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danwhobrowses · 3 years

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One Piece Chapter 1023 - Initial Thoughts

15 Minutes is on the clock

Onigashima reaches the mainland and the fights continue on. Including the Wings of the King vs the Disasters of the Beast

Without further ado, let's get into it

Spoilers for Chapter 1023, Support the Official Release too

Vivi cover page is nice, proper Disney Princess action with Karoo being jealous birb again, but now I have worries because last we heard something went down with Alabasta...all those post-Reverie questions

Back to where we left off with the boys being back in town

Miyagi can you not ominously foreshadow Zoro's future pain please?

Kawamatsu's here to save Zoro from interference, and Hyou's telling the Yakuza not to get in the way of this fight

Marco though is a pensive Pineapple, taking a good long look at King as he recalls Whitebeard telling him about King's race living on the Red Line before the world nobles, Void Century and before stuff

Mention of Gods does fuel one of my old post fan theories, but also fuels that the WG kicked King's race out of the Red Line

Izo though out here saving Marco from being an easy target, tbh Marineford did show he was prone to a surprise attack

Asking Izo if they believe in God though in a raid that may lead to their deaths is kinda irreverent right now though huh?

Queen back to hyping themselves up though

Hm? Is there a limitation to Sanji's raid suit? Sanji's saying he feels weird

Zoro wasting no time to banter with it though, saving Sanji from King as Sanji returns the favour with Queen

Queen does make a valid point though, as much as Sanji expresses that he is unenhanced by Germa he can also set himself on fire, I do wonder if it is just part of that enhancement in there that he expresses as his 'fiery hot passion'

Lunarian though, that must be King's species' name: moon people again I bet which feeds my fan theories

Also since we mentioned Germa again what happened to them? Jimbei made it out after all and I wanna see me some alive and well Baeju

I would issue doubt on Queen's claim that their enhancements are beyond Vegapunk's, given how little we know of Vegapunk after all

King's got a special sword too, it can change its edge to be teethy which he used to ensnare Zoro's swords

Wado saves Zoro's face from eating King's spiked fist though

King does make a fair point though, traditional weapons are romanticized but a fight's about getting every advantage you can, Zoro at least respects that since King never claimed to be a Swordsman, while also reminding King that he could be a feral bastard too

Kinda gave me mini Mr. 1 fight vibes there

Oh here we go, potential Zoro lineage time

Kawamatsu and Hyou muse over how Zoro was like Ushimaru when he was young, even down to his style (though that could be more Shimotsuki Koushiro's doing since he's Zoro's master)

Also Ushimaru was Ryuma's direct descendant, which means that 1. Ryuma banged, 2. Swordsmanship runs in the blood and 3. Ryuma banged

Also Ryuma also had the one eye, and it does seem pretty mythical that a swordsman of similar skill and stature returns Shusui back to Wano (even though this should mean that Shusui would be Zoro's birthright and he was kinda forced into relinquishing it)

Also worth reminding that Kozaburo was Kuina's grandpa so there may only be loose relations if Zoro is a Shimotsuki too, we don't exactly know how Kozaburo and Ushimaru are related if it's by blood or clan, plus I still wonder about Tashigi

Over to Jack vs Inu though, and Jack's hybrid form is just...weird

I did not need to see an Elephant head with abs you know Oda!

Both are pretty tired, as Jack mocks Inu saying he has forgiven Zou for the Raizo stuff, since he already destroyed most of it

Inu though with the shoulder toss, reminding Jack that they had to make these sacrifices to get to here

But we're getting the epic speech, and the hole in the roof caused by Ashura's sacrifice is changing Inu back into Su Long

Same thing is happening with Neko, turning Su Long in front of Carrot and Wanda (who I guess are covering from the moon) as he stares down Perospero

And I'm glad Neko's pointing out that Pedro's sacrifice is valid. I truthfully always felt a bit iffy about people saying that Carrot's desire to avenge Pedro was ill-found because 'Pedro killed himself'. Had Pedro not sacrificed himself then Brook and Chopper would've been dead by candy and Big Mom would've obliterated the rest on the ship

Raizo and Megaforehead though prelude with the mention of maturity, that everyone - even the Akazaya - needed time to mature into who they wanted to be

Down to the surface though and the Heart Pirates are on high alert/panic, they think Kaido's here

But it's Momo, and he looks magnificent

Shinobu's aged him up to 28, the age he'd be had he not been leapt through time, but now she's upset he looks like Kaido

There's new fire in Momo's eyes though, the return ascent begins!

Can you feel that? It feels like the last stretch before the ultimate battle of Wano

Sanji and Zoro vs King and Queen hopefully will remain a tag bout, but I am curious as to King's abilities and what's affecting Sanji in terms of the raid suit. It's not bad to have a limitation but this is the first we've heard of it after seeing him use it 4 times. I don't hate Zoro being a Shimotsuki, though I do feel like we could've built to this, plus we're still lacking in the how.

One wonders what role Marco will now play, and whether Tiny Tiny Chopper is due to recover. We haven't heard from the others for a bit, nor CP0 nor Yamato. Our Pineapple does have unfinished business with Edward Weevil tbf so he could make it out, Izo may be a variable in that, they've yet to learn of Kiku's fate.

Also we never did see who that mystery person was did we? Still could be Hiyori

Marco's musing about gods does feel like we're gonna get more about King, and more lore of the world that Robin will love to soak up like a sponge, Oda have been leaving these seeds since Skypeia, and where there are Gods, there are Devils.

We are however getting major death flags from the minks, one last turn to Su Long to enable their efforts. I like how Ashura's sacrifice is not in vain because of this though, it makes me wonder if there's a slither of hope for Kin and Kiku. If anything though the minks will die from exhaustion rather than being defeated, Su Long eats away at you after all, it's probably gonna be traumatizing for Carrot a little but I hope we see some resolve out of her more like when she was in Zou and WCI, I still want her for Nakama.

And then the final coup de grace, giant dragon Momo, it's one hell of a panel and it means we're bringing Luffy back into the fight. But the extent of Momo's ripening is only in body remember, in mind he's still young. But now we have the setup for the final fight between Luffy and Kaido, I'll expect in that time we'll have to try and finish off everything else with the Akazaya, reconvening the Straw Hats, King, Queen, Big Mom, Kid, Law, Killer, Hawkins, Apoo and Drake.

Act's not over yet, less than 15 minutes until Onigashima Falls.

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frenchy-and-the-sea · 3 years

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OC-tober Day 3 - Duel

(from @oc-growth-and-development’s OC-tober list)

Okay, after THIS one the rest will be shorter. In my defense, though, I had some of this already written, and decided to repurpose it. This is another one of the those lovely peeks into Alex’s history, when she was just a little angry wisp of a Navy sailor, and trying to prove herself. What can I say? I like her a little feral.

(Housekeeping note: Alex uses she/her and he/him pronouns. Given that this is from Tahir’s POV, and he uses the latter exclusively with her blessing, I’ve elected to follow his lead.)

~1000 words

-----

Tahir tried to keep the little brats in his charge from hurting each other, but it happened now and again. Today, it was happening to Alex.

Sparring between the younger sailors had become a weekly affair now that they could be trusted on deck unsupervised, and most of them took to it with the sort of rakish enthusiasm expected of boys whose very lives depended on how much bragging they could get away with. Bryce, prone to being both a braggart and a functional layabout at the best of times, had sighted Alex as the easiest way to win his bouts without losing any teeth. He had a full head on him after all, and an extra year of hard sailing behind his arm; a wooden sword in Bryce's hand only needed half of his strength behind it to leave some truly awful bruises.

