#I GOT DISTRACTED HALFWAY THROUGH THIS POST AND FORGOT ABOUT IT FOR SIX DAYS | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

crqstalite · 3 years

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Letters Home.

I made a mistake because this was originally meant to answer a prompt fill and then I forgot about it until now. So I tweaked it, but it still works I think.

I would rather not think about the fact the current majority of writing I've done for Lali and Joker is very angsty. That'll change, eventually, but it was begging to be written so here we are. It's a little shaky since I've written Joker himself maybe a grand total of three times but I'm happy enough with it.

Post-Thessia, minor (major?) character death mentioned. Lali/Joker.

"There's a new Blasto movie coming out, it doesn't look a lot better than the last one, but it'd be great to see with you when you're home again."

Her green eyes are still bright, her grin wide while she falls back on the collection of pillows decorating her bed. Her concerns then must've extended about as far as what was for dinner that evening, or tomorrow's assignment. Blasto wasn't one of her favorites, he knew that every time they'd watched one together, but she'd sat through every single one because it made him happy. Not that she didn't complain the entire time though.

It'd been a while since he'd been fifteen himself, but those concerns shouldn't have included Reapers in them.

"You must know about all the inaccuracies in the movies, huh? With the Council and stuff this has to be hilarious to you."

Joker isn't sure what feeling to name the one that's threatening to consume him while Hilary continues talking, rattling off that week's events. Teachers, classmates, her chores around the house.

The vidmail just seemed so normal. Everything had seemed perfectly fine when he'd checked in on them after they'd left Earth. Maybe that was an overstatement, nothing would've been fine but it was still manageable then. His father and his younger sister had intended to bunker down for as long as they had to, as long as they could while he'd promised them to try and get them off Tiptree. Nothing had seemed off. Nothing had seemed wrong. He thought they'd have time.

Six months later and he'd proved himself wrong. Time was in shorter and shorter supply. By the time he could turn his attention fully back to finding them nearly a week ago to do anything more about their situation, it'd been too late. He'd heard it over the extranet, part the long list of colony worlds flashing red every other hour. His blood had run cold while he'd hoped, prayed he wouldn't find his homeworld among the lost.

The galaxy felt like it stopped spinning when he did. In big, bright red letters, it'd said Tiptree, and he...it'd all felt like a bad dream then. That he'd look back and see it was some other colony out in the Traverse. Not his. It couldn't. It shouldn't have. It was so far outside of normal trade routes that it didn't make sense for the Reapers to seize it.

Yet they'd done so anyway. The last communications had gone out the day prior, and had stretched into silence since then. Where he'd be expecting a call today, instead his missed messages have remained dark. His 'tool won't connect to his father's, or Hilary's.

He almost misses when the door behind him opens, his hand missing the pause button on the video while he scrambles for it. He doesn't get a great glance over his shoulder, but it's enough for him to try and get his emotions back in check long enough to hold a conversation, "Shepard? Look, I'm sorry for what I said earlier."

"You've got the wrong Shepard, actually. I think." If the voice isn't enough to convince him, then the absence of anger in it does when he turns his chair to look at her. Smaller, softer, more concerned when Citlali pauses in the doorway compared to her elder sister. His girlfriend a sight for sore eyes, at least compared to her counterpart, "Sorry for scaring you, if I did.

"You didn't. Just, thought she was making the rounds again. And holding a grudge against your commander doesn't really bode well for you, as I've found." He can't find the energy to add a genuine laugh with the quip, and while Citlali smiles, it's one of the ones that's strained, "What? I feel like Alenko's walking proof of that."

"I guess, depending on how you look at it." She furrows her brow, maybe in thought, maybe in disbelief. He still can't read her very well, though it's not as if she makes it easy. Shaking off the expression, "Do you mind if I come in? You seemed...busy."

While Hilary's vid has gone quiet, he doesn't meet her eyes. The distraction might be better than nothing, even though he'd rather spend his time alone, most likely watching the last handful of mails from the month prior, "If you want to, sure. Did you need anything?"

"No. It's just...quiet around here. Thessia's on everyone's mind and it honestly feels too constricting." The door closes behind her, "If you're worried, Kodelyn's with Liara right now. I don't think she's going to come back up here for a while."

"Oh good. That'll probably give her time to cool off." Refocus her frustration with Thessia back towards comforting, always seemed like it fixed something in her. He might've been out of line, but he hadn't been expecting for her to explode at him like that. It seemed too out of character, and he hadn't been able to accurately predict it. The longer she spent doing anything else was probably extending his lifespan. Shepard wasn't predictable, but she rarely played the stereotype of the short-fuse Commander.

"Cool off?" Citlali quirks an eyebrow, "Was she mad at...you?"

"Surprising, I know."

"Weird. What'd you do?"

"Nothing." He says habitually, then sighs, "I don't know. Rough day for obvious reasons, she wasn't doing so well and I probably didn't make it any better."

"Oh." Citlali cringes, "She wasn't too upset with you, was she?"

"Probably not with me specifically. I just ended up as collateral damage."

"Collateral -- Never mind. She'll probably apologize when she's feeling more like herself. If she ever does." Her tone wavers at that, uncertainty on the other end of it, "Are you okay, though?"

His silence answers it for her. What does he say to that? Fine, only that I found out my home might be ashes and the only family I have left might be gone?

Well, he probably could.

"Sure. Fine."

Her smile's shaky, "Are you really fine, or are you just trying to get rid of me?"

"Never, I love spending time with you. You know that."

"Uh-huh. I'll suspend my disbelief, but only because you're sweet," She frowns at that, padding over to sit in the empty co-pilot's chair, turning it to face him, "If you don't want to talk about it, that's fine. You don't have to lie to me though."

"I'm not. Just dealing with...everything. All of us have our off days." The screen blinks when he turns back to it, Hilary's expression still frozen in one of amusement. His chest grows heavy again, this one was dated a day before the Reapers came through. This vidmail, the one like so many others that'd come before it, was one of the last ones he'd ever have of her.

And when he received it, he hadn't thought anything of it. He wouldn't go as far as to say he'd taken the ritual for granted, but he'd thought he'd receive another one. And another after that. He was careful to watch every one, and send back another as soon as he was able. His had gone unread.

"Fair enough." Citlali leans back, blissfully oblivious, "Long day. Maybe way too many things happened all at once."

"You could probably say that again."

"I'll refrain from repeating myself." She chuckles, "Can't wait to get back to the Citadel. The rest this crew needs is probably ticking up towards absurd."

"That bad in your professional opinion?" He asks, "I'd thought we were doing just peachy. Y'know, with the Council trying to absolve themselves of guilt and the galaxy crumbling around us."

"Thank God for night clubs." She responds, leaning back, "It just feels tenser than ever. Can't shake the feeling we're getting towards the end of whatever this is, and it's making everyone jumpy."

"Probably, yeah. Hopefully it'll be longer than a day or two when Shepard's done with Horizon. It'd be nice not running from Reaper forces day in and day out."

"Too exciting for you?"

"Everyone has their limits. just seems like there are more of them than ever lately, and they all want a piece of us." That much is true. The other half is that he wants a chance to search. Search the Citadel, search the surrounding systems. Maybe Hilary would be with the refugees, and he just hadn't found her yet. Maybe she'd lost her 'tool. They'd never been great at remembering each other's codes.

One hell of a time to forget, if she was out there, all alone and surrounded by the unknown.

Citlali turns her gaze towards the front window, then to one of the screens in front of him from what she can see, "Thessia-related matters aside, if you're willing to share, who's that?"

He hesitates, trying to find an answer while his throat tightens around his words. All he can do is send a picture of Hilary over to her screen. She halfway smiles when she receives it, one of her out in the yard during his last leave. Yellow sundress, celebrating the first day of summer, "Friend? Family? She looks just like you. Same grin and everything."

"Family. Younger sister, actually."

"Aw. Looks just like you." Citlali smiles, "What's she like?"

"Like any little sister, I guess." What was there to say? Why is he looking for adjectives to encapsulate the sister he loved, and why is it so difficult, "Smart, kind, practical joker sometimes. Occasionally gets on your nerves, but you love her too much to stay mad."

"As all siblings do. Feel like she'd be fun to have around. Guess you missed out on the curly hair gene, huh?"

"Had it when I was younger."

"Is she looking to follow in your footsteps? A pilot just like her brother?"

The lump in his throat almost doesn't let him answer her, and he plays with the bill of his hat, "Maybe. I don't think she ever really said anything about it."

"Big shoes to fill, I get it." The smile fades slightly when he doesn't follow up on it, "Where is she now?"

His voice is raspy when he tries to talk again, "I don't...really know. I don't know if she even still is."

Her face falls, furrowing her brows once she realizes, "I- Jeff..."

"Evac orders were sent out to Tiptree a couple of days ago. No news since, only that a handful made it...somewhere. Liara didn't say where." The orange lights in front of him start to swim in the water collecting in the corners of his eyes, "I don't even know if she made it offworld."

There's a flood threatening to burst behind his eyes, delicately held back for the last few days just by sheer will. Just the thought of the planet being turned into Earth, Palaven, Tuchanka...hell even what he saw of Thessia turns his stomach.

They didn't live that close to any major city, but they still would've been at risk if they sent any husks out that way. Any of the other grotesque monsters they'd seen lately.

Had she been looking for him? When it'd all happened, had he missed her call while they were in FTL? Just by a split second.

The thought of one them getting their hands on her, one of the sweetest girls in the galaxy who'd done nothing but act as a ray of sunshine in his life, it kills him to think about.

His hands are wet, he doesn't even realize until he hears Citlali's boots against the ground behind him. Her eyes are searching his face when she kneels down next to his chair, holding out her arms halfway in a silent question.

He accepts a moment later, wrapping his arms around her. She hugs him back, a quiet whisper on her lips when she returns the gesture, "I'm so sorry."

The dam breaks.

Big jade eyes that match his, a grin she lamented about every other day. The figurine he'd brought back for her, the Normandy, on her nightstand just in view.

What he'd give to see her again. Hear her voice again.

The galaxy crumbles away, tears streaming down his face.

"I love you, Jeff. I miss you."

#joker #lali/joker #oc #original character #veloker #jeff moreau

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rheyninwrites · 5 years

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Night Swimming

(I don’t usually post things this long, but I couldn’t cut it back!)

The sweltering Lemoyne air hung heavily, oppressive even at night. Though the sunset had provided moderate relief, the sweat was still pouring down your back as you and Arthur made your way back to camp. Finally, Arthur had enough .

“That’s it. It’s too damn hot and I’m too damn tired to keep going. We can make it back to camp in the morning.”

You nodded, then pointed to a shaded area some distance away in the woods. “How ‘bout we make camp up there? Looks a bit cooler, anyway.”

Arthur agreed, and you followed him as he made his way into the woods. He was just about to start setting up camp when you grabbed his arm, putting a finger to your lips. His eyes met yours as his body tensed, his hand drifting to his gun, but you quickly shook your head, then cupped your hand behind your ear, pointing. As Arthur tilted his head to hear better, a smile spread across your lips, and soon Arthur was smiling as well. He quickly grabbed the few things he’d unpacked and followed you as you lead your horse deeper into the woods and alongside a ravine. As it shallowed, the sound you’d heard earlier became more clear, louder, until you found what you were looking for.

At the end of the ravine there was a small swimming hole, fed by a creek that ran out to the river, a few miles in the distance. It was sitting in a small depression, almost completely surrounded by trees, with a bank to one side that was just big enough for a campsite. The water was beautifully clear, with nothing but a few small fish swimming in it, and, judging by the breeze that traveled along the ravine, it was nice and cool.

You sighed in relief, mock collapsing as you stepped to the water’s edge. The horses had already started drinking their fill as you squatted down beside them, dipping your hand in. It was exactly as cool and refreshing as you’d hoped, and you wasted no time in gulping some down and splashing yourself thoroughly. From where he stood beside the tent, Arthur laughed at you.

“You keep going like that, might as well jump on in.”

You tilted your head, looking between him and the water. “It ain’t the worst idea you’ve ever had. I could probably use a bath anyway, all this sweat and dust.”

He stopped what he was doing, looking at you like you were crazy. “You serious? You ain’t even got a change of clothes!”

“Okay, first of all, my damn clothes are already soaked with sweat, and I really doubt they could get worse by jumping in a swimming hole.” You said, stepping towards him. “Second, who in the hell said I was planning on wearing clothes, anyway?” You poked him in the chest sharply, making him draw back. If you thought he’d looked at you like you were crazy before, this was ten times worse. You shrugged and rolled your eyes.

“It ain’t like I’m suggesting we strip naked and waltz through town! This place is hidden, deep, and it’s in the middle of nowhere. Ain’t even any signs anyone’s been here recently!” You threw your hands in the air, turning your back to him. “You don’t like it, don’t get in.”

He scoffed. “You were expecting me to get in too! What the hell is wrong with you, woman?” He stepped to where you were, moving to stand in front of you. “Have you lost your goddamn mind? You forget that you and I are slightly different in certain ways?”

“I ain’t forgot nothing.” You unfolded your arms, gesturing wildly as you spoke. “I’m hot, Arthur. Been hot all damn day, and this is nice, cool, clean water. Don’t you think it’d feel so good to just jump in and cool down? To hell with all that man woman business. Would you hesitate if it was John?”

“John can’t swim.” Arthur pointed out the obvious, partly to distract you, or maybe himself. How was he supposed to tell you that the reason he was so damn desperate to keep you from stripping down was because he knew he wouldn’t be able to take his eyes off of you? He’d known you now for six months, and for nearly all six, he’d been trying to convince himself he wasn’t attracted to you, hoping it’d be true. Instead, it had just made him pine for you harder. He was only beginning to be able to admit he kinda liked you, more than the average woman, and not like he liked the guys.

While Arthur was busy fretting and arguing with himself, you’d already headed to a spot in the edge of a shadow and started undressing. He looked on helplessly as you unbuttoned your shirt, stretching backwards as you peeled it off. Then you reached up and shook your hair free, and reached for the front of your pants. As you pushed them down and shimmied out of them, Arthur whimpered to himself. This was torture. He’d done some pretty nasty things in his lifetime, and even enjoyed a few of them, but he still couldn’t imagine what he’d done to deserve this torment, especially when you moved to get into the water, stepping out of the shadow and into the shaft of moonlight breaking through the trees.

If he’d taken the time to sit down and draw what he thought was the perfect shape for a woman, it wouldn’t have been half as perfect as you looked at that moment. Your back was to him, giving him full view of the arc of your hips, the way they softened down into the delicious curve of your ass. Then there were your legs. God, how he wanted to part those velvet thighs, nestle himself between them as he pressed his face into the tender sweep of your neck. To feel the brush of your hair against his face as he moved his hips against yours, the gentle embrace of your arms against his skin.

By the time he got a grip on his thoughts, you were half submerged in the water, and his cock was straining at the front of his pants. It would be impossible for you to miss, if you happened to look his way, and something had to be done about it. At first, he tried turning his back, sitting down to ignore you. The problem was that it was more than a little uncomfortable, and when he tried to readjust himself to make it better, he ended up stroking himself through his pants, still thinking of you, and made the problem worse. Plus, if you were to get out, he wouldn’t see you coming, and the thought of you catching him made his cheeks burn bright and hot.

He sighed. Maybe he should just give in and join you. Obviously he wasn’t going to be able to avoid you wrapping around his thoughts and getting stuck in his head, and maybe the water would cool him off a bit, literally and figuratively. If not, he might have the opportunity to relieve himself in other ways, even if the thought of doing that while thinking of you when you were so close made him feel like a filthy old man. He probably deserved to feel bad about it, anyway- it’s not like you’d have him, and he wasn’t going to waste his time deluding himself.

Resigned, he stood up and tried to hide the bulge in his pants the best he could while attempting to casually walk to the same shaded area you’d disrobed in. After glancing towards you to be sure you were distracted, he started taking off his clothes. He’d gotten his shirt off and his pants pushed halfway down his thighs when he heard you calling out to him, splashing your way over.

“You decide to join me after all?”

Arthur made a valiant attempt at a good natured chuckle. “S’pose so. Do you, uh . . ,” Arthur swallowed. “Would you mind turning your back until I get in the water?”

Once you’d turned your back, Arthur finished undressing and waded into the water, covering himself with his hands the whole way. He swam over to an area far from you, deeply shadowed by trees. The water was nice and cool, and felt good on his body after the heat of the day, but wasn’t cold enough to take his mind off of you, or to do away with the result of his thoughts. He ducked his head under the water, wetting his hair and pushing it out of his face, then looked over at you. You had resumed swimming on the other side, maybe a hundred feet away. A decent distance, but not nearly far enough, not for what he needed to do.

As he watched, you leaned back, relaxing into the water and floating up on your back. Though most of you was still underwater, he could clearly see the arc of your breasts in the moonlight. Thoughts of cupping them in his hands and taking them into his mouth came unbidden, making his cock ache with want.

“Jesus Christ, woman, what you do to me . . . ,” he muttered under his breath.

His hand snaked slowly across his hip as he took hold of his cock, eyes riveted on your shape. As his hand slid slowly down his length, he told himself that it was just this one, just to take the edge off, and then he’d stop. When he reached the end of his stroke, he let his thumb glide over the tip, teasing himself. You looked so tempting, he couldn’t help himself, and before he realized it, he was running his hand along his cock in long, languid strokes. He pictured your full, soft lips, tongue running over them flirtatiously as you held his gaze, your naked body ready for his adoration. How he’d love to spoil you with his attention, kissing every inch, praise pouring from his lips. He’d get down on his knees at your feet, worship you if that’s what you wanted.

He was lost in his fantasy, eyes closed as you slipped through the water towards him, and he didn’t notice when you crept up beside him. You watched him for a moment, eyes wide as heat coursed through your body. For a second, you wondered what you should do, and in that second, Arthur’s eyes opened. He jumped back, cursing as he covered himself with his hands and tried to think of a good excuse.

“I swear, it ain’t . . . I mean, I’m not . . . it ain’t what it looks like!”

You raised an eyebrow at him. “Well if it ain’t what it looked like, what is it?”

Arthur’s mouth opened, then closed again. He could think of a hundred things to say, and not one of them was believable. Finally he sighed, his shoulders drooping.

“Alright, it was what it looked like. I’m real sorry. It was stupid of me.” He shook his head. “Now if you’ll excuse me, I think I’ll go hang myself.”

He turned to leave, but you grabbed his shoulder to stop him, giggling. He looked at you, pleading, desperate to be freed from this awkward predicament. To make matters worse, he was still hard, his erection between the two of you like an exclamation point.

“Arthur . . ,” you tried, gently, “I ain’t upset.”

He looked at you like you’d grown another head. “The hell you mean, you ain’t mad. Of course you’re mad. You got every right to be.”

You shook your head. “I tell you, I ain’t mad.” You swallowed hard. “But I gotta ask you something, and I wanna know the truth, alright? You owe me that much.” Arthur nodded as you put your hand beneath his chin, forcing him to look in your eyes. “What was it you were thinking about?”

There was a long pause as your heart pounded in your chest, desperate to know. Arthur shook his head, trying wordlessly to convince you to not ask, but you gave him a stern look, holding his gaze as he tried to look away. Finally he gave in, figuring that he’d ruined yet another of the few good things he’d had. His eyes softened as he breathed out a single word, barely audible even in the stillness of the night.

“You.”

He cast his eyes downward, resigning himself to your fury. It was quite a surprise to him, then, when you ducked beneath his head and pressed your mouth to his. He was so shocked, he didn’t even respond to the kiss, making you worry for a second that you’d crossed a line. When you leaned back, brow furrowed, he looked at you with his eyes wide and his mouth half open for a moment, then pulled you into his arms, his mouth crashing against yours. He was desperate, hungry for you, and you were more than happy to oblige. As you threw your arms around his shoulders, he lifted you, wrapping your legs around his hips and carrying you out of the water. Any thoughts of modesty were forgotten, lost in the passion of your mouth against his throat as he crossed the bank to where the tent was set.

He lowered you carefully, kneeling in front of you to spread kisses along your hips and thighs as you stumbled backwards, trying to feel your way to the tent. Arthur was relentless, grasping desperately at your hips to pull you back against his mouth. His hot kisses turned into gentle nips, then hard bites that left marks along your skin, until you tangled your hands in his hair to pull his head back. A grunt of harsh pleasure left his throat as he looked up at you from his knees, eyes closing as you tugged his hair again. His hands traveled over your hips, sliding up across your sides as you kneeled in front of him, planting a soft kiss on his lips.

You backed into the tent, leaning on your elbow as you beckoned him forward. Obediently, he crawled towards you, his body hovering over yours as he drew in a sharp breath. He ran his calloused fingers over your collarbone, trailing down over your breast and making you shiver with pleasure. Slowly letting the weight of his body descend on yours, he trailed soft kisses along your throat, inhaling your scent and whispering against your skin.

“You’re so goddamn perfect.”

“Speak for yourself.”

A breathy laugh turned into a moan as he pressed his hips against yours, grinding against you and spreading your wetness down the length of his shaft. You were warm, so slick and full against him he almost wanted to finish like that, spreading his cum across your stomach as your bodies moved against each other. Instead, he lifted his hips as you slipped your hand down between your legs. You found him slick and eager as you lead him to your entrance, hooking your foot around his calf.

He hesitated for just a moment, until you grasped his arms and lifted your hips against him, a soft whimper of lust breathed in his ear. He tried to still himself, to be calm and gentle as he pushed into you, but desire took over the second he felt your warmth around him. He needed you, craved you, and drove into you hard and fast as you gasped. Your fingers gripped the flesh of his shoulders, nails biting bloody crescents into his skin.

He was wild, desperate, hips pounding against yours while his mouth left mark after mark across your neck like he was laying claim to your body. The faster he moved, the more you came apart beneath him, his primal sounds of pleasure pushing you closer to the edge by the second. As he hit the deepest part of your core, you cried out his name, loosing a deep growl from his chest as his teeth pressed into the tender flesh of your shoulder. You could tell by the way his moans turned desperate, hips beginning to falter in their steady rhythm, that he was closing in on his release, and closing fast. Once again you put your hand between your legs, this time to take him out, angling him to slide against your clit in rapid strokes. Soon your thighs were clenching tight around him, head thrown back as you cried out his name, pleasure ripping through your body.

It took no time at all for Arthur to add his cries to yours, his cum thick and hot against your stomach as he collapsed over you. His body was covered in a fine sheen of sweat that somehow made him look even sexier than he had before, though he scoffed when you told him so. You took his face in your hands, pressing your forehead to his.

“I need you to understand this, Arthur. I. Want. You. Only you. I want your face, I want your skin, I want your body. I want your heart, and I want your mind. All of you.” You kissed him softly and slowly before continuing. “I happen to think you’re a damn fine specimen of a man, and I won’t hear nothing else. You keep saying mean things about yourself and you’re gonna break my heart. You wanna be responsible for my poor broken heart?”

He chuckled, nuzzling into your neck and placing a kiss there before propping himself back up to look at you.

“Now what the hell kinda man would I be if I let my woman’s heart get broke?”

#rdr2 #rdr2 fandom #rdr arthur #arthur morgan/reader #arthur morgan smut #arthur morgan x reader smut #arthursty #arthur morgan nsft #red dead redemption 2 #red dead redemption #rdr #arthur morgan #rdr 2 #arthurmorgan #r

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onthepyre · 4 years

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willow

okokok this is long as FUCK but i finally wrote more about my original characters, willow and andie, who i first came up with long, long ago in a post called roadtrip (which is a bit out-of-whack with the new timeline). this one mostly surrounds willow. there will be more of them!!!

November 28, 2001

The operating room was nearly silent, save for heavy breathing from the woman on the table and pacing from the man across the room. He walked closer to the gaggle of doctors and nurses around the woman’s midsection, only to catch a glimpse of something he clearly didn’t want to see and walk away. The woman stretched out her hand.

“Dave,” she called. His head shot up and he ran to her.

“I’m here, Kim. It’s okay.” He grasped her frail hand in his. They sat for a bit, caught in a moment they’d remember for years.

The doctor lifted a screaming mass from Kim’s abdomen. “It’s a girl.”

The couple smiled at each other. The doctor placed the baby in her mother’s arms.

“She’s so tall,” Dave exclaimed. “Like a tree!”

“Be nice to your baby,” Kim scolded. “She’s just… willowy.”

“A little willow tree.”

“Willow.”

“I like it.”

———

April 17, 2007

Her parents thought they were being discreet, but she knew. She was young, but she noticed. She saw that they weren’t sleeping in the same bed anymore; she assumed it was because she was taking up too much space, but there were definitely monsters under her bed, so she had to sleep somewhere else. She noticed they didn’t kiss each other goodnight anymore, but decided they were just tired. She heard their whispered arguments. She didn’t have an explanation for that one.

She didn’t connect the dots until they sat her down on her monster-infested bed and softly explained that Mommy and Daddy didn’t love each other anymore. She could barely wrap her little mind around it. She could understand puzzles and adding and other very hard things, but mommies and daddies were supposed to love each other. That was a fact.

“Things are going to be different, honey,” her Daddy said. “Mommy and me will live in different houses now, but you’ll still get to see both of us.”

She stopped for a moment, then threw herself down onto her pillows and cried.

“But you can’t!” she wailed.

They glanced at each other. There was no way they couldn’t.

———

October 14, 2009

The teacher stood at the front of the buzzing classroom. At her side was a girl with a pink backpack, a frilly dress, and a look of complete terror. The teacher asked the class to be quiet.

“We have a new student today, boys and girls!” She announced. “This is Andromeda.”

“You can call me Andie,” the girl whispered. The teacher nodded.

“Andie, then.” There were shouts from the class. One girl, the girl who was tall as a tree, was the loudest.

“That’s a boy’s name!” She jeered. “You’re a girl!”

“Willow,” the teacher said, “if you have nothing nice to say, don’t say anything at all.”

“Anything at all!” Willow shouted.

“Willow! I’m moving your car to yellow!”

“Wait, don’t! I’m sorry, Andie. I’ll be nice, Ms. Davis, I promise.”

But the damage was done.

———

May 29, 2013

She took a shaky breath in. This was going to be hard and she knew it. She was used to thinking about her words, but she wasn’t used to meaning them, especially when it came to Andie. She hadn’t been openly mean since 3rd grade, but she still ignored any friendly advances. But there was Andie, oblivious to the regret in the other girl’s heart, and there she was, doing nothing to rebuild the burned bridges. She thought for just a second more, then caught the sad look in Andie’s eyes as she stared at the other kids, playing with their friends. This had to be done.

