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nymphigeon · 4 years

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From me, to you || 01

♤ Pairing: Taehyung x Reader

♤ Genre: fluff, angst, romance, hybrid au, hybrid!Taehyung, detective!reader

♤ Words: 2.1k

♤ Rating: PG-13

♤ Warnings (for this chapter): swearing, crime, a sex club, mentions of murder, blood, mentions of hybrid abuse, mentions of drugs, mentions of the mafia.

Synopsis: A story in which he has never known love, so you'll give it to him.

Series masterlist

01 02

The weather has been terrible lately. The summer heat has been replaced by cold days full of rain and wind. The sky is constantly grey with now and then a flash of light caused by the thunderbolt that decided to say hi. Leaves have turned brown, dying as the trees don’t have the resources to take care of them anymore.

The flock of people on the streets has all but disappeared, giving shops an opportunity to adjust their opening times. Animals feel the need to hide away more and leave to their homes underground or high up. Some even completely move to places where the sun shines brighter. Of course, because where the sun shines there is warmth.

Now sometimes autumn is associated with warm chocolate milk in front of the fire place wrapped up in a blanket. A slow song is playing in the background on low volume while you’re playing cards on the floor, or well most likely on a rug. Seated comfortably, your back against the sofa and your knees raised, nicely cuddled up into yourself, or perhaps someone else.

The sound of rain hitting the windows acts as a lullaby during your time inside. And if you do forcefully need to get out for a short time, the pleasant petrichor will softly welcome you. Or maybe this sounds more like winter? What does it matter, both seasons are cold.

At the time mother nature decided to shift it’s warmth to other places on earth, a thick layer of unease seemed to settle over the city. Like all the fun the sunrays brought were traded for despair. Awfully noticeable in how the amount of cases for the local police have risen dramatically.

People are staying at home so everyone who was hired during the busy summer has to be fired. There is too much staff otherwise. People in this particular town already aren’t the richest in the world, imagine what happens when employment rates drop.

Crimes have been a regular subject for the news. The few that did go outside, now stay at home out of fear. Curtains closed, lights out, please don’t enter my house. Or curtains opened, lights on, there is someone at home.

Most offenders have yet to been caught. Everyone is your enemy now. Don’t trust the neighbour who came home late last night. The sound of your glass falling is the window being broken. I’m calling the police.

While jewellery is being stolen at one side, someone will use the opportunity of the police being busy to kill the innocent. Or maybe they didn’t pay back the money they got from some sketchy dude in an alleyway down the street. Not so innocent anymore.

The only workers making bank at the moment are those with a career in law enforcement. Oh and those criminals were talking about. That includes hybrid dealers and unlicensed sex clubs.

When my boss called me to work, I didn’t expect to hear about a hybrid deal gone wrong inside said unlicensed sex club. Just for your information, treating hybrids like slaves has been long forbidden. You can own them, show off your wealth all you want, but the instant you hurt the half-animal you can see your money out the door. In return, you can expect expensive fines and imprisonment. At least that’s what is supposed to happen.

Still a blind eye is often turned to incidents involving hybrids by both the general public and law enforcements. You can also be fined for not turning in the information you have of a possible abuser, but say that’s also ignored, there is no other law backing the poor hybrid up.

The laws were originally established because the half-animals are also half-humans, created by some crazy scientist who perished years ago. Some rogue failed experiment turned on him. A warning for humans not to take in wild animal hybrids, not that anyone listened. Those wild animal hybrids are sometimes worth more money than the diamond necklace your mafia-boss husband got you.

The second I agreed to meet my colleagues at the crime scene I was hung up on, the beeping tone at my ear notifying me. I love the work I need to do, but I hate the people involved. It pays the bills though, so you won’t see me complaining. I get my stuff together and head out the house. It’s dark outside, raining too. The darkness might be explained by the fact that it’s 11 pm at night. Not the greatest time to be out. Luckily my job has provided me with a car, so you won’t see me walking.