Tahir turned just as he was laying a new one into Alex's side.

“I think we’re done, Sheffield,” the boy said, turning his wooden practice blade lazily in one hand as Alex wheezed up to his knees. “I don’t imagine you’re going to be getting any better today.”

Tahir couldn't see the look that Alex fielded his opponent, but he saw the way the boy stepped back, and was moving almost before he had his thoughts straight.

"Sheffield," he called when he was within earshot. Alex's head whipped around, and through the tinge of surprise coloring his expression, Tahir saw a shadow of the look that had sent Bryce scurrying. He suddenly didn't blame the kid.

At his gesture, though, Alex peeled himself painfully off the deck and hobbled over. His usually crisp bow favored one side.

“Sir,” he said, in a tone that sounded very much like he wanted nothing more than to be deeply, offensively insubordinate. Tahir swallowed a grin and gestured back to where Bryce was standing.

“What’s happening there, lad?”

Alex’s jaw clenched so hard the muscle jumped. “What is happening,” he said tightly, “is that I’m getting my ass kicked. Obviously.”

“Obviously,” Tahir agreed, ignoring the answering scowl. “Knowing that don’t stop it from happening, though. What’s he doing to get the better of you, exactly? All that time on your ass, you must have worked it out by now.”

Alex’s eyes burned like two flaming coals in his sockets, but after a moment of trying to light Tahir on fire by stare alone, he forced himself to take a deep, steadying breath.

“Bryce is…stronger,” he said at last. “Taller, too. Even when I can get inside his guard, he only has to turn to knock me out of it again. It’s just not a match.”

“Of course it isn’t,” Tahir said severely. “When’s a fight ever been? Here, give me that.” He lifted the wooden sword from Alex's hands almost before he could offer it, turning it so the flat of the blade was showing. "When you put a sword in your hand, it's going to be against people like Bryce. People like me. No amount of practice is going to work those odds in your favor, lad. You need to be fast, and you need leverage. So you need to learn to take it.”

He flashed out with the sword before Alex could argue, pulling his swing so the blade bounced harmlessly off the outer round of Alex’s thigh before it could do any real damage. He still flinched, but markedly didn’t move away from the blow. Tahir’s appraisal of his nerve ticked up a point.

“That,” he said with a thin smile, “will take the leg out from under a man who isn’t paying attention. It’ll take the leg out from under a man what sees it coming too, but then he'll usually have time to adjust. Still hurts like hell, though. You probably felt a little of it yourself, and that was with me being especially kind. The flat works in a pinch, but if you’ve got a chance with the pommel - or a pin, God love you - then so much the better.”

He handed the wooden blade back, and watched as Alex stared fixedly at it, chewing on the dry skin of his bottom lip. After a long moment of silence, he looked up.

“Why haven’t you mentioned this to anyone else?” he asked, very evenly. Tahir stifled a sigh. Alex had been very specific, in that low, quiet discussion they’d had all those many weeks again; he would not be accepting anything he considered coddling just because someone once called him ‘daughter.’ He was braced for it now, Tahir could see, dark eyes narrow and fists closed to white knuckles around his sword. It took the depth of Tahir’s patience not to roll his eyes.

“Because the lot of them don’t need it, Alex,” he said wearily. “They’ll get by on being strong, for now. You’re trying, lad, but the sword isn’t your weapon. No, don’t leer at me like that. If I had my way, I’d find you a landsman knife fighter and turn you over to him. But, as we’re pretty sorely lacking one, it’s the sword for you. You’ll just have to be more than clever to make up for it.”

The bracing in Alex’s shoulders slipped away, very slowly, as he spoke. That was always the strangest part about him, Tahir thought. Most of the brats that he tended would puff up with indignities when they were told all the ways that they were ignorant. But tell Alex honestly, and he just grew very thoughtful about it, like you’d handed him a particularly interesting puzzle to work out. Tahir would call it refreshing if it didn’t usually come through wrestling with the kid’s pride.

“You said a pin, didn’t you?” Alex asked suddenly, as if coming to some unfathomable conclusion. When Tahir blinked at him, he clarified, “Before. You said the pommel or a pin works better than the flat. You meant, this is worse with something blunt.”

There was no coal fire in his eyes now, but a thin, burning smoke trail of revenge. This time, Tahir didn’t bother to hide his grin.

“Why don’t you go ask Bryce?”

#oc tober #oc-tober #oc-tober 2021 #oc tober 2021 #my writing #original fiction #oc crap #seven cities #tahir #alex sheffield #i should clarify: the pin they're referring to here is a belaying pin #aka a desperate sailor's club #or so i'm told #i like this one actually #the ending came together in one long stream of consciousness and that RARELY happens #so i'm hoping i stay fond of it

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minuteminx · 3 years

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Revolutionary

Pairing: Preston Garvey/ Female Sole Survivor

Summary: In the aftermath of personal tragedies, Preston and Charlie both seek to make a difference in the Commonwealth and those around them. They could never anticipate the impact that they will have on eachother in the process.

Chapter Seven: Jewel of the Commonwealth

Chapter Summary: Charlie and Preston make the most of their time in Diamond City.

[First Chapter]

[Previous Chapter]

[AO3 Link]

“Revolution is not something fixed in ideology, nor is it something fashioned to a particular decade. It is a perpetual process embedded in the human spirit.” ― Abbie Hoffman

Diamond City, January 2287

Charlie sat uncomfortably, poorly supported by the worn, flattened cushions of the dingy, yellow couch beneath her. It wasn’t the various questionable stains in the fabric that caused her to sit stiffly, hands in her lap, twisting at her wedding ring with her thumb. In fact, as far as couches went, she’d seen much worse in the Commonwealth. She simply hadn’t expected to find a lead on Shaun so quickly, nor had she been prepared to spill her guts to some nosy reporter in order to follow that lead.

“You don’t have to talk to her, you know,” Preston muttered at her side. He’d declined the offer of a place to sit, and instead leaned against the wall with his arms crossed. “Diamond City’s a big place. I’m sure someone else knows something.”

Charlie shook her head. She wanted answers more than she wanted confidentiality, and after walking around the repurposed baseball stadium for an hour, being blown off and scoffed at by everyone she’d approached with questions about her missing son, she’d considered Piper’s offer. At least she seemed like she meant well.

They’d run into the journalist at the “city” gates, bickering with the security officer on the radio who refused to let her inside. She’d quickly roped Charlie and Preston into the conflict, using their arrival as a way to get the guard to open up. After all, how could he possibly refuse to open the gates to guests on account of her presence? Ultimately he’d opened up, and the mayor, a pompous man named McDonough— who looked like every bit of a pre-Nuclear Revolution oil tycoon— was waiting to greet them all.

According to him, Piper had stirred up a fuss with one of her articles, throwing suspicion at McDonough about his lack of concern over person’s mysteriously missing from Diamond City, as well as his possible ties to something called “the Institute.” He’d hilariously called her a “muckraker” and apologized that Charlie and Preston had gotten dragged into her “little scheme.” It was all Charlie could do to keep from laughing as she told him that freedom of the press was important and watched him stomp away.

Piper had thanked them for their help, inquired as to why they’d come to town, and Charlie made the mistake of mentioning her missing son. This sort of thing was right up Piper’s alley as far as journalistic intrigue and investigation went, and she’d jumped at the opportunity to offer her assistance in return for an interview. Charlie declined at the time, but now she felt like she didn’t have many options. Not even Mama Murphy’s vision offered her the insight she’d hoped for.