Andie glanced over the second she started moving. “What do you want, Willow?”

Willow paused, sarcastic remarks swirling in the back of her mind. Instead she said, “I’m sorry.”

They stared at each other. Willow could almost see the gears turning in Andie’s head, so she continued. “I know I was mean to you, but I don’t want to be mean anymore. We don’t have to be friends, but I don’t want you to hate me anymore.”

Andie considered for a second. “Okay,” she said.

“‘Okay’? That’s all?”

“Yep.”

“Okay.”

———

December 9, 2014

She was lonely from the moment sixth grade started. Some of her friends had moved schools, some had different classes, some had just stopped talking to her all together. There were acquaintances and sort-of-friends, but nobody she really trusted. Nobody who really cared.

And then, halfway through seventh grade, as she sat on the cold ground at recess, Andie sat down next to her. Without so much as a glance in her direction, Andie announced, “My dad died two days ago.”

She didn’t respond. She didn’t know how.

But Andie didn’t seem to notice. “There was a wreck. He hit a patch of black ice and spun into a tree.” Andie looked over at her. “Your parents are divorced, right?” She nodded. “Willow, is it bad that I’m okay?”

“What do you mean?” Willow asked.

“It doesn’t hurt. I’m sad, but I’m not grieving. Maybe I will later, maybe I won’t. But right now, I’m fine.”

“I don’t remember anything before I turned six,” Willow said. “That was when my mom got full custody. I don’t remember my dad. I’ve never missed him.”

Those few sentences should not have made Andie trust her. They should not have been the foundation of a friendship. But they did and they were.

———

February 26, 2017

Her hands shook as she opened her messages. She knew she’d be fine, that Andie wouldn’t be upset, but she couldn’t help being scared. She closed her eyes, then started typing.

idk how to preface this but uh??? i think im bisexual

She placed her phone on the table in front of her. She tapped her toe. She glanced at the clock. Her phone buzzed — a message back.

oh shit same

Then another message, seconds later, from Andie again.

was this not the time? sorry lmao

Her response was quick.

hey andie

hey willow

thanks

———

March 3, 2018

She barely noticed the signs at first. She paid little attention to the way her heart fluttered when she got a text from Andie. She ignored the butterflies when Andie walked the room. She hardly noticed how she got distracted by the way Andie said her name.

What finally got it through her thick skull was the time Andie grabbed her hand to show her something and she was so focused on her hand that she forgot to pay attention to what was being said. It was obvious: she had a crush on Andie.

She spiralled fast. Butterflies became daydreams became fantasies. She went from occasional glances during classes to staring within weeks. And Andie noticed.

“Earth to Willow?” Andie waved her hand in front of Willow’s blank face. “What do you think of this meme?”

Startled out of her imagination, she blinked heavily. “That’s funny,” she said, barely smiling.

“Are you okay?” Andie asked. “You’ve been really spacey lately.”

“Yeah.” Willow ducked her head, trying to hide the blush she could feel creeping over her face. “Yeah, I’m fine.”

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onewaywardwitch · 5 years

Text

A Work Of Art

Prompt: “You're never here when I need you to be!”

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader

Summary: Y/N doesn’t know how many more broken promises she can take.

Warnings: Angst, language

Word Count: 1742

A/N: This is my entry for @teamcap4bucky 2K Writing Challenge. Huge congrats on your achievement, you deserve it! This is different to my normal style of writing but I really enjoyed writing it!

Her eyes darted back and forth, hoping to catch a glimpse of him among the crowds of people. For some reason she still had faith that he would make an appearance. He promised to. He promised her weeks ago.

~~~~~

She got the email on a Tuesday. There was nothing special about the day; Bucky had found a new tv show to binge and Y/N couldn’t say no. She checked her inbox briefly halfway through the third episode, desperate to see a reply. And there it was. Her artwork had finally been accepted into a gallery to be on display in a few weeks.

She couldn’t form words. Only a couple of squeals escaped her lips which caught Bucky’s attention instantly. He glanced at her and she practically shoved the phone into his lap. She watched his face in anticipation and was rewarded with his smile growing wide. He turned back to Y/N with a laugh.

“I knew you would do it, doll! I knew they would finally realise how brilliant you are! I'm so proud of you!”

~~~~~

She gripped the champagne glass tightly. A young man walked up beside her and sent a grin her way. She attempted to return it through tight lips. She couldn’t remember his name. He was another up-and-coming artist being featured at the gallery. While it was for artists who simply hadn’t caught their big break yet, the display was shockingly exclusive. That’s why it was such a huge deal when she managed to get a second ticket for Bucky.

~~~~~

The tickets had just come in the post. It had taken a lot of pleading to get two, and Y/N had yet to tell Bucky. That’s why she took the first cab she could get and went straight to the tower where she knew Bucky would be.

When she reached the top floor, she was greeted by Bruce. He told her the person she was looking for was currently out on a mission but should be back soon. She kept her composure, trying not to let her smile falter or excitement diminish. She tried to act like she knew he had a mission, that she simply forgot about it. She hated to think about the fact that he hadn’t even told her he would be going, especially if it was a dangerous mission. And with Bucky, it was always a dangerous mission.

So she lingered around the tower, expecting his arrival shortly. One hour turned to two, then to three. It was another six hours before he returned. By that time, Y/N had fallen asleep on the couch. Steve found her, calling Bucky to make sure his girlfriend was alright.

He smiled at the sight. A blanket had been thrown over her haphazardly, probably by Bruce, and her face was buried into a cushion. She clutched an envelope in her hand, pressing it tightly against her. He brushed a few loose strands of hair from her face before picking her up.

She awoke in his bed. The indent in the pillow beside her was the only indication that Bucky had been there at all. On the dresser beside her lay the envelope, still unopened.

Bucky was in the kitchen with some of the other team members. They greeted her and handed her a plate nearly overflowing with pancakes. Bucky noticed that her smile didn’t quite meet her eyes. Y/N nibbled on a pancake before asking him if she could speak with him.

She pulled him over to the side in one of the many corridors. Bucky watched her nervously, not too sure what to expect, when she gave him the envelope he had found clutched in her hand the previous night.

“What’s this?” He questioned her.

“It's why I came over last night. Open it. I just didn’t want the others to expect one too. It was difficult enough getting these,” Y/N replied, her excitement having returned.

He opened it slowly, holding it slightly away from his chest as if he expected it to explode at any moment. He took a few seconds to read the tickets. And then to reread them.

“So it's official,” he said quietly and she nodded eagerly. Without warning, he picked her up and spun her around. Her shrieks couldn’t be heard over the sound of Bucky’s laughter. He placed her down again, his hands resting gently on her waist.

“I can’t wait,” he told her. And she believed him, his eyes sparkling with a happiness reserved only for her.

~~~~~

The champagne tasted like complete crap. Maybe it was just her mood influencing her taste buds. Y/N sat off to the side away from the few people that were left. The gallery was crowded hours ago, and she was swept off her feet. Between taking to professional artists and curious individuals, she had a busy night. Busy enough to distract her from the fact that Bucky had yet to show up. She played with the hem of her dress, one that was bought specially for the occasion.

~~~~~

“We’re never going to find anything,” Y/N complained as Bucky dragged her into the seventh shop.

“Not with that attitude we won't.”

Y/N had given up, but Bucky was far more determined. Or just more stubborn. He threw outfits at her, then sending her to try each of them on and strut around to see which one worked. While she was in the changing rooms, she knew he was checking his phone repeatedly in case a mission came up and she found herself wishing he would stop working for one day.

She quite liked the blue dress. It was the only thing she hadn’t hated the second she tried it on. The more she stared at herself in the mirror, the less things she found to scrutinise over. Bucky’s open-mouth and wide-eyes only confirmed that the dress was perfect.

~~~~~

The other artist Y/N spoke to earlier offered her a lift home. She declined, claiming her boyfriend would be there any minute now. Now that the entire gallery was practically empty, she could give him a private tour of her work. Twenty minutes later, she wondered why she bothered at all. Bucky hadn’t answered her calls or any of her texts. She officially gave up and didn’t even bother getting a cab home. It wasn’t a long walk to her apartment and she needed some fresh air.

In a way, she wished it was raining out. She wanted the world to reflect her emotions. She wanted to pretend that it was raindrops flowing down her cheeks. She wanted a thunderstorm, crashes of thunder and harsh winds. But the summer nights were peaceful. She didn’t even need to wear her jacket walking home.

The apartment was empty, unsurprisingly. She changed out of the dress, flinging it on the floor in frustration. She believed the only thing that could comfort her in her current state was pyjamas, pizza, and Netflix.

The doorbell rang shortly after she sat down to watch tv and her first thought was that the pizza delivery guy had finally gotten faster at his job. She immediately slammed the door once she saw who it was.

“Y/N, please. Let me explain.”

She stormed back into the living room and turned the tv back on, trying to drown out Bucky’s pleas. She had the volume up high enough that she couldn’t hear him picking the lock on her door. He walked in quietly, making her yell out in shock when he spoke behind her.

“Please, hear me out.”

“I have nothing to say to you,” she hissed, arms folded across her chest.

“That’s fine, don’t say anything. I'll talk.” He paused, waiting for her disagreement. When she just stood there glaring at him, he went on. “I was on my way, I really was. I was dressed and everything. But Steve called- “

“Oh, of course! Steve called so you just had to drop everything and leave!” Y/N snapped. Bucky winced slightly at her venomous tone. He hadn’t seen her so pissed off before.

“Look, I know I should have called and let you know what was going on, but I didn’t get the chance to. It was supposed to be a quick recon mission, things just got out of hand.”

The apartment was filled with silence. Y/N stared Bucky down while he remained where he was looking remorseful.

“You haven’t even apologised yet,” she said quietly.

That took him by surprise. “What?”

“I work my ass off for years, and something good- something great, finally comes out of it, and you miss it. I spent ages trying to get you a ticket and just like that…” She scoffed and moved towards him. Despite Bucky being a feared assassin across the world, he found himself backing away as she came closer. “You know, I tried making excuses for you at first. I always make excuses for you, but you're never here when I need you to be! And I'm sick of it! I'm sick of being the last person you call! And I'm sick of always putting my life on hold!”

By the end of her little speech, Y/N had tears streaming freely down her cheeks. She was shouting at him, hiccoughing and stumbling over the words as she went on. Bucky grabbed a hold of her hands and pulled her closer to him.

“I'm so, so sorry for missing it tonight. I know how much it meant to you and I feel horrible about it. I swear it won't happen again. I promise I'll be there for you,” he told her desperately. She broke away from his grasp and shook her head.

“You should go. I want to be alone right now.”

“Y/N, I- “

“Before I say something I might end up regretting. Just go.”

He stared at her in defeat. She could barely even look him in the eyes. He knew he screwed up bigtime. He also knew that no grand gesture would make it up to her; she’d need time to forgive him.

He opened the door forcefully, scaring the living daylights out of the pizza delivery guy who was just about to knock on the door. He took one look at the couple and his face dropped.

“Should I just leave this here, or…” His voice trailed off as he watched Bucky walk straight past him, giving Y/N one last forlorn look as he left.

Bucky Barnes Taglist (open):

@glitterypinkkitty

#teamcap4bucky #teamcap4bucky2kcelebration #Bucky Barnes #bucky #bucky x reader #bucky x y/n #bucky x you #bucky barnes x reader #Avengers #marvel #Marvel MCU #oneshot #angst #Winter Soldier #winter solider x reader #winter soldier x y/n #bucky barnes x y/n

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kinetic-elaboration · 5 years

Text

September 2: Thoughts on The 100 2x05, Human Trials

Thoughts on Human Trials

They set up an electronic gate really fast, didn’t they? An efficient people. I think of the big Arkadia wall as really being a S3 thing, but they had to specifically unlock the entrance to get Clarke in.

Clarke & Abby was another relationship they really destroyed, huh? “That’s not a prisoner. That’s my daughter.”

Omg, Clarke thought Abby was dead this whole time. I completely forgot about that. I mean, I remember that she saw the Exodus ship explode, but I forgot that she had no way of knowing up until now that Abby wasn’t on it. Technically, Abby should have been a bit of a surprise to Bellamy and Finn, too, but I guess they had bigger surprises to deal with at the time.

I kind of miss Byrne tbh.

Six people made it to Camp Jaha. That’s Bellamy, Finn, Monroe, Sterling (RIP), Raven, and I guess Murphy is the last one, although as far as I can remember, the last Clarke saw him he was blasting a hole in the dropship and running away into the woods. So she probably wouldn’t guess he was one.

Jasper looking for Clarke 3-4 times a day in medical just tears me up inside. He’s so loyal. He feels all emotions on such a large scale. And his disbelief that Clarke would abandon them.... Who was it who theorized that Jasper was more upset about Clarke abandoning them in Mount Weather than abandoning them in 2x16 because I’ve never been certain I agree but I am intrigued.

Raymond J. Berry is so underrated.

I tend to think that Dante is sincere in offering Jasper the chance to leave and come back but I also think that this is a perhaps unintentionally cruel test because of all of the 48, Jasper is the one for whom it would be hardest to step back outside the bunker even on a mission of great personal importance.

“I have to believe they didn’t survive here all this time by fighting.” But like, actually.... didn’t they? RIP to my mom’s theory that ALIE kept the Grounders in a constant state of war to discourage population growth.

“In Grounder Creole.” I mean I guess that’s one word for it.

Clarke’s incredulousness that her mother is Chancellor is semi-hllarious.

She keeps on mentioning Finn and Bellamy as the most important people--were they among the six who made it? Where are they?

And yet RAVEN was the one who was waiting outside for her all night. Outside that shitty little medical tent. With her little tablet, reading. RIP Princess Mechanic.

Too bad Clarke put on pants before The Hug or think how much better it could have been lol.

I could watch them hug all day. Just this scene man. The best. I’m such a simple person. This is all I want. People smiling and being fond of each other.

Bellamy’s face when Clarke says she’s the only one who came back.

That Mount Weather/Reaper stuff is fully fucked up and I don’t think the show ever did anything more outrageous than this season. Which is why it should have stepped back from trying to be outrageous.

I really like scenes like this one with Bellarke and Abby, the tension in the power structure being so uncertain. Kane is the Chancellor, but Abby is also, and there are multiple groups of people out there with different levels of information, working toward different ends, and different ideas about who should be prioritized, and why, and Bellamy and Clarke are used to having the power to make those decision but now they don’t--just the intricacy of the plot at this point in the narrative. I love it. I love power dynamics and stuff like that. Also, while I get why Abby doesn’t want Clarke to leave, Bellamy is 100% right that she owes aid to Murphy and Finn, and Clarke is 100% right that, tactically speaking, cutting them loose is dumb, because they could easily create problems with the Grounders--which, in fact, they do.

Clarke’s “We’re gonna need guns” is so hot.

Adventure Squad to the rescue!

Electric fence. And Wick helping them out. I love Octavia actually looks younger than them here even though objectively speaking Marie is not. ALSO the massacre happens at Lincoln’s village but isn’t he from TonDC, which also had that bomb drop on it? Or am I confusing things? Because if so, damn, that’s a lot of bad luck lol.

So Monty would have left immediately to go after Clarke and Jasper wouldn’t--in part because he’s afraid but I also think he does feel betrayed that she left them, which Monty really doesn’t seem to care about. Interesting. And then of course the containment breach, organized to distract them and keep them from leaving. Not sure how to fully unpack that. I will note that Monty sees Maya being irradiated, which is to say that when he opens the vents in 2x16, he knows what that will do, down to the details, what it looks like, everything, and Jasper does too. Also interesting that Maya doesn’t want Jasper to leave, thinks it’s “smart” to stay. Because she doesn’t like Clarke? Because she fears the outsiders? Yet isn’t the greatest wish of her people to see the ground?

Also looks like they’re already prisoners given that you need a keycard to get out of the dorms.

I find it intensely suspicious that the Grounder blood didn’t work on Maya, since I’m sure they’ve seen radiation that bad before--the guy Clarke saw was pretty well covered if I remember correctly. I think they just weren’t doing anything, to try to get Jasper to volunteer as a subject. But is this done with or without Dante’s knowledge? I am going to say without personally.

“I know that look.” Monty knows Jasper’s ‘I’m gonna do something stupid’ look lol. Also, he is brave! He is!!

Bellamy looking at Clarke by the fire is so capital-R Romantic. They’re so efficient at comforting each other that he literally does the entire conversation re: guilt over closing the dropship door on him by himself. Don’t worry babe, I got this forgiveness narrative down.

Finn... is such a weird character. I don’t actually dislike his arc but it’s so hard to tell, for example, how smart he is, the details of him. He’s certainly very weak. Cracks under pressure, loses whatever moral compass he had at the first convenience. And what of Murphy? He’s uncomfortable with what is happening but for whatever reason seems to find himself unable to stop Finn even as he inches closer and closer to something terrible.

Is their leader... Indra?

Jasper’s “heavily sedated” face and Monty’s reaction lol. “Nothing, I feel nice.” And Monty’s eye roll. Bitch why are you so judgemental? Like you haven’t heavily sedated yourself for fun. And the classic ‘no, not going anywhere’ Monty gesture. Truly an Icon.

Ooh, I like this little outdoor cafeteria/bar. Forgot about that. Forgot about how much in S2 was outdoors or in tents.

I remember when Doctor Mechanic was a significant rare pair/side ship and you know what, I rather miss it. I was never really on board but I can see the appeal.

Minus the slapping, obviously. Which doesn’t even really fit in this scene imo.

“She stopped being a kid the day you sent her down here to die” is of course an iconic line but tbh it’s not really fair. More fair since Abby just slapped her but like--it’s a little late to be pulling that card. If they’d stayed on the Ark, more of them would have died than died in S1 on the ground, imo. And at this point that’s basically already known.

I wonder what all the ‘warning radiation area’ signs are from. Was there a post-bomb period where survivors lived on the ground and divided the worst radiation sites from the more habitable areas? Also the “no weapons beyond this point” sign clearly pre-dates the Grounders. And it’s in English.

Kane’s optimism/pacifism is really halfway and to that extent, what does he expect. Also is there prison a subway station? What a ridiculous but great way to bring Kane and Jaha back together again.

Yet again floored by this set design at the Grounder village.

Tbh I find it highly unrealistic that that amount of forest could have grown up on the National Mall in 100 years. And where are the other monuments?

Bellamy’s handdddddddddddddddddds.

Or maybe they just made Maya extra sick. So the treatment of circulating her blood through Jasper’s system is the same one they use with the Grounders, so it isn’t so much taking Grounder blood, as I tended to think of it, as using the Grounder circulatory system. But obviously this can be done without kiillng the person--so do they just use each body repeatedly until it... dies? I realize trying to find order in this is futile but I’m curious anyway.

“We all have jobs to do. Mine is to be obeyed” should have gone down in the canon of great lines. It’s certainly much better than some others I can think of.

I don’t believe Dante took the kids to experiment on them, what with his intense aversion to the experiments, and the way he gets attached first to Clarke and then to Jasper. But then, truly, as Tsing says, why take them? What was the endgame here?

“We have no choice but to move ahead with the 47″ is truly one of the weakest forms of ‘no choice’ on this show. Because, I mean, you do have a choice. You’ve discovered that they’re useful to you, but that doesn’t mean you HAVE to do the useful but completely immoral thing, that’s quite an obvious example of wanting, not needing.

No one can convince me that Dante is straight with scarves like that.

So in other words, Delano, of one-eyed Delano fame, was like the Murphy of TonDC. Don’t cast people out, nothing good comes of exile.

Finn’s “I found you” at the end is top 5 creepiest moments in this series and no I am not taking criticism on this post.

#the year 2019 #2019: fandom thoughts #2019: the 100 s2 #the 100

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flawlesspeasant · 5 years

Note

Would love to reread that oneshot! Thanks for offering to post it!

Sorry I forgot to get it up this weekend. I’ll be adding it to the master post soon enough but until then, here you go! I hope this is the one you’re talking about???

Jo pressed her thumb into the top of the ballpoint pen and crossed her legs as she sat in the chair, just so she’d have a hard surface to write on. She put the blue clipboard on her lap and mindlessly began scribbling down her daughter’s information, bouncing her leg up and down to distract herself from the inherent boredom of sitting and waiting in a bitterly cold, overly bright patient room.

In the chair next to her, Alex adjusted the little girl on his lap and rested his head back against the wall. He watched as Jo wrote their daughter’s entire medical history down on one single sheet of paper.

It somewhat amazed him that she was able to memorize everything without so much as taking a moment to think. Every ache, pain, itch and scratch Lyla ever had, Jo wrote it without thought. She rattled her insurance number off without looking at the card and her social security number as well. He always knew she was gold with numbers, but he never truly realized until that moment.

“You need her policy number?” he asked, noting that she paused and stalled progress once she got to that line.

Jo shook her head at him and tapped the pen on the clipboard, deep in thought. He watched her for a few more uninterrupted seconds before tilting his head downward and relinquishing his attention to his daughter, who was sitting cradled on his lap like she was a lot younger than six years old.

He combed his fingers through the locks of her tousled light brown hair and propped his chin atop her head, pretending to be interested in the episode of whatever TV show was playing on his iPad. He recognized the show. After working with kids and having his own, he managed to pick up on some of the television shows that played on the kids’ stations, but never once did he bother to learn names. He just wasn’t all that interested.

“Daddy?” Lyla lifted her head up a little, tapping the iPad screen with her index finger to pause the show. “What’s tontils?”

Alex adjusted the grip he had on her and pulled her up more on his lap so she didn’t fall. “Those nasty things in the back of your throat. They help you get rid of the germs, but sometimes germs like to hang out back there and they mess with the tonsils and make the tonsils mad. Then they get infected and gotta be taken out before they make your whole body mad,” he explained as easily as he could for a child of her age. “But don’t worry. Once they’re out, you’ll be back to terrorizing the house in no time, nightmare.”

Lyla nodded her head. He explained it in such a way that she understood completely.

“Daddy? It’s almost time?”

“Almost,” Alex lied.

Truthfully, he didn’t know just how much longer it would be. They had only been sitting in pre-op for about an hour, and it wasn’t like a tonsillectomy was at the top of the list. It was a simple 20 minute same day procedure, but still. There were other procedures that needed to be taken care of and a tonsillectomy was either at or near the bottom of the priorities.

Lyla was growing impatient, though. She didn’t understand why it was taking so long, and it never occurred to her that other people might need surgery too. Granted, she was grateful for the lapses that granted her more time on the iPad as she laid in her father’s arms with her feet on her mother’s lap. That in itself was reason enough to want to stay. But more than that, she was grateful for the prolonged process because she was, in all sense of the word, nervous. The closest she ever got to an operating room was a few months back when she broke her arm and her Mommy had to put pins in the fracture. Even then, that was nothing like having surgery. Even with two surgeons as parents, she didn’t know what to expect.

So far, it seemed okay though. They got to the hospital and some nice lady that she never met before gave her a few bracelets and took them upstairs to the room they were currently sitting in. After that, Mommy made her take her clothes off and put on a nightgown with dinosaurs on it and no undies. And ever since then, she had been laying on Daddy’s lap with the iPad. It didn’t seem too complicated just yet. In fact, it even seemed a little bit…fun. The only part she disliked was the fact that her tummy was rumbling because the last thing she ate was spaghetti for dinner, yesterday.

“Mommy,” she called Jo next. Jo stopped writing again and looked at her. “Can you get me food? My belly is growlin’.”

“No baby,” Jo shook her head and picked up her daughter’s sock-covered foot. “I’m sorry. You can’t eat anything though. Not ‘til after your surgery.” Lyla poked her lip out and went back to watching the iPad, a look that broke her mother’s heart. Something about starving her child didn’t set well with Jo. She knew that people weren’t allowed to eat before surgery and that was a very strict rule, but it seemed utterly ridiculous now that it was her child being denied food.

“Ly,” Alex jostled her to get her attention. Lyla just looked at him. “When you’re done with your surgery, we’ll take you to get some ice cream. Since your throat’s gonna be hurting.”

“From Dairy Queen?”

“From Dairy Queen,” Jo confirmed Alex’s proposition with a nod.

With a smile, Lyla rested her head back in the middle of her Daddy’s chest and unpaused her show again. This day was perfect. She got to hang out with both her Mommy and her Daddy without any interruptions from her whiny baby brother. Mommy gave her all the hugs and kisses in the world. Daddy was letting her lay all over him. She was allowed to play with the iPad, she was allowed to lounge around in no undies AND she was getting ice cream after?!

Surgery was sounding better and better by the moment.

—

After yet another hour of enjoying the complete serenity of being doted upon by both her parents, Lyla was halfway through an episode of Shake It Up when the sound of gentle knocking on the glass door to her room startled her.

“Little miss Lyla, we’re all ready for you!” The gentle looking nurse came into their room with a pink surgical cap in his hands. He seemed bright and cheerful and for some reason, he reminded Lyla of Olaf, the snowman from Frozen.

Jo sat up straight and smoothed her own hair back, finally being pulled out of playing an hour straight of Candy Crush. She stuffed her phone down into her purse and stood up. Finally, the waiting game was over. Being a surgeon herself, she knew just how long patients could end up waiting before being taken back to the OR on same day procedures, but it never seemed that bad until she was on the receiving end of the wait. She made a mental note to be more time-efficient to her own patients, eventually.

Alex stood up and walked his daughter over to the bed she hadn’t sat in since they were admitted. Lyla was content to lay in his arms and on his lap and though he wouldn’t admit it, Alex liked the fact that she would rather lay on him than in the bed too. The bed just didn’t have much use. He deposited her safely on the bed and took his iPad out of her hands, eyeing the loose French braid he spent the last hour doing and undoing in her hair.

“Alright, just gotta give you this one last stylish little bracelet,” the nurse said. He gingerly strapped it around Lyla’s wrist and gave her a smile. “I like your braid. You look just like Queen Elsa.”

Letting her shy, timid nature overcome her, Lyla lowered her head and gave him a nervous, but not at all forced, smile. When she was younger, most people mistook her shyness for brattiness because she rarely ever spoke to people when she was spoken to. She had gotten better with it though. She no longer needed to look toward her parents for approval when someone spoke to her, which was a big deal.

“Thank you,” she whispers softly, touching her fingers to the braid intricately woven into her light, golden hair. “My Daddy did it.”

“Really? Excellent!” The nurse smiled. He was one of the few people that understood the difference between a child being shy and a child being a spoiled brat. Lyla was sometimes both, but at the moment, she was just shy. “You think maybe your Daddy can do my hair sometime?”

Lyla giggled and shook her head. “Yours is too short!”