During the ride the radio plays reports of different crimes throughout the city. Some happened at the exact same time, others had no connection whatsoever, yet they ended up being executed by the same group. Tv shows like CSI have been stuffing these sinners with the confidence to rob a place. The average criminal is luckily stupid enough not to know these shows don’t show the entire picture. However, that didn’t make them any easier to catch according to this radio report. On the other hand, what radio stations don’t know is that police won’t show them the entire picture either. Well they’re just there to spread panic, fact checking isn’t a job requirement.

The rain makes the view basically non-existent. Coming down like the angels are just throwing buckets of water over our heads, everything in the distance is blurry. Or maybe they just drank a lot, who knows. Weather reports have been warning for slippery roads, albeit I think they forgot to mention anything about nature made swimming pools outside of our houses.

Seeing as there is nothing good to report on the news they might as well downplay everything to give viewers their daily dose of good news. There is no good news though, and pretending that there is, is dangerous. Hope will only crush future expectations of being safe. Not that they care, they just need high ratings.

Seeing blurry blue and red lights in the distance is my indication that I’m getting close. I’ve never been to this part of town, if I had this so called sex club would’ve already been long gone. Don’t underestimate me, I can sense law breaking acts from a mile away. The fact that I don’t live too far away from addresses where everyone looks to be a drug addict just makes me better at my job.

I park my car next to the others at the side of the road and uncomfortably bend myself to take my bag from the backseat. I do not want to stand in this rain for longer than needed. I mentally prepare myself to get inside as fast as possible. I won’t worry about the sight inside too much, I’m used to it.

I get out of the car and lock it, before walking over to the barricade tape. The outside of the club looks the same as any other sexual fantasy indulging club. Pink lights and posters of men and women in nothing but flimsy underwear plaster the windows. If it wasn’t for the bunch of officers behind the barricade tape, nobody would’ve known there was somebody murdered inside.

Reporters collect themselves in front of officers close to the tape, trying to get any kind of information out of them. They’re not getting any, so they keep trying, foolishly believing we know any more than they do. Well maybe a little more.

Anyways, without proper investigation we are just as clueless as they are. I’ll applaud their dedication though, as not all reporters have brought an umbrella with them. Imagine getting soaking wet just to ask a few questions. They might not have a raincoat, but they’re all somehow protecting their camera’s one way or another.

As I get closer to the tape blocking outsiders from entering, reporters notice me approaching. If it wasn’t for my uniform they wouldn’t even have batted a lash in my direction. Right now apparently, I’m the most interesting human being on earth. Remembering my trainings I keep my head low and ignore every question thrown my way, until I reach the officer waiting for me.

“Ah, detective Y/F/N Y/L/N, we have been expecting you.” He allows me to duck under the tape, fore shaking my hand and placing a gentle hand on my lower back. The umbrella he’s holding protects me from arriving inside looking like I just had a shower with my clothes on. Like this, I get escorted inside, leaving the flashing camera’s behind me.

“Good evening, Miss Y/L/N.” Another female detective greets me immediately once I step inside. The male officer gives me a nod ere disappearing back into the front garden of the club. Probably going to spend his time listening to silly questions and being blinded by light. At least he might make in on the front page of tomorrow’s newspapers. Maybe he’ll get scouted by some modelling agency just to appear on more front pages.

“David Brown, mid-thirties, and an employee at the club, Mia Labell, 23, both got killed after Brown tried to buy a hybrid of another man we can’t identify from the security footage. Both the hybrid and man wore a hood. We don’t know what went down inside the room as there are no camera’s inside and the walls are soundproof.” The woman, whose name is apparently Blair Miller as shown on the name badge on her chest, explains the situation while she leads me to the room.

“For an illegal sex club they are awfully professional.” I note, having paid close attention to her words. “Well if you don’t want to get outed by a customer I guess that’s the right thing to do. People value anonymity.” I add as the other female holds up a key card against a control panel to the right of a metal door.

The door slides open after a beep of confirmation. A young girl laying on the large bed in the middle is the first thing I lay my eyes on. The bed sheets are tainted completely red with her blood. Next to the bed lies a man, drowning in a puddle of his own blood. The bodies of the two still look like they could stand up at any moment. “Time of death?”