“So, Blue,” Piper announced as she returned from upstairs with a notepad in one hand and two Nuka Cola bottles in the other. She handed one of them to Preston and the other to Charlie. “I’m really glad you decided to stop by. I know I was a little pushy at the gate. I just—”

“You actually care about this stuff, don’t you,” Charlie asked with a smile, opening her Nuka Cola and sticking the cap in her pocket.

“Somebody has to,” Piper answered, “People go missing all the time in Diamond City, the Commonwealth, and everyone just turns a blind eye. I’m hoping that your story will wake them up.”

“Well,” Charlie began, interrupting herself to take a drink, “What do you want to know?”

Charlie spent the next hour or so answering Piper’s questions, starting with the basic items that most Commonwealth inhabitants would want to know about a vault-dweller. Unfortunately, Charlie couldn’t provide those answers, as she had never dwelled in a vault. She’d lived in a house, spent two-hundred plus years as a popsicle, and woke up in an irradiated wasteland. Of course, Piper found that response to be even more intriguing, and she’d pressed Charlie for information about what it was like before the war, what happened to her family, why she was in Diamond City, and ultimately if she believed the Institute was involved.

Finally, she’d asked Charlie to leave the readers with some words of wisdom, something she did not feel particularly equipped to do. She glanced up and over at Preston, whose eyes were already on her. He’d been listening quietly to the interview the entire time, heard her talk about her life before the war in details she’d yet to give to him. She’d talked about how much better everything was before the bombs fell, how she’d give anything to go back. She’d been honest, but as she saw his somber expression, the furrow in his brow, she wished she’d shared those truths with him more gently.

“If there’s anything I think the people of the Commonwealth should know,” Charlie said, letting her eyes linger on Preston before turning back to Piper, “It’s that they shouldn’t give up hope. When I watched those bombs drop, I just knew that it was the end of the world, and to wake up and see that people are still out here not only surviving, but rebuilding, and trying to make the Commonwealth a better place… it’s pretty inspiring. It gives me hope in humanity.”

It was dark by the time Charlie and Preston stepped back out into the marketplace, sent away by Piper with new information. Admitting that she had nothing but hunches about the abductions, she told them that they should seek out some private detective named Nick Valentine, who had an office in the city. Charlie tried not to get her hopes up at the mention of the “tacky little neon heart signs” above his office door. As right as Mama Murphy typically was, Charlie preferred to expect the worst these days, so that when she was wrong, it was a pleasant surprise rather than devastation.

Though the sun had set, Diamond City still bustled with life, citizens buzzing around, chatting with one another, and making purchases at the vendors set up in the square. It was a collage of juxtaposed pieces of rusted metal and wood built in the middle of the field and grafted up into the stands, an impressive feat of human ingenuity and creativity decorated with neon lights. Charlie admired that the human race had found ways to press on in the face of destruction. She was less excited about the prospect of attempting to find Mr. Valentine’s office in all the chaos, of pushing past and around people who’d been rude to her just hours earlier. She’d never been prone to claustrophobia before her time in the vault, and yet panic seized her gut and grappled with her chest at the thought.

“Charlie,” Preston asked, voice a thousand miles away as he lay a hand on her shoulder, “You good?”

He wore the expression of someone who’d spent enough time fighting his own demons to realize that she needed a hand with hers, and Charlie nodded in response. “Yeah. I am now.”

With her newfound sense of clarity she moved to take a step out into the square, toward the far corner where she could see a path to some alleyways that circled the market. Preston’s hand slid from her shoulder only to catch her hand and stop her in her tracks. Surprised, she snapped around to look at him, unsure what to make of the gesture.

“What,” she asked, looking around to make sure she hadn’t overlooked something obvious, like a mutant hound standing in the middle of the ballpark, ferals pouring out of windows, or even one of those annoying eyebots that blared advertisements for companies that no longer existed. After all, Charlie had already bumped face first into one of those things because she wasn’t paying attention. Maybe Preston was just trying to save her another bout of bruised ego and busted lip.

“Where are you going,” he asked, raising his eyebrows expectantly.

“To find this Valentine person,” she answered excitedly, tugging at his hand that still held onto hers, “C’mon.”

Preston shook his head and laughed quietly. “I know you’re itching to talk to the guy, but it’s getting late. I’m sure his office is closed by now.”

“Oh,” she replied, bringing up her PipBoy to check the time and feeling rather ridiculous when it said 20:00, “Right.”

“Besides, it’s been a really long day,” he said, “I think we could both stand to take the night off.”

The prospect of an evening in the city with Preston, free of her commitments for just a few hours, enticed her more than she was willing to vocally admit, and instead she replied with a sigh and, “That’s fair.”

“So,” he began after a moment, a smile forming on his lips as he gave her hand a squeeze before letting go. “You hungry?”

“Depends,” she answered, nudging him with her shoulder, “Is there something to eat besides grilled radroach?”

He laughed. “Definitely.”

“Then, I’m starving.”

---

It wasn’t long after her return from Corvega that Charlie had approached Preston about her wish to visit Diamond City, the “great jewel of the Commonwealth,” as the wastelanders sometimes called it. He had offered to accompany her without hesitation— as soon as her leg healed up, of course. At the time, she’d wondered if his offer was simply a way to keep an eye on her, to make sure his newly-appointed General didn’t croak in her first month on the job. Now, as she walked around with him in the city, watching his face light up with genuine excitement for the first time since she’d met him, she couldn’t help but wonder if he had other motivations for joining her.

Their search for a decent meal led them to a vendor in the middle of the marketplace, aptly called “Power Noodles,” and operated by a slightly unorthodox protectron chef named Takahashi. It took several clumsy attempts to order the only thing on the menu, and Takahashi served them what turned out to be honest-to-goodness ramen noodles. Charlie nearly wept at the sight, taste, and smell of real actual food that wasn’t questionably past its expiration date or harvested from directly irradiated flora and fauna. She never appreciated artificial flavorings and monosodium glutamate enough before the war, and she was unashamed to purchase several packets to take with her for later.

It was Preston who had stood up first, paying the chef for both of their meals, and placing his hat back on his head before turning to Charlie. He extended a hand to her, and she glanced awkwardly between it and his face several times before she realized he intended to help her down and took it. If the nuclear fallout hadn’t killed chivalry, nothing could.

She still had not let go of his hand, even as they finished perusing the vendors in the square. She’d managed to purchase a change of clothes, some worn jeans and a flannel shirt that actually fit, as well as a handful of bobby pins, some stale bubble gum, and a supersized bottle of Wonder Glue for Sturges. Preston didn’t buy anything for himself, but Charlie caught random glimpses of him laughing and shaking his head at her as she tried to haggle down the merchants, with little success. Once, their eyes met, and the same heat she’d previously attributed to whiskey rose to her face.

She shook it away as she trailed behind him, through clusters of city dwellers and toward a clearing near the city gates. She could no longer deny the uncomfortable, burgeoning affection she felt for her companion. She could, however, pretend it didn’t exist, lock it up in her chest and place it on the mental shelf right next to the bottle which held her oceans of grief. It wasn’t exactly the healthiest way for her to handle her emotions, she knew, but it was the only one where they did not consume her.

When Charlie finally escaped her thoughts, she noticed that Preston had slowed his pace to a halt, and was now gazing up at the rows and rows of empty seats in the stands. For someone who claimed to have passed through Diamond City several times in his life, he sure acted like some wonderstruck tourist seeing it for the first time.

