, over there?” Peter asked. “It’s… I don’t know.” Still, Kate was able to convince me and the boys to find our way to the edge of the dance floor, still in the action but in our own space. We danced under the flashing lights and laughed at the DJs—one of the science teachers—awkward attempt to switch out the lyrics to “Party in the USA” to “Party at MSST.” We lost most of the other decathlon team to the bleachers, where they sat and talked, but that was okay.

Maybe I spoke too soon. Maybe dances aren’t that bad.

Eventually, Peter and Ned split off to find a few people from one of their classes, and Kate and I went outside to get some fresh air, where we met up with Marty. “Where’s Annabel?” I asked.

“Bathroom,” he said.

“Going well?” Kate asked.

“Yeah,” said Marty, smiling cheekily. “Yeah, it is.”

We sat outside, listening to the gossip of other students around us—for some reason, the outside patio seemed to be the place for drama—and took in the cool winter air, just as a few tiny snowflakes blew around in the wind.

“Hold on,” Kate said, checking her phone. “The boys want to leave for Star Wars soon and I gotta say hi to some people from drama. Be right back.” She went inside and Marty and I stood under the pavilion.

“All right,” I said. “I’ll see you after the movie?”

“Sounds good,” Marty said. “Anything, just call me, okay?” He looked like he was about to say something else but then held his knuckles out for a fist bump.

“Ten-four,” I said. “See you at home. Go get ‘em, tiger.”

“See you later.”

I went back inside to meet with Kate, Ned, and Peter, who were waiting by the door. In the hallway bathroom outside the gym, I changed into comfier clothes and slipped my dress into my backpack. “Ready for Star Wars?” I asked.

“I just heard a spoiler,” Ned said, shaking his head. “May the force be with us.”

Kate punched him in the arm. “Don’t say anything!”

We practically ran to catch the subway, laughing, chasing each other through the chilly streets, snapping a selfie as we passed Stark Tower, panting, and yelling theories about the movie to each other. I felt like I was about to burst from happiness, like I could leap from the ground and just rocket into the air on the spot. The wind picked up, knocking over a sign advertising hot pizza and we finally give in to the cold, running for the theater.

#ww writing #willow wren #ned leeds #kate gray #marty fields #peter parker #michelle jones

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boeserbby · 5 years

Text

Only Time Will Tell- Brock Boeser 1.2

about/request: I really wanted to explore a relationship where you are ‘the other woman’ this is the result of that. I’m not sure how long this will end up so…. sorry.

warnings: cursing, panic attack, underage drinking, yelling, dark thoughts

authors note: Just a reminder that this story is made up. Charlie is based off a real person but everything else is made up. Also Brock played in Iowa for the 14-15 season in Iowa so he really wouldn’t have played in Bloomington, but I made it so he played for his high school team again. Italicized is inner thoughts or you are speaking to yourself. This is two separate flash backs. More real time in the next part.

word count: 2330

I never really understood where Brock and I stood after I left. I wonder if he remembers that kiss they way I do. That kiss was my first and was unlike any other. Maybe it was the beer or the fact that “Hey! I’m kissing Brock.”, or possibly both, but that kiss was as unforgettable as the first taste of whiskey. It wasn't too long after Charlie died and the hockey team dedicated a game in his honor. After first period all of Bloomington High School Boys’ Varsity hockey team joined my parents on the ice. Almost all of Bloomington High School packed the stands same with parents, community members and old coaches who knew Charlie.

People were weeping as my mother stone cold delivered a beautiful performance that deserved an Oscar nomination. The moment of silence that followed was the loudest 60 seconds of my life. No one dared speak, even the children stood in solemn protest of the death of Charlie Y/L/N. The team annihilated our adversaries 14-1, and I could hear Charlie in the background complaining how the big defeat like that wasn't fun.

The real fun began much later. Long after parents were at home, a huge party started at Louis Newton’s house. People poured in and poured drinks in honor of my brother. Of course I had no plans on going. It was a Friday night, the last Friday before finals started. I had not slept a full night in months without waking up to a nightmare of some sorts. I couldn't drink, or at least I wasn’t supposed to, with the anti-anxiety and antidepressants I was taking. Add on to the fact that if I do go people would stare. I was the dead kids sister. It wasn’t until as I walked out of the arena Wren Conn, another one of my brother’s friends, convinced my parents it would do me good to go get dinner with the team.