I walk further into the room, looking around for any other clues I should note. “Approximately 10.38 pm for both of them.” Blair answers, meekly standing in the door opening. “How did they rent the room?” I put on a pair of white latex gloves, before gently expecting the girl on the bed, without moving her from her position. Her hands are tied together, thick ropes cutting into her skin. A gag in her mouth, a blindfold covering her eyes and some lingerie complete the look.

“They wanted one girl for the three of them, paid, then took this room as any other customer would.” Dangerous, there is no way to keep these girls safe. No camera’s, just selling them off to multiple men at the same time. Is there any security around here? The two bodies contain multiple stab marks in their chest and stomach area. There are no signs of any strangling or poisoning. Cause of death for now is bleeding to death, but we’ll have to wait for the autopsy.

“Three?” I don’t look at Blair as I voice my questions. I’m good at multitasking, no need to focus on one thing only. “Mister Brown, the unnamed man and the hybrid.” They rented the girl as normal, then tied her up and proceeded to use the room for their business. Seeing as both died around the same time, the girl was alive during their exchange. We can’t exactly ask her anything right now though.

“How did the culprit leave?” You take a swab from under the fingernails of both bodies, hoping they might have scratched whoever did this. “Leisurely strolled outside the front door with the hybrid on a leash.” The poor hybrid must have witnessed everything. There was never a reason for this to happen. “These two were found by a cleaner going in not even a minute or two later.” It’s not my job to care. It’s not my job to ask either, but I’m not heartless, I am able to feel sympathetic.

“How are they doing?” I look at Blair for this one. Maybe because it’s a different type of question. “Shocked at first of course. They’ve calmed down now.” That makes me feel better. I’ve been doing this for over 2 years, and never will I be able to understand how someone could do this. Then again, the reason for becoming a criminal investigator was not to understand anyway, but to serve, to protect. And protect I will.

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cynthiaandsamus · 3 years

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Custom Toonami Block Week 69 (Nice) Rundown

Code Geass: So this episode is kind of a ride, like fuck. We kinda yadda yadda how Lelouch fucking escaped from Nunally’s sinking airship and just have Rolo sitting over him in bed kind of conflicted that he’s still stuck on his old little sister, so therefore he programs the tvs in Lelouch’s train to blast Nunally’s appointment but it’s funny because he probably didn’t even have to do that because directly after that Lelouch runs into the station and Nunally shit is just everywhere, like I get it’s a metaphor but it’s just funny that Rolo had to plan for him to run into something Nunally-related only for him to run out of the plan and run into ten times more Nunally shit. Then we get Kaguya claiming herself, Kallen and CC as Zero’s harem directly followed by a depressed Lelouch hypnotizing a bunch of street punks to exercise, about to do drugs and asking to fuck Kallen, like this episode is fucking ridiculous and parts are hilariously contrived, thankfully Kallen slaps the shit out of him and Rolo’s like “yo bro we don’t need that bitch, come on and live it up in this ridiculously racist system and the one place where it’s slightly less racist with me” and then they go back to school and have the “Happiness is Like Glass” scene which is genuinely amazing and moving, like for all the weird zany stuff that happens in the first part of this episode, this is a little oasis of pure sincerity and quality where Lelouch makes a promise he knows he won’t be able to keep. Inspired by this amazing moment, Lelouch returns to the Black Knights with the thought of “Maybe there are other reasons to destroy an oppressive dictatorship aside from my one ridiculously crippled sister” which he probably should’ve thought of before. And then he defeats Suzaku’s navy with the power of FUCKING BUBBLES, like yeah, this episode is right back to being crazy ridiculous but Lelouch is back and wants in on Nunally’s special zones… okay, phrasing.