“In all the times I passed through here, I never really realized just how many seats there are,” Preston mused before turning to Charlie. “I sometimes try to picture what things looked like before the bombs destroyed it all, but… so many people in one place at the same time. It’s hard to imagine.”

“To be honest I never really understood it either,” Charlie admitted,” Back then, I had this idea that places like this, where enormous amounts of money were spent so that America could watch grown men hit tiny balls with wooden sticks, were a waste.”

“It does sound kind of ridiculous when you put it that way.”

“I’m glad it’s here, though,” she said, blinking up at the remnants of a scoreboard, “It looks like it’s given lots of people a safe place to live.”

Preston smiled, but only briefly, and sighed as the wistfulness faded from his face. “It’s good to know there’s at least one thing that’s gotten better since your time.”

He didn’t mean for his words to cut her, and they didn’t at first, not until she processed the fact that he’d alluded to her earlier conversation with Piper. Boy did they ever smart after it clicked. She fumbled around in her head looking for some balm of a response.

“Listen, I—” she began, but was interrupted as something slammed into her shoulder and knocked her into Preston.

The man who smacked into her was tall and stocky, dressed in the black uniform and baseball helmet all of the other DC Security Guards wore. He looked back, and glared at the both of them. “Stop standing in the middle of the fucking street, you goddamn hicks.”

“Hick” was an insult Charlie hadn’t expected to still be in use in the 23rd Century, and she puffed up, preparing the most artfully profane comeback she could think of; however the man continued to stomp away, and before she could yell after him another guard approached, stopping when he was shoulder to shoulder with Charlie.

“Don’t mind him,” the guard said, pushing his sunglasses back up the bridge of his nose. The next time he spoke, his voice was loud enough that the other guard could hear him. “Ralph had to dump his girl last night ‘cause she left the cap on her toothpaste.”

“Who does that?” Ralph called back, voice audibly strained with betrayal, “A synth! That’s who.”

“Or just your regular old run of the mill psychopath,” the guard beside Charlie muttered.

“I keep the cap on my tooth paste,” Charlie chimed in with a shrug.

“Me too,” echoed Preston.

The man scoffed and waved his hand dismissively at them, “Weirdos.”'

“What the hell just happened,” Charlie asked as she watched the unusual security officer walk away and then glanced over at Preston.

“I was just about to ask you the same thing,” he replied.

There was a beat of silence in which he glanced around the area, then brought his gaze back to her, amusement bright in his eyes and apparent in the dimples that formed in his cheeks. Before Charlie could conjure up anything to say, he erupted into a fit of laughter unlike anything she’d heard from her stoic lieutenant yet. It wasn’t the polite chuckle he offered to Mama Murphy when she teased or flirted with him, nor was it the snort he’d sometimes let out when Sturges made an off-color joke that he knew he shouldn’t find funny. It was real, genuine laughter, and it was enchanting as hell.

Charlie slipped easily into the contagion, laughter bubbling up past the wall of anxiety that had taken up permanent residence in her chest. For just those few moments, as they stood giggling like children surrounded by famous green walls and so many neon lights, she felt something more than empty. When the laughter finally subsided, it was Preston who spoke first, a smile still painted on his face.

“Man,” he said looking down at the ground and kicking at the dirt, “I can’t even remember the last time I had this much fun.”

“And to think it’s all because of a toothpaste cap,” she joked, tilting her head.

“No.” Preston shook his head and looked up at her. “I mean, that was kind of hilarious, but I’m talking about this whole night… hanging out with you. I needed this.”

“So did I,” she replied, reaching for his hand almost unconsciously, “We should do it more often.”

He glanced thoughtfully between her eyes and extended hand before taking it, allowing their fingers to lace. A grin spread across his face. “Yeah?”

Charlie smiled and nodded, embracing the fondness swelling in her chest. “Yeah.”

After a few seconds Preston cleared his throat awkwardly. “It’s, uh, it’s getting pretty late isn’t it?”

Charlie checked the clock on her PipBoy, reading the time aloud. “23:57.”

He blinked a few times, clearly surprised. “Well, damn.”

“Time flies when you’re having fun, huh,” she teased, releasing his hand and bumping his shoulder with hers.

“I guess it does,” he sighed, “We should probably start looking for somewhere to sleep for the night.”

Charlie opened her mouth to ask if there were any hotels in town, and realized she had no idea if hotels existed anymore. Bringing her hand to her face, she sighed and mumbled into her palm. “God, I don’t even know if you mean rooms with beds or a suitably clean spot on the ground where we can use our jackets as pillows.”

A warm pressure fell on her middle back, Preston’s hand, and she looked up and over at him. “I mean rooms with beds,” he reassured her, “And, come to think of it, I might actually know a place.”

---

As it turned out, inns still existed in 2287. The place Preston knew of turned out to be a sizable bar and inn constructed in the ruins of one of the old team dugouts, aptly named “The Dugout Inn.” The lighting was low and comfortable, some slow jazz from the 1950s hummed over the radio as patrons sat on couches and at tables nursing bottles of pale ale or sipping whiskey as they chatted. Charlie could have gotten used to a place like that.

On the radio, the bumbling mess she’d come to know as Travis tried and failed to tell a joke about mutfruit. At her side, Preston snorted out a laugh and rolled his eyes. Several of the Inn’s customers booed and called for someone to change the station.

“Change station,” asked the man standing behind the bar with a hearty laugh and an inexplicable Slavic accent. He looked to be in his forties, balding and dressed in a flannel shirt and denim jacket with a fur-lined collar. “Change to what exactly? Cambridge Police station? Boring classical bullshit stati—”

“Vadim,” hissed another inexplicably Slavic man as he turned the dial on the radio until some concerta-symphony-thing started playing. He looked identical to the bartender, only he wore a dirty grey suit and a scowl instead.

“What, brother? They make stupid suggestions,” Vadim said and shook his head, waiting until his brother walked past him and down the hallway before grabbing the radio and turning it back to Travis and his Diamond City station.

Sixty Minute Man poured through the speakers, and Charlie brought her hand up to her mouth to stifle a chuckle at the irony. When she looked up, Vadim appeared to have locked eyes with Preston, his already wide grin stretching even further across his face as he waved and shouted, “Preston Garvey, old friend, is that you?”

Preston glanced at Charlie as if he was gauging her reaction, and then looked back at Vadim, mirroring the delighted expression. “The one and only.”

He made his way toward the bar, and Charlie tailed closely behind. As they approached Vadim pointed a thumb to the radio. He’d clearly connected the same dots as she had. “What is the old American saying? Speak of the Devil?”

Easing down onto one of the stools, taking his hat off, and setting it on the bar, Preston answered. “I tell you, we could use some of that Lovin’ Dan’ energy right now, Vadim.”

“You will be first to know if I find some,” Vadim chuckled, but his expression fell, eyebrows pressing together in concern. “It is good to see you. I heard rumors about Quincy… I was worried.”

“Yeah, it got pretty bad,” Preston admitted somberly, looking down, then another sidelong glance at Charlie before he returned his attention to the man behind the bar, “But things are starting to look up now.”

“This is good news,” Vadim, bringing his eyes up to examine Charlie casually, “It could not possibly have to do with this lady friend of yours, could it?”

She flinched, shaking her head more quickly than she needed to and giving a dismissive hand wave. She wasn’t his “lady friend,” and she certainly had nothing to do with turning his outlook around. Hell, all she’d done was stumble into a museum half out of her mind. Things were looking up for Preston because he was no longer running for his life, the lone shield between the dangers of the Commonwealth and the settlers he was charged to protect. Things were looking up because the Minutemen were back in business.