Walking into Louis Newton’s house was like walking into a brewery that was invaded by wild animals. People were everywhere. Some I recognized that Charlie and I had played with on the Jr. Mites back when we were 4. Everyone was in that weird drunk stage where the liquor didn't quite hit them fully, but the slight hazy buzz wafted around. Wren was the first to arrive from the hockey team so a large amount of cheering started once he walked in. I wasn't sure where the others were but Wren didn't seem to care much as he grabbed us two drinks. Years of being the sober cab when Charlie and Brock did this made me hesitant to drink the reddish orange liquid but after the first cup, each slid down faster and magically tasted better too.

I wouldn't have even noticed the arrival of the rest of the hockey team 45 minutes later if it wasn't for the entire house erupting into the off key singing of “We are the Champions” as the boys filed into the already cramped quarters. To be honest by then the weird mixture I had been chugging almost made me forget the big blonde boy I had been avoiding. Almost.

I had lost Wren as I made my way through the living room, or at least right then it was the makeshift dance floor. The kitchen was my destination. My goal was my 5th or maybe even 6th drink. I was alone inside that room and even more so inside myself when he walked in.

An awkward silence enveloped the room as I tried to pour my drink and not make eye contact. I tipped the jug higher hoping, praying, that I would be able to fly out of their. Escape from Brock, from my parents, from Charlie and the guilt I had because of him. I don't even know what he was doing while the cup slowly filled. It wasn't until as I grabbed the cover to the gallon that his hand touched mine. I stayed looking at the countertops as I could feel the anxiety I had been avoiding all night tighten my chest.

“I’m gonna have some too,” he mumbled.

I wasn't watching as I grabbed my cup and attempted an exit. Attempted is the big word in the sentence. Right when I had the idea to leave another individual had the idea to streak through the entire house including through the kitchen. He rounded the corner just as I had followed the countertop and boom. We met and there was liquid hangover all over.

To be specific it was all over me. Buffy managed to escape the flood of liquor as he whooped and continued through the maze of rooms. Brock managed to grab my arm in time so I didn't fall from the streaker.

“Are you okay?” he asked turning my body so he could make sure I wasn't seriously hurt.

I could feel the tears well up in my eyes as each heart beat thumped deep in my chest. I could feel my hands starting to shake as each breath seemed to have a harder and harder time going through my chest. I think Brock sensed what was happening. It wasn't the first time I was having a panic attack around Brock. One time when I was 13 I forgot my homework sitting on my desk at home. I remember Brock calmed me down and raced back home which was quite far, especially as it was dead winter and 3 feet of snow plus thick coats, snow pants and boots made sprinting hard. Yet he made it there and back in 5 minutes which was usually a 15 minute walk.

He grabbed my wrist and made his way upstairs and into a dark bedroom. He sat me on the bed and went into the bathroom, running slightly warm water onto some hand towel.

“Put this on your neck,” he said using a voice as sweet as honey. “Focus on your breathing.”

Yet in that moment all I could think of was Charlie. Weird I know. Here I am drunk off my ass in some random guys bedroom with my brother’s closest friend thinking of that brother.

“In” Brock said, sucking in a big breath of his own.

Why did it have to be Charlie? Why wasn't it me?

“Out.”

It should have been me. I bet mom and dad would have been happier if Charlie lived and I didn’t. Charlie would have made something of himself. You’ll never make anything of yourself.

“In.”

I bet Brock would be happier too. He wouldn't have to be sitting in some random guys house in some random guy’s bedroom trying to calm down some little kid. The only reason he is here with you is because he pities you. He could care less about you if your brother wasn't dead.

“Out.”

No one would care if you were dead. Hell even Charlie wouldn't have cared.

“Y/N/N I know there’s a lot going on your mind but you have to listen to me. I know you're thinking about Charlie” he starts strong but starts muttering towards the end.