Inuyasha: So we open with a scene of Kagome playing cards with Miroku which is genuinely adorable if pointless, but it just makes me laugh that Miroku and Sango seem to know all the rules of the game but are still stumped when Kagome tells them they’re Playing Cards, probably a culture thing. Anyway, Inuyasha has to kill a Barrier Demon to get the power to break barriers, which is a bit of a conundrum because Barrier Demons have, you know, barriers, which Inuyasha currently cannot break. Worse still said demon is a little girl and a half-demon like Inuyasha which understandably puts him in quite a quandary. Inuyasha does his usual thing of “Let’s just go in swinging and figure out the rest later but Shiori’s grandfather deflects the admittedly cool-looking Water Wind Scar Inuyasha throws at them with Shiori’s barrier. Shiori’s mom is all “Gimme back my daughter you said you’d stop attacking us if I let you have her” and he’s all like “Well make me, I have a fucking barrier and can hold you hostage” so everyone’s generally pissed off about the situation and Shiori’s granddad with the long name sends all the bat demons to go destroy the village which makes no fucking sense because the only reason she’s still cooperating is so they won’t hurt her mom, without her she has no reason to keep doing it but I guess he’s hoping having nothing to live for will make her do what he says out of nihilism or some shit.

Yu Yu Hakusho: Yusuke gets to face off against Suzaku, the final boss of the Saint Beasts and the gang get to demonstrate the teamwork lessons from this arc by doing a reenactment of the jumping Bahamut scene from Advent Children so Yusuke can get up the tower to fight him. It’s really pretty cool how they splice in Keiko’s Day of the Dead montage with Yusuke fighting Suzaku, tying things together thematically and culiminating in Yusuke and Keiko both fucking decking their opponents. I also really like how Yusuke’s so confident Keiko won’t go down to a zombie hoard so easily, like she’s not a fighter but she’s smart and has got guts so he’s pretty sure she can last a while while he pretends to punch Suzaku with his shoes. Overall a really good start to the fight that means Yusuke still has to wiggle his way out after using his Spirit Gun already and Suzaku still has a lot of shit to pull.

Fate Zero: So Saber and Lancer do their fight and there’s a bunch of fightnobabble talk that someone who’s actually held a weapon in their life would probably enjoy but to me is just “Oooh cool jabbies, flashing lights” which is still fun. Basically everyone’s watching though, Kirei has his ninja squad on the job, Kiritsugu’s Black Ops is monitoring things and Iskander is watching from the Radical Highway Bridge from Sonic Adventure 2. Eventually Iskander is like “Well damn they might kill each other if this keeps up” and Waver’s like “yeah duh.” And Iskander shows who wears the booty shorts in this relationship by storming into the fight against Waver’s wishes cause he wants to fight everyone anyway. So yeah, giant lightning chariot in the middle of this First Boss battle.

Konosuba: Now that the party’s all formed the group settle into a daily routine of Kazuma being Megumin’s wheels for her Explosion training, Aqua being a waitress and Darkness doing… probably better not to think about what Darkness is doing. Anyway, Megumin bombs the shit out of a Dullahan’s castle and before the Dullahan can call his friend Celty to come kick her ass, Darkness gets hit with a death spell and he issues a challenge to Megumin to come to the tower of the Four Saint Beasts and (wait wrong anime again) but Aqua just breaks the curse on her own and they just don’t bother showing up. In the manga this is really funny because Aqua’s in a maid outfit from her waitress job and just does it like it’s nothing and then they show a panel later of the Dullahan waiting for them like “The fuck when are they getting here…”.

Sailor Moon Crystal: So for some reason even though we only have three of the five Sailor Guardians, Luna decides this is the time to give a recap and reintroduce our protagonists for the first part of this episode. Anyway there’s a big party to celebrate a dated princess Di reference that’s kind of in poor taste at this point and Usagi and friends get in based solely on having fancy dresses and being hot, man I had no idea getting in with rich people was that easy. Anyway, Usagi gets a new tiara because of love and shit and gets an upgraded Ancient Egyptian Laser Beam from the moon. The Four Kings show up to be all “Ha-ha! You defeated my demon but now there’s all four of us and even though we still think you have the crystal and outnumber you and there will never be a moment when you’re weaker than this we will now… LEAVE FOR NO REASON!” like the logic of people in this show oh my fucking god. But of course the dated princess reference’s treasure isn’t the crystal they’re looking for and Tuxedo Mask kisses Sailor Moon while she’s asleep which is definitely sexual assault there was no fucking consent there, I don’t care if they’re moon soul mates or whatever she barely knows who he is and wasn’t conscious. But yeah Luna calls him out on his shit and despite clearly being an ally he has to be all edgy and be like “Well maybe I’m a friend, maybe I’ an enemy, who knows~” because I think he gets his power from how mysterious he is, like he’s going to be utterly useless if anyone figures out who he is, not to mention Luna already knows his identity but for some reason doesn’t tell Usagi. Idk man I just have a hard time following the logic of this fucking show…