She opened her mouth to decline the undeserved credit, when Preston turned back to her, nearly beaming, and said, “It may have something to do with her.”

Vadim’s brows shot up in amusement. “Oh ho?”

Charlie rolled her eyes playfully, pretending her face wasn’t on fire, and moved to sit on the stool next to Preston, leaning her elbows on the table. “Preston likes to put me on a pedestal because I was in the right place at the right time.”

“And Charlie likes to pretend she didn’t throw a grenade down a deathclaw’s throat,” Preston corrected, giving her a nudge with his elbow.

“So the lady’s name is Charlie?” asked Vadim.

She nodded. “Charlie Smart. It’s nice to meet you.”

“Same to you! Any friend of Garvey’s is a friend of mine.”

“Just don’t let him talk you into trying any of that moonshine of his,” Preston warned, smirking, “That shit’ll make you forget your own name.”

“What? No,” Vadim feigned offense, “ Only side effect of Bobrov Brothers’ Moonshine is growing of hair on strong, feminine chest.”

Charlie laughed at the exchange, even as her thoughts drifted to moonshine and memories of home. It was an Appalachian staple after all, a relic of the farce that Prohibition had been. Folks in the mountains brewed hooch in five gallon stills far away from the prying eyes of “The Man,” and the practice had never stopped. Growing up, Charlie’s next door neighbors had a still in their basement, and they’d occasionally deliver mason jars of moonshine-infused peaches and cherries. She had blurry memories of sneaking the cherries from the cupboard when she was fifteen or sixteen, and taking them to Nate’s house just down the road. His parents were never home, and no one cared if they consumed an entire jar.

Shaking herself out of forever ago memories, she glanced from Vadim to Preston, then back, and smiled. “As much as I’d love to forget my own name... among other things, we’re just here for rooms tonight.”

“Have it your way,” he replied with a shrug, as he reached below the counter and pulled up a clipboard that held a single, indescribably stained sheet of paper that appeared to serve as the inn’s guest book. Scanning the page, Vadim winced and looked back up at Charlie.

“Let me guess,” she remarked dryly, “There aren’t any open rooms.”

“No, no,” Vadim corrected her, “We have room. A room.”

Charlie blinked a few times, realization of the predicament dawning on her. Under typical circumstances, she wouldn’t have batted a single eyelash at the thought of sharing a room with someone as harmless as Preston. Especially considering the fact that they’d slept near one another on multiple occasions on the road and their first few nights in Sanctuary. She shouldn’t have even thought twice about it, and yet there she stood with nothing but a blank expression and a head full of second thoughts.

“That’s fine,” Preston piped up nonchalantly, as if it were nothing. Maybe it was. “How much?”

“For you and lady friend,” Vadim answered, wiggling his eyebrows suggestively, “On the house.”

“You sure,” Preston asked, tilting his head, oblivious to the other man’s gestures. Vadim’s brother could be heard cursing and scoffing about Vadim’s penchant for charity, and Preston continued. “We don’t care to pay.”

“Nonsense!” Vadim bent down under the counter and rose back up with a rusty key dangling from a keychain that was shaped like a Nuka Cola bottle, “Here. You’re in room at far end of hall. Try not to disturb our other guests.”

Another suggestion that her companion failed to notice as he took the key, put his hat on and said, “Thanks, man.” Clearly, Preston had never spent hours consuming hundreds of pages of tropey romance literature in his early twenties as Charlie had.

As they made their way down the hall and toward their room, Preston chuckled and started to shake his head characteristically. “Vadim totally thinks we’re sleeping together.”

A wave of relief washed over her. “Thank God.”

“What,” he asked matter-of-factly, stopping in front of the door marked with the number five at the end of the hall and fiddling with the key and lock, “Did you think I didn’t notice?”

She shrugged and scrunched her nose. “Maybe.” “Miss Charlotte,” he exclaimed, imitating Codsworth in faux-offense as he twisted the knob, pushed open the door, and turned back to her with a smile, “I may have been born at night, but it wasn’t last night.”

A smirk tugged at one of Charlie’s cheeks, and she rolled her eyes, taking a step into the room. “Does it not embarrass you that your bartender buddy thinks we’re going to get it on in—” she flipped on the light and looked around the space provided for them— “this sad, dusty little room?”

“This is actually pretty nice compared to other places I’ve stayed.” Preston closed the door, locked it, and tucked the key into one of his duster pockets. “There aren’t even any radroaches.”

Charlie grimaced and moved to sit down on the edge of the sheetless bed, then flicked her eyes up to him. “Don’t think I didn’t notice how you expertly evaded my question.”

He sighed and flopped down on the patchy brown sofa that was directly across the room from the bed. “No,” he said as he took off his hat yet again, reaching over to place it on an end table. It was amazing how the Bobrov brothers managed to squeeze so much furniture into a room that was hardly bigger than a shoebox.

“No?”

“It doesn’t embarrass me,” Preston explained matter-of-factly, gaze dancing around the room before settling on Charlie, “Does it embarrass you?”

“No,” she lied, “I mean… why would it? We’re two, grown-ass, consenting adults, and if that’s what we were doing here— which it obviously isn’t— there would be nothing to be ashamed of.”

The room was quiet as he took a moment to raise his eyebrows and blink at her before letting out a quiet chuckle. “Whatever you say, General. ”

They readied themselves for bed in a comfortable silence, with the exception of the rustling of fabric as boots and coats slipped off. Without his ridiculous-- yet oddly appropriate-- period attire, Preston looked so normal , like someone she might have stood in line behind in the Super Duper Mart, someone who did normal things like laundry and family dinners. He deserved a life like that, she thought. If anyone had no business living in Hell, it was Preston Garvey.

“Something wrong,” he asked when he caught her mid stare.

She shook her head. “Uh… no. Well, not really.”

He didn’t respond, except to give her a knowing look.

“I’m sorry,” she muttered, looking down at the floorboards.

“For what?”

“The things I said during the interview with Piper.” She forced herself to meet his gaze. “I got carried away talking about my old life, and I didn’t consider how it would sound for the General of the Minutemen to talk shit about the Commonwealth we’re supposed to be saving.”

Preston laughed humorlessly. “The Commonwealth is shit, Charlie. That’s just honest.”

“Yeah, but—”

“And if I’d had your life… well, I think I’d miss it, too,” he interjected as he stood up and sat down beside her on the bed, “Hell, I sometimes look around and wonder what is even the point. Why am I fighting for this place?”

Charlie lay her hand over his where it rested on his knee. He looked down at their hands, and then turned his palm up so that their fingers could interlock. Without its glove, his hand was warm and softer than she expected it to be. She caught the gold flare of her wedding band, and hot tears brimmed in her eyes. She couldn’t figure out whether the emotion was grief or guilt, and she refused to think more about it.

Clearing her throat as if it would force her feelings away, she said, “That’s why I apologized. I don’t want you to doubt that what you’ve done, what you do, matters.”

“Trust me, I was doubting that before you showed up,” he admitted, absently tracing her thumb with his while he talked, “You don’t owe me an apology.”

“Preston—”

“You don’t,” he repeated more firmly, “I wasn’t just kidding around with Vadim out there. Things really have started looking up because of you.”

“I…” She began but faltered, unable to tell if his words were just a compliment or more than that. It sure felt like more than that, sitting on a bed in a dimly lit hotel room and holding hands after an evening of eating and shopping and talking that was uncomfortably close to a date when she thought about it. She pulled her hand away from Preston to rest on her own lap, trying not to think too much about the hurt look it left on his face.