Between each struggle for breath you hear Charlie’s name come out of Brock’s mouth. It peaked my interest, but my booming thoughts smothered any light his words brought. Then it happened. He went from kneeling in front of me as I sat on the bed to having his lips meet mine.

God, my heart. If I wasn't afraid of a heart attack before that, I was terrified of it now. He tasted of gatorade and beer which I know saying it makes it sound gross and believe me it was disgusting. No way in hell do gatorade and beer ever belong together. Don't try it. It doesn’t taste good, trust me. Yet as soon as he pulled away I was too focused on the fact we kissed I forgot about my guilt.

To be honest, everything after that was super blurry. I only remember that as I was lying down now clothed in Brock’s shirt in the bed as Brock lay on the floor, I started to cry. It was silent, but not quite enough for Brock to not hear. He got up and lay next to me. That was the first time I slept without nightmares.

The next morning I woke up and the bed was empty. My head hurt something awful and I couldn’t remember anything after that kiss. I got up and pulled my pants on. I was just buckling the when the door started to open. Brock walked in carrying a bottle of ibuprofen and large cups of coffee.

“Hey, I thought you might want some,” he said throwing me a bottle of pain relievers.

“Thanks,” I mumbled as he hands me my cup and he sits on the bed.

“You okay?” he asked. That was such a weird question. Okay was a relative word and meant different things for different people. Mabe right now I was okay but once I walked out that door would I still be okay?

“Yeah, I’m fine,” I said, trying to ignore the major headache.

“About last night,” he said. Suddenly everything wasn’t okay anymore. He means the kiss. Oh gosh, that was my first kiss. What if he says something about it?

“Yeah?” I said trying to discreetly wipe my hands on my knees.

“I don't really remember everything that happened, I was just double checking that you are 100% alright,” he said. A strange feeling washed over me in that moment. It certainly wasn't relief. It was more like dread, but why dread?

“Yeah, I’m just trying to live each day as best I can.”

That was the last good memory I had of me Brock. Our last conversation was a lot different. Of course it was right after a huge loss in playoffs. The refs called stupid things and for some reason Brock got into a fight with the other team’s center. They both got ejected. My parents went over to the Boeser’s house that night for our weekly family dinner they tried to start to keep our families close. I think it was so my parents could feel close to Brock because in some ways it was like being close to Charlie.

When we got to the house I saw Brock going for a walk towards the old park Charlie and him would always go to which inevitably meant I went too. I jogged to catch up to him but hung back a bit. I could tell when he was angry. It was in his walk, the way he shoved his hands deep inside his pockets, the way he breathed in deep breaths like he was trying to keep from screaming at even the bird who whistled it's call far in the distance.

When we got to the park he harshly sat on the merry-go-round. He started spinning slowly. I sat directly across from him, but angled my body so I faced him as he kept his legs turned out towards the rest of the world.

“You did really good, Brock” I said. I knew he was frustrated about losing the game and I knew he was going through it over and over again in his head.

He stayed silent. So I tried again, “Brock, I’m sorry you guys didn't go farther.”

“You don’t get it,” He said.

“What? What don’t I get?” I asked.

“Anything! Everything!” he said raising his voice just slightly. “I just wanted to spend some time alone, but here you are. Just like when Charlie and I went anywhere. You always had to come with.”

I didn't know what to say, I just sat there in silence. “Did you ever think that maybe Charlie didn't want you to come with everywhere he went? Charlie would sit here and complain about how clingy you were but I really didn't notice until he was gone how bad you really were. Can’t you just get over yourself and leave people alone for 5 minutes,” he said and by now he was standing and looking right at me.

“I’m sorry you felt that way,” I said quietly getting up from my spot. I started to walk back to his house, not bothering to look back. Once I got back I faked sick and had Wren pick me up and drive me home.

I locked myself in my room for a whole week after that. I spent the whole time laying in bed or looking at baby pictures. I ignored my phone and even debated blocking Brock, but every time the little pop-up screen came up asking if I was sure, I couldn’t hit it. So I silenced him and his 38 calls and 56 texts.