Durarara!!: So yeah, this is the “The Yagiri Family is fucked” episode Namie has a weird fucked up brocon yandere thing going on, Seiji’s an asshole that because of having two stalker yanderes going after him has become a fractured manchild that thinks love is everything and pretends he knows shit but knows less shit than pretty much everyone around him and has his sister do all the shit for him. But yeah, Celty sees Seiji with the girl with her head and freaks out, and Shinra A DOCTOR if you remember says “Hey maybe your head just attached itself to a corpse Parasyte style” like either he’s a terrible doctor and really thinks that or this is a smokescreen to make Celty think her head has moved on and she should too which is a fucked up level of gaslighting. But yeah, Mikado takes Head Girl, Seiji keeps stabbing people with pens for some reason, luckily it’s mostly Shizuo so it doesn’t do anything, and Izaya’s just like “oh shit, chaos, I’m down”. Basically everyone is awful in this episode except for Mikado who just wants to help and doesn’t know shit, Celty who’s doing her best, and Shizuo who’s just awesome as usual.

#ooc #Toonami #Custom Toonami Block #Code Geass #Inuyasha #Yu Yu Hakusho #Fate Zero #Konosuba #Sailor Moon Crystal #Durarara!!

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quickspinner · 4 years

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Motorcycle Fairy Part 3 (end)

Part 1 | Part 2

Also available on AO3

His mother had taught him to throw caution to the winds, to take a chance and seize the moment, to care for no one’s opinion and to chase his own happiness.

She hadn’t, however, given him much of an education in the art of the cover story.

Luka pulled up to the campground without a single clue as to what he was going to say if—hopefully when—he ran into Marinette. He hadn’t exactly rushed to get there. He wasn’t a morning person in general and he’d decided to take the scenic route, hoping the familiar ride would help ground him. He’s come to see races here enough times that no one at home even questioned him about his impromptu road trip, which was a blessing. Juleka would never have let him hear the end of it.

The extra time hadn’t helped him, though, because when Luka pulled up to the parking lot next to the campsite and paid for a day pass, he still had no idea how he was going to explain showing up here in a way that wouldn’t sound obsessive or stalkerish or like he was totally smitten and absolutely not willing to trust fate to bring them together a third time. It was true that he loved motorcycle racing and he always enjoyed the energy at Le Mans, but...he really wanted to see Marinette again.

Luka took off his riding gear and stowed it, dusting off his ripped black jeans and deciding he wouldn’t need his leather jacket. He nervously tugged down the hem of his navy blue t-shirt and then looked around, knees feeling rather weak and butterflies in his stomach as he tried to figure out his next move. Ugh, he was a wreck. Just chill, he told himself, getting out his guitar and sitting back on his bike to tune it, just to calm his nerves. Just enjoy the day and whatever happens, happens. Gina’s in the races, so probably Marinette will be in the stands somewhere so I’ll need to walk over there...

He breathed, and focused for a moment on his pick slipping slowly down the strings, each one now perfectly in tune, and just as the last note faded he heard a familiar laugh. Luka looked up, his heart suddenly in his throat. Apparently fate wasn’t too mad at him for his lack of confidence because there she was.

And...wow, she looked so good. She’d taken his advice and improved on it. Her skinny jeans had leather panels with pink piping running up the sides. A low-slung chain belt hung from her hips and her hair was back in what probably started as a sleek french braid. The slight ruffling and flyaway hairs just softened the otherwise devastating line from her jaw down her bare neck to her shoulders. She’d ditched her jacket somewhere along the way; she wore only a t-shirt with the sleeves cut off. Luka swallowed as the guy she was with leaned in, but Marinette just smiled and put her hand on his chest, pushing him back, and apparently saying goodbye as she walked away from him.