“You blow up one deathclaw,” she deflected, “And suddenly you’re a superhero.”

“Yeah,” he said, sighing and standing up. He smirked and then pointed toward the headboard of the bed. “Now, hand me one of those pillows, Grognak.”

---

Charlie awoke the next morning to a pounding chest, tears streaming down her face. She rarely dreamed, but when she did it was always a nightmare that she could barely remember as soon as she opened her eyes. Flashes of Nate, Shaun, the bombs, her conscious moments in the cryochamber, her past was a phantom limb, aching where she could no longer reach.

She didn’t actually remember falling asleep. After her less than comfortable moment with Preston, he’d taken one of the pillows and gone to lay on the couch while she curled up on the bed, wondering how it was that the Bobrovs ran an inn without blankets for their guests. They’d stayed up for sometime afterward, talking about innocuous things like comic books, music, and everything else but the elephant in the room. She figured she must have dozed off sometime before they got back to the elephant again.

Yawning and stretching, she sat up and looked over toward the couch where Preston still dozed, his breath slow and heavy. She’d never seen him asleep before, always in bed before and up after him. She’d begun to question whether he actually slept at all. Now she knew, and she refused to disturb him.

That did not mean she would wait a minute longer to head to find Nick Valentine’s office. As quietly as she could, she pulled on her jacket and boots, fastened her PipBoy to her wrist, and slipped out of the room. Were they in a pre-war inn, she would have left Preston a note on one of those little stationery pads where the paper was decorated with the company’s logo. Gone to see a guy about a baby . Unfortunately they weren’t at a Motel 7, and there wasn’t anyone at the bar with whom she could leave a message about her whereabouts. She would have to trust his ability to connect the dots.

Stepping out of the Dugout, she squinted her eyes in the sunlight, bringing a hand up to her forehead to serve as a visor while she glanced around. Still clueless as to where that damn detective agency was located. It was well hidden for an office that was supposed to have more than one glowing neon sign pointing toward it. Frustrated, she let out a huff, moving to walk down one of the nearby alleyways, and instead bumped directly into a suit of Diamond City security riot gear.

“Shit. Sorry,” she muttered, as the officer turned around slowly. “Oh, it’s you.”

The guard from the night before, Ralph’s friend, who’d worn sunglasses instead of a helmet, stood in front of her, an amused smirk twitching at his lips. “We’ve got to stop bumping into each other like this.”

“Mhmm,” she said dismissively as she continued to scan the area before looking up at him, “Say, maybe you could help me.”

“What? Did you lose your friend,” he asked, words thick with sarcasm, “Don’t worry, he’s the only person in DC dressed like an American Revolution action figure. He shouldn’t be hard to find.”

“What? No,” she replied, shaking her head, “He’s not lost, just sleeping.”

“Then what do you need,” he urged, “I’m kind of busy here.”

Taking a deep, centering breath, she placed her hands on her hips and answered. “I’m looking for Valentine’s Detective Agency.”

The guard raised his eyebrows and pointed out toward the market. “Nick’s place is directly across the market. There’s neon signs. You can’t miss it.”

Charlie followed the line of his arm, mentally charting out a path through the city. She turned around to thank the unusual guard only to see that he had vanished.

“Weirdo,” she mumbled, and trudged out into the square.

#fallout 4 #preston garvey #preston garvey x sole survivor #Revolutionary #update #my writing #I KNOW IT'S 2 AM #BUT IT'S FINALLY DONE

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bae-leth · 5 years

Text

I got kinda invested in this “Kitty Version of Monastery Students” AU, so I wanted to try and come up with kitty versions of everyone. I apologize ahead of time for the kitty names, I did my best but some of them were so hard to come up with kitty puns for. WARNING: Some slight spoilers for things that happen in the game plot (the most major thing would be a reference to chapter 9)!

*******************

BLACK EAGLES

Edelnyard: A classy cat, very picky about who she gets close to. Disappears at odd times, especially when trouble is afoot. Oftentimes, it’s either things go her way, or they’re not going any way. Five years later, she is somehow even more picky about those she allows near her.

Mewbert: Kinda scary looking, pure black cat that is always with Edelnyard. Hisses and swipes at anyone who tries to pet Edelnyard. Ignores basically anyone who tries to interact with him. More or less the same five years later.

Ferdinyand: A kitty who’s constantly competing with Edelnyard for affection from people. Meows loudly whenever Edelnyard is around and often intercepts anyone trying to pet Edelnyard. Otherwise a very friendly kitty that chills out a lot after five years.

Catspar: Very loud and energetic kitty, seen running around the monastery when he’s not hanging around Linyardt. Seems to have a sixth sense for people’s natures, as he’s very affectionate around “good” people and hisses at “bad” people. He’s not quite as loud after five years have passed.

Linyardt: Super sleepy kitty cat, always napping away in students’ beds or wherever the sunlight is hitting the ground. Catspar always jumps around him and plays with him. While Linyardt never seems to respond, he doesn’t seem to hate the attention. Pretty much the same after five years.

Pawtra: A cat who’s not of a breed found in Fodlan. Usually found hunting the mice and birds around the academy. Otherwise she likes to follow around Edelnyard or curling up in students’ laps as they work. The one mainly responsible for controlling the monastery’s vermin population during the five year timeskip.

Furnadetta: Incredibly shy kitty that’s rarely seen around the academy, to the point that it’s a widely known challenge to try and spot her. Constantly runs from people, only going near people who have been at the monastery for many years. Very slightly more sociable after five years.

Dorokittya: Very sociable kitty cat who enjoys getting pets and treats from everyone. And yet she completely ignores anyone who tries to bribe her with expensive treats. More or less the same after five years have passed.

BLUE LIONS

Dimeowtri: A cat who’s very popular around the students and staff for his friendly and affectionate nature. Seems to be very close to Demew, Felkit, Sylnyain, and Ingkit, although Felkit doesn’t seem to return the affection. Prone to random bouts of aggression for unknown reasons. Went completely feral during the five year timeskip, his fur being dirty and matted and losing an eye at some point too, and takes a long time to trust people again.

Demew: The biggest cat at the monastery and kind of intimidating, however he’s an absolute sweetheart once you get to know him. Most of the other cats around the monastery avoid him or are otherwise scared of him. Often seen trailing after Dimeowtri, like a protector. Went missing at some point during the five year timeskip, only to show up a few months later in perfect health, other than a few new scars.

Felkit: A super grumpy and antisocial kitty. Hisses and swipes at most people and cats that come near him, but much calmer around a very select few others. Directs most of his aggression towards Dimeowtri, despite said aggression not being returned. Still very grumpy after five years but very slowly mellows out around others, taking an especially long time to chill around Dimeowtri.

Sylnyain: The cat known to be contributing the most to the academy’s growing cat population. Seems to be the most affectionate around the female students and staff members. Very peaceful and affectionate, mellowing out in many ways after five years have gone by.

Ingkit: A calm cat who’s often at odds with Sylnyain but otherwise seems close to him, Dimeowtri, and Felkit. Tends to ignore Demew a lot, although they’re slowly getting better. Tends to get bothered a lot by other male cats around the monastery. Very much the same after five year have passed.

Nyannette: An adorable little orange kitty who’s super friendly and has the cutest meows and trills. Tend to be accident-prone, especially whenever she wanders into the kitchen. She’s very close with Purrcedes and often spends time with her. Slightly calmer five years later.