“Yeah I guess it is, isn’t it?” He laughed too. “It was worth a shot.” Still laughing, he put the pink cap down on her bed and took the brakes off so he could wheel it. “Let’s get you on back to the operating room now.”

Lyla excitedly nodded her head and crossed her legs as she sat in the middle of her bed. She hadn’t been this excited about something since her birthday! She knew that her throat was going to hurt, but she could handle that. She was tough, just like her Mommy. And besides, Daddy was going to be there so it wasn’t going to be that bad. As the nurse began wheeling her bed out of the room, she turned her head and looked around. And that’s when it dawned on her. Why was Mommy standing up but her purse was on the floor? Why was Daddy leaving his coat on the chair?

“I’ll see you when you wake up, okay?” Jo stood beside her bed and grabbed ahold of Lyla’s hand. “Mommy’ll be right here when you wake up. I’ll be here when you get back. Gimme a kiss?”

Confused, Lyla just nodded her head. She elevated her chin and allowed her mother to give her a quick peck on the lips. It sounded like a goodbye… But why? Why was Mommy kissing her goodbye? Jo stroked her cheek. Why did she do that?

“Be tough in there, monster. Ice cream when you get out.” Alex offered her his fist to pound as his own personal form of goodbye. Lyla tapped her fist to his. “See you later.”

See you later?! Why?! The nurse began wheeling her bed out the door again, and when she saw that yes, Mommy and Daddy were staying behind, that’s when something snapped. It was like a lightbulb went off in her head, a string was cut, the lock was unlatched and the floodgates were opened. She pushed herself up onto her knees and turned her body all the way around, only to see her parents still standing in the room while she was in the hallway.

“M-Mommy!” She yelled, tears running hot and thick down her cheeks. “MOMMY! MOMMY!” She turned back toward the man that was wheeling her away. “STOPPIT! I WANT MOMMY! STOPPIT! DADDY!”

Just then, both Alex and Jo came rushing out of the room and to the bed. The nurse stopped wheeling Lyla’s bed and took a pause. He knew how to deal with kids that were scared. Sometimes they just needed a little extra comfort.

Lyla held her arms up like a toddler and sniffed. “Daddy?”

Jo put her hand on the back of her head and stroked her hair to calm her down, an action that almost always worked but was failing this time around. “La, you said you were okay… You were doing so good baby, what’s wrong? What happened?”

“Why you guys leavin’ me?!” She rubbed her eyes hard and coughed. Her bright blue/green eyes welled up with tears again and she sniffed. “Come!”

“Butthead, we can't…” Alex shook his head. “We can’t come with you. You’ll be fine, alright? We can’t come with you.”

“But you come with everybody else! You told me I was gettin’ surgey but you a surgeon for babies so why can’t you come? You come with everybody else…”

“I’m not… I’m not working, Butt. See? I’m not wearing scrubs today. I’m not working. I can’t come back with you.”

“No, Daddy! Please?!” Lyla stood up on her knees and wrapped her arms around Alex’s torso. “Why? You come with other girls… You my Daddy… Why not me? Don’t leave me Daddy… No. No… Daddy…” She sniffed again. “Just come…”

Alex sighed and looked at Jo, who was watching the scene with her own tears in her eyes. She couldn’t stand seeing her daughter so scared. He looked back down at the top of Lyla’s head and once again fingered the braid he put in her hair. He wasn’t working and he knew that it be a huge liability for him to go back into the operating room with his own child while he wasn’t working. But it was his child. It was his daughter, his little girl. And she was right. How could he be there for dozens of strangers every day and not her? He was there for many kids, none of which were his own. He couldn’t do that. She was his little girl and the center of his universe, along with his son.

“Alright,” he sighed and picked her up. Lyla put her head down on his shoulder and rubbed his ear with her thumb and index finger, something she always did when she needed comfort. “Hey… Thompson,” he mumbled to the nurse. “You think maybe… I could just come sit with her? You know, until she falls asleep? I’ll leave once she’s out, I swear. I won’t stay.”

“I dunno Karev, that’s breaking so many policies…”

“I know what it’s doing,” he spat, growing annoyed. He didn’t ask for a lecture. Obviously he already knew that he was breaking rules, otherwise he wouldn’t have even asked. “She’s not gonna go without me. I’ll just sit there by her head and hold her hand. Once she’s out, I’m out too. It’ll be quick… Just lemme go in.”

“…Alright,” nurse Thompson nodded. “You have to make it quick though.”

“I will,” Alex promised.

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brohood-assassins-imagines · 6 years

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So We Endure - Chapter 2: A Push Forwards

A/N: I completely forgot to post the second chapter here. What’s wrong with me? Way to go. Either way, please have this and now that I’ve quit my current graduation (Journalism) to start a different one (Psychology), I’ll have lots of free time in hands until possibly January. The fics are coming. I had a big ass inspiration streak for this fic, so bear with me. Wow I suck at keeping check with the requests. Again, there is a playlist to that fic! (x)

Word Count: 6k+

Tagging (due request): @ryuumaru-chan

You made quick count of the coins on the table as the grey light of the early Sunday morning filtered lazily through the dirty windows of your flat. There were a few loose pennies, nearly a shilling!, thanks to the unexpected help from the man of yesterday, Mr. Frye — you hadn’t forgotten his name, and couldn’t be sure if you were to any time soon, really.

And if you had to be even more honest, you thought to yourself, you’d need even more time to forget what had almost happened yesterday. Breathing out tiredly, you sort out the rent money and quietly placed what was left of the lonely coppers back into the rusty tea can, shoving it expertly at the back of the cabinet. You still had to mend Charlie’s shirt and find out what had happened yesterday, pay your landlord and most likely go to the market since there wasn’t really much food left.

Peeking around the doorframe, you watched as Charlie slept soundly on the bed. You still had to find out what had happened yesterday and why he came back home with his shirt tore nearly to pieces — and you guessed Tommy wasn’t much better. You’d have to ask Mrs. Dolloway later if she knew anything about it. Sighing again, you pressed your lips into a thin line and turned around to gather the rent payment; and you couldn��t help, really, but stare at the two shiny shillings, gleaming as if brand new in contrast to the others you had in hand, dirty and covered in soot.

It was hard to remember having received that kind of help in a really long time — because, well, it had been mostly you and Charlie for as long as you could remember and you were keen on keeping that up. As hard as it was to get by alone, you grew used and hardened on the face of it, maybe even getting proud of what you had accomplished on your own. The coins were a token, a reminder of what you couldn’t do by yourself, and you ached to get rid of them as fast as possible.

Knowing it was Sunday and you had the day off — since Sunday nights were slow on business and Mr. Jackson gave a flimsy excuse about you needing to rest just so he wouldn’t have to pay for your working day —, you were ruminating about what to do after the market. Maybe you could take Charlie to the park? But did you have enough money for the bus?

You’d have to figure that out later.

A knock on the door halted your motions as you fixed your hair in place.

Maybe Mrs. Dolloway had come back from church and wanted to talk about the kids' fight yesterday?

“Mummy, are we going now?,” Charlie pulled at the skirt of your dress with a whine as you shushed him gently and headed towards the front door.

You had dressed him in his best clothing — a donated and barely used shirt which Tommy had outgrown of and the new shorts you’d managed to sew him from the ruined brown dress skirt you had. You fared a little worse, of course, but not that far behind with a relatively nice although simple burgundy skirt and a white half-sleeved shirt that used to have a thin black ribbon to be tied around the neck a long time ago. You folded the torn shirt, sticking the needle into the fabric as you got up.

“In a minute, Charlie. The park isn’t going anywhere, you know that. And remember, mummy has to fix your shirt, then we’re paying the Church a visit and only after that the park.”

Charlie pouted and followed you as you walked towards the door like any impatient child would. “But I wanna go now!”

“And we will, just be patient. It’s still early,” you chided, although gently, with a kiss to his head.

Turning around, you opened the door with an easy smile before fully processing what was in front of you — not Mrs. Dolloway as you had expected and were halfway through a greeting, but the man from yesterday. Mr. Frye, with a nervous smile, top hat and wool longcoat, as he held a paper bag filled with what seemed to be food, looked away briefly before shrugging apologetically. Charlie came behind you, peeking around your waist to look at the stranger as you stared at him in utter disbelief.

“Good morning is in order, I suppose,” he said in a rush with a sheepish smile that settled oddly upon his face.

“I… Mr. Frye, what in God’s—“

“Please,” he said quietly and adjusted the bag in his grip and the sheer absurdity of it all had you at a loss of words, “I’d rather if you call me Jacob.”

“Mis— Jacob,” you tested the word, trying not to think of how out of place the man felt in that corridor with that hat and how equally out of place the name sounded in your mouth as he shifted nervously in front of you, “what… can I help you?”

Jacob blinked slowly at you. “I… brought you food.”

Charlie frowned at the man, clutching tighter to your body as he eyed him up. “Is he a magician, mummy?”

With a smile and before you could say anything at the absurdity of it all, the man leaned down and whispered as if sharing a dark secret, “maybe I am? Would you like that?”

Your son coiled, scowling before pressing his face to your clothing, to which Jacob only chuckled and you frowned deeply because this still wasn’t throwing any light onto the situation. “My apologies… Jacob. But you still haven’t explained why you’re here and why…,” you gestured vaguely to the bag he was holding.

Jacob laughed half-heartedly at your bewilderment. “You wouldn’t take my money,” he explained as if it were obvious, “well, at least not all of it.”

“That’s because—“

“I understand,” he cut in and you could see the gentleness in his hazel eyes. “But it just didn’t feel… fair. It didn’t feel enough, is what I mean,” the man shuffled, still nervous and his voice softened. “… I only had my dad when I was a kid, you know?,” Jacob frowned briefly and a cloud covered his expression briefly, “and I only met him at six. If I can make this any easier on you and if you’d allow me, I just…,” he trailed off and looked up at you once more.

With a heavy sigh, you rubbed your son’s arm and stepped away from the entrance to allow him in. You didn’t like this — but there was something in his voice, the way he spoke and kept to himself… it was more than you had seen in most men. Or perhaps less of what you were used to.

Jacob nodded quickly in thanks and headed towards the table to put the groceries on as you closed the door. Charlie scurried away, curiosity getting the best of him as he investigated what was it that the newcomer had brought. “Mummy! Look! Ham!”

“That’s…,” expensive, you thought to yourself, “yes, I see.”

“I wasn’t sure of what you liked,” he explained as you settled on the other side of the wooden table, “so… yeah. There are… apples, bread, ham,” he said with a tap on Charlie’s head to which he looked vaguely annoyed of, “a few eggs, tea, a piece of cheese, some tomatoes… Now, I tried to find milk, but—“

“Mr. Frye,” you interrupted him as the food kept pouring out and you could tell, somehow, that he was somewhere halfway through. Jacob stopped and looked at you wide eyed; inquisitive, yet politely waiting for you to continue. You shoot Charlie a quick glance as he seemed to be too distracted by all the kinds of goods he never had a proper chance to take a closer look at — and at that, your heart skipped a beat. Sighing, you turned towards the man standing in front of you and offered slowly, “it is... very nice of you, sir, I truly don’t know what to say—“

“Oh, please,” he dismissed you briefly, a nervous edge to his voice you didn’t remember listening to from last night. “Jacob is completely fine. I like it better, if you don’t mind? It makes me feel old whenever you call me sir.”

A part of you were thankful for the way he held himself — politely holding his hand to show he wanted to speak before starting, the slight nod of his head, how he kept his hands close to his body and on top of that the sheepish smile on his lips. But another part, one more callous and untrusting, whispered that he was trying to gain an edge on, that he would ask for something in return, if not now, in the future, and screamed at you to make that man leave your home.

“I… Yes, Jacob,” you acquiesced and his smile broadened a little at it.

“I know what you’re thinking,” Jacob commented while taking his top hat off and folded it to put it away inside the pocket of his coat, voice tinged with light-hearted humor — and something told you that this was how his voice sounded most of the time, “but I swear to you. I’m here with the best of my intentions.”

Biting your lower lip, you crossed your arms and watched Charlie as he picked up a ruby red apple — and by God, it was fresh — and examined it with childish wonder. The boy looked up at you, then at the man and back at you. “Mummy,” he called, almost too low to be a whisper, hurrying to your side with a bashful expression, “can I have it?”

“I think you have to ask Jacob, sweetheart,” you proposed and the boy frowned, turning to look at the stranger and back at you.

“But I’m asking you,” the boy answered with a tiny voice, trying to avoid the other’s look.

“Of course you can,” Jacob called in, voice laced with softness, drawing everyone’s attention to himself, “because it’s yours.” Charlie eyed him suspiciously, glancing at you and at the food scattered across the table. “Do you want me to cut the apple for you?”

“No,” your son replied way too quickly, hurrying to clutch at your skirt with a somewhat sour expression, “I want mummy,” he pushed the fruit into your hand insistently, rounding your waist and trying to get as far away from Jacob as he could.

Your eyes widened just as quickly as your cheeks heated at your boy’s demeanor towards your benefactor and you cried out in embarrassment, “Charlie, son, this wasn’t polite!”

“It’s fine,” Jacob intervened, “I sure gave my father enough embarrassment for a lifetime when I was a kid myself, very unlike my sister,” he offered a smile to you and sounded slightly uncomfortable. “I was what you could consider a ‘problem child’.”

You smiled softly at his confession, prying away Charlie’s hands from your dress as you pulled an old dulled knife from the drawer and opened the top cabinet to find a plate for his snack — you didn’t know he was hungry and would have to tell him to let you know the next time — before answering, “I apologize anyway, Mis— Jacob. He’s a very sweet child, just a tad bit shy, unpredictable like any other, but I’ve never seen him be rude before,” you finished slicing the fruit and took it to the armchair where Charlie had found refuge, next to the rusty stove where you did the cooking and acted as some sort of heater for the small flat. “You should apologize, sweetheart,” Charlie pouted at your words, taking the clay plate from your hands and mumbling something about not having been mean.

Jacob chuckled, looking a bit off place as he shuffled a bit and scratched the bridge of his nose, “quite spirited too, from what I can see?” You huffed a laugh as Charlie scowled at his general direction.

He seemed nice enough, you thought to yourself. Hadn’t made any unfortunate comments on your situation and seemed to understand your position as he shared bits and pieces from his own life when young and you were— well, you were curious. And thankful, even if still with your own reservations, you still hadn’t forgotten how quickly he had pushed a man at least a head taller than himself against the wall that easily.

“I assume that’s how your father usually described you?”

“Oh, no,” he smirked at you, “father was way less subtle. He usually referred to me as ‘lost cause’, sometimes ‘problematic’. But I never minded it much,” Jacob was quick to add, “sometimes would even go out of my way to live up to it, just to hear him yell ‘Jacob, come here this instant!’,” his voice was cut by a short laugh, “ah, those were the days.”

Feeling more at ease with his openness, you offered meekly: “would you like staying for a cuppa? It’s the very least I can do to thank you for this. You really did go out of your way for it, I’d be most grateful if you joined us,” behind you, Charlie sighed audibly and mumbled something about the park and you had to fight the urge not to turn around and chide him for it.

Jacob watched you for half a heartbeat before breaking a smile. “Yes, I… I’d very much like to,” he fumbled for a second, somewhat embarrassed at your invitation, “thank you.”

Nodding, you put the water to heat and set the unmatched mugs on the counter — as much as you hated to admit it, you did miss the china mother had; the fine white porcelain, a disarray of colorful roses painted to it and rimmed with a golden line. It was meant to be yours, she had told you one day, but you had a hint that it wouldn’t come to be.

“Were you going anywhere?,” Jacob asked casually, shedding his coat and hanging it on the back of the chair, “you both seemed to be headed somewhere, if you don’t mind my prodding.”

Charlie mumbled some gibberish at the back about “a good day ruined” and you sighed before answering, “yes, we were planning to go to the Church for the morning after mending Charlie’s shirt,” you explained while putting the kettle on the stove, “but if I’m being honest, I’m perfectly fine with it. Didn’t fancy going to the Church today that much, you understand?” At your side, Charlie exclaimed in delight, putting the plate aside — dangerously inclined on one side of the armchair — and leaning over to grasp at your arm.

“That means we’re going to the park?”

You smiled and smoothed your son’s unruly hair and saving the dish from its predicament, “yes, but we have a visit for now. We can go afterwards, okay?”

In a second, Charlie’s face turned sour and he eyed Jacob rather begrudgingly before leaning in and whispering, “can’t you ask him to leave, mummy?”

Sighing, you turned around, “Mummy would appreciate if you were to be nice for now, you know?”

“But I—“

“Maybe that’ll make the visit leave quicker, I wonder?,” you interrupted, not paying any mind to his antics for now and he seemed pleased at the idea. “What do you say you fetch me my sewing kit? This way I can fix your shirt too, how does that sound?”

Your boy nodded briefly, hopping off of the armchair and making his way to the bedroom as you turned around to pay attention to Jacob.

“Children, right?,” he said with a rather pensive edge to his voice.

You reached for the clay teapot on the table, settling it over the counter and pulling the brass infuser from the drawer, proceeding to put a few pinches of tea mix into it, “too honest for their own good,” is what mother used to say, but you hesitated on sharing that bit of information. He had no need to know. “You have kids of your own?”

Jacob huffed out a laugh, shaking his head, “good heavens, no. My life wouldn’t allow for it, way too chaotic as it is for now; I’d rather settle down when I’m… not as tangled up.”

Nodding, you tried to figure out what the man did for a living. “Work, then?”

He smiled, cocking his head to the side, “I suppose, yes.” He watched you for a second before smiling, “work.”

You fiddled with the polished clay teapot, turning on your back with a pleasant smile and splashing some water into it from a bowl you kept near the sink. The answer wasn’t exactly clarifying and you didn’t know how the keep the conversation flowing. Charlie came back from the bedroom, eyeing Jacob suspiciously as if the man would suddenly turn into a monster right there in the living room/kitchen.

“Thank you, my dear,” you kissed his head and took the metal box from his tiny hands. “Do you want to eat anything else?”

Charlie bit his lip nervously as he eyed Jacob, “chocolate?,” he whispered hopefully.

“I—,” you shoot the man a look and he seemed ashamed of himself, shaking his head slowly. “Maybe later, mhm? Behave and we’ll see.”

The boy nodded eagerly and headed towards the bedroom where most of his toys were kept — mostly stitched together dolls and some old wooden carts —, and your throat knotted tightly. You hated to lie to him. Maybe you could spare some coin, but—

Jacob sighed, slightly frustrated at the exchange. “I should’ve known. I’m sorry about that, dear. Maybe next time—“

“It’s alright,” you pressed your lips together, trying not to think about how you’d have to postpone the new pair of mittens you wanted to buy; mother’s were ruined already. “You shan’t worry about us, I’m truly thankful, really am, but—“

“I want you to know I did this because I wanted to,” you turned around and held his gaze, eyes as serious as his voice, “not because I expected gratitude or a medal. I’m not that kind of person, you know?”

Feeling suddenly nervous and slightly bothered, you fidgeted with the uneven surface of the teapot. You didn’t need his help. You could manage. “Yes, I… I understand.”

“I wish to keep helping, if you’d have it,” he continued, already raising his hands and coming to a halt in his speech as your head whipped at his direction, “but I’m guessing you won’t.”

The audacity. You huffed, settling the teapot on the table and making your way to the oven rather exasperatedly, “with all due respect, I don’t know what you expect of me. Don’t get me wrong, I’m most thankful, but you’re…”

“A man,” Jacob offered.

So he wasn’t oblivious. Good. “Yes. And one I haven’t seen before, save from… an unfortunate event,” you saw Charlie lying on the bed, belly up, with one of his favorite playthings in hand as you took the kettle and poured the steaming water inside the teapot, dipping the copper infuser in and stirring lightly. “And I’d very much appreciate it if you could understand, Jacob, that I can make a living and take care of my child on my own, if that’s what you’re wondering about.”

Jacob frowned, voice a bit more on the edge than before, “I did not say such thing—“

“You implied, which was enough,” you cut in, picking up Charlie’s folded tunic and settling the teapot on the table. “We’ve been well enough up to now,” you completed, pulling the spool of thread and fixing it through the needle hole.

“I have no doubts nor critiques about how good of a mother you are,” Jacob spoke slowly, fiddling with one of the mugs as you both waited for the tea to brew. “I can see that you do your best, any way you can; and that’s a great accomplishment, really is—“

“But?,” you cut in, eyes whipping up and towards his own hazel ones.

“But nothing,” the man smiled crookedly, “like I said before, I mean well and my only wish is to help, however I can.”

Soon, your teeth found your lower lip, gnawing on it impatiently. He did seem caring and honest, but you weren’t born yesterday; or at least, that’s what you kept telling yourself. You fidgeted with the needle, unfolding the shirt, fingers following the almost imperceptible patched clothing. When you looked up, you saw that Jacob had been watching you.

“Just hear me out,” he spoke calmly, as if explaining something to a stubborn child. “I require nothing, only that you accept my help.”

“Jacob—,”

“I know there is a chance,” the man cut in, leaning over the table with a playful smile, “or else you wouldn’t have invited me for tea.” He gazed at you, eyes bright and defiant.

You frowned at his words, readying the needle upon the clothing and hesitating for a moment. Deep down, there was some kind of truth in his words, even if you wouldn’t admit such thing out loud. Drawing breath to deny once more because, absolutely no, this was too much and you couldn’t possibly expect anything more from a man you’ve only saw twice and properly talked to once; even if the little something in his face — something in his eyes — whispered that it would be okay, that as hard earned as trust was, you could place yours upon him; that betrayal and demands and humiliation wouldn’t become a part of the bargain.

Sighing, you picked up the teapot and poured the drink into the ugly mugs before settling back in place, thumb rubbing over the top of the teapot. It wasn’t fair. It was wrong.

“Charlie hasn’t been eating much lately,” you confessed quietly, avoiding the hazel of his eyes and twisting your lips resentfully. “With winter approaching, work just… gets harder. It’s too far and daylight doesn’t last as much as I’d like, but I make enough to keep a roof over our heads,” you stopped, pulling the mug into your hands and allowing it to warm you up. “It has to be, either way.”

Jacob didn’t seem all that satisfied, taking a quick sip of the tea and setting it back on the table as he ran a thumb idly over the metal handle. “Do you seriously need only food? I can give you money too.”

You frowned at his words. “You can’t expect to buy me, Jacob.”

“I’m not trying to,” he quipped back, smirking slightly.

You stared him down across the table, a stark contrast between your beaten up flat and his too-new woolen coat with the top hat in the pocket. All too akin to a fantastic beast in a world ruled by men, you thought to yourself. “What do you have in mind, then?,” you asked, swallowing the building anxiety in your chest.

Silence settled in for a heartbeat or two before Jacob cocked his head to one side as if in deep thought. “Let’s make it like this,” he started, clearly pleased with your question, “I can bring you food around once a week,” he raised a hand to stop your protests, “and I’m compromising myself with, say… a pound each week?”

Bewilderment took over and you couldn’t help but protest, because with that kind of money you’d be able to move to a better off neighborhood, “you cannot be serious!”

Jacob clasped his hands together over the table, like a proper businessman negotiating a deal — only he was bargaining for paying more instead of less — and smiled. “Cross my heart.”

Hearing the commotion, Charlie came out of the bedroom; horse toy clutched in his hand as he looked at both adults sitting by the table. You drank a small amount of tea, barely tasting the enriched flavor — a quality tea, not the already boiled dried-leaves you were used to buy in market —, as the boy approached you with no reason in particular; eyes switching nervously between Jacob and yourself every now and then.

“Let us shake hands on this,” Jacob prompted.

“Half of it,” you spoke sternly.

“Wha—“

“Half a pound, no more than that,” you repeated, looking down and threading the needle through the shirt as you closed the gap expertly, “It’s as far as I’ll go on taking other people’s money.”

Jacob held his gaze for a long a while, watching you with something akin to amusement in his eyes. “Make it 15 shillings, then,” and he held one hand up, index and middle finger in the air, “and take two days off work. I’d be happy to see you around the tiny man a little more.”

You eyed Charlie quickly, watching as he circled around the table, as if appeasing the man in front of him; and before you could speak up and say that staring wasn’t polite, he piped in:

“Are you really a magician?,” your son asked, still much too suspicious around the intruder ruining his Sunday morning.

Jacob looked at you, smiling as he turned around on the chair to look back at the boy, “so you’ve come to see the greatest magician in all of London?,” he asked, leaning forwards in a flourished motion and Charlie looked at you with uncertainty as you shoot your eyebrows up, making a show of being excited for him. “Tell me your name and Jacob, the great, shall perform a trick for you!”

The boy blushed slightly, a tad bit too flustered with the attention and still not used to him, but managed to mutter out, “Charlie.”

“Charlie!,” he gasped, looking over at you with a smirk, “my, my! That name!”

“What about it?,” your son asked promptly, coming closer with childish curiosity.

Jacob squinted playfully, looking around as if searching for imaginary dangers before leaning down and whispering, “do you really want to know?”

“Yes!,” Charlie shrieked, still not daring to touch him, but much closer now. “Tell me!”

“I had a feeling earlier this morning,” he confided, “that I’d meet someone named Charlie and they’d help me find something I lost.”

The boy turned towards you again, a look of bewilderment in his eyes as this new stranger proved to be way more interesting than before. “Really? What was it? Who told you?”

Jacob cocked his head to the side, closing one of his eyes. “That’s a magician’s secret,” he spoke much too seriously than the situation demanded, starting to pat his pockets as if in search for something before looking at your son once more. “What have you got there behind that ear?”

Charlie’s eyes widened and he scratched a little hand behind one of his ears at Jacob’s words, finding nothing, but then the man leaned closer and pulled a shilling from behind the other one and flipped it around.

“Wow!,” the boy gasped, grasping at the coin he was offered, the horse you had stitched together still clutched in his arms. “How did you do that?!,” he inquired quickly, double checking his ears and even the messy mop of hair for another missing coin.

You giggled at how easily Jacob had swayed your son’s temper with just a few words and a silly trick. “Oh, but with magic, of course!,” he exclaimed with the utmost surety. “I knew that name was special, and there you are, sprouting my lost coin from behind your ear!”

Charlie gawked at him, looking at you again with the most adorable childish smile you had ever seen, “that’s amazing!,” he shrieked, thrusting the coin at Jacob. “Another one!”

Jacob smiled, shaking his head, “how about you keep that copper and buy a piece of chocolate on your way to the park?”

The boy hesitated, watching him with suspicion and shifting closer to you; although his eyes betrayed how much he was willing to jump at the opportunity headfirst. He grimaced a bit, turning his face to press it on your side in frustration and Jacob smiled fondly, rolling the coin between his fingers.