By then it was about time for him to leave for development camp before the draft. Brock and his mother stopped outside the house the day they left. My parents went out but I made up some stupid excuse. Instead I watched out the window. When my parents came back inside they fought for what seemed to be the 80th time that week. I texted him that I accepted his apology and wished him luck. Then I focused on my future. Nothing was going to stop me from leaving Minnesota. Nothing.

I never even really said goodbye to Brock. Once I left it seemed like contact between us ceased to exist. Occasionally there would be a like on Instagram or maybe one of those stupid comments on a family picture on Facebook. Neither him nor I reached out to each other, and soon we were just two ships in the sea. I made a new Instagram page and turned off my Facebook account, all but deleting him and most of my Minnesotan past. I focused on college and I guess so did he. Now look at us. Strangers in familiar faces. Strange how life works.

#nhl imagines #nhl imagine #hockey imagine #hockey imagines #brock boeser #brock boeser imagines #brock boeser imagine #Vancouver canucks

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pencil-free · 4 years

Text

Red Gold - Chapter 1

Genre: Urban Fantasy Subgenre: Mystery Rating: 13+ Warnings: Blood, Violence, Magic Systems that make No Sense

Quaint, cozy, and available announced in large, bold letters across the advertisement on my phone. I glanced up from the scream and grimaced. The cabin itself screamed old and collapsing with the last tenant buried somewhere in the woods nearby. It was available, though, if I had to give the ad any credit. And for cheap. I had no idea why. The half mile walk down a beaten dirt path was a scenic route through the old, overgrown forest that didn’t open up so much as unwillingly parted for the crooked house. The trees still did their best to reach their branches overhead, their limbs just above the roof. Moss swallowed up one wall of the house while vines crawled across another. Where a time stained window had broken, a vine had taken the opportunity to expand its reach inside. I could feel eyes on me, and more than one pair.

“Are you trying to sell me Narnia or something?” I asked, and I tried not to flinch when something small stirred up the dust piled against the windowsill. The landowner, however, seemed to take my question with a positive attitude. Lucky me. The man looked like someone trying to get a dilapidated cabin in the middle of the woods off his hands. Which was, to say,average enough, with just a hint of oddity that drew the eyes back to him. I did not want to keep my eyes on him, afraid that the longer I looked, the more I would question my decisions. But I had little choice as it was, and this small house of his was my only choice. And so I looked at him.

He didn’t look very old or very young. He had dark hair streaked with grey that curled to a strong chin and his skin was smooth but for crows feet around his wide-spread eyes. He wasn’t very tall - not an inch above me - but I still felt my head tilt up as I spoke to him. He hadn’t stopped smiling since I’d met him.

“Or something,” he answered, rocking forward on his heels with a soft chuckle. “I don’t remember there being a lamppost in the back, but you’re more than welcome to check for yourself.”

“I’ll just take your word for it.” Something told me that if I turned my back, I’d easily find a snake biting into me. Or a knife. I winced. I’d promised myself not to think like that when I first found the offer online last week.