Luka forgot about the other guy when she turned and he saw that the collar was cut too, into a modest V over her chest, not deep enough to actually show anything but more than enough to expose her collarbones and a very appealing expanse of skin. Her sweet face was the same but she looked so much more mature than he’d ever seen her and very, very hot.

Marinette seemed oblivious to the heads she was turning as she strolled, hips naturally swaying on the uneven ground. Her eyes were on a book in the crook of her arm and she had a look of concentration on her face as she tapped a pencil thoughtfully to her lips.

No more time for thinking. Time for action. Luka took a breath, shifting so that he leaned as casually as possible against the seat of his bike, and played the song he’d been playing when she’d surprised him at the shop.

Out of the corner of his eye he saw her head whip around towards him, and it was work to keep his smile from giving him away. His heart leapt in his chest as she turned and made her way towards him and shit, he still didn’t know what he was going to say, but screw it, he was good at winging it, right?

“Luka,” she called cheerfully, waving. “Wow, I didn’t think I’d see you here!”

Luka could feel the eyes on him as he lifted his head and smiled at her. “Hey, Marinette. I was hoping I’d catch you sometime today. Yeah, my plans got cancelled and I didn’t have anything else to do, so I thought...why not a road trip?” He shrugged, and grinned, looking her up and down with considerably less intensity than he had when she wasn’t watching. “You look good.”

“Good?” she pouted, as he rather thought she would.

“Better than good,” he winked. “Way better. But I don’t think you need me to tell you that,” he added, leaning back slightly to look pointedly at a group of young men behind her. Marinette turned to follow his gaze and blushed deeply when all but one of the group suddenly became very interested in looking elsewhere. The bold one gave her a slow up and down look and a wink.

Marinette put her nose in the air and turned back to Luka, still red-faced. “Maybe,” she said, shrugging one shoulder and damn, her arms were really toned, he suddenly realized. He hadn’t noticed before because her build was so slender but now that he was looking, the girl had some guns. “But I’d still rather hear it from you.”

That put a grin on his face that he couldn’t have kept back if he tried. “Where’s your grandma?” he asked, glancing around. “You’re not by yourself are you?”

“Oh, she’s over at the track buttering up the pit crew,” Marinette said brightly. “I got kind of bored; the tech talk doesn’t interest me the way it probably would you, but I remembered what you said about the bikes over here so I thought I’d take a walk and come look around. I didn’t think I’d find you, though.”

“Well, I hope it’s a good surprise,” Luka said, looking down at his guitar and plucking a string idly just out of nerves. “I was kind of hoping to run into you. I’d love to hang out with you if you’d like to, but if you’d rather not, that’s cool too. I’m not trying to crash your day if you’d rather do your own thing.”

Marinette’s cheeks pinked and she seemed to have a little trouble meeting his gaze for a moment. “Well, if you didn’t have any other plans, then...yeah, I’d love some company. Your company,” she added hastily, and then blushed redder, looking away.

“I’d love to give it to you,” he grinned. “What were your plans?”

“Nothing specific,” Marinette shrugged, and his eyes went to the line of her shoulders again. “I was just doing some sketching and then I thought I’d wander back over a little bit before the race started.

“Oh, awesome, can I see?” Luka asked, and she looked up, eyes brightening.

“You want to?”

“Yeah, your stuff is amazing.” Luka slid over, making what little room he could for her to come lean next to him. “I’d love to see if that’s okay.”

Marinette smiled shyly. “Okay. Just, keep in mind I’m not that experienced at drawing cars and things.”

Luka spared a glance back at the other group of guys as Marinette came and leaned one hip on the bike seat, leaning over to show him her book. He couldn’t resist a smirk when he locked eyes with the one guy, who now looked rather sour.

They chatted about her sketches, Luka identifying the bikes for her to her delight, and he played a little music for her, and then her phone alarm rang out.

“Oh, it’s almost time for Grandma’s race,” she said, pulling the phone out of the back pocket of her jeans (God he really wanted to be that phone all of a sudden) to silence it. “I have to get back to the track.”

“I’ll walk with you,” Luka said, straightening up and failing to not watch her slip the phone back in her pocket. “Just let me lock up.”