You patted his back, trying not to giggle in face of his flustered retreat. “It’s okay,” you whispered, “you can say yes this time.”

Charlie’s head whipped up, brown eyes staring at you in disbelief, “really?”

“Really,” you reassured, “but only because mummy knows Jacob, okay?”

The boy nodded eagerly, gaze resting on the smooth movements of your benefactor’s fingers as he slid the shilling between them in an easy, well practiced manner. Noticing that he was the source of attention once more, Jacob offered the coin to Charlie again; only this time he took it with a tiny “thank you,” before getting himself flustered again and shifting towards you once more.

“He’s a bit shy,” you told Jacob once more, sipping at the almost lukewarm tea and doing your best to ignore how the man seemed so willing to give money away. Once more, you wondered what his job was. “He warms up after some time, like all children.”

Jacob watched him for a while with a soft smile before looking back at you, “I’m just glad he stopped scowling at me, felt like I was gonna be kicked out of the flat at any minute.”

You stifled a small giggle, watching as he drank a bit more of his tea. “Care for more?,” you asked, ready to get up and serve him; but Jacob shook his head instead, leaning over and serving himself before offering to do the same for you. Caught off guard, you simply nodded, poorly concealing your surprised frown as he filled up your mug.

This wasn’t what mother had taught you. Most gentlemen, especially at the first time interacting properly, wouldn’t budge to serve themselves or their host. Seeing the consternation upon your face, Jacob simply chuckled and leaned back on his chair as Charlie moved to the armchair; toy in hand.

“I’m not as fancy as you might think I am,” Jacob confessed with an amused lilt in his voice. “Never cared much for etiquette, think it’s terribly boring. My sister always did most of the talking, either way.”

“You said she moved to India?,” you inquired, goading him on, hoping you weren’t being as obvious as you felt asking about the man.

“Ah, yes,” he nodded, looking down into the amber liquid inside his cup. “She did. Got married and moved, far away,” scoffing, he took another sip. “I couldn’t believe it when she told me. Felt like I was being left behind, barely looked her in the eyes when the train departed.” His eyes shifted to the side and he sighed, “she hugged me either way. Sometimes I regret not having done so, but thankfully she has always been the smarter one. Good thing Greenie snatched her up before it was too late.”

You smiled sympathetically, thumb smoothing the unruly surface of the polished clay of your mug. “I’m truly sorry things turned out like this,” you offered quietly before asking again, “are you two on speaking terms?”

Jacob gave a lopsided smile, gazing at you with a look that you couldn’t pinpoint. “After a dozen unanswered letters from my dear sister, I cast the pride aside and came around it. Pity they take a dreadfully long time to make their way to her,” he sighed once more, looking terribly tired for a moment. “But I always knew we’d end up finding our own ways eventually, just didn’t expect Evie would stumble upon hers so soon.”

Feeling a painful squeeze upon your heart, you broke courtesy once more and leaned over to take a hold of his shoulder; squeezing it reassuringly. “I’m sure she is glad you’ve come to write letters for her. The way you spoke made it sound like you two are very close and I’m sure Mr. Greenie—“

Jacob burst out a loud laugh, stifling it against the back of his hand and you felt at loss. Had you said something wrong? “What’s so funny?”

“It’s not…,” he coughed, face growing red in his effort to hold back the laughter, “his name is Henry Green, actually,” Jacob explained, voice lilted with amusement, “Greenie is a nickname I came up with. Evie tells me I tend to do that a lot. Sorry for not letting you know beforehand.”

That man.

You huffed in disbelief, taking another sip of your drink. Jacob seemed easy enough to get around, perhaps a bit too trusting; like an open book, you thought to yourself, but kind. “My mother used to do the same,” you confided, “I learnt most of my singing from her, too. She came from a relatively well-to-do family, but married my dad against their wishes and was taken off the will.”

“They did not!,” Jacob exclaimed.

“Believe me, they did,” you giggled at his bewilderment, “I never got to meet my mother’s parents. Society might’ve started thinking less of them for commuting with the strays,” your voice showed off indifference, even if you still felt bitter over what your mother wouldn’t allow herself feel. “But mother did her best. She taught me most of what she had learned in whatever spare time we had. She worked in a cloth factory. I started there with her around 10, I think.”

“What of your father?,” he asked.

“Father worked at a construction site,” you explained, “he usually slept there on workdays and would come home on Sundays for church and to spend some time with us,” you reminisced in your childhood memories. Blue dress and black shoes, your Sunday best, waiting beside door for the knowing knock you had long since learned was your father’s. Mother’s food after the preaching, walking around the park and throwing pieces of bread in the lake for the fishes and ducks; going to sleep with each of them beside you in bed. “It was nice,” you muttered more to yourself.

Yes, it was nice, until one day he didn’t show up.

Jacob stayed silent for a second, watching you before asking: “where is your family?”

“Mummyyyyyy…,” Charlie cut in, leaning dangerously from the edge of the ruined padding of the armchair. You offered an apologetic smile, abandoning the tunic and needle over the table as you made your way towards the boy; and he stretched out a hand to you. “Can we go?,” he pleaded, pouting a bit. “I wanna have chocolate and see the ducks.”

It had been enough, you supposed. No child was good at waiting, even if Charlie was overly patient at times, much to your surprise; and you were somewhat thankful for not having to answer the man’s last question.

When you turned around to offer an apology, Jacob was already on his feet, pushing the insides of his top hat up. “I should get on my way,” he offered simply, fixing the hat on his head. “I already took enough of your time.”

“Are we going now?,” Charlie asked excitedly, hopping beside you.

You smiled politely, rubbing your son’s shoulder and pulling him closer to your hip. “Thank you for the help, Jacob.” He looked at you and you couldn’t help but feel like he was trying to figure you out. “It really means a lot.”

The man shrugged, as if embarrassed, and buttoned the coat. “It’s nothing,” he dismissed, jumping at the opportunity to change the subject. “I can accompany you both to the bus, if you’d like.”

Before you could answer that no, it wasn’t necessary, you could manage—

“Will you do magic on the way?,” Charlie inquired, looking at the man suspiciously.

Jacob huffed a laugh, lolling his head from one side to another. “I can think of something.”

The boy looked up at you, eyes big and pleading, and you sighed. At least his spirits were kept at bay. “There is no harm to it, I suppose.”

He smiled, then. “Shall we, then?”

The three of you left the flat with sunlight barely peeking from behind the heavy clouds that accompanied most of England’s autumn alongside the harsh wind. Jacob performed silly coin tricks you had tried to learn a million times, played word games and the such; successfully keeping your son’s attention long enough for you to think.

You felt nervous, for some reason, as if people were staring at you and— they definitely were, you remarked grimly. Men and women, society’s rabble — pickpocketers, thieves, muggers and the alike —, casting their eyes downwards; some defiantly staring you down or at Jacob, faces bitter with hatred.

And, funnily enough, none made a move — even if, by rough standards, the man accompanying you was dressed as if on his way to catch the Opera or whatever it was the rich did for entertainment. It only made you wonder even more what the hell it was that he did for a living. Your mind itched curiously, but you chose not to think about it for the time being.

When you got back home at the end of the day, there were 15 shillings neatly piled together at the top of your kitchen table.

#jacob frye #jacob frye x reader #jacob frye imagine #assassin's creed #Assassin's Creed Syndicate #I'm losing it thinking about all this free time #I mean.#What do I do when I'm not studying?#I can't tell #Cuz I'm always studying.

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gravelgirty · 6 years

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Captain Carrot Toys for Hogfather!

Captain Carrot Toys for Hogfather! Part 1

Marcia Wilson

This is 100% inspired by THIS POST from Thescarletpaperback regarding a Hogfather celebration with Captain Carrot action figures.

First. we’ll ask why the emphasis was all on Carrot, and not his Commander Sam Vimes, because Carrot wouldn’t take this kind of honor over his boss, nosirree.

Toymakers initially tried for Sam Vimes toys, because--reasons. That mess with the dragon and all that hoopla with Weatherwax (and we don’t mean the Wizard Weatherwax, thank you), positively begged for merchandise. It started when one of the Junior Assistants to an Apprentice Toymaker came home to find his children dressing up wooden clothespins and having small armies of The Watch parade over the kitchen table and defeat the awful evil represented by his husband’s Mystery Meat Soup. His oldest had gone so far as to pencil a cigar poking out of the crayoned mouth of the scowling clothespin.

This close to Hogfather, obviously, something needed to be done.

Veritable Upshot then went forth and on his five-minute luncheon breaks, begged for workshop scraps the Toymaker Guild was going to throw into The River, anyway.

(Every respectable Guild made sure to dump a certain level of carbon-based garbage into The River every week; it gave the gaseous-producing micro-imps something to eat and distracted them from too much gastrointestinal mischief. This custom was started by the Assassin’s Guild, who felt the inconvenience of a river that liked to combust at the most inopportune moments).

The toys were a Hogfather success, with all the children so delighted with their own Watch and opponents that they forgot to shake down the Hogfather Wreath for the hidden hog bladder stuffed with candied minnows. Veritable Upshot sat back weary with the delights of a Job Well Done and accepted a glass of steaming Cheese Wine brewed and bottled by his own beloved, Oregano Salsify. Together the couple toasted each other for a memorable holiday--so memorable, in fact, that the children completely ignored the lack of a decent meal on the table and were dispersing to the winds with their wooden watchmen. Unbenownst to them, their children would be soon renting out limited amounts of time for the other children to play with the Wooden Watch, and that payment was inevitably in the form of Holiday Excess. Late that night, Salsify did wonder about the slightly-gnawed ham basket left on the doorstep, but homemakers for 6 orphans and a Junior Assistant to a First Level Apprentice Toymaker learns to pinch pennies until they’re thinner than cabbage stamps.

It’s Sam Vimes who discovers the toys, because Young Sam comes back with his mother gabbling about how his father has his own ‘statue’ now in the main square. Vimes needs a little time to figure it out, but luckily for Sam and Sybil, the lad’s hand gestures approach fluent bilingualism, and legally, there is no minimal height requirement for an Ankh-Morpork statue.

He dons his oilskin against the wintry damp and takes a little stroll down to that little spot the Watch pretends to not know about 23 hours a day. It’s Midday, that one hour in which the worst of weather shows itself without pity. In summer the heat bakes the dirt into the stones; in spring the rains rinse all the collected leaves, dead mice, bird’s-nests, and forgotten Assassin’s daggers off the roofs and into the gutters. During Hogfather, the snows pile up high and deep and soft, one hour a day, around the Square, and children are there to play.

Vimes is a bit nostalgic about those dirty little urchins playing at the Square. He used to be one, and snow is nicer than playing in watery gutters or trying to bake mud pies out of horse patties in the summer. The first thing he sees by the Old Sundial is a well-assembled army of child-sized Snow Yeti, beasts the Trolls invoked to make their children go to bed at proper hours. The dirty white lumps are lurching across the open face of the Old Sundial that rules the Square and defeating them is a small wooden collection of his very own Watch.

Sam watches from behind a cloud of fresh cigar as the villains are routed by not brute force, but sensibility. The tiny wooden Sam is marched up to warn the yeti one last time that they should obey the law, and when the yeti refuse, littler wooden Cheery Longbottom and not-littler Captain Carrot stride forth and the children are yelling proper legal imprecations because as everyone knows, it is highly illegal for beings made of snow to approach a municipal drinking water source before going to the bathroom.

Sam Vimes is both charmed and terrified at the enthusiasm of these children, and he can already see them grown into a Watch cloak. Especially that girl, who looks like she’s got a few different species and a lot of energetic output to channel in her brain.

But it is the youngest child, a tiny little thing with smoked glasses over his eyes that pulls at Vimes’ heart and copper strings at the same time. None of the kiddies have seen enough in the way of regular meals, and he remembers a little girl on his old street, blind, and her parents couldn’t afford real medical smoked glasses so they made their own by passing the lenses over a smoking wick. Later the mum went into what can only be politely called a life of crime to pay for treatment; people like her are why Vimes flexes his muscles with the letter of the law every day.

This little boy is smiling like Young Sam does when he has a very precious thing in his fingers, and those fingers are running over the carved doll that is Cheery Longbottom. Of course, he thinks, Ironwood for Cheery.

It doesn’t surprise him that the blind child knows he’s coming; his boots crunch loudly in the snow and his knees pop as he lowers himself to a better level.

“That’s a nice toy you have,” he says.

“Me Papa made it!” Was the proud answer.

“Oh?”

“Yes! Someday he’s going to be a Toymaker!”

Vimes asks permission for and gets, the chance to examine the wooden Cheery. Toymaker masters aren’t really ‘allowed’ to make toys on their own and he’s been called to too many complaints from the Guild, which they call a Sodality, not a Guild because Guilds must pay taxes. So often it means jealous old bastards against rising new talent. This has the look of talent. There’s love in these little nicks; love for the craft, the child, and for Cheery.

He’s halfway through a gentle interrogation of the toys when someone who absolutely must be a parent comes puffing up, staggering through the uneven snowdrifts. He’s got patches on his patches but everything’s clean, and the hair sticking up in all directions was hand-cut.

“Oh, dear!”

“At ease, Salsify.” Sam pulls one of his spare cigars out. “I was just admiring the workmanship here.” And he grinned. “Takes a bit of skill to make decent tools out of scroungings, doesn’t it? Because as I recall, the Guild keeps everyone’s tools under lock and key during work-hours.”

Salsify flushes, and the former lockpick lifts his chin. “A bit of a challenge,” he answers stoutly. “Did you know the dwarves just toss out their stoneware mugs when they get broken? All those wonderful high-temperature ceramics turned into flowerpots, or…or crushed into cobbles for their driveways!” He shudders. “Nothing like a ceramic tipped knife for cutting the vegetables, let me tell you. And never need sharpening!”

“I never thought about it, but that’s good to know.”

“I’m still living clean, Sam.” Salsify whispers under the shouts of the children. “I’m still at the Cheese Vineyard. Very and these children are everything to me. I’m not going to ruin it.”

“I know, Orrie.” Sam returns. “I didn’t expect to see you at all. Young Sam saw the toys and came back chirping.” He blew a smoke ring. “Glad to know Veritable finally got in with the Guild--Sodality.”

Oregano Salsify’s response is to snort sadly and look away. The children may look lean, but they’re well-fed next to the reformed criminal that lived on the next step over from Cockbill Street. “They’re hard to work for,” he muttered. “Everything he does, they take the credit for it. I told him he would be better off with the Miniaturist’s Guild, but…well…a Toymaker gets more in sales when they finally become a master craftsman.”

“Which only takes ten or fifteen years, eh?” Sam wonders sarcastically. The two share a look that understands when one’s partner in life and love might be doing things the hard way because they think it is better for everyone.

“Tell Verry I have some work for him.”

“He’s not allowed to make toys on his own.” Orrie whispers, frightened.

Sam grins. It’s the sort of grin his wife’s swamp dragons cluster to, because they know it means fun things. Like chasing assassins.

Lord Vetinari is settling down to his breakfast the following morning when he gets a not-unexpected message from the City Watch. By ‘not-unexpected’ it means that it has been almost a week since Sam Vimes did something to stir things up in the city, and if anything, he’s overdue.

He’s almost finished reading it through when John Polliwog-Offal, lawyer for the Toymaker’s Sodality, comes storming in. Lord Vetinari is an excellent reader of emotions and knows when all five of the man’s chins are quivering with indignation, he’s going to approve of whatever caused it.

Lady Sybil is quite accustomed to her husband coming home with an acquaintance for dinner. This one is a shy, shabby little man with six various-sized tattered children, all of which are terrified of Lady Ramkin, but it isn’t long before the baby dragons and Young Sam puts him at ease. She loads them up with plenty of bacon and potatoes, and a glass of Cheese Wine from the country—his own work! Oregano learns from the table-talk that she paid far too much: the real vines hadn’t been ready to bud in the Century of the Cobra! Sybil promises to do something about that.

Young Sam charms him into teaching him how to make swamp dragons out of his mother’s linen napkins and a twist of shoestring. Sam goes to bed early hugging his new contrivance to his chest and the adults stay up a bit later to talk—well, mostly to complain about the price of food in winter. Oregano’s children are food-drunk, napping on the floor with their napkin-dragons. After drawing him out a little bit on the finer details of his life and work, Sybil makes certain Sam won’t let them leave until all are properly packed off in the snowstorm in their private carriage with one—make that two—heavy baskets of ‘leftovers from the kitchen’.

They watch his pale white hand, waving frantically good-bye from the open window of the carriage until the snowswirls swallow them all up.

“Sam,” Lady Sybil asks sweetly, “What are you thinking?”

“I’m thinking that it’s a bloody crime that the Toymaker’s Guild is the only Guild in the city that doesn’t have to pay taxes.”

“Oh? But they claim they shouldn’t because their purpose is to improve life and joy in the city.”

“That was their excuse.”

“And they’re a Sodality, which doesn’t exist in the city legal code dictionary.”

“That was their lawyer’s excuse.”

“Lord Vetinari can’t out-maneuver everyone, Sam. I’m sure he’s already plotting to get Ank-Morpork’s rightful dues from them even as we speak.”

“Oh, I have no doubt you’re right about that, dear.” Sam says blandly. And he smiles. In the barn, the dragons purr.

The children are delighted. There’s no warning: they get their Papa Verry home every evening in time for supper, and something good must have been added to this fortune because there’s suddenly a lot to eat. Papa Orrie’s kitchen smells like spices and seasonings, and the grease-cup holding the leavings from meals is brimming full, enough to fuel the little fat-lamps at the table at dark. Their flat is warm. Staying indoors with lessons is a lot more enjoyable than going outside and running for warmth now. They go to be full and content and believing Hogfather’s was somehow extended to an extra-long holiday.

Spring arrives, and with it, several things happen all at once:

1) The snows peter off. This is a relief to deliverymen and citizens everywhere—too bad about the trolls, but they consider this unexpected cool weather a bit of a special treat. “And not long enough to bring in our relatives, either,” Detrius grins. Trolls have no illusions about peacekeeping in hot weather with 3,500+ extended relatives.

2) The Watch has its own Siege Table. It’s as good as Lord Vetinari’s, a model map of the city and a gooey stripe of some mysterious substance caged from Moist von Lipwig’s rejected stamp glue to resemble The River. Every member of Sam Vimes’ Watch has their own carved representation, except for that dratted Imp, who is weirdly shy and wants only his camera-box carved instead. Everyone universally dubs Angua’s forms, both human and werewolf, to be amazing but there’s a moment of silent awe for Veritable’s skill in capturing the unique…nuances…of Nobby and Colon. There are also carved Guildsmasters, Wizards, and a few of the more restless political players.

3) Lord Vetinari has his own carvings too. He puts his war table in his office for everyone to see when they come in. Especially for those who are the average height of the average Toymaker’s Master (pity about those stooped over shoulders and curved spines, they really should modify their work-tables).

a. There are also a few ‘test carvings’, as Veritiable described them, and when Commander Vimes isn’t looking, he’ll come in to find a little Weatherwax (not the Wizard) facing a carved-cringing storekeeper, or the Cheery Longbottom standing on a wooden Detrius’ head to pull a tiny wooden cat out of a tree.

“It would seem, Commander Vimes, that you are in an ineluctable position with the Toymaker’s Sodality.”

“Oh?” Asks Vimes.

“Oh. Yes.” Lord Vetinari nodded gravely.

Vimes waits for further elaboration, as usual. As usual, Vetinari humors him.

“It claims that you have taken one of their members and put him to work on…non-Sodality business, and remind you that it is quite against Sodality Law to have one of their members make toys without pre-approval of the Sodality.”

“This is police business, not toymaking. And the last I checked, I have the right to pull anyone I want out of anyone’s Guild if I so choose, for reasons of my choice, and the Guild has to pay a day’s wage to said member to compensate for each day they are under conscript.” And he grins again. “I’ll be sure to have Captain Carrot come around with all the paperwork.”

“Their lawyer may have some quarrel with that, Commander. For starters, you are claiming the Sodality is a Guild.”

“Oh, my mistake. The laws are still in effect, though.”

“How so?”

“The Conscript Laws apply to all citizens of Ank-Morpork, and whoever is conscripted, their employer, or representative of the entity represented by the lawful labors, efforts, craftsman and volunteerism must pay said conscript a day’s wage as designated by the city’s Treasurer to be adequate for holding body and soul together.”

Why was it, the Patrician wonders, it is simply impossible to pass a fortnight without the presence of Moist Von Lipwig? He glances up but Drumknott is already sliding in with a file comprised of City Law, summarized, itemized, and stamped.

“I confess to surprise, Drumknott. I am not aware that this vote was made—granted back in the Cobra’s Century—with such universal approval on part of the officials.”

“I daresay, sir,” ventures the worthy Drumknott, “It is because at the time it was still quite legal to pay someone to serve the city in one’s stead. Paying a willing fellow a day’s wage for every day they must face a crossbow or spear in the spirit of Civic Duty is really quite the bargain when you think of it.”

“An excellent point, Drumknott.”

“However,” Lord Vetari’s brows float up upon his stern Patrician’s Brow. “If we fail that point in court, there is the matter that a lowly Assistant to a Junior Apprentice in the Toymaker’s Sodality is paid nothing at all until they reach the rank of Full Apprentice.”

“Oh, really?”

“Yes, really.”

“That hardly seems fair.”

“Oddly enough, the Guild’s Lawyer is saying the same thing. Why pay a day’s wage for a conscript if they never pay him in the first place?”

Commander Vimes scratches his head thoughtfully. “That’s a decent point,” he muses slowly, “But, as I recall from the First Code of the Watch, the Watch is under no obligation to pay a conscript if the project is a matter of security for Ank-Morpork. And creating interactive models of the city, to be used in times of tactical and strategical intelligence, falls under security.”

Lord Vetinari never has to fake his disapproving look when it turns out Sam Vimes is actually reading up on the laws of Ank-Morpork.

“So you say, but it would appear from the financial pages that have reached my desk, the Watch was paying Mr. Upshot wages on top of the wages the Sodality was compelled to pay.”

“I beg your pardon, sir? We were feeding him. Can’t have a hungry man on our rolls. It looks bad and makes for shoddy work.”

Vetinari lowers his pen, because he absolutely can’t wait to hear this explanation. “Are you saying a Junior Assistant to an Apprentice Toymaker needs a meal chit larger than all of your Trolls during the month-long Limestone shortage?”

“Why, no, sir! But he’s got a family to feed, you know, and he was feeding them first before he was feeding himself. We had to strike a balance somewhere.”

“And the other expenses?”

“Perfectly legitimate, sir.”

Vetinari picks up an offending sheet of paper. “You bought him a half-gallon of Children’s Croup Syrup.”

“It is Croup Season. He has a sensitive digestion, I heard. Can only take children’s potions most of the time.”

“And the receipt for twelve pairs of socks?”

��He does a lot of walking to get here, sir.”

“Children’s socks?”

“He has small feet, I heard.”

“You heard? You mean you don’t know?”

“I haven’t seen his feet, sir. They’re always underneath the hem of his Guild robe.”

All right. This is definitely one of his more interesting interviews with Commander Vimes. “And if I approach the…dispensers of these goods, such as, say…(glances down) Weatherwax, he would truthfully assure me the croup potions are for your conscript?”

“What? No, sir!” Commander Vimes is appalled at the very idea. “That’s Miss Weatherwax, your Lordship! Not the Wizard Weatherwax!”

“Ah, my mistake. I wondered how he had suddenly re-appeared without explanation…” Vetinari rested the paper on top of the others. “Commander Vimes, from Hogswatch until a week before the approach of Creator’s Birthday, you have approved for the expenses of Conscript Veritable Upshot, food, socks, Children’s Potions, the services of a dentist no less than seven times, a cord of slightly-used firewood, a tinned sheep’s head (extra eyeballs), four all-expense paid trips to the village of Bad Ass in Lancre, trips to the Watch and back home (presumably when they didn’t feel like walking in their new socks?), a nanny goat named ‘I-am-a-Goat’, a gross of pencils, primary schoolbooks, and a standing credit account to collect broken crockery from the Dwarves at the Rocanahadplyce Quarry and Tavern.”

Sam Vimes tilts his head. “What about all that, sir?”

Vetinari’s composure becomes exponential. Anyone else would be looking for the trapdoor to the dungeon by now—praying for it. “All of this. All of it. What would you do with a tinned sheep’s head anyway?”

“He was supposed to get one, and he was working for us and couldn’t get to market on time.”

“Extra eyeballs?”

“The most nutritious part, I’m told, sir. If you return the tin you get a refund, so it’s really the same price as regular.”

“Slightly used firewood?”

“It was in a fire.”

Lord Vetinari closes his eyes for a moment. “Why would someone name a goat I-am-a-Goat?”

“You’d have to ask Miss Weatherwax, I’m afraid. She said that was its name.”

“Miss Weatherwax. Not Wizard Weatherwax.”

“Never is, sir.”

“No. No, it never is.”

“You could ask her, sir. She’s not against questions from my experience.”

“But she is against the questions I tend to have.” Vetinari reminded him. “Is she behind the trips to Lancre?”

“I believe so. Something about treating poor eyesight.”

“Pencils? Schoolbooks?”

“We were taking away his time to finish schooling.”

“A grown man taking primary schooling?”

“He grew up in the Shades, sir. These things come late.”

“Broken crockery, Commander?”

“Yes, sir. He was keen to get his hands on some.”

“And you didn’t ask why?”

“He said he’d pay us back.”

“…Of course he did.”

Silence ticks on and on as the two opponents wait for the other man to speak. In the background lurked Drumknott, who wanted to know which man would crack, because he really did want to know the story behind a market for broken Dwarf crockery.

“What, Commander, do you predict will happen when the lowliest of the lowliest members of the Toymaker’s Sodality returns to his masters considerably richer than everyone else, with the exception of said Masters?”

“I can’t rightfully say, sir. Mightn’t they be happy for their poorest member?”

“They’re claiming you are willfully trying to bankrupt them, Commander, by luring their members to the Watch.”

Sam Vimes thinks that one over. “Coppers aren’t paid that much.” He points out. “But they have food on the table and they pay their taxes all the same.”

Vetinari steeples his fingers together. “A point, admittedly. Do you have anything you wish to pass on to them? I shall be glad to give them your words on the matter.”

“Oh, that would be fine, sir.” Sam pulls out his cigar, unlit, and clamped it in his teeth. “You can tell them that the Watch considers all members of the Toymaker’s Sodality their first choice for Conscription, seeing as how they are the only Sodality that doesn’t pay taxes.”