Purrcedes: One of the oldest cats in the monastery and often spends time around Nyannette. She is a gentle and friendly kitty cat who takes things at her own pace. She’s pretty much the same five years later.

Nyashe: A young cat who was taken in after being caught stealing from the kitchens. It took a while to rehabilitate him but now he’s a friendly little sweetie who relieves stress for students around exam time. Very much the same after five years.

GOLDEN DEER

Clawde: A rather friendly and playful kitty cat, well known for sneaking around and surprising students and cats alike by showing up out of nowhere. Known for disappearing at random times, much like Edelnyard, but usually nothing goes wrong when he does it. Seems to be much the same after the five year timeskip.

Pawrenz: A kitty cat that constantly seeks attention and meows loudly and often if he doesn’t receive it promptly. No one can seem to decide on whether they find him annoying or endearing. He and Clawde appear to have a onesided rivalry, Pawrenz often trying to steal attention from Clawde. Seems to have calmed down after five years.

Hilnya: Probably the laziest and most spoiled cat hanging around the academy. She’s very good at kissing up to students and making them give her treats and attention. Can scratch hard and fast if annoyed too much. Hasn’t changed too much in five years.

Mewrianne: A cat that’s so quiet that everyone thought she couldn’t meow at all. Rarely goes near other people. She can often be found hanging around the cathedral and tends to look a little sickly. Seems to have gotten healthier after five years, although she is still rather quiet and keeps to herself.

Lysithenya: The smallest and youngest kitty you can find at the academy. She melts when you scratch her in the right places or give her some of her favorite treats. Seems to act much older than she truly is. After the five years, she’s just as small and just as adorable and feisty!

Ignyatz: A super adorable little cutie of a kitty! Very gentle and sweet, a super calming presence for students and staff. You can usually find him hanging around Rapawel. He didn’t change much over the five year timeskip.

Lemeownie: A really tough cat who’s often seen picking fights with some of the rowdier cats on the academy grounds. She seems rather fond of Purralt and often hisses at Bycat and competes with them for Purralt’s attention. Mellowed out quite a bit after five years.

Rapawel: The second biggest cat you can find around the academy. Known for being a big eater, often hanging around the dining hall and food pantries. Otherwise he hangs out with Ignyatz. Rather similar after five years.

BONUS

Bycat: A rather quiet cat who’s a recent arrival at the academy. Very hard to gauge the emotions of so both students and other cats tend to be wary of them. But they became very popular after a few months passed and became more social around others, especially around Edelnyard, Dimeowtri, and Clawde. Mysteriously disappeared prior to the timeskip, only to randomly show up once five years have passed, becoming somewhat more open and friendly around others.

Purralt: An old cat who arrived with Bycat and is their father. Rather protective of Bycat and rather distrustful of monastery staff for unknown reasons. Sadly passed away a few months after his arrival. It was noted that during the month after his passing, Bycat was very difficult to find, the only times they came out being to walk the halls, often searching around the spots the academy students had often seen them hanging out at with Purralt, meowing in a way no one had ever heard before.

Some Bonus Headcanons

The cats were names by other students (the nameless NPCs) after they realized how similar they are to several of the students. When word got out to those students whose names were used, there were mixed reactions.

Dimitri despises Dimeowtri for reasons he can’t understand. The feeling is very much mutual. In the Blue Lions path, their relationship somehow manages to get worse, even though the pair are the only ones left at the monastery. By the end of the war, they’re on somewhat better terms.

Dimitri spoils Demew a lot and is widely agreed to be Demew’s favorite human. Likewise, you can often find Dedue gardening in the greenhouse, Dimeowtri sleeping peacefully in his arms as he walks around.

Mewbert adores Edelgard and will often curl up in her lap or rub up against her legs. He hates Hubert though and constantly tries to scratch at him. Hubert had to be talked down from trying to curse the cat many times.

Much to everyone’s surprise (and amusement), Dimeowtri, Felkit, Sylnyain, and Ingkit love hanging out with Felix. Felix tries so, so hard not to seem affected but he really adores those cats. He nearly decked Sylvain in the face when Sylvain came across Felix baby talking (baby talking) the cats when he thought he was alone.

Claude hates whenever people call out for Clawde when he’s around since their names sound the same. He tried so hard to get the cat to respond to a different name, but Clawde is very insistent upon responding to “Clawde” and only “Clawde”.

Bernadetta is one of the only people who can interact with Furnadetta.

Mercedes’ favorite cat is Nyannette while Annette’s favorite is Purrcedes.

Byleth was rather apathetic to Bycat, spending the most time spoiling Purralt, Edelnayrd, Dimeowtri, and Clawde. Jeralt, on the other hand, was the only human Bycat would spend any time with for a long time. Both Byleth and Bycat ended up spending a lot of time together following their respective father’s deaths.

Hilda loves spoiling Hilnya and decorating her in cute collars.

Marianne and Ingrid are super popular with all of the cats, at least one of them often trailing after them.

#submission #anon #bae's tags: ANON I LOVE THESE!! THESE NAMES AND CHARA #CHARACTERISTICS ARE PERFECT!!#sylnyain increasing the cat population im FDSHGFDSGHHD THATS SO FUNNY.... HE CANT BE STOPPED....#felix baby talking the cats? perfect #fire emblem three houses #fe16 #fe16 spoilers #just for chapter 9!#cat au

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a-ship-is-safe-in-harbor · 7 years

Note

Carraville!

Okay! I tried to answer almost all of them. Some more successfully than others…

who is more likely tohurt the other?

Ooh, that’s a hardquestion actually. On the one hand Gary is so pigheaded and bossy and sopractical it verges on brutality and he’s just so literal-minded at times thatyou’d really have to say that he’s far more likely to say/do something thatmight hurt Jamie.

I think that Jamiecomes off as the more relaxed and less sensitive guy of the two of them butactually I think that it’s the other way around. Jamie’s the one who flips outwhen a journalist says he’s a bottler, Jamie’s the one who gets that look onhis face when people remind him of past mistakes like for a moment the pain isas raw and fresh as ever, who takes criticism or attacks on others – especiallyStevie but also his city and his people - as intensely personal.

For the most part Garyseems pretty sensitive about it all though. Jamie ends up giving him a lot morestick than the other way around I think, and I wonder if it didn’t work outthat way not just because Gary really does have a thicker skin of sorts butalso because Gary’s success protects him from a lot of those blows. In football,in business, in punditry - even if it was just a matter of perception andcircumstance it couldn’t have been easy to see the viewing figures plummet onceCarra was on his own after Gary’s own solo success when he first started.

BUTTTTT.

Gary is of course THEMOST REPRESSED MAN ON PLANET EARTH. SERIOUSLY.

So you take that alongwith his compulsive habit of making fun of himself before anyone else gets achance to and couple that with the fact that I don’t think he’d ever fight tokeep anyone or anything because deep down he not only assumes that they’lleventually leave him but that they’re right to do so - and you could see how hemight take a small throwaway comment from Carra and turn it over and over inhis head in the pressure chamber of his own insecurity and doubt until it wassharp enough to do serious damage.

Carra wouldn’t beprivy to any of this of course. Like, Gary could go as far as literallybreaking up with himself on Carra’s behalf because he’d have convinced himselfthat that’s what Carra really meant. Or that that’s what Carra is going to mean soon anyway so he might as well preempt it.

Oh good, even when it’sjust some lovely meta questions I go off on tangents and don’t answer thequestion.