Wren’s Woods was the name for the forest and the town it grew in. It bordered another, larger town, made popular and busy by its sprawling college campus. The campus that, as I was informed of just last week, I would be attending. Things moved fast after that. They had to. I was off the waiting list, but a month too late to be accepted into the dorms. Off campusing living was denied to freshmen and, unless I did some things I would regret later, getting into a fraternity house was out of the question. At least until rush week, depending on if I was still alive by then. Other rentals were too expensive and any potential roommates to share the monthly costs were already paired up after a summer of making friends and connections, which left me with, well, the not so family friendly Mr. Thomas. “Would you like to take a look inside?” How could I say no when he asked so nicely? I answered with him a nod, afraid my voice would betray the cool and calm air I tried to put on. I didn’t have to worry. The wave of rotted wood, dust, and mildew that rolled out of the front door wiped the passive expression right off my face and I hid a disgusted frown behind a raised hand. The door cracked when the landlord tried to close it. The rent was cheap, I repeated to myself like a mantra. Maybe a prayer. The utilities were included. The rent was cheap. Utilities were included. The landlord gave up with the door and flashed another one of his smiles. Would my parents drive the three hours back here to pick up my body? “I wish-” I started to mumble from behind my hand, and stopped with a shuddered breath when the landlord waved an arm in front of my face. “I’ll get that fixed, don’t you worry,” he said in a way that made me worry very much. “And that, too.” He moved his gesture to the back of the main room. The crack from the slightly ajar door that might or might not get fixed let in a thin strip of light that did little to brighten up the room. The hole in the ceiling, however, did, and it fixed its spotlight on a large pile of leaves. The source of the rotten smell, I assumed. Prayers weren’t going to make that go away any time soon. “I just wish-” I started again, and the landlord interrupted me with an apologetic cough. “The bedroom is this way,” he directed, and he shuffled towards a door on the left. I followed, if only because nothing could get worse than it already was. It would take a month just to clean the cobwebs out of the corners and another still to get the stench out. A shopping list was already formed in my head as I took a brief look at the next room. A bed frame was already shoved against the far wall and a dresser faced a large closet. There was no question about the questionable cabin; it was dirty and old but it was a - mostly intact - roof and that beat a camp in the woods and homework done in the light of the moon. I reached for the closet door to check for skeletons, just in case. I had to yank hard to get the doors open and I fell flat on my back when a squirrel hissed at me from behind the doors. There were no bones, thankfully, but the grass and sticks packed tight between the shelves inside were almost just as bad. The little pointy claws that swiped at me were even worse. At least skeletons couldn’t give me rabies. “I wish you’d stop!” The words were out of me before I could think about them. My lips tingled as they uttered them and I rubbed at my mouth when I realized what I’d said. The squirrel gave me another warning swipe before darting out of a small hole in the wall and I flinched when a second one chased after it. I shook my head as I climbed to my feet. There wasn’t anything to be afraid of, I told myself. They wouldn’t be back after that. “I’m guessing you don’t have anything against pets?” The landlord didn’t laugh and I didn’t either. “You know, because of the..” I gestured with a flimsy arm at the messy nest in the closet in lieu of words as they died in my throat. The man’s eyes were still bright and stared straight at me but the smile was nearly gone. It was more creepy to not see it. It made his mall, round face even smaller. It would be easy to remember it for whenever I was asked to help the cops create a sketch, I guessed. “I don’t any have real restrictions,” he said after another moment of silence, cheery Maybe he’d just finally understood the joke. My mouth pulled back in an uneasy and quiet laugh. “Do you have any other questions? What do you think?” “I think…” I thought that I had no choice. That, if I did wake up in the middle of the night to the sound of a serial killer in the room that at least I wouldn’t have to worry about finals. That maybe every single thing that had happened today were all just separate coincidences. And I thought that idea made me sound too optimistic. If I’d learned anything in the past few years it was that it was never a coincidence. “I think maybe I should look for that lamp post just in case. Which I can do at any time…” I paused to let the nausea to settle in my stomach. “Since I’ll take it if I can.” “It’s all yours, Cameron!” The man threw a hand out in front of me faster than I could blink and gave a firmer handshake than I thought his thin arms were able to. I made a mental note of that as we headed back into the main room. It was all my spinning head could do as I shuffled after him. He knew my name. I hadn’t remembered telling him my name. Had he gotten it from my initial message to him about the cabin? A small stack of papers were arranged on the kitchen area’s island in just seconds afterwords, but the details were lost on my. Doubt and more frustration than I was proud to admit filled my head instead of the list of agreements I signed. Only a few words got through the fog, but that was a problem for future me to handle. If there was one, that was. “-and any other questions, just ask for Wren.” I thought I was going to black out. “Wren? As in Wren’s Woods?” He didn’t seem as phased and laughed my own startled shock off. “This place did used to have a real name, but I’ve lived here for a long time - longer than that school you’ll be going to up the hill. Soon this was the place that Wren lived in. Wren’s Woods. If you stick around for long enough, maybe they’ll start calling the river Cam’s Creek.” He winked. “It doesn’t have the same ring to it,” I winced. “Just show me where else I have to sign before I change my mind.”

#my writing #writeblr #red gold wip #fiction #urban fantasy

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