“They are in fact the only sodality in Ank-Morpork, Commander Vimes.”

“All the more important to set a good precedent, sir.”

“Are you, the father of a young child, declaring war on the toymakers, Commander?”

“Not at all.” Sam smiles. “But, see, the way I understand it…the Toymakers can’t enjoy the benefits of paying taxes. They’re last for medicines and road-cleanup, no emergency food boxes for the holidays, because all these things are funded by taxes. Now, it isn’t so bad when you reach Master’s Level, and you get an annual income of $500 a year plus your own house and expenses met…it’s the lower members that I worry about, sir, and while we do know that toymaking is a very honorable profession that brings much joy and quality of life to Ank-Morpork, we have a bit of a…surfeit of joy with the monies. It really is a shame that there isn’t a…redistribution of all this joy and quality of life so that it is more even for everyone else.”

Vetinari is so damn proud of Commander Vimes, it is all he can do to keep his disapproving calm on his face. “I shall be glad to summarize your observations. One last question before you go?”

“Sir?”

“Your requisitioned supplies were enough that you could have made more than two Siege Tables.” The Patrician rises and runs his fingers over the model city.

“Always better to make room for human error, sir.”

“Of course.”

It never takes Vetinari long once he has a chip in the power game. Before the week is out, the Toymakers announce a move forward into the future and pay taxes, secure in the knowledge that there are more ways than one in which one can generate joy and quality of life.

“Which they should have done long ago.” Lady Sybil sniffs over the teapot. “Now everyone there can afford to feed their little ones.”

“Yes, dear.” Sam happily crunches his bacon. She had the burn just right this morning.

“Oh, are those lovely children coming over for Creator’s Birthday?”

“We did invite ‘em. Both the parents said yes.”

“Splendid. I’ll make certain everyone has a little gift—something not so very practical for once; something pleasing for the self-esteem, like a nice schoolbag with lots of pockets, or diaries for writing.”

Sam is puzzled. “Isn’t something for the self-esteem practical? Well, I wouldn’t know.”

“No, dear. And we really ought to have something for our guests, seeing as how Young Sam will be getting the most outrageously extravagant gift of all.”

“Now that is practical, and I’m not really giving it to him, I’m just letting him play with it.”

“You’re giving a small child the use of a Siege Table?”

“Well,” Sam grumps, “He’ll be taking over for me someday…might as well be prepared.”

And this is why the Toymakers’ Sodality—that is, Guild, is less than enthused over the topic of Commander Sam Vimes.

But that little matter of ‘image royalties’ is a whole different story.

#Captain Carrot merchandise #Hogfather #Discworld #thescarletpaperback

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maknaesdancersrappers · 7 years

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devoted.

Jung Jaehyun || yandere!au(ish?), thriller(???), smut (im sure about this one lol), cursing, some pretty dark shit is under that keep reading line

word count: 9k

devoted masterlist

T R I G G E R W A R N I N G.

A/N: i usually make a sideblog for scenarios and imagines but i cant commit to writing often //sighs at exo and svt fic blogs// so i’d rather post it on my main tumblr than on my AFF account which is strictly for memberxmember only (author name is on the gif lmao i got too lazy to edit it to my tumblr url) so here’s some jaehyun smut for all his hoes, me included.

P.S. this is based off my dream the other night and i deadass almost had a panic attack from it

As a boyfriend, Jaehyun was… devoted.

It was a mutual decision; a decision he had voiced out first, but later on deeply regrets.

Jung Jaehyun meant well when he had asked to take a break from your relationship because the final months of university was harder than both of you thought. You simply had no time for each other, especially since you come from two very different courses.

It’s been almost 4 years since you two began dating, thanks to that one Gen Ed subject you miraculously shared together during freshman year. If he hadn’t been late and ended up sitting beside you, neither of you would have crossed paths again.

Jaehyun loves you, he was completely smitten that day you had accidentally swung your head to him a little too strongly and caused your hair to whiplash against his face when all he asked was for the professor’s name to put on his forms.

And you love him, ever since he had flashed his signature dimpled smile, chuckling away your apologies for having smacked his face with your hair.

From pair works in class that turned to study sessions at the library, that turned to spending breaks together at the quad, that turned to dinner dates at the nearest pizzeria, and by then all of your friends can tell that you and Jaehyun weren’t just friendly classmates anymore.

As a boyfriend, Jaehyun was… devoted. He doted you; he made sure he showed how much he loves you every second that he can. It was cute at first, until you got used to it. It had never been a bother or a burden, no matter how many times your friends would point out it was starting to be creepy. But you always shrugged them off, saying it’s simply how Jaehyun was.

First week

“You and Jae?” Ten repeats, “Are taking a break from each other?” He scoffs and nudges Doyoung, “Are you hearing this?”

“Wait, I must have something in my ears.” Doyoung sticks a finger into each ear and pretends to clean them, “Okay, can you repeat that again, (Y/N)?”

You roll your eyes at them and Yebin throws her used tissues at the boys, “Ignore them, (Y/N.) But I’m just as surprised as they are. Are you and Jaehyun really taking a break?”

“Taking a break, in our definition, is not expecting dates every other night, texting or calling during breaks, you know, the usual things we do. And if by some miracle, we bump into each other, we’d just, smile, I guess.”

“Oh thank fuck, no more kissing like you haven’t seen each other in years.” Doyoung groans, only to screech when Yebin kicks his shin under the table.

“I bet you won’t last halfway the semester. Give or take a month?” Ten shrugs his shoulders.

Doyoung snorts, “I bet you won’t last a week.”

“It was his idea and we both agreed to it. We’re graduating soon and we both promised to do our absolute best for the last semester, so we’re getting rid of distractions.”

Ten hums, “It’s just unlike him to suggest it.”

You pout at him, “And what is that supposed to mean?”

“He worships the ground you walk on.” Doyoung says in a tone like it was the most obvious thing that existed. “He worships you.”

“He’s just affectionate.” The bell rings, “And we’ll be late for class.” You stand up from your seat and they follow suit.

Third week

It took a while for you to get adjusted to the fact you’re on a break with Jaehyun. There were plenty of times you had to stop yourself from texting him to ask how he was or if he’s up to eat out together. When there was a knock on your apartment door, you had imagined it was him and not the food delivery you forgot about.

One fateful Friday, none of your subjects had given out homeworks to slave on during the weekend and Yebin had demanded for a mandatory and much needed girl’s night out at the new bar outside of campus. You were fine with the idea, until one of your friends, Minkyung, had took it upon herself to dress you up.

“No.” You automatically told her the second her hand reached for the last dress on the rack in your closet. It was probably the shortest dress you had owned. Despite its sweetheart neckline and flowy cloth, the A-line dress was cut off just above your thighs. It wasn’t the best dress to wear on windy days, to say the least. “That’s too short.”

“It’s cute and sexy!”

“But Jae–”

Minkyung cuts you off with a snap, “Last time I checked, you and Jaehyun are currently on break. Let your legs and ass breathe while they can. You’ve kept your best assets in pants or baggy shorts because Jaehyun doesn’t like it when guys ogle them.”

“Uhm, I don’t like being ogled by other guys, too.” You weakly shot back but she had already forced the dress on you and pushed you to the bathroom.

It didn’t take long for the three of you to get ready and hop into a cab that took you to the bar Yebin had not shut up about days prior from tonight. It was the typical bar set up, with booths surrounding the dance floor with 3 bartenders manning the bar and serving up cocktails one after the other.

Minkyung was fast enough to secure a booth for the three of you and you slip inside while Yebin ordered some drinks.

You realize that it’s been a long time since you were able to go out with them like this. You had always spent your free time with Jaehyun and although you missed him, this was a nice change, too.

Halfway through the night and six margaritas and 3 shots of tequila later, Minkyung and Yebin had coaxed you onto the dance floor. Intoxicated, you sway your body to the beat, laughing and singing along with your girls. You abruptly stop when a hand glides down from your waist to your hips.

“Excuse me, but I have a boyfriend.” You slurred a bit, but stood your ground to glare at the boy that felt you up.

“Really? Where is he then? Hm?”

You size him up quickly, he was shorter than Jaehyun but had Johnny’s built.

“It’s called a girl’s night out, jackass, so fuck off.” Yebin pulls you away but he grabs your arm and you cry in pain.

“I wasn’t talking to you, short stuff.” He hisses at Yebin, who responds with a harsh stomp on his foot.

Minkyung and Yebin whisks you away from him while he cusses at her.

“Are you okay? God, some guys are just jerks.” Minkyung snarls, pulling you into a hug.

“I’m fine. I’m sorry for spoiling our night out.” You reassured her.

“You didn’t spoil it, babe. That jackass did. Besides, we’ve had one too many to drink, we should head on home.” Yebin pulls out her phone and books an Uber for the three of you.

Hangovers are the worst. Usually, Jaehyun would have prepared you some painkillers and a decent breakfast, but today, you and your roommates ate cereal in front of the television with the volume down low.

“I feel like shit. Are we too old to enjoy getting wasted already? Shit!” Yebin cries, clutching her head with one hand while jamming a spoonful of soggy cornflakes into her mouth.

“Someone ask somebody to bring us painkillers. My head is killing me.” Minkyung whines, rubbing her temples.

You grab your phone and to text Doyoung, who instantly replied with his dismay of your state but will still bring over some painkillers.

The television suddenly sounds an alarm, making all three of you groan and cover your ears.

“Breaking News from Seoul Central University. Finance student, Kim Iljung, 22, was found beaten up outside a bar on the outskirts of the campus. The victim reported that he was ambushed from behind with a bat and was not able to see his assailant.”

“(Y/N), isn’t that the guy that felt you up?” Minkyung points out and you look at the ID photo the news report flashed.

“Oh shit, yeah. Oh my god.” You gasp as the reporter described the injuries the boy had sustained.

“Kim claims that he does not know who did this and the reason behind it. He is currently recovering in the campus hospital and is working with the campus police to catch his assailant.”

“Serves him right for molesting (Y/N)! Karma’s a bitch.” Yebin says, drinking the leftover milk from her bowl.

“Karma or not, it’s scary. To be randomly assaulted like that? What if one of us were in his place?” You visibly shuddered. “I mean, who could do something like that?”

Ninth week

You’ll be having your period soon.

You know this because on top of craving all sorts of food twentyfour-seven and experiencing drastic mood swings to your friend’s unfortunate luck, you had to deal with a need that Jaehyun knew all too well to handle. But you haven’t contacted him as part of the conditions of taking a break which only meant you had to take care of yourself.

It was half past midnight when you were sure your roommates were in deep sleep in their respective rooms that you decided to lock your room and raise the volume of the music you usually played at night just a tad louder in case you got a little too vocal.

You haven’t touched yourself in a long time. And even if you had, it was under the predatory gaze of your boyfriend.

Play with yourself. He’d command and you would automatically open your legs and obey.

Everything felt tentative and unsure while your hands ran up and down your naked body. Your mind conjured up scenarios of all the times you and Jaehyun had fooled around and finally, your hand made its way to your core. Sighing, you circle your clit with the tip of your forefinger and shudder at the sensation.

You bite down your lower lip when you attempt to slip your finger inside you. After a few pumps, you slip in a second finger and a moan escapes you accompanied by your boyfriend’s name.

Yes, baby, that’s it. You could practically hear him whisper the words.

“Shit.” You remembered the last time you and Jaehyun masturbated with each other. Much like how you were lying down on your bed with your legs spread out and fingers knuckle-deep inside you, you imagined Jaehyun seated at the chair by your study table, with his large hand wrapped around his cock. You whimpered when you remembered how his eyes watched your fingers disappear inside you.

“A-ah.” You softly cry when you pump faster and harder, trying to match the speed and force Jaehyun had always used on you, but ultimately failed. You plant your feet on the mattress and lift your hips up when you finally feel yourself find the pleasure you’ve been craving for. “Jae.” You whine as your other hand squeezed one of your boobs.

There was a low groan that echoed into the room and for a split second you thought you had imagined it, but it sounded all too real and all too close for it to be a fragment of your imagination. You shoot up from the bed, your hands grabbing the sheets to cover your body as your eyes dart to the window to see a shadow move across it.

Fear seizes your heart, but you had to confront it. As quickly as you can, you run to your window and open it. Your dorm was on the second floor and if there was someone who had seen you, he was fast enough to go down the fire escape. But you shake it off, hoping it was nothing but your imagination.

You close the window before you can catch a cold, not noticing the gooey, white substance splattered on the window pane.

Sixteenth week

Finals were next week and you were at your wits end. You were neck deep in stress and you were desperate to release it. You were in no mood to drink and the girls had their own finals to study for. As you walked home late at night from the library, you stop in front of the university gymnasium.

It had been a while since you’ve went swimming.

You quit the team when you learned that Jaehyun quit the basketball team to make time for you.

The pool would have long been closed by now, but that’s not gonna stop you from sneaking in. You jumped the fence after checking no one was around and made your way to the building where the pool was.

The janitors always kept a spare key inside the emergency fire hose and with that, you successfully entered the indoor swimming pool.

The pool lights were left on as usual and you drop your bags to the side, your clothing following them soon after.

With only your matching red underwear, you slowly slip into the pool, half-moaning and half-whining at the cold water enveloping your body. When your body adapted to the coldness, you dive down and swim close to the tiled floor. From under the water, you look up and panicked when a blurred black mass stood at the side of the pool, causing you to resurface.

“Jesus Christ!” You gasp when you realized who it was. “Jaehyun!” You scolded, “You scared me!”

“Sorry.” He chuckles, lowly, pulling out one of his earbuds from his ear and letting it fall out from the hoodie of his jacket.

“How did you even know I was here?”

“I was out for a jog when I saw you jump the fence.” Once he said that, you noticed he was wearing his usual running clothes. There were a few beads of sweat sliding down his face and his breath was a little ragged. He squats down and offers you a half smile, “If anything, I should be asking you why you’re sneaking into the pool after closing time.”

You bite your lip and swim towards him. “The past weeks have been hard on me and I need to destress. Won’t you help me, Jae?”

His eyes darkened despite the pool lights shining in them. “I don’t think that’s how taking breaks from a relationship works, (Y/N).”

“We’ve made it this far, Jae. Can’t we cheat this break thing?”

“(Y/N)” He warns.

“Please, Jae. For me?” You unconsciously bat your lashes at him and he sighs.

“I don’t have my swimming trunks.”

You giggle at him, “If you haven’t noticed, I’m in my underwear.”

He watches you a little bit more and you thought he was hesitating, so you reach up and unzip his jacket for him. “Do you need help or are you going to let me play by myself?”

That made him smirk and he rises from the ground, discarding his jacket and peeling his shirt away.

Your mouth went dry at the sight of seeing his body again and it made you almost guilty to feel so sexually deprived for the past months. He pushes his running shorts down and reveals his boxers.

Your teeth bite down on your lips again when he kicks his shoes off and smirks at you before diving head first into the water. You swim backwards, trying to tease him as he swims to you from underneath. He resurfaces right in front of you the second your back hits the side of the pool.

Jaehyun wipes away the excess water off his face while you wrap your arms around his shoulders.

“Hi.” You whisper, laughing when he flashes you a smile as you helped pushed his wet hair back.

“Hi.” He breathes, grabbing onto your thighs and guiding your legs around him. “So you needed to destress?”

You nod your head, sliding the hand that pushed his hair back down the side of his face. “How are you gonna help me?”

He pulls your hips closer and grinds his erection against your clothed sex, eliciting a silent gasp from you. “I can think of a few things.”

“C-care to show me?” You stuttered, unable to say anything else as Jaehyun continues to gyrate his hips into you.

For the first time in months, you kissed each other.

The open kiss was messy and sloppy, and it was desperate, needy, and hungry. You clawed his bare back, looking for support as you slid down his body. In response, he pushes you against the side of the pool, the corner biting into your back had hurt but you couldn’t care less. His tongue had invaded your mouth, stroking your own as one of his hands roughly grab your breasts, pushing above the water’s surface.

You throw your head back, resting it against the poolside as Jaehyun clumsily thumbs your hardened nipple and trails a sloppy kiss from your cheek, to your jaw, and stopped short on the side of your neck.

Just as you slowly lose yourself with Jaehyun’s actions, a high pitched whistle hurls you back to reality.

“Shame on you two, fucking in a public pool.” Deep laughter follows afterwards.

Your eyes snap to the entrance where a group of boys watched in amusement. Humiliated, you hide yourself using Jaehyun’s body who shielded you nonetheless.

“Do you mind?” He snaps at them, defensively putting his arms around you.

“Yeah, man, we do mind.” One of them hollers, “We wanted to swim in sperm-free water.”

You flinch when they laugh once more, “Jae, let’s just go.”

He doesn’t react immediately; dark eyes glaring straight to the space behind you. His breathing had slowed and became heavy.

“Jaehyun,” You cup his cheek and make him face you, “Baby, let’s just go.”

It takes him another second to react. He closes his eyes and kisses your forehead. “Okay.”

The guys didn’t pay attention to either of you anymore as they jumped into the far end of the pool. Jaehyun helped you get out of the pool and instinctively, he checked on the guys as he got out after you. Just as he expected, one of them was checking you out while you bent over to grab your things.

“Hey!” He shouts, “I’d appreciate it if you stopped checking my girlfriend out.”

“Can’t help it, man. No wonder you can’t keep your hands off of her.” You see him look at you once more in an overly appreciative manner that made you shudder. On the corner of your eye, you can see Jaehyun tense up and ball his fists. “Jaehyun, leave him alone. It’s not worth our time, come on.”

“Do her real good, man!”

It took all your strength to hold Jaehyun down before he can even properly react. “Baby, please, I just want to go home.” You almost begged him and he finally relented.

Snatching your clothing up, both of you head for the locker rooms to dress before leaving the premises.

“Let me walk you home.” Jaehyun pulled you to his side after seeing you shiver.

After a while, he quietly says, “I’m sorry about those dickheads.”

“It’s not your fault. Maybe it’s the universe saying we shouldn’t be cheating on taking a break.” You huddled closer to him. “But I really miss you, Jae.”

“I miss you, too.” He plants a kiss on the top of your head. “We have a week left. I think we can hold out until then.”

“Until then? Hold out, what exactly?” You tease, spinning on your heels as you arrive to the doorstep of your apartment.

He leans down and kisses the spot between your jaw and your ear. “What could have happened back in the pool and so much more in the privacy of our homes.” His whisper was deep and low, tickling your ear and making you pull away with a short laugh.

“I can’t wait, then.” You let him kiss you on your lips. “Get home safely, okay?”

“Yes, ma’am. I’m sorry for not helping you destress.” Jaehyun slightly pouts at you and you smile at him.

“I had this time with you.” You shrugged your shoulders, “It helped.”

“You can always play with yourself again.” He chuckles under his breath. “I love you.”

“I love you, too.” And with one last kiss, he walks away.

You turn around and reach for the door, but realization hits you before you can turn the knob.

Did Jaehyun say… ‘again’?

Seventeenth week

You were finally through with exams and all you had to do now was wait for graduation. Jaehyun still had one last exam to finish in the afternoon, as Ten told you, so you guys, along with your roommates and Doyoung, decided to go to the mall.

When everyone grew tired of window shopping, Doyoung had suggested to head over to the arcade. Yebin had challenged Ten to breaking the high score on the basketball games while Minkyung had devoted herself into getting the large minnie mouse tsum tsum in the claw machine.

“Let’s play air hockey like old times!” You pulled Doyoung by his arm.

“Right! So I can beat you, like old times.” He laughs and avoids being shoved by you.

“We’ll see about that.”

He swipes the arcade card into the air hockey machine and the puck pops out in front of you. You place the puck onto the table and grip the striker.

“Are you ready to lose?”

“I should be asking you tha–hey! That’s not fair!” He yells when you make your turn and the puck goes straight into the goal.

“Whoops.” You feigned innocence. “If you’re so great, my leading point shouldn’t be a bother.”

Grumbling to himself, Doyoung places the puck back into the table and swings as hard as he could, making it bounce everywhere before you could block it and send it back to him. He had struck it too hard and made it hit the sides that ultimately led it straight into his goal.

“What the hell!” He complains and glares at you as you laughed out loud.

“That’s two points for me!” You cheer, preparing to block his next shot.

As the game continued, you couldn’t help but laugh at all the nonsense complains Doyoung kept stuttering out. Tears even made it to your eyes when he had made an effort to put all his weight into blocking the puck but he had missed it and stumbled away from the table.

“Are you sure you’re as good at this game as you say you are?” You jeered, peeking up at him through your lashes, but your eyes catch sight of someone else. “Jae?”

Doyoung cheers when the puck slips past you while you were distracted.

You eyes flutter down when the puck plops out of the bank by your legs but you ignore it and look back behind Doyoung. Jaehyun wasn’t there anymore.

“What’s wrong?” He stops his mini celebration and turns around, trying to look for what you were staring at.

“I just… I thought I saw Jaehyun.”

He whips his head back at you with a confused expression. “He should be taking an exam right now.” He glances down at his wristwatch. “Well, if he was fast, he could be done, but it would still take him some time to get here.”

“Right. I was just seeing things.”

After a few more minutes at the arcade, you head over to a fastfood chain across the arcade.

“To console you on your loss in our neck-to-neck air hockey match, I’ll buy you ice cream.” Doyoung wraps an arm around your shoulders, “Sound good?”

“Add in some fries and maybe, just maybe, I’ll be okay about losing.”

He exaggerates a sigh, “My best friend, using me for free food.” He lightly pinches your shoulder, “You’re lucky I love you or else–”

It happened so fast that you could barely register it into your mind.

“What the fuck do you think you’re doing, huh? Keeping her warm for me?”

The voice didn’t register at first, but the face that owned it did.

“Dude, what the hell?!” Doyoung scrambles onto his feet with Ten’s help.

Jaehyun steps forward but you block him. “Jae, what is wrong with you?”

“What is wrong with me? I finished my exam early and rushed here to see you, but I see him,” He juts his chin towards Doyoung, “With his arm around you.”

“What’s happening here?” A mall security guard approached your group.

“A misunderstanding, nothing we can’t handle ourselves. Sorry for the trouble.” You bow your head at him and grab Jaehyun’s arm. “Can we talk outside?”

He casts a glare at Doyoung before letting you pull him out. On the way to the exit, you recognized the same group of boys that chanced upon you and Jaehyun in the swimming pool from the previous week. You were ready to avoid their gazes, but they had seen you and immediately steered clear from you–and you didn’t fail to notice the fear in their expressions. Glancing up at Jaehyun, you could see the smug look on his face as he watches the group retreat.

You walk out into the parking lot and spin around to face him. “Do you want to explain yourself for what you did back there?”

Jaehyun frowns, “He had his arm around you.”

“I–Jae! He is Doyoung. Kim Doyoung. My best friend since pre-school. My best friend who is asexual. You know that!”

“He can’t be asexual forever. For all we know, he’s already got a crush on you!”

“Why are you being jealous of him? He’s my best friend and will always just be my best friend.”

“He just said he loves you!”

“And I love him back, as in, platonically, which I think is what he meant!” You groan in frustration. “You’re being ridiculous!”

Jaehyun scowls, “I’m being protective of my girlfriend!”

You suck in your lips and stare him down, “Your girlfriend that you’re technically on a break with.”

“What?” His body visibly tensed up.

“Maybe we should extend the break for a week or two.” You began to step back, but he follows you.

“What?” Jaehyun repeats, “Why?”

“Because, Jae,” You snap and he flinches at your tone, “I need time to get over what you just did inside to my best friend and you need time to contemplate over your actions and apologize to Doyoung.”

“(Y/N).” He whines.

“Jaehyun, please.” You cross your arms over your chest, defensively, and he stops in his tracks, looking at you with pleading eyes. You shake your head with regret and turn away, walking to the mall front.

He hadn’t followed you or tried to stop you, and you were thankful for that.

You take out your phone, book and Uber, and sent a text to Yebin, saying you’re heading home to rest, and then sent one to Doyoung, apologizing for Jaehyun’s actions and asked if he was okay.

Yebin replies with a kissy face emoji and a short message that she and Minkyung will bring home some dinner for you, to which you replied with a quick thank you.

Doyoung responds to your text a little while after, telling you that he’s fine; that nothing was broken or bleeding, and Jaehyun came back to check up on him and to apologize for punching him.

You close your phone as you see your Uber arriving and hop inside. Jaehyun had never reacted that way and it came as shock to you that he did. He was always that shy and nice kid that everyone was friends with. He was never assertive, but you knew it irked him when guys would so much give you excessive attention.

Seventeen weeks and three days

With classes over and practices for graduation rites starting in two weeks, you were left bored at home while Yebin and Minkyung had their exhibits and recitals to attend to. You woke up at noon and ate late lunch in front of the television, catching up on all the dramas you’ve missed for the sake of studying.

It pained you to watch some romantic scenes, if you were to be honest with yourself. It reminded you of Jaehyun and how he had acted a few days ago.

You learned from Ten, since he’s been seeing Jaehyun’s roommate, Johnny, that Jaehyun was either cooped up in his room or spending his hours at the gym.

The news didn’t make you feel any different. You missed him so much, but your pride wouldn’t allow you to give in. He had to apologize and admit his mistakes.

You fell asleep in the middle of a drama and was woken up by your cellphone ringing. The caller ID read Unknown, but you answer it either way.

“Hello?” You yawned. The other line was silent. Thinking there was a problem with the signal, you stand up and walk closer to the window. “Hello?” You repeat. “Who is this?”

As the line continued to remain silent, you decided to hang up.

The call was unsettling, but you shake it off and gasp to see that it was half past 8 already. You trudged to the kitchen, taking out some left overs from the fridge and pop it into the microwave. While waiting for it to heat up, you scroll through your SNS; liking pictures, watching random videos. You see Taeyong’s new profile pic that showed his newly bleached hair and you give it a heart eyes emoji react.

The microwave beeps and you close your phone to eat your dinner in silence.

As you cleaned up after your meal, you’re overcome with the sense of someone watching you. There was a palpable tension in the air and you convince yourself to look behind you. You regret not turning the lights on in the living room, leaving the open space dark and barely illuminated by the kitchen lights.

Your imagination went haywire, thinking how possible it was for someone to stand in the darkest corner and possibly staring you down, mocking how you can’t see them. But your eyes adjust to the darkness and you can map out the tall lamp shade Yebin’s mother had gifted you guys the day you moved in.

You let out an awkward, shaky laugh. “It’s all in your mind, (Y/N).”

Your phone rings, ripping through the silence and effectively made the tiny hairs all over your body stand up. “Motherfuck.” You hiss, clutching your heart as you take your phone from the counter.