So Gary is more likelyto hurt Carra more often but the hurt would be relatively shallow, and Carra ismore likely to hurt Gary on a deeper level (but without realizing it).

who is emotionally stronger?

I think that Gary’sgone his whole life being emotionally self-sufficient and astoundinglyresilient. He doesn’t lean on people even when he probably should. He doeseverything on his own and he doesn’t know how to ask for help or support, oreven accept it when it’s offered.

Jamie’s ability to be moreopen (for example I can’t imagine Gary seeing a therapist like Jamie did) meanshe isn’t carrying so many layers of old hurts, all those emotional breaks andsprains that Gary set on his own that never healed properly.

It takes Gary a longtime to be okay with how vulnerable Jamie makes him because this is the firsttime in his life where he truly has no control over anything. Not over the wayhis heart signed itself over to Jamie, not over the fact that he has to livewith knowing in his bones that he’ll never be able to recover from losing this,and not over the way that Jamie feels about him.

who is physically stronger?

It’s definitely been Carra for the pastcouple of years but by the time the new season comes around we might have to reassessthat. Gary seems to put on muscle really easily? Even when he was young hislegs and arms and booty were never as skinny as Becks or Phil or Giggsy. Hedoes put on weight easily as well now that he’s older but if you look at him between the Skydocumentary thing that was filmed in December and the referee thing which is fromaround April I think and Carrick’s testimonial last month… a LOTTTT more muscleand a lot less not-muscle.

(It would still probably be Carrathough tbh. He’s got those epic shoulders and absolutely RIDICULOUS arms)

who is more likely tobreak a bone?

Gary. Definitelythe bigger klutz.

who knows best what tosay to upset the other?

Um. Depends what sort of upset. I’d say Gary if it’s football stuff and Jamie if it’s relationship stuff.

who is most likely toapologise first after an argument?

Jamie.

I think they don’treally apologize to each other about any work-related arguments, it’s kind ofpart of the job and all. But if it’s anything to do with them and theirrelationship… I don’t think they wouldfight that often but if I imagine their first fight for example I think Garymight, like, shut down?

I mean they would have the fight and it would be shortand cutting and Carra would leave and go have a drink by himself somewhere tocool off and then they either don’t see each other for a while or maybe Carraeven comes back that night and thinks they’ll just have a bit of rough make-upsex and they’ll move on but when he comes back Gary’s still sitting exactlywhere Carra left him and he’s genuinely shocked to see Carra there because hetook the fight as Carra ending things with him and Carra’s like WHAT THE FUCKARE YOU ON ABOUT IT WAS JUST A FIGHT

who is in constantneed of comfort?

Gary needs more comfortin general; especially like constant reassurance that yes Jamie really doeslove him. Jamie needs it more when it comes to the gay panic stuff/guilt overcheating.

Jamie gives comfort inmore demonstrative ways, with words and with physical gestures. Gary does itmore by just being there and giving Carra space when he needs it – which ishard when it triggers his own anxiety about Carra leaving – but when Carra getslike that he knows he has to give Carra enough room to be able to choose to cometo Gary.

Football-relatedcomfort stuff is complicated because there’s often nothing you can really sayto make it any better but like I always go back to how amazing they both wereon MNF in those two shows in 2014 when Liverpool lost the title. Thepost-Chelsea one was excellent but the one right after Crystal Palace was just…Jamie was so upset there were points where he couldn’t even form actual wordsand he was just making these Scouse noises of frustration. But what I mean isthat it just felt like Gary was his rock that night. Jamie did most of thetalking IIRC but every time he wobbled Gary would step in but then step backand let Jamie at it again, like he was letting Jamie cauterize his own wound bybeing as brutal and honest as he could possibly be. I imagine that Jamie was thesame after Gary’s loss to Barcelona.

That’s an important sort of comfort too. Just being there as a sort of…idk, foundational support. Letting the other person be angry and upset andconflicted and feel every emotional under the sun and then when they look overthe other one is just there, with them in every way that truly matters.

who gets more jealous?

Jamie.

Jamie’s never had to share a person he wasin love with before. It’s a complicated twisted burning jealousy that he can’treason his way out of and that is impervious to the buckets of guilt he triesto smother it with. He doesn’t deserve to feel jealous but eventually he givesup on pretending he doesn’t, on pretending that there isn’t a reckless feral urgesimmering in the pit of his belly every time he thinks about Gary going home toa bed that isn’t theirs. It doesn’t matter that Jamie’s doing the same.

Just like it doesn’t matter that Jamie goeson a stag do trip and pictures of him and the lads are plastered all oversocial media for a week and he never thinks about it even once in those terms –but Gary goes on one weekend to Paris with Becks and he has to spend a weekhiding the bruises and bite marks Jamie leaves on him.

who’s most likely to walk out on the other?

For good? Um. Let’snot go there just now. If it’s just a fight then Carra’s usually the one toleave so he can cool off.

who will propose?

If it was possible? Probably Jamie.

In this reality? Also Jamie.

On their first night together after Gary comes back from his Valencia fling Jamie gets up to hang their suit trousers and jackets properly and fishes around in his suitcase for a while, pleasingly still naked. Gary pulls back the covers for him but Jamie comes to kneel by Gary’s side of the bed instead and before Gary can say anything Jamie’s grabbed his hand and plopped two plain gold bands in his palm.

who has the mostdifficult parents?

Um. So. I’m still not entirely comfortable with the verycasual way both of them describe being hit by their dads when they were youngand I think that after his dad’s trial something pretty fundamental seemed toshift in Gary. Anyway, less relevant for this sort of meme I guess.

I think that boththeir mums sound amazing though.

who initiateshand-holding when they’re out in public?

If they could then itwould be Jamie. Gary would grumble but love it.

who hogs the blankets?

I’m going for Gary on this one. He falls asleep ages before Jamie and steals them all and then Jamie has to figure out how to unwrap him somehow. He finds it’s easier to just stay in bed with Gary even if Gary falls asleep about 20 seconds after coming.

who gets more sad?

Weirdly enough I think that Jamie would be more prone to occasional bouts of existential angst.

who is better at cheering the other up?

Jamie but that’s also because Gary is easier to cheer up.

who’s the one thatplayfully slaps the other all the time after they make silly jokes?

Definitely Gary. Although Jamie is suitably horrified by some of Gary’s dad jokes.

who is more streetwise?

Jamie likes to think that he is but actually I’d go for Gary. I think that he’s naturally more suspicious of people and much less trusting in general. Jamie could easily get suckered into all sorts of unwise situations.

who is more wise?

Good question but it’s really hard to say. I think that the biggest blip on Gary’s wisdom record is definitely Valencia and it was a pretty big blip. I still don’t entirely understand it tbh. So they’re pretty close but I think that Jamie’s been much wiser about whether or not to go into management.

who’s the shyest?

I’m answering this as who’s the shyest in bed.

Gary’s shy about asking for what he wants, especially the not-so NC-17 rated things ironically enough.

Jamie’s a bit of a secret exhibitionist really and once Gary catches on it’s a constant delicious battle between a sort of shyness and being really fucking turned on by Gary watching him, Gary saying things to him about letting other people watch him, Gary making Jamie watch himself in the mirror… idk, can you tell I may or may not have been thinking about this?

who boasts about the other more?

Gary does, about Jamie. Mainly to the rest of the Co92.

who sits on who’s lap?

Gary in Jamie’s lap. That’s like… the holy grail of Carraville mental images.

#thesecretdetectivecollection #kieranggibbs #you asked together!#so now suffer through my ramblings together XD #carraville

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