It was an unknown number again.

“Hello?” You answer, a little too aggravated.

There was static on the other side and thinking the cell service was bad from the kitchen, you move to window and peek up into the cloudy sky. “Hello? This better not be a prank phone call.”

Instead of the silence you expected, you hear slow, heavy breathing.

“Hello? Who is this?” The clouds move and the moon shines the ground below. Your eyes drop to the street below and your chest tightens.

On the sidewalk that leads to your apartment building, there was a man dressed in a black hoodie, ripped jeans, and a black face mask covering half his face. He was looking up at your building, you weren’t so sure since his hoodie had casted a shadow over his eyes. But what caught your attention was his hand, holding up a phone to his ear.

You see his chest heave and at the same time, an exhale comes from the other line of your phone.

You drop your phone and stumble backwards as a scream erupts from your throat. You hear your roommates concerned shouts from outside the hall as they scramble to open the front door.

By the time they reach you, you were on the floor, shaking uncontrollably and crying from what you had seen.

Seventeen weeks and four days

Your landlady came to visit you and told you she had asked the campus police for extra security every night. They had also tried to trace the unknown number, but didn’t get any leads and guessed it came from a burner phone. Nevertheless, they reassured you that they’ll continue to investigate your case.

Minkyung and Yebin had slept beside you last night to comfort you, but the thought of having a stalker still haunted you.

You were still jittery and with your mind playing tricks on you, you grab your phone and head out.

“Hey, I heard from Ten what happened. Are you okay?” Johnny asks as he opens the door for you.

“More or less? Uhm…” You look inside the room as you toed off your shoes.

“He’s taking a shower. He actually planned to go to you, but I guess you beat him to it.” Johnny cocks his head to the small bouquet of flowers on the side table. “I’m meeting Ten for an early dinner.”

“Bye.” You quietly say as you watch him close the door behind him.

With soft steps, you make your way to Jaehyun’s room. It was tidy as it always was. You can hear him singing as the shower turned on and it makes you smile.

As you move to sit on the bed to wait for him, your eyes catch the black face mask on his table. “Has he been sick?” You frown to yourself, walking over to it. Upon closer inspection, you find an old-school phone beneath it. You dismissed it as a toy when you try to open it and consequently failed to do so.

Your eyes travel to the picture frame beside it. It was you, of course. You were with him to help him choose the picture he’d have printed and framed. You pick it up only to put it down as fast as you could when your fingers came into something sticky.

“Ugh, Jung Jaehyun!” You hiss, stretching your hand as far away as possible. You were disgusted, to say the least, but a part of you is flattered to know your boyfriend jacks off to you instead of some porno video or magazine. You walk to his laundry basket and grab the first thing you could and wiped your hands on it.

You feel bad for using one of his black hoodies to clean your hands but he’d understand. As you returned the dirty laundry back into the pile, you noticed the light washed denim jeans inside. There was an unsettling feeling in the pit of your stomach when you see that they were tattered. It’s a coincidence, you convince yourself, a horrible coincidence.

You throw the jacket back into the basket and walked over to the other side of the room to sanitize your hands with the bottle of rubbing alcohol liked to keep there. Your emotions have suddenly turned a complete 180 degrees; when you stepped inside the apartment, you felt safe and secured. But after running into items that looked so out of place and had triggered your memories of the past events the last weeks, you were uneasy.

The sound of the shower turns off and you cast a glance at the bathroom door, catching your reflection on the full length mirror. You blink repeatedly, seeing (yet another) item that you did not know Jaehyun had owned.

Your heart began to speed up as you twist around to get a better look. You could hear your heart beating in your ears with every slow step you took towards the corner of the room. There, hidden behind an armchair, resting against the crevice where the adjacent walls met, was a metal baseball bat. You wanted to throw up as your mind connected the dots.

Jaehyun was always protective of you.

“(Y/N)?”

You gasp, turning around, putting a hand over your chest.

Jaehyun, dressed in a loose shirt and boxers with a towel haphazardly thrown over his head, looked as equally as surprised as you.

He couldn’t possibly have done it.

You choke on the onslaught of tears, running to him and burying your face into his chest.

“Hey, it’s okay. It’s okay.” He automatically wraps his arms around you, smoothing your hair down. “You’re okay. I’m here. You’re safe with me.”

Jaehyun holds you tight, letting you cry out the remaining fear from the previous night, all the while placing kisses on your head and rubbing your back.

“Oh god,” You breathe in, smelling his strawberry-scented shower gel. “I missed you so much.”

“I missed you, too.” He pulls away, tilting your face towards him. “How are you? Did you get any sleep? If I found out any sooner, I would have gone over to you.”

You shake your head, “I couldn’t sleep properly, even though Yebin and Minkyung stayed with me.”

“Have you eaten at least? Let me cook something for you to eat.”

“I-I… Don’t leave me here.” You hated yourself for sounding so weak.

Jaehyun offers you a soft smile, “No one’s going to hurt you while I’m around. But if you really don’t want to stay in my room, you can come with me to the kitchen.”

He leads you to the kitchen by the hand, his thumb running over your knuckles. He makes small talk with you, asking how your finals went, and you smile to yourself, seeing how he wanted to get your mind off last night.

You respond to his questions and watch him fry some eggs and slices of pork. It didn’t take too long for him to serve it to you with some reheated rice from this morning.

“Eat up, baby girl.”

“Baby girl?” You smirked, “Should I call you daddy, then?”

Jaehyun laughs, a blush still makes it way to the apples of his cheeks. “Be careful what you wish for.” He whispers into your ear, trying to sound seductive but ended up chuckling.

He watches you eat and from time to time, lets you feed him some.

“What are your plans after graduation?” He asks out of the blue.

You swallowed your food, “My plans?”

He nods, waiting for you to answer.

“Get a job?” You shrug, “I haven’t thought about that at all, actually.”

“How about moving into a new apartment?”

You pause for moment, “I don’t know if I can afford it, but my contract for my apartment right now ends two months after graduation so I should probably look into it.”

“Well,” Jaehyun massages his nape and avoids your gaze; a telltale sign he was nervous. He looked exactly the same when he first asked you out. “My parents graduation gift for me is my own apartment room in downtown Seoul. I was wondering if, you know, you’d want to move in with me.”

You stare at him, trying to process what he had just said. “Will your parents be okay with that? I mean, I thought you and Johnny would still be sharing an apartment.”

“He and Ten have their own plans, besides, I’m not sharing a bed with Johnny.” That makes you giggle and he lets out a short chuckle of his own, “And about my parents… they love you like their own daughter. They wouldn’t mind. I’m willing to bet they’re hoping for grandchildren in two years.”

“Woah there, big boy.” You laugh, “How about we take baby steps instead of hoping of seeing our baby take their first ones, huh?”

“Tell that to my parents.” He grumbles like a child and you reach up to pinch his cheeks.

“Anyways, I’d love to.”

“Hm?”

“I’d love to move in with you.”

It takes a second for Jaehyun to grin at your answer, both cheeks displaying a dimple each. “Really?”

You giggle at his reaction, biting down on your lower lip while you nod. “Yes, really.”

He pulls you in for multiple kisses, making you laugh in between each one. The last one he planted stayed longer against your lips, igniting a heat below your belly. His tongue grazes your lips and you instantly grant him access into your mouth, moaning at the sensation of his tongue sliding against yours.

His hands snake onto your thighs, roughly massaging them before pulling you tight against his body. You cling onto him; mouths undetached as he hauls you up and takes you back to the bedroom.

As if you were a delicate piece of china, Jaehyun sets you down on his bed with utmost care. He pulls away from the kiss, leaving a string of saliva between your lips before it snaps as he straightens himself to remove his shirt.

“Oh, god.” You groan, “I can’t believe I lasted 4 months.” You palmed him over his boxers with one hand while the other travelled upwards, fingers dancing across the expanse of the hard muscles of his abdomen and chest. Before you can slip your hands into his shorts, he grabs both of your wrists.

“I still owe you a destresser.” Jaehyun reminds you with a matching smirk on his lips.

You let him undress you, watching his eyes dart to every newly exposed skin and grow darker with carnal lust to every drop of clothing article on the floor by his feet. When you’re finally stripped off of all your clothes and underwear, he gently pushes you back until you’re lying on the bed. With a light tap on your thighs, your legs part to make room for him.

He removes his boxers and kneels on the bed, one hand already stroking his hard member. He leans down and kisses you, “I’m going to show you how much I missed you.”

“Don’t hold back.” You challenged and he playfully scoffs at you.

“When have I ever held back?”

Before you could answer, a digit dips into your core. A shaky sigh escapes you as Jaehyun languidly moves his finger around.

“Show me how much you missed me first.” He quietly says, “Use my hand.”

Whimpering, you covered his hand with your own, grinding your clit into his palm. Your fingers tapped onto his middle finger and he got the message, inserting it along with his pointer finger. He dragged them against your inner walls that caused you to softly moan.

You lifted your hips, hoping to get some more leverage but Jaehyun flexes his middle finger and it brushes against your g-spot. You gasp, dropping your weight back down to the bed. From there, Jaehyun takes over.

With no warning, he pumps his fingers into you, curling them inside before pulling out. It felt amazing and your body was already starting to convulse. He continued his actions, going harder and faster, ignoring the signs of your oncoming orgasm.

You cry out, grabbing onto his wrist with both hands as your body violently shook.

Not wasting any time, Jaehyun takes whatever essence of your climax his fingers collected and smears it over his cock, giving it a few more pumps before he slides it in you.

Your moan may or may not have been too loud for the neighbors to hear, but you had no control over it. Despite being sensitive and still high from your orgasm, you try to spread your thighs further for him. One of your legs pinned his on the bed while you wrapped the other around his hips.

Jaehyun mumbles something about you being tight and how it feels amazing just before he begins to thrust, slow and deep. He leans over and kisses your neck, alternating between sucking and licking every patch of skin he can get his mouth on.

“I’m going to mark you so other guys wouldn’t think twice about hitting on you, okay?” He thrusts a little too hard, as if to punctuate his question, and you groan in response.

“Yes, yes,” You gasp, your hands finding purchase on his shoulders. “I’m yours.”

He makes almost an animalistic growl, hips moving more erratically with your words. “Say that again.”

“I’m yours.” You chant, almost like a prayer.

With every repetition of your invocation, Jaehyun snaps his hips into you, gaining more speed and power. It had you curling your toes and teetering over a cliff, ready to jump head first into ecstasy only he can deliver.

Your body thrashed against him as he gave you your second mind-blowing orgasm for the night. He helps you ride it out, keeping your hips still as he shallowly pushed into you. Unintentionally, you clenched around him and he moans at the sensation.

“Shit, that feels so good, baby.” He rasps, throwing his head back.

“Won’t you come?” You asked, pouting up at him as you catch your breath.

Slowing down his thrusts, he looks down at you. He studies how you were still shivering from your high, how his kisses on your necks have bloomed into a bouquet of purple flowers, how your breasts rose with every haggard breath. He takes one into his hand, softly palming it. “I’m getting there.”

“Is there anything you want me to do?” You watch his eyebrows scrunch up and his lips curl into a wicked grin.

He pulls out of you all of a sudden and crawls until his knees are on either side of your chest. “Open up.”

You part your lips and stick your tongue out a little.

Jaehyun groans at the lewd sight of you; taking his cock into his hand and pumping as fast as he can. He places the tip on your tongue when beads of pre-cum ooze out.

You lick it up immediately, coaxing him to ejaculate by running your tongue on the underside of his cock’s head.

A string of curses fall from Jaehyun’s lips as he finally found the final push he needed to come. White, hot liquid shoots into your mouth and amidst of you swallowing it, the remaining cum splashes onto your cupid’s bow, cheek, and chin. He cries out in anguish when you push yourself up to suck him dry with hollowed cheeks. As you fall back to bed, one last spurt escapes him and hits your brow.

Seeing it dribble down your eyelid, Jaehyun uses his thumb to swipe it off. Before he can clean his finger, you grab hold of his wrist and guide it to your mouth, collecting the salty substance with your tongue.

“Jesus christ, (Y/N).” Jaehyun exhales, feeling his cock twitch at the salacious scene.

“I just missed how you tasted.” You giggled, kissing his thumb. “Still delicious.”

He combs your sweat-slicked hair and chuckles, his ears turning red at the compliment, “Well, I’m sure you taste sweeter.”

You jut out your lower lip at him, “How would you know? You haven’t tasted me in months.”

“Oh?” His eyes glaze over once again, “Is that a challenge?”

“Baby,” You coo, “It’s an invitation.”

If his dimpled smile made you melt, a dimpled smirk made you melt in other places–places he was about to visit.

“Don’t mind if I do, then.” He trails a kiss from between your breasts down to your navel.

Your jaw drops when he arrives right at your core and does his magic.

You dip your head back down further on the bed, moaning at every flick of his tongue. You turn your head to the side and your eyes fall on the baseball bat from earlier. You had a clearer view of it this time.

You had a clearer view of the other end stained with dark red splatters.

Your blood ran cold and you froze up.

Jaehyun, realizing immediately that you had stopped responding to his actions, pulls away and looks at you. His gaze follows yours and once he spots what had grabbed your attention, he hovers above you and places a hand on either side of your head. “Look at me.” He commands.

“You couldn’t have…” You murmur, meeting his darkened eyes.

“He touched you.” He simply states, devoid of any emotion.

“Jaehyun!” You reprimand, but he cuts you off.

“He disrespected you, (Y/N). I wasn’t going to let that pass by!”

“How did you even know I was the bar? Were you following me?”

“I wanted to make sure you were safe!”

You push him off, scooting off the bed and picking out your clothes from the floor. This wasn’t something you wanted to discuss in the nude. “Well, I was! Yebin and Minkyung were there with me. We left before he could do anything else. You didn’t have to beat him up with a bat! Jesus christ! Jae! You’re wanted by campus police.”

“He got what he deserved, (Y/N).” He coolly shrugs his shoulders, grabbing his boxers and slipping them on while watching you dress.

“And what about those guys from the pool?” You suddenly remembered running into them the other day.

“I only meant to go after the one who couldn’t keep his eyes off you.” Jaehyun admits, “But his friends came looking for him, so I had to deal with them as well.”

“You took them by your–” You shut your eyes in frustration and disbelief. It felt like you didn’t even know the man in front of you. Shaking your head with a scoff, you avoid his piercing glare.

Another thought pops into your head, a scarier one that gave you goosebumps.

You look to the table and stare at the black face mask, “…w-were you the guy last night?”

“Yes. I was outside your window, too, when you masturbated.”

You gaped at him with horrified astonishment. “Why?” It took every fiber of your body not to start shaking from fear and disgust. “You scared me shitless!”

“That was the point.”

Your jaw drops, unable to formulate a proper response, nevertheless, Jaehyun continues.

“I had to scare you back to me.”

“What?!”

“I was losing you.” His voice finally breaks from the monotony and raises an octave higher. “You asked for an extension when I was at my limit. I missed you!”

“I was mad! You punched my best friend, Jaehyun! I had the right to be! And it didn’t mean you were losing me. I just needed time to cool down!” You pinch the bridge of your nose. Never, in the four years, you and Jaehyun have spent together did you argue like this. This was a completely different side to your boyfriend and all these revelations were giving you a headache. You needed time to process them. “I can’t do this.”

You make a move to leave but Jaehyun blocks your path.

“Can’t do what?” His voice had dropped and his eyes were practically black as the night. Taken aback from his demeanor, you were unable to respond to him, making him ask again in a raised voice. “Can’t do what, (Y/N)?!”

“Let me go, Jae. I need to go.”

“Go where? Who are you running of to, huh? Doyoung? Taeyong?”

“Why are you dragging Taeyong into this?”

Jaehyun scowls, “I saw you giving his picture a heart eyes react.”

“Oh my god!” You shout, “Do you hear yourself right now? So I liked his new photo because I thought his new hairstyle looked good. He’s our friend, remember? Jaehyun, please, let me leave.”

“And what? Extend our break even more? I don’t think so.” He reaches for your hand, but you move away. “(Y/N).”

“You’re honestly scaring me right now.” You back away until you feel the wall behind you. “Why are you acting like this?”

“Because I love you, (Y/N),” He steps forward, “Everything I do is for you. I have to protect you. If you could only see how other guys look at you, how they would undress you with their eyes–I, I can’t let them disrespect you like that. They need to know that you’re mine and I’m yours.”

“And if you really, really do love me, Jae,” Your eyes tear up, “You would let me leave.”

“No. W-why?” His eyebrows scrunched up in frustration “Do you want to break up?”

You swallow hard, “I’m really scared right now, Jaehyun. Just please give me time to think–”

“Answer me!” He yells, making you flinch in your spot. He traps you against the wall, “Are you thinking about breaking up with me?”

“I don’t feel safe with you right now.” You breathed. Your words were barely audible but they rang like sirens in Jaehyun’s ears.

He steps away from you, the emotions on his face have changed from hostile to defeated. His eyes are wet as they searched around the room for something, and they fell on the full length mirror attached to the bathroom door. Huffing, he takes two large steps towards it and swings as hard as he can.

You shrieked as his fist connected to the mirror, creating a large, cracked web onto it. You had expected him to stop, or at most react to the the pain of the blow, but he repeatedly punched the mirror, smashing chunks of the glass and sending them crashing to the floor.

“Jae, stop!” You yell, but it was as if he couldn’t hear you.

You found yourself grabbing his arms at the first sight of crimson staining the mirror. “Jaehyun!”

“Go away! I don’t want to hurt you,” He spares you a tormented glance. His cheeks were damp from tears already. “I can’t hurt you, so let me–”

He attempts to throw another punch, but you hold him back. Then both of you struggled with one another, until he nudges you away and faces you. “You hate me!” He cries.

You shake your head in denial, but he repeats himself.

“You hate me.”

“I never said that.” You squeaked, staring into his eyes.

“You wanted to break up.” Jaehyun grabs a fistful of his hair as he shuts his eyes.

“I never said that, either.” You quietly admonished, shakily reaching up to wipe his tears.

He had flinched away from your touch at first, snapping his eyes wide open like an injured beast being cornered, but the way you looked at him made him drop his defenses.

“I’m sorry.” He chokes out, sobbing like a little boy and your heart wrenches at the sight. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry.” He repeats over and over until you pull him down, letting his head rest on the crook of your neck. “I can’t lose you, (Y/N). I can’t. I just wanted to protect you.”

“You’re not gonna lose me and you won’t.” You run one of your hands down his back while the other combed through his hair.

He pulls away, tears still flowing down his cheeks, “You’re not leaving me?”

You take in his expression; a mix of pain, anguish, confusion, guilt, and above all that, you see the expression that made you choose him and stay by his side: love.

“I mean, I have to go home sooner or later.” You cock your head, offering him an unsure smile in an endeavour to bring up his mood, and it sort of did. The briefest flash of his dimple with the curl of the corners of his lips told you that you had at least succeeded in making him laugh. “But I can spend the night if you want to.”

“I want you to.” He mumbles and you smile up at him.

“Then I’ll stay the night.” You pull him down until his forehead was touching yours. Playing with the short hairs on his nape, you whisper onto his lips, “I love you.”

A smile finally breaks out onto his face, lighting it up from the solemn mood “I love you, too.”

“Let’s get your hand cleaned up and wrapped, okay?” You kiss his cheek and lead him out the room, careful not to step on any glass shards.

The clock in the living room struck 12 and exhaustion seeped into your system. You were beginning to accept that there was something terribly wrong with your boyfriend’s psychological health. You should have ran away when you had the chance; you should have left when he, himself, told you to. But you remembered his eyes when he spared you a glance. Something in them switched like an on and off button when they were on you in comparison to when he had been punching the wall.

You look over your shoulder and up at Jaehyun, who sniffed as he inspected his bleeding knuckles.

Your friends have always told you how much he doted you.

Up until tonight, you had no idea just how devoted Jaehyun was to you.

devoted 2 part 1

devotee (jaehyun’s pov)

#nct #nct 127 #jung jaehyun #jaehyun scenarios #jaehyun smut #nct scenarios #nct smut

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lunarlooroo · 6 years

Note

Ooh I'd love to read some post war interactions between Snape and the Weasley Twins (who are BOTH alive thank you very much) when Snape visits their joke shop.

Okay, this probably turned out a little different than you were expecting, but I hope you still like it!

A loud, obnoxious ringing interrupted Severus while he was reading the Saturday Prophet. It was as biased and tasteless as usual, but it was important nonetheless to know what news was being fed to the sheeple that was Wizarding Britain.

The noise persisted even after minutes had passed. He recognised it as the sound Heather tended to set on her Alarm Charms. He set the worthless excuse of a newspaper on the table and made his way to Heather’s study.

The incessant ringing grew louder the closer he approached and he wondered why Heather had not inactivated it yet.

He found her seated at her desk, parchments hovering all around her as she wrote furiously. He watched as what seemed like a paper covered with sketches and runes floated up to join its brethren.

Heather didn’t even seem to notice his presence, which explained the continued ringing. She occasionally fell into such research binges when a creative mood struck. He was no stranger to this state of mind, having created some of his best potions in such times, himself.

A wave of his wand cut the alarm off, bringing with it blessed silence. Ironically, it was this that had Heather looking up dazedly from her work.

“Oh damn! Is it that time already?” She looked mournfully at her array of notes. “Do you think Fred and George would mind if I took a rain check for today?” Then she shook her head. “No, no, they specially cleared their schedule today for me,” she muttered to herself.

He watched her consideringly as she put her quill down and the papers floating around her drifted slowly, reluctantly, downwards. The words were on the tip of his tongue. Then Heather shot one last glance at her work and he caved.

“I could…go in your place, if you wished it.” He grimaced, imagining his quiet day disappearing into the chaos that was the Weasley twins.

Heather’s gaze shot to his, a hopeful light in her eyes. “You mean that?”

Raising a brow, he said, “I would not offer otherwise.”

“You know I was supposed to be going over to help with their upcoming April Fools’ line, right? You hate pranks!”

“I think they have an appropriate time and place, simply not in class, especially not where volatile potions are being brewed. Neither should they hurt their intended target, whether emotionally or physically,” he corrected.

Heather nodded slowly. “Okay…” Then her eyes glazed over in a way that signified her mind was being otherwise occupied. She was already halfway back into her research spiral as she gave him a distracted peck on the lips. “Thank you for doing this.”

By the time he left home, she was fully immersed in her literal whirl of research notes again.

~~~

“Hey Heather! Just come on in and-” A twin Severus assumed was Fred turned around from rearranging some shelves and paused midway in his sentence. “Severus? What are you doing here? Where’s Heather?”

Severus gave a short nod in greeting. “Heather sends her apologies. She was in the middle of a creative storm when I stepped out.”

The redhead gave an understanding but disappointed smile. “Well, we all know not to disturb her when she gets like that. Another day, I guess.”

“Actually,” Severus cleared his throat, “I offered to provide my services in her stead.”

Fred’s eyebrows shot up to his hairline. “You?!”

“Hey George!” The other twin popped his head around the door to the backroom of the shop. “Do my ears deceive me, or did I hear Severus Snape volunteer to help us create more joke products?”

Fred (or George, according to his brother, though Severus knew better than to take his word for it) nodded in amazement.

Severus sighed. “If you would rather not accept-”

“Oh, we accept! Say no more, come right on up!”

Fred (or George, but Severus always referred to the twin he saw first as Fred to save himself the headache) linked an arm through it without any hesitation, ignoring his twitch of annoyance, to lead him up the stairs to the apartment above the shop, which the twins lived in.

They had long since gotten over the fear, if any, they felt for him from his days as the Great Dungeon Bat, much to his dismay and Heather’s delight.

“We’ve got some ideas, but we’re stuck on how to create the potions needed,” George said, picking up a notebook and handing it over for Severus to peruse.

As always, Severus was reluctantly impressed by the ingenuity of the twin terrors. They were rather further along in their potion experimentation that he had expected, especially considering they had no mastery in potions. They had always been two of his better students when they bothered to try, despite all the trouble and frustration they engendered.

Immediately, he began planning possible ingredients to use and ways to incorporate them into the brewing so as to produce the desired effects. He looked around for something to write with and one of the twins shoved a muggle biro into his hands. He hadn’t used one of these since before starting Hogwarts. After a brief fumble with it, he readjusted to the pen and started writing rapidly on a blank page.

He felt two pairs of eyes reading over his shoulder. Normally, that would have irritated him beyond belief, but he was too caught up in his mind to care.

“Ohh, didn’t think of the doxy eggs…”

“Huh, six widdershins swirls?”

“Can’t believe we forgot the reaction between…”

Severus ignored all the background noise and continued scribbling. Of course, they would need to actually test-brew all these possible recipes, as calculations and theory were never enough.

With one last sentence, he was done for now and he dropped the pen on the table. His hand was achingly sore, but he was satisfied with the preliminary recipes he’d written down. There were a few possibilities for each potion they wanted, so he handed the book over for them to read.

“Wow, this is kinda different from how Heather does it,” one of them said as they read.

“Yes, she and I have different methods we prefer with experimenting.”

Heather was bolder with her ideas, often relying more on intuition than centuries-old theory to craft a potion. He suspected her magic helped greatly with this, amplifying or damping the natural properties of certain ingredients as needed, depending on her intent for the potion. Not to mention when runes were added into the mix, which further changed how the potion would originally behave.

Severus, however, was a more traditional brewer himself. He knew the theory inside and out, working with the set rules to construct the potion he desired.

Many would think they clashed often, with their disparate styles of brewing, but contrary to that, they actually complimented well. They covered each other’s weaknesses and prevented each other from going too far in one direction. They balanced each other.

“Should we go to the lab, we wanna try some of these out first,” Fred said.

Severus noted that they had flagged out a few of the recipes while setting aside the others. Probably seeing guessing where his thoughts went, George said, “Those use ingredients that are rarer and less cost effective. It wouldn’t be profitable to use for mass production.”

He nodded at the sensible thought. Yes, they would have such considerations for creating products mostly aimed at children with smaller budgets. Unlike his own business where clients paid for the quality and complexity of the potions they ordered.

As they went through each potion, Fred and George asked questions about possible alterations or additions. Severus found himself surprisingly entertained by the intellectual discussion. The twins had intelligent ideas and were eager to learn, which made the entire experience – dare he say it – enjoyable.

It may be pranks that the twins were creating – frivolous and silly things – but the two put a significant amount of effort into them, making sure they were not only comical, but also safe and easy to use. If nothing else, Severus could respect their dedication to their craft.

~~~

“So, did you have fun with Fred and George today?” Heather asked that night over dinner, having come out of her study for a short rest.

“It was acceptable.”

She smirked at him. “I know that look. You enjoyed yourself!”

Severus felt a hint of embarrassment at being seen through so easily. “I would not be opposed to repeating the experience,” he conceded.

Heather’s smirk softened into a warm smile. “I’m glad you’re getting along.”

Severus knew how much the twins meant to her, being her truest and best friends. He was suddenly chagrined at his previous distant treatment, having not realised how important it was to Heather that he be friendly with them.

He reached out to link their hand. “I am as well.”

“Good, because I have another appointment with them next week, but I don’t think I’ll be done with my newest muse anytime soon.”

Severus laughed at that and agreed.

#WHfP #prompt ficlets

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alvarezforthegame · 6 years

Text

Friendship Bracelets

I just published a new one-shot for Jeremy/Jean! Thank you to the wonderful @trojean for letting me use their post about the Trojans making Jean bracelets to cover the scars that Riko left

read under the cut or on ao3!

“So, why did you guys disappear and buy six bags of embroidery floss?” Jeremy asked, sitting on Laila’s bed.

He plugged his phone into her charger and watched Alvarez and Laila sort out the string by colors.

“Haven’t you seen Jean during practice?” Alvarez asked.

“Of course he’s seen Jean during practice, Sara. He can’t take his eye off of the guy.”Jeremy felt himself blush, but didn’t argue.

The girls snorted and continued their sorting.

“He’s always looking at his wrists, Jer. You saw the way they looked when Renee had you come over, the way that those handcuffs had torn up his arms. Laila and I are making him bracelets so that he doesn’t have to look at them anymore.”

Of course Jeremy remembered what Jean’s wrists looked like. He remembered the entire two day escapade that their coach had barely given them permission to miss practice for. He remembered the call from Renee, he remembered calling Laila and seeing if she and Sara would come with him, he remembered how they had to remind him to not go over the speed limit even though they were going across the country.

He remembered the way that Jean couldn’t move because of the pain and how he still cowered away when he thought that Jeremy was Riko coming back to take him.

“Can I help?”

“Hey, Jean? You decent?”

Jean sat up from his bed at the sound of Jeremy’s knocks, his hair a mess from not moving for an hour.

He had been looking at his wrists, at the scars that Riko had torn into his them. Handcuffs, knives, paper, literally anything that could get rid of the smooth skin. He needed to stop doing that, Jean reminded himself. It never made him feel good about himself.

“Uh, yeah, I’m good. The door’s unlocked.” He tucked his hands under the sheets.Jeremy popped into the room, his smile at a thousand watts, almost as bright as his neon yellow team shirt.

He had his hands behind his back and he was fidgeting like he was going to explode.Jean just squinted his eyes in confusion.

“What’s going on with you?”

Jeremy somehow managed to smile even bigger and walked up to Jean’s bed.

“Can I sit?”

“Sure? What are you hiding?”Jeremy plopped down on the bed and crossed his legs.

Jean noticed his socks didn’t match, and not only were they different patterns, they were different subjects entirely - one was blue and green stripes and the other had flying pizza slices all over it.

“Pretty cool, huh?” Jeremy grinned. His hands were still behind his back. “I think matching socks are bad luck, so I never wear pairs.”

Jean quirked his head and looked at Jeremy in confusion. “What are you hiding?”

Logically, he knew it wasn’t weapons of any kind, because USC actually had policies against those kinds of things, but it didn’t stop him from mentally steeling himself for Jeremy to do something heinous. Riko had played the nice guy before, Jean had enough scars to account for that.

“Oh, yeah! I forgot about that,” Jeremy said sheepishly. “I was distracted by your room. It’s a little barren.”

Jean shrugged. He didn’t exactly have much to put on the walls. He didn’t know what he was supposed to like.“I wasn’t exactly allowed to enjoy things at Edgar Allan,” he mumbled.

“Well, we’ll have to fix that. Are you busy today?”

“Jeremy!” Alvarez shouted exasperatedly from the hall. Jean figured that she and Laila were outside and Jeremy was supposed to be a lot faster.

“You guys can come in,” Jean called out tentatively. He heard them stall for a moment and realized that it would be the girls’ first time in his room. “It’s nothing special.”

Laila appeared first, pushing the door open a little more to accommodate for Alvarez following closely behind. She had her hair down instead of its usual ponytail. Alvarez’ hair looked like it was halfway to being dry as it hung down.

“Jeremy is taking a moment to get to the point of his coming into my room.”

The girls grinned and nudged Jeremy. “When doesn’t he?”

Jean shrugged again.

“Here,” Alvarez said, grabbing the surprise from Jeremy. She held it out to Jean.

“Laila and I spent like two weeks making as many as we could.”

In her hand, she had a small pile of string. Bracelets, Jean realized. He looked to Laila, who was holding another pile of bracelets. Both of the girls were smiling almost as brightly as Jeremy. Jean had never worn anything other than the approved wrist watches at banquets. He wasn’t used to being able to express himself.

“We noticed the marks on your wrists,” Laila said. “You look at them a lot, and it looks like they hurt you. So Sara and I made you a bunch of these to cover them up, that way the only time you’ll be forced to see them is when you take them off before games, and then they’ll be covered by your uniform, so it won’t matter.”

They really did care about him, it just threw him off. Jean needed to start keeping a tally of how many times the Trojans continued to comfort him.

Laila grinned and slowly reached out for his arm, still hidden in the sheets. “May I?”Jean stalled, but pulled his arm out and let her take it. She dropped the pile of bracelets and grabbed one that was in red and gold. The Trojans. The team. His team.

“Like this,” Laila said softly, tying it over one of his scars. “Is that too tight?” She looked up at him, waiting for an answer.

The team that saved his life.

Jean shook his head. Laila saw this as a sign to continue.

“Is it alright if I get to other wrist?” Alvarez asked. Jean offered his other arm to her.

Jeremy collected up the piles and began sorting the bracelets out one by one. The four of them sat there in silence, the girls tying bracelets to his arms and Jeremy smiling contentedly while the Southern California sun beamed in through Jean’s window.

It took maybe ten minutes, but when they were finished, Jean held up his wrists and looked at them. There was no way to see through the brightly colored bands on his wrists, all the colors that he could imagine, though red and gold was the predominant theme.

“No scars,” Jean said softly, amazement touching his voice.

“No scars,” Jeremy agreed. Jean looked up to see his teammates smiling.

The girls were the first to stand up.

“We’ve got to go, Jeremy said he wanted to take you out for the day,” Alvarez said, making way for the door.

“Aw, Sara, that was supposed to be a surprise!” Jeremy said in mock disappointment. She stuck her tongue out playfully and she and Laila disappeared down the hall.Jean looked at Jeremy, who smiled sheepishly.

“Your room is kind of empty. I know it’s because of your whole thing with Edgar Allan, but I wanted to take you out - to the mall, I mean. So that you could get some stuff to decorate with.”Jeremy shrugged and looked down at the floor, his hands shoved into the pockets of his sweatpants. Jean didn’t understand why Jeremy was so embarrassed by asking him to go out for the day.

“I’ll go with you, but you do know that I’m fairly out of touch with the “real world” so to speak.”

Jeremy’s face broke into another giant smile. “Really? And yeah, then we’ll have to make it a whole day!” He looked like he was about to start jumping up and down, as if Jean had just said yes to a proposal or something of the sort.

“I’m going to change into jeans and get ready - it should only take about thirty minutes? I’ll wait for you.”

Jean nodded, and Jeremy bounced out of his room, energy practically radiating off of him.

#jean deserves the trojans being good to him #my writing #jean moreau #jeremy knox #laila dermott #sara alvarez #all for the game

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tomeandflickcorner · 7 years

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OUAT Episode Analysis- Murder Most Foul

Well. That was unexpected. Not sure how I feel about the ‘gotcha’ moment at the end, though. I know they probably needed a bit of drama to drag the current CS storyline out, but...huh. Maybe it’s best to reserve judgement until I see where A&E plan to go with this new development.

We start off with the night that Charming and James were separated as babies. It turns out that during the winter, the brothers fell ill, and Ruth and Papa Charming (whose name is revealed to have been Robert) didn’t have enough money for medicine. Cue DO Rumple, who offers to give them money for medicine, on the condition they surrender one of their sons to be raised by King George. And I really love Ruth’s initial reaction to this. She actually grabs a knife, ready to defend her two sons with her life. (She did realize she was facing down a man who could reduce her to a pile of dust with just a thought, right?) But Robert decides they have no real choice, as it’s the only way to ensure their sons will live. So they, with great reluctance, agree to the terms, with James being selected via coin toss.

Apparently, that event is what led to Robert becoming an alcoholic, with him turning to the drink in an effort to escape from the pain and regret of giving up James. He admits to the bartender at a local tavern that David, now six, deserves a better father than him. At that moment, Robert is shocked when King George enters the tavern. King George announces that his son, Prince James, had been abducted, and he’s looking for anyone who has information. Robert, wanting to help his biological son, decides to take it upon himself to rescue him. And it was here that I started ‘aww-ing,’ as we see Little Boy David. (He’s so adorable.) It turns out this was the true story behind the tale Shepherd David will one day tell Anna. Little Boy David was under the impression that Malcolm was leaving home to recover from his alcoholism. But in fact, he was trying to rescue long-lost brother James. To give his father a little bit of luck, Little Boy David gives Robert his lucky coin. (Hmm. Was this the same coin used in the coin toss?)

Robert makes his way to the Dark Castle to see Rumpelstiltskin, who reveals James actually ran away. He gives Robert a ticket to the place where James went. In exchange, Robert has to give up a hair from his head. While DO Rumple initially implies he has plans for the hair, it turns out this was all an act and the ticket was a freebee. Because Robert’s determination to see James reminded DO Rumple of his own desire to reunite with his son. (Okay, fine. You get a gold star today, Rumple. I can admit when you act like a halfway decent person.)

The ticket, it turns out, allows the holder access to Pleasure Island of Pinocchio fame. (Interestingly enough, sharp eyes can spot August was actually writing about the place at the end of the last episode. Unfortunately, I can’t locate the post that pointed this out to me, so I can’t currently credit the sleuth for this observation.) Anyway, Robert makes his way there, and is even able to resist the lure of drink in his determination to find James. He does, however, have a run-in with Pinocchio, back when he was still a wooden puppet. (Not sure how Pinocchio was around back then, as he’s only supposed to be roughly ten years older than Emma, who won’t be born for another few decades, but oh well.) Thanks to that pesky trait of his nose being a lie detector, Robert figures out that Pinocchio saw James. Upon locating Little Boy James, we see he’s completely different from his adult self. He’s just a gentle little boy who doesn’t want to become a knight and kill people. Robert offers to bring Little Boy James to live with him, stating he’ll have a brother to play with. Unfortunately, the people who run the place spot them trying to leave, so they have to make a run for it. When they reach the docks, however, they find King George is there. Robert identifies himself as Little Boy James’ real father, and states he has no desire to give up his son again. As such, King George orders his guards to take Robert back to the mainland and kill him, instructing them to make it look like an accident.

I guess this is how James was able to figure out he had a twin brother somewhere. I’d always wondered how he seemed to know that information in the Underworld, despite King George never knowing there was a twin brother until after James’s death. In any event, I feel even more sorry for James than I did before. From the looks of it, all the negative traits he displayed as an adult were most likely due from being raised by King George. If he hadn’t been stuck with such a nasty piece of work, he might have turned out differently. (Seriously, A&E, can we please address those pour souls who got dropped into the River of Lost Souls? It would leave a bitter taste in my mouth if the show ended with them still trapped in there.)

Flash forward to present day, with Charming leading the Nevengers in a toast commemorating Emma’s safe return from the Wish World and defying the vision of her death at Gideon’s hand. (And I got a huge chuckle from Killian toasting with his flask instead of a wine glass.) However, when Charming later slips outside to mourn the fact that Snow can’t be present, due to the lingering curse on their shared heart, he starts to hallucinate, seeing an image of his dead father. He then collapses for some reason. Wasn’t really clear why, but I guess it’s because he’s currently sleep deprived due to his stubborn refusal to switch off with Snow until the incident with Gideon was dealt with. (Does this variation of the Sleeping Curse prevent Charming from taking a non-cursed nap or something?) Killian apparently noticed his friend collapse from the window, as he hurries out to check up on him. But Charming is too high-strung to be accepting of Killian’s concern, and resorts back to his S3 attitude, dismissing Killian as a pirate. Killian is visibly hurt by the snub, but backs off without a fight. When Killian goes back inside, however, Charming notices something on the ground- his father’s lucky coin, the one he gave his father as a boy.

The next morning, we see Charming had taken Killian’s advice and swapped with Snow, as she pays a visit to Regina. They talk a bit about Robin Clone and Regina’s decision to bring him into Storybrooke. While I am a bit put off we didn’t get to see how Snow reacted to what Emma went through while she was out, I do applaud her for talking sense here. Just because Robin Clone looks like Robin Prime, it doesn’t mean he’s the same person. (Speaking of which, was Robin Clone sleeping in Regina’s living room? With the size of Regina’s mansion, you’d think she’d have a spare bedroom on hand. What are you using all those extra rooms for, Gina?)

Meanwhile, Killian, in a surprising turn of events, pays a visit to Archie’s office. (Is this the first time they’ve interacted since the start of the Revenge arc/2B?) Turns out Killian’s still a bit hurt over the incident the night before and is worried that Charming still views him as the man he used to be, and that Emma deserves better. Killian then admits the reason why he’s so concerned with how Charming views him is because he’s planning to propose to Emma. (Insert the shrill squeeing of the CS fandom.) But, old fashioned gentleman that he is, he wants Charming’s blessing first. Archie assures Killian that everyone knows he’s a better man now, but suggests that Killian should just come out and ask Charming how he feels about him if he’s that worried about it.

Speaking of Charming, when it’s his turn to be awake again, he has another hallucination of Robert. His father accuses Charming of forgetting about him, and Charming retorts that Robert was barely his father and was just a drunk he worked hard to forget. When Charming demands Robert say what he wants, Robert says he wants ‘truth.’ This sets Charming off, and he’s now more determined than ever to solve the mystery behind his father’s death. To achieve his goal, he decides to enlist Killian’s help when the man stops by to follow Archie’s advice. Killian suggests that Charming might be better off going to Emma for help, since she’s the sheriff and has magic, but Charming refuses, stating he doesn’t want to worry her or Snow, and that they might not approve of what he might have to do. He then states he needs a pirate, completely oblivious to how Killian becomes crestfallen at his words.

They make their way to the Swan-Jones house, with Killian saying it should be empty, as Emma took Henry out on a canoe trip. But he briefly balks when he finds out Charming is planning to steal some potion ingredients to conjure up a spell. Gotta say, I’m with Killian on this one. Magic isn’t something you want to mess around with. At least not when you have no formal training. It’s like operating heavy machinery. If you don’t know what you’re doing, you could cause a lot of damage, or get badly hurt. But Charming is not to be swayed and instructs Killian to stand watch. Killian, who is desperate for the man’s approval, reluctantly goes along with it. At the same time, you see how upset he is about this. While Charming is occupied rooting around the shed, Emma returns unexpectedly, as Henry forgot to bring the life jackets. Which leads to a great scene of Killian trying to keep her distracted long enough for Charming to slip away. A task that’s not easy due to Emma’s superpower kicking in. Killian is able to get away with a half-truth, despite how uncomfortable he is with not being 100% honest with her, talking about how her near-death had made him reflect on some stuff. Obviously, we know he’s referring to his intent to propose, but he doesn’t let Emma in on that just yet. In the end, Charming is able to avoid being seen by Emma and the two men head off together.

Back at the Charming loft, Charming and Killian proceed to conjure up a spell that will show them where Robert’s lucky coin was the day that he died. (Insert cute moment with a beaker.) Despite their lack of magical training, the spell works, pointing them in the direction of Pleasure Island. Now that they have a lead, they go see August, who explains the last he saw of Robert was of him escaping Pleasure Island with Little Boy James, and that he never connected them with Charming. The knowledge that his father had been trying to save his twin brother clearly stuns Charming. August then explains that he took some pages out of Henry’s book waaaayyyy back in S1, as those pages chronicled his time in Pleasure Island, something he’s not proud of. He offers to look for them in case they reveal more about Charming’s father.

After leaving August’s place, Charming deduces who may have killed his father. However, Killian, realizing that Charming is out for blood, tries to talk him out of it, as he knows better than most what a quest for vengeance can do to you. Unfortunately, Charming takes this as a cue to handcuff Killian to a nearby bike rack in order to keep him from stopping him. He then heads right to the psychiatric ward beneath the hospital, which I guess is now used to hold long-term prisoners. There, he confronts King George/Albert Spencer, who admits he ordered Robert’s death. Charming proceeds to challenge his former adoptive father to a duel to the death. But just as Charming gains the upper hand, Killian arrives, having broken out of the handcuffs off-screen, and quickly returns King George/Albert Spencer back to his cell. Killian proceeds to try and talk Charming down, stating that while the man did admit responsibility for Robert’s death, he also told Charming that his father resisted temptation in the end, and became a father Charming could be proud of. This leads to Charming to have a full-on emotional breakdown, admitting his fears that he’ll lose everything. Killian then presents Charming with a choice. He can proceed to kill George/Albert, but first he has to remember that Robert did everything in his power to be able to look his son in the eye. He asks Charming if he wants to be a man who can look his father in the eye, too. With these words, Charming collapses and cries on Killian’s shoulder, completely overwhelmed.

Sometime later, Charming makes his way to the docks, where he makes peace with his father’s memory as he now knows that Robert did come through in the end, overcoming his vices. Killian, once again concerned for his friend, sticks around to make sure he’s okay. Charming proceeds to apologize for his behavior throughout the episode, stating that Killian was the noble one that day, and that he’s sorry for how much he risked that day, including Killian’s relationship with Emma. Upon receiving confirmation that Charming believes he’s is good enough for his daughter, Killian gathers up the courage to ask for his blessing to propose to Emma. After a brief pause that clearly makes Killian very nervous, a smiling Charming grants that blessing and the two men head off together.

However, that’s when the ‘gotcha’ moment happens. When Killian is making his way back home to Emma, blissful that there’s nothing holding him back from proposing, he’s approached by August, who located the pages pertaining to Pleasure Island. Even though he didn’t find any new information about Robert, he figured Charming might want them anyway. Killian agrees to pass them along. But after August leaves, Killian spots an illustration of Robert and is horrified to realize he recognizes him. It turns out the two guards who were hired to stage Robert’s fatal ‘accident’ were interrupted before they could complete their task. Killian, back when he was still the infamous Captain Hook (and apparently taking a slight detour during his time under Pan’s employ, as this took place when Charming/David was only six), had targeted the cart that was to be used in the frame-up with the intention of making off with some of the king’s gold. In the processes, Hook kills the two guards and then, in a tragic turn of events, he proceeds to kill Robert as well, stating he can’t afford to risk the older man keeping silent about what he’d seen on his own.

So, yeah. That stinks. I think this is the first time we’ve actually seen Killian/Hook at his most ruthless. Up until now, while we have certainly seen him do some underhanded stuff, they just….never seemed all that bad to me. Not that what he did in the past wasn’t bad, of course. But there was always something that made it not seem unforgivingly bad. It was usually just him reacting to something that set him off. But this? Yeah, this is completely different. This wasn’t just another spur-of-the moment thing. This was straight up cruelty. I think this is the first time you actually can see why he earned the reputation he had as Captain Hook. And I am wondering how Charming’s going to react if he finds out this new tidbit about his future son-in-law. I admit, I won’t be surprised if he’s initially put off by this. But I’ll also be disappointed if he doesn’t eventually come around and remember what he said about Killian in this very episode- that he has changed since then. Besides, it’s clear that Killian is deeply remorseful now that he realizes what he’s done, as he’s now back to feeling unworthy and therefore reluctant to propose to Emma. And you know, seeing as Snow forgave Regina for killing her father despite there being nothing substantial to suggest she’s remorseful for it, I expect Charming to eventually forgive Killian for this as well. Especially since Killian/Hook hadn’t realized he was responsible until just now. Unlike Regina, who knew perfectly well she was killing Snow’s father, Killian/Hook had no way of knowing this man was the father of someone he’d eventually view as a friend and brother, as well as the future grandfather of the woman he’d one day fall completely in love with.

This right here, while it is an upsetting revelation, can also serve to be the final step in Killian’s redemption. While he has admitted he’s deeply remorseful about the murders he committed during his time as vengeful Captain Hook, this is probably the first time he’s being directly confronted with the people who suffered because of it. Sure, he’s faced down people he’s hurt in the past, like Ursula and Liam 2.0. But those were either easy fixes or, in the case of Liam 2.0, more about putting an end to a vicious cycle of blood and revenge. This time, there’s no easy fix. Granted Robert was going to die regardless, but Killian/Hook had the chance to spare his life and didn’t take it. As a result, he unknowingly caused a lot of pain for people he would one day love dearly. When he gathers the courage to admit the truth to Charming and Emma, and they forgive him for it (because it’s obvious they will, with the only question being how many episodes it’ll take), it’ll be symbolic of Killian being fully absolved of his past.

Come to think of it, I think it’s a huge testament to Killian’s character that he was able to recognize Robert when he saw the illustration. Just think about it for a moment. When he killed Robert, the man was nothing to him. As far as Hook/Killian was concerned, he was just some random stranger that was in the wrong place at the wrong time. And yet, he is clearly able to remember what that man looked like, even though it’s been years since that night. I can’t see how anyone wouldn’t find that impressive.

Meanwhile, in subplot B, Regina, following Snow’s advice, starts trying to help Robin Clone acclimate himself into Storybrooke. Unfortunately, Regina gets momentarily distracted by Zelena popping by to say she won’t allow Robin Clone anywhere near Baby Robyn, stating he has no rights to his sorta-daughter. (I know, dead horse, but technically you shouldn’t have any rights to her, either, Zelena. You know, seeing as how you were Robin Prime’s rapist.) By the time Zelena leaves, Robin Clone has gone and scarpered. While out and about, Robin Clone runs into Keith/Sheriff of Nottingham. (Ah, so I guess he didn’t die at the end of ‘Lacey.’ I’ve always wondered if Gold beat him to death after the cutaway. Looks like he didn’t.) Regina steps in before Robin Clone could kill him, but this leads to a small confrontation between the two, which leads to Regina stating that, even if Robin Clone didn’t regret killing Keith now, he might later on. Okay, I’m completely okay with that line. It’s nice to see brief glimpses of redeemed Regina. If only they weren’t so rare to see. And it gets better. When Regina takes Robin Clone to her vault to tend to his hand, which was slightly injured in the struggle with Keith, we learn that Regina still hasn’t returned the hearts she collected. Finally, someone addresses that! I’m starting to like Robin Clone. He actually calls Regina out on stuff. Regina even states she knows she sounds like a hypocrite. (Did I mention I really like this Regina subplot? How’s that for a novel concept?) However, Regina insists she has changed, (then why haven’t you gotten around to returning those hearts in your possession to their rightful owners?) and that she brought Robin Clone back with her because she was hoping she could be a part of his fresh start, too. The two proceed to kiss, but it’s visibly obvious Regina feels something is off about the kiss. It doesn’t feel the same as when she kissed Robin Prime. Regina later talks to Snow about the matter. (So we get two scenes with Snow’s interactions with Regina in this episode, but none between Snow and Emma? Yeah, that’s lovely.) She begins to acknowledge that this isn’t her Robin. But that leads to her wondering who this Robin Clone is, and what he could possibly want. That question is made even worse when we see Robin Clone swiping a fancy-looking box from Regina’s vault. What he plans to do with it remains a mystery at the moment, but I doubt it’s good.

(Click here to read more Episode Analyses)

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biofunmy · 5 years

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Tech Products We Tried And Loved In 2018

As tech and business reporters at BuzzFeed News, we love consuming stuff. This year, our obsessions weren’t limited to the buzziest new gadgets (we recommend LAST year’s iPhone, and the Facebook Portal is conspicuously absent from this list). We were also into all sorts of new apps, fun social media accounts, productivity hacks, and even just ways to…disconnect from technology. (Reading books! Doing jigsaw puzzles!) And yes, we also enjoyed weed vape pens.

Here are all the things that the BuzzFeed Tech and Business team tried this year and wholeheartedly recommends.

Customizing my PopSockets to show my cats’ faces — $15 each

I don’t need to go into all the ways that PopSockets greatly improve your life; my colleague Katie has already done that, naming it as her favorite tech thing of 2017 and talking about it nonstop all of last year. (I should know. I sit next to her in the BuzzFeed newsroom.)

Long story short, Katie convinced me too, but I took it a step even further by customizing my PopSockets with my cats’ faces. This is an easy thing. You basically take a picture of your beloved pet (or pets), photoshop out the background, and head over to the PopSocket “customizer” page. A pair cost me only $30. And you can switch out the design by popping off the top, so both Laser Beam and Vivienne get play on my phone.

Yes, this is something I show off to people at parties, frequently and obnoxiously. But now you can be that person too! Also, I’m planning to get a friend of ours a customized PopSocket with the face of his girlfriend on it as a prank Christmas gift. It’s gonna be great.

—Davey Alba

I don’t get why people like PopSockets. They are extremely uncool and bulky. Since I have a deep-seated fear of developing iPhone claw hand and a long history of dropping my phone and shattering screens (my claim to fame is that Bella Hadid and I go to the same screen repair place), I needed to find something that allowed me to hold my phone with my fingers but wasn’t totally lame. I noticed that my friend’s cool German mom was using a sleek iPhone strap at dinner one night, and I ordered one on Amazon for $2.50 less than a standard PopSocket. It lays completely flat and is the perfect size for my middle and ring finger. While I hear that PopSockets constantly break, my sturdy phone strap has never failed me. One time, a stranger on the subway asked me where I got it! I am a trendsetter.

—Maggie Schultz

The thing everyone asks me when I wear my computer glasses is: Do those things work? Well, if by “work,” you mean, “Do they make me look smart and cool?” — then yes. They work great. Do they actually do anything to protect my eyes from blue light? Idk, the science is fuzzy here.

I’ve been blessed with perfect vision, and I don’t need prescription glasses of any kind. But I’ve also been cursed with looking great in glasses! What’s a gal like me to do? Wearing fake glasses with no prescription is embarrassing; it’s something a mall emo teen would do. Computer glasses allow me all the glory of wearing “real” glasses without any visual impairment requirements!

The only downside is they have a slight blue tint, which makes them look different from actual glasses. But it’s probably not that noticeable, so I’m able to walk around looking like a certified genius while still maintaining my idiot lifestyle.

There are fancier versions of these glasses, and maybe those lenses actually do a better job of protecting your eyes. But I was in the market for something cheap, and Amazon had lots of styles under $25. I got a second pair for about $15 in pink plastic frames as well.

—Katie Notopoulos

Dosist pen — $40–$100 on Eaze (availability based on local state law)

I’m 46 and, frankly, I don’t want to get too high. Or arrested. Or smoke dope that’s been treated with something I use to drive my Honda. I don’t want to get blasted or brain-hammered. I have shit to do! But every once in a while I do like to, you know, take the edge off of life?

This is why I like the Dosist pen vape. It’s a self-contained oil vaporizer that delivers a measured dose of THC and CBD as you inhale, and then vibrates to let you know to stop. There are various “formulas” with different THC to CBD ratios, and other terpenes, designed to deliver specific types of highs. (I like Bliss.) It’s also reusable. When empty, you can bring it back to a store that sells them for a $5 deposit. Plus it’s available from various on-demand delivery services, such as Eaze, so you can have it at your door within about 10 minutes of deciding you need to, uh, unwind. Not bad!

—Mat Honan

Infinite content feeds that aren’t social media — various prices

2018 was the year I embraced the continuous scroll and the back catalogue. Long live the podcast feed, the extended playlist, and the audiobook. There were too many moments in 2017 when I was browsing Twitter, Facebook, or Instagram and asked myself, “What am I doing here? How have two hours passed? Is this why I can’t finish a book?” or exclaimed, “Holyshiteverythingissobad!” I was receding-hairline-deep in inane and stressful content, a condition that only encouraged stress and self-loathing. I needed a change.

So did I really listen to two years’ worth of Who? Weekly, a gossip podcast about C-list celebrities? The alternative was reading more Twitter takes about how and why the Russia investigation wound torturously on, so you fucking bet I did! Did I stream Abba’s entire discography on Spotify? It distracted me from the hellfires shrouding my apartment in ash, so I sure did! Was listening to 37 hours of The Brothers Karamazov‘s intellectual Russian family drama better than clicking on three gay thirst trap accounts in a row? YES.

—Blake Montgomery

Tabs. I tend to have a lot of them. As of writing this, I have 67 open across six windows, and many I don’t even remember clicking. There’s that big New York Times exposé on Donald Trump’s tax schemes, which I got halfway through before I was probably distracted by something dumb and meaningless on Twitter. There’s a friend’s 10,000-word essay I promised myself I’d read eventually. And there are three tabs of stale Twitter feeds I forgot to exit out of.

Tabs are the most obvious byproduct of my internet attention deficit disorder, the online exoskeletons of things my addled mind was interested in for about 10 minutes until a new shiny notification fluttered across my screen. Compared to others, my problem is probably mild. A colleague, whom I’ll leave unnamed, confided to me the other day that he had 2,193 tabs that he’s archived with an online tool. [Editor’s note: BuzzFeed News does NOT endorse Ryan’s tab strategy; it will slow your computer to a crawl.]

I have yet to download a tab manager — it’d probably just feed my habit — but I have found something else to cope with my issue. Audm, an iPhone app, streams audio read aloud by professional narrators of longform articles from outlets including the Atlantic, the New Yorker, and BuzzFeed News. Priced comparably with a newspaper or magazine subscription at $7.99 a month, Audm is perfect for long commutes and vacation road trips. Stories, of which there are more than 1,000 on the app, run anywhere from 15 minutes to 2 hours, and they sound exactly like a well-done audiobook. The content is also surprisingly fresh, with releases timed to magazine publication dates or within a few days of a story appearing online.

While the app is buggy (it takes a full minute to load and crashes about three times before I can get a working stream), it’s worth the wait. It’s transformed my morning train rides from a constant refreshing of Twitter, email, and Slack to one where I’m able to catch up on a subject I actually wanted to read about, a distraction from the distractions. And the best part is, when I get to work, I’m finally able to X out of one those tabs that I forgot about a few months ago.

—Ryan Mac

@_personals_ Instagram

I spend way too many nights scrolling through Instagram until I finally fall asleep. Some of my favorite posts are the ads on @_personals_, an Instagram-based dating community for queers. The account is inspired by old-school newspaper personals, and it’s so damn good.

The way it works: The small group running the account holds an open call for ad submissions and asks for a $5 donation. Throughout that month, the account posts the ads, including a cute emoji and the submitter’s Instagram handle so interested people can get in touch.

Here’s a sampling of the ads:

“Androfemme lesbian boy-child seeks co-collaborator in all things to eventually farm sheep, write books, & build a house with.”

“22/aries/tiny faggy nb boy iso non-monog partners for crafts & crafty fucking”

“25,enby femme. Half puppy half little. Bottom bitch. Lives to please but bratty & will make you earn it. Ask my mami. I’m worth it.”

“Wry & romantic, reserved (not timid) femme into questioning, clumsily cooking with patient people, & song. Actual tragic for musos, gentle tradies, & enthusiastic nerds.”

And all of this was posted just in the last week! I was introduced to this account to expand my dating options. But now I mainly read this account for the prose.

—Leticia Miranda

For the last few months, my world has been dark. It started when Apple added a new feature in the latest version of its Mac operating system that switches all menus and other parts of the user interface to blacks and grays. This makes it easier to look at your computer at night or in a dark room without squinting. Eventually I got so used to the look that all bright colors on any screen made my eyes hurt.

Fortunately, more and more tech companies seem to be building a “Dark Mode” into their products, and I’ve since switched to it on all the apps I use the most: on Instapaper to catch up on my reading, on Twitter when I’m scrolling through my timeline for hours, on the Kindle app to read books, on YouTube, and on Reddit, which added it earlier this year. Last week, I installed Dark Reader, a Chrome extension that makes all web pages dark by default, and a dark theme for Chrome that makes the browser’s tabs jet black.

Most of us can’t help being chained to our screens for unhealthy amounts of time each day, but turning on dark mode wherever possible is a tiny luxury we should all indulge in.

—Pranav Dixit

Headspace — $95.88/year subscription

For most of my life, hearing people talk about meditation would conjure up New Age visions of crossed legs and om-ing and marathon stretches of Nirvana-achieving trances. From afar, it seemed like an activity that required endless hours of devotion — more like a way of life than a healthy hobby. So to say I was extremely skeptical of app-based meditation would’ve been an understatement. At worst, it sounded like a scam; at best, a bastardization of a sacred kind of ritual.

I was wrong. A friend introduced me to Headspace after a conversation we had about productivity — specifically, how I’d found it nearly impossible to focus and structure my days without jumping haphazardly from tab to tab in my browser. And how I’d end even my best days feeling frazzled, detached, and legitimately unsure of what I’d just accomplished. On their advice, I bought myself a year’s subscription in order to incentivize actually creating a routine. I chose the Basics tutorial and tried a couple of five-minute sessions.

Unsurprisingly for a mindfulness app, the introduction to meditation is very calming and gentle. I learned that I’d been mostly wrong about the entire practice — devoting just 10 or 20 minutes a day (or whenever you have some downtime) can pay dividends quickly and improve focus. And the app — despite some corny animations — is full of guided, unguided, and semi-guided sessions that you can tailor to your day (helping to fall asleep, unwinding at the end of the day, focus before or after a workout, or just taking a breather).

I’m still no guru and I’ll admit I’ve struggled to sit down with Headspace reliably every day. But when I do, it’s immediately satisfying and is maybe the only thing on my phone that makes me feel good. The app-based part, of which I’d been so skeptical, is actually the part I find most essential in that it helps me take a few minutes for myself during random bits of downtime. It’s technology that introduces a little friction and reflection into my life, and for that I’m thankful.

—Charlie Warzel

10.

/remind command in Slack

You can set a bot to remind you of anything by just typing a command. It’s like having a personal assistant in the future, and it’s great for someone like me, who never leverages to-do lists or calendars to their full potential. You can set these reminders hours, days, or even weeks in advance by just typing a command. So for example, if I know I need to mail something when I get to work but am afraid I’ll forget to take it out of my backpack, I just set a Slack reminder for about 10 minutes after I expect to arrive at the office, and it reminds me to do it!

—Caroline O’Donovan

11.

Cutting the cord — Savings: $125.79/month

I can’t believe how long I let my cable company pump cash from my bank account. The last time I got a bill from Spectrum was in March. It was $208.26 for a “Triple Play” bundle: allegedly “fast and reliable” internet, cable (with HBO and DVR), and a fucking landline that I never even bothered to get a phone for. This package, according to a dubious customer service rep, was inexplicably cheaper than just ordering internet and cable separately without the unused landline, and it was the lowest price they could offer me, a customer of 10 years. Shit, right? The point had clearly arrived in my life when I had to decide whether I was willing to pay $2,499.12 a year to mindlessly flip through a-hundred-something channels when I was too bored to do anything else. But lame habits die hard, and it was comforting to know that I could always pull up some channel playing Friends reruns at the end of a long day. After painstakingly convincing my husband that he’d still have access to his precious, vital, life-sustaining ESPN through any number of streaming services, we made the irreversible leap to the land of the cordless, and my GOD, it has been wonderful.

We rebuilt our media habitat like this:

– An internet-only account on Verizon for $42.48 per month

– The cheapest Sling TV subscription (it has my essentials like CNN, Comedy Central, HGTV, BBC America for those great animal series, and TBS for Friends reruns, as well as ESPN for hubby) for $25 per month, and it came with a free Roku

– An HBO Now account that’s $14.99 per month

We also got a digital antenna for $14.99 plus tax, a one-time cost. There’s less content, but there hasn’t been a microsecond when I thought, Man, there’s not enough to watch. In fact, I might even say the quality of my media consumption has slightly improved since we cut the cord, as there are fewer channels that lure me into hours of accidental, regretful viewing. My programming has become more intentional. And the Roku universe is full of apps for free content like YouTube (and, ahem, BuzzFeed) and PBS Kids for my toddler. The free Roku Channel also has a boatload of free movies — not new releases, but stuff like Brooklyn, The Fighter, Spaceballs, and Braveheart: things you might have previously watched on DVD.

So I went from paying $208.26 per month to veg out with my TV to paying $82.47 to veg out with my TV. I am a step closer to entertainment enlightenment, my friends. As for the math: I’m saving $125.79 a month; which adds up to $1,509.48 per year! I intend on taking my family on a low-key getaway with this money, which is definitely going to be more memorable than 200 hours of MTV. I know people will ask “But what about DVR?” (it’s an extra $5 a month on Sling) and “Won’t all the streaming services you get to replace cable add up?” (it depends entirely on what you need, but a lot of my friends who have cable are ALSO paying for HBO or Netflix or Hulu already, so we’re possibly all oversubscribed). If there are cable-only programs that really add value to your life, then by all means, keep the cord and stay happy — I’ve just found that isn’t the case for me.

It’s possible that one day we’ll all be so dependent on cordless services that they will find ways to force customers to subscribe to bloated media packages. But for now, what’s not to love?

—Venessa Wong

12.

Buying last year’s model iPhone X (256GB edition) – $710

This year, I decided to switch from my Android back to an iPhone. I fly a lot to visit my parents in the Philippines, so I loved the cheap, convenient international coverage my Pixel’s Google’s Project Fi offered me ($10 per 1GB of data plus $20 for unlimited calls and texts!). But I missed the easy compatibility of the iPhone with other gadgets in my home, like my finicky Vizio soundbar.

But another difficult decision awaited me because 2018 was the year when choosing an iPhone became confusing as hell. The new iPhone XR’s upgrades were minimal compared to last year’s X, but the phone got wildly more expensive. So I got a used iPhone X (for a great deal, I might add) on the website Swappa.

My colleague Nicole Nguyen convinced me to make this call in her (excellent) iPhone XR review. Basically, a used iPhone X checks all the boxes in terms of positive qualities: It’s small-hand-friendly, has a super high-res screen, extra zoom, portrait mode, and is less than $1,000 to boot.

And hey, I was glad to hear some year-end 2018 news that aligns well with my choice: In November, Google renamed Project Fi to “Google Fi,” and announced that it would soon support a lot more phones, including my iPhone X. Huzzah!

—Davey Alba

13.

@girlshredclips Instagram

Back when I was a little girl living in the middle of nowhere and roaming around my rural town (population: 125) on my skateboard, I couldn’t have imagined that there were other girls who liked skating as much as I did. Anything I ever found online or in Thrasher magazine featured boys. Yes, there was occasionally Elissa Streamer, generally considered to be the first woman skater to go pro, and there were always bikini babes… but I couldn’t relate much to Ms. Streamer (more badass than I could ever hope to be), and I certainly was not a bikini babe. I never saw another skater like me (which is maybe not a surprise, considering how rarely I saw other people at all back then).

Now I’m a grown woman in a big city and skating less often than I used to, but my heart skips a beat anytime a post from @girlshredclips, @meowskateboards, or @skatelikeagirlsfbay pops up on my Instagram feed. Holy shit, these girls can shred.

Some are just little kids, some are my age, some are moms. Although they all skate better than me, I can see myself in them — past, present, and future — and it delights me to think that skater girls growing up in 2018 have plenty of relatable examples to keep in mind whenever some dude tells them that they’re posers. Yes, the internet can be a facilitator of chaos; Instagram and the other social media platforms can sometimes make you feel like you have a garbage life. But lady skater Instagram accounts bring me joy every day. (Pro tip: Unfollow people who make you feel bad about yourself; follow a few women who shred instead.)

—Samantha Oltman

When I go to a bar, I want to be able to hang out with friends and just, you know, talk to them at a normal human volume. But many food and drink establishments are so dang loud that you end up gesturing at, instead of conversing with, people. That’s why I am very into the free Soundprint app, which is only available for iOS but also has a website version. Soundprint publishes a list of quiet places in major cities, including New York, San Francisco, Philadelphia, and Las Vegas.

The Soundprint app shows you an average noise rating in decibels of the restaurants, bars, and coffee shops near you. The app calculates the rating based on “SoundCheck” submissions from users who allow the app to access their iPhone’s microphone to measure how loud the environment is. According to the app, a red rating (over 81 decibels) means a place is so loud that long exposure can cause hearing loss — and there are over a dozen establishments within a square mile of our office that fit that profile! Anyway, if you, like me, are a grumpy curmudgeon, this app is great if you want to find a quiet place to chat.

—Nicole Nguyen

The best thing to happen to my cat in 2018 was Mousr, a small, wheeled, AI robo-mouse he has embraced in a Milo and Otis kind of way — if Otis was a cat toy and Milo was a cat hellbent on its destruction. This is in no way an exaggeration. My cat has developed an almost pathological addiction to “Mr. Roboto,” which uses a small array of cameras, a “time-of-flight” sensor, and some other whiz-bang tech to convince him that it’s an actual mouse. Watching my cat playing with Mousr is like watching one of those slow-motion YouTube videos of cheetahs surprise-attacking gazelles. My cat talks to Mousr — with those same sinister chattering, chirping cat-sounds that typically signal imminent murder. My cat drags Mr. Roboto off its charging station when it’s recharging. This has become such a problem that we recently moved the charging station to the top of an armoire. The other night we heard a small crash downstairs. A few minutes later, our cat came upstairs proudly dragging Mr. Roboto by one of its custom tail attachments. He mewled at us until I pulled out a phone and fired up the app, which allows for both autonomous (wander, wall-hugger, and stationary) and remote control modes. Then he stalked, captured, and mercilessly beat the absolute shit out of it (donkey kick!). Happy kitty. Mousr retails for $149, which is outrageously expensive for a cat toy. But we are probably going to invest in one anyway (ours is a loaner); frankly, I’m not sure there’s any other option. My cat would kill me.

—John Paczkowski

Instagram is by far the app I am most addicted to — sometimes I’ll be scrolling through it, close the app, look around, and mechanically reopen it like some kind of zombie. I have the timer set to 20 minutes, which means I get the alert that it’s time to stop basically every day, sometimes even first thing in the morning! But even though the pop-up message usually makes me stick my tongue out at my phone and roll my eyes, it does break the spell and remind me to do something more useful with my time, like practice Italian on Duolingo. It’s not a cure-all, but it’s a nudge in the right direction in a world where software is almost always nudging you in the wrong direction.

—Caroline O’Donovan

17.

Sonos One — $199 (currently on sale for $179)

You move into an apartment and you get a couch, kitchenware, your bed. But after all those basics are set? An essential upgrade is filling your home with sound. In the continuing hellscape year that was 2018, there was one thing I realized could shift my mood in a small but significant way: playing whatever jam I was currently obsessed with on my Sonos One.

Sure, you can just blast your fave song loudly on your laptop, which I used to do. But then I decided I was going to be the grown-ass 30-year-old woman I am and splurged on a nice-sounding speaker. I went with Sonos because it’s the wireless speaker brand that’s widely known for high-quality sound. Against the wishes of my boyfriend, I bought a Sonos One, a speaker that integrates with voice assistants like Amazon’s Alexa. My boyfriend is freaked out by the idea of an always-on mic listening for a wake word. When I brought the Sonos home, I left the mic deactivated for weeks after setting it up — but I liked to know the option to use Alexa was there if I wanted it.

Then one day… I turned it on. I didn’t tell my boyfriend, I just set up the Sonos One with Alexa when he wasn’t around, and started talking to her. Whenever he came by, I pretended I was still committed to a life lived free of voice commands. But eventually, when we were talking about some song, I just blurted out: “Alexa. Play [song].”

Look, that first reveal wasn’t pleasant, but now my boyfriend has totally come around and yells at Alexa too. “What’s the weather?” “What time is it?” “Play [podcast].” My best troll is commanding Alexa to read an excerpt of an Atavist story he wrote a few years back out loud. He narrated it, so his voice comes through the speakers; you’ve never seen anyone shout, “Alexa, STOP!” so fast.

There are times when the speaker conks out and refuses to respond to me, but you know what? It’s a lot more fun having the thing in my apartment than not. And yeah, to a certain extent, my boyfriend and I have both warmed up to having a voice-activated gadget. The Sonos One is the first and last one I’ll be getting for my home, though. I promise, Joseph.

—Davey Alba

Hosted by Jane Marie, The Dream dives into the multilevel-marketing schemes that have overrun social media. MLMs like Herbalife, Mary Kay, and Amway have been around for a while, but a whole slew of weird new female-friendly ones that sell essential oils or athletic leggings have popped up recently. I’m fascinated by the role the internet has played in their explosion. The podcast talks to people who have been burned and lost money from these schemes. It also dives into the history of how MLMs came to be so popular over the last 50 years, and how the government has failed to rein them in. My favorite episodes are when a producer signs up for a cosmetic MLM and we get to see the details of just how it tricks the sellers into buying the product, losing money outright, and selling within a closed system.

—Katie Notopoulos

19.

2013 MacBook Pro — around $500 on eBay

I’m a sucker for shiny new gadgets, but my favorite piece of tech this year was my five-year-old MacBook Pro. It’s a late 2013 model with a 13-inch display and middling innards, and it’s been the workhorse I have relied on for everything from live-blogging Apple events to reporting from remote corners of the country.

OK, so it’s got some spots across the screen. The battery only runs about five hours before it needs to be plugged in. The spaces between the keys are grubby from the time I spilled tea into the keyboard and never quite managed to get the stains out completely (I let the laptop dry and it still worked like a champ!). And one of the speaker grills is bent from the time I banged it on my bed when I was annoyed with someone on the internet.

But I wouldn’t trade this for anything else, not even for one of Apple’s modern laptops that are thinner, lighter, sexier, pricier, and full of frills like a Touch Bar that nobody asked for or keyboards that can be destroyed by a single speck of dust.

As long as I can stream Netflix and browse the web without Chrome grinding to a halt, my old Macbook Pro is all I need.

—Pranav Dixit

Biking to work is awesome. You don’t have to be face-to-armpit against complete strangers on the bus. You get a little work out. It’s good for the environment, too! What’s not awesome is how dangerous biking on crowded city streets are. I was constantly yelling, “HEY, AHGGHBLERGH” after getting cut off by drivers or pummeled by Uber/Lyft passengers that don’t look over their shoulders before opening the car door.

That is, until I got this rad bell (lol, yes — a RAD BELL) called Spurcycle. It was a birthday gift, which I highly recommend, because at $49, it’s certainly pricier than other bike bells. I like this bell because it’s really small, but it rings very loudly, for an absurdly long time. If you don’t believe me, believe the thousands of people that backed this on Kickstarter in 2013, because they too were into loud little bike bells.

The ring isn’t obnoxious, like a car alarm. It’s nice, and using it is a really lovely way to tell cars, pedestrians, and ride-hail passengers “I’M HERE!!” without having to shout “I’M HERE!!”

—Nicole Nguyen

21.

Shortcut to creating a new Google Doc

I can’t believe I didn’t know about this until just recently, until after I saw someone tweet about it. As someone who primarily works in Google Docs — I use it for all my note-taking and writing — I open new docs all the time!

The shortcut lets you skip all the usual clicks required to open a new doc. Instead, you just type this URL: http://bit.ly/2VnNPmb. But even that’s not really convenient enough. So I dragged it onto my bookmarks bar, and now I have a handy button right in the middle of my browser for NEW DOC.

—Katie Notopoulos

22.

Wireless charging pad — $4

I got my wireless charger in the most discount scenario possible: on a Sunday evening as the Black Friday weekend sales entered their desperate final hours, in a Neiman Marcus outlet store where everything was 40% off, fished out of a giant bin of extra, extra discounted garbage positioned near the registers. It was four levels deep into an Inception-style discount world, it’s some no-brand piece of suspiciously light and hollow junk, and it ended up costing like four bucks. It was the best thing I bought in 2018.

The reason why is pretty simple: The first time you just put your phone down on the table and watch it begin charging — without any plugging in or fiddling around with a cable — is a legitimately magical experience. It’s one of those moments when a thing finally works the way you always wanted it to work, even if you didn’t know you wanted it to work that way. Think of the first time you experienced a real touchscreen phone — i.e., the first time you played with an iPhone — or the first time you put in your AirPods and experienced headphones the correct way.

It’s not a coincidence that both those examples were Apple products — while the company doesn’t tend to be the first to market with a new technology, it’s typically the first to bring a good version to market. There were crappy touchscreen Nokias years before the iPhone, and Bluetooth headphones have been a thing since those dorky headsets people were wearing in the early 2000s. They were all junk, and then Apple made the Correct Thing.

Maybe that’s what’s going on with wireless chargers now, because hardly anybody seems to be using them, despite them being pretty good. Apple seems to have completely screwed up in its attempts to launch its own extremely fancy one (and maybe given up entirely?) and the result is that the market lacks a certain halo of Apple approval and encouragement. But don’t let that stop you! Even my $4 piece of crap is *fantastic*, and everyone should have a wireless charging pad sitting on their desk at work and their bedside table at home.

Start by buying the cheapest one possible to get a feel for how they work; because they don’t need to pay the Apple tax levied on anything with a Lightning connector, they’re wildly cheap — cheaper than all but the cheapest regular iPhone charging cables. Here’s a probably-perfectly-fine Anker wireless charger for $12 — the same price as a six-foot Lightning cable from Amazon Basics. What are you waiting for? You have nothing to lose but your chains.

—Tom Gara

23.

Band Memes on Instagram

If you’ve read this far, I’m going to go ahead and guess you might have been not the coolest person in your high school (no offense). Perhaps you were even like me and played in the middle school or high school band — if so, these memes will be very relatable. I have found myself strangely overjoyed to find extremely niche relatable memes that are mostly made by and for high school students, but that I, an adult, can enjoy as well. This year, I joined an adult community concert band, and I’ve been so happy to play the bassoon in a group setting again. It also gives me an excuse to revive “playing in band” as part of my Personal Brand. And as part of my Personal Brand, I deserve to enjoy these wholesome memes.

—Katie Notopoulos

I love Apple’s AirPods wireless earbuds. I think they’re among the company’s best products and a reminder that Apple still has the chops to inspire that “sense of childlike wonder” that Steve Jobs used to talk about. Problem is, I no longer use them. For whatever reason — my overly large head, my poorly designed auricles, a shitty external auditory meatus — I have difficulty keeping my AirPods in my ears, or getting the type of fit that delivers good sound. I do not have this problem with Master & Dynamic’s MW07 True Wireless Earphones. They have detachable “Silicone Fit Wings,” which slot them securely into my outer ear, and they sound fucking fantastic. In fact, they are by far the best-sounding buds I’ve used. And they’d better be because they cost $299 (double Airpods’ $149). This is perhaps because they feature “custom 10mm high-performance Beryllium drivers,” are cloaked in “handcrafted acetate,” and come with a hefty stainless steel charging case (14 hours of additional charge) that might break a toe were you to drop it on one. I don’t need or care about any of those things. But as a big-headed, recovering audiophile, I am happy to pay for them if it means my earbuds will stay in my ears and reliably play “Master of Puppets” into them with solid sonic accuracy.

—John Paczkowski

In August, my wife, my dog, and I spent a weekend with friends in a rental cabin in New York’s Hudson River Valley. We planned on hiking the whole time, so of course it rained for two days straight. The options inside were limited to books, conversation, and wine — good enough for the Greeks, but not for me. I ransacked the cabinets. Scrabble, been there. Monopoly, done that. Then, at the back of the bottom shelf, I spied it: a jigsaw puzzle. And not any jigsaw puzzle, but a 1,000-piece warhorse from the bad boys at Ravensburger. When completed, “The Sanctuary of Knowledge” depicts an old couple reading by the fire in a cavernous Baroque library as fairies fly around them. (I took the fairies to be a metaphor for the magic of reading.) I’m like any other tech-addled thirtysomething (i.e., delayed gratification averse) but something about this wee old couple and their whimsical retirement made me want to dump the box out and get to work. So I did! — to the polite ambivalence of my friends.

I didn’t finish it. I got about a quarter of the way there and then we had to leave. But those few hours I spent matching shades of brown for the inlays on the vaulted shelves felt, I don’t know, therapeutic? Meditative? Purposeful? The puzzle didn’t come with an app or a leaderboard; it didn’t want to know anything about me or my friends; it couldn’t tell me the weather. Instead, it drew my mind and my fingers into a soothing little loop, never popping up with notifications, never leading me to other puzzles that secretly advocate for fascism, always with a discrete ending in sight. Good for me! I thought at the time, the completion of one-fourth of a moderately challenging puzzle was proof that there was still some gray matter left between the internet-sized holes in my brain. Bully for puzzles!

I ordered “The Sanctuary of Knowledge” on the car ride home. I’m saving it for a rainy day.

—Joseph Bernstein

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