She exclaimed over the custom case he had mounted to the side of his bike as he put his guitar back in it and locked it shut.

“It cost me a ridiculous amount of money,” Luka admitted, “But it’s a must. I don’t go anywhere without at least one guitar.”

That started another conversation as they began the walk to the racetrack, and he told her about how he’d grown up playing music and what he liked about his different guitar, and she talked about the types of music she liked, and he got to ask her more about working with Jagged and found she’d been a fan even before he was a client.

Marinette ignored the whistles and catcalls as they walked, so Luka did too, though he walked a little closer to her and tried to stay between her and the worst offenders when the crowd got close. One man put a hand on her, but Marinette brought her boot solidly down on his instep without missing a step and kept walking, grabbing Luka’s arm to keep him from turning and giving the guy a piece of his mind. She kept her hand curled around his bicep for the rest of the walk, and Luka wasn’t sure whether it was for his comfort or hers. He wasn’t about to complain though. (He would, however, go to his grave before he’d admit maybe flexing a little bit under her hand.)

They got to the stands and Marinette had a spot right at the rail waiting for her, and Luka was able to put himself between her and the rest of the crowd.

The races were the best kind—friendly but absolutely cutthroat—and not only was Marinette sweet, pretty, talented, and smart, she was fun and Luka was having the time of his life. The nervous babbling was cute and all but listening to her trash talk the competition was hilarious. Once he had to grab her around the waist because she heard someone insult her grandmother and he was afraid she was about to leap the rail and run onto the track to give them a piece of her mind. Her elbow whipped back into his gut mercilessly and she spent the next five minutes in horrified apologies while he tried to convince his lungs to inhale again.

“You weren’t kidding about being able to take care of yourself,” he said when he felt less like he was moments away from death.

“I am so, so sorry,” Marinette said for the fiftieth time, clutching his arm. “I’m so sorry, it was just a reflex—”

“Stop apologizing,” Luka sighed, rubbing his abdomen. “It was my fault, I had no right to grab onto you like that and you have every right to react that way if someone touches you in a way you don’t like.”

“But I wouldn’t have minded if I had realized, I just—I got caught up in the moment and I forgot you were with me.”

“Aw, that hurts, Marinette,” Luka said with affected sadness. “Way more than the hit.”

“No, no, that’s not what I—here they come!” She shoved him aside and pushed against the rail, screaming and jumping up and down.

Gina’s bright red bike was easy to spot, trapped behind two others that clearly had some kind of agreement to block her. Luka’s mouth fell open and he cheered just as loud as Marinette when Gina, apparently cool as a cucumber, nipped neatly through a space no one would have thought she could fit through and took the lead. They zipped around the curve and back out of sight again.

“Your grandma’s a badass, Marinette,” Luka grinned. “Wow.” He nudged her with his shoulder. “Guess it runs in the family.”

Marinette giggled. “Wait until you meet my mom.” Luka looked at her in surprise and her eyes got round as she stared back at him, and her mouth did too, and then she was sputtering. “I didn’t mean—not that you would want to—not like if we were—“

Luka had to laugh, he couldn’t help it. “I gotta warn you,” he said, “My standards are kind of high. My mom’s pretty badass herself.” He glanced up at the board as the racers whipped by again, Gina still in the lead. “Last lap.”

Marinette cheered and screamed as the racers came back into view, but the crowd was going wild and she was kind of tiny. Luka glanced around and made a quick decision.

“Come stand in front of me,” he told her, guiding her into place. “Keep your back to me. Put your hands in mine...no, like this.” He gave her quick instructions and she looked back over her shoulder at him in surprise. He grinned. “Trust me. On three.” She faced forward and Luka bent his legs. “One...two...three!”

Marinette jumped and put her weight on her arms in his hands as Luka straightened and pushed her up. She yelped in surprise at the height and the speed, but managed to get her feet on his shoulders.

Forgot about the boots, Luka thought ruefully, gripping her calves and pulling down to stabilize her.

Marinette wasted no time screaming “THAT’S MY NONNA!” at the top of her lungs and waving her hands wildly as Gina whipped across the finish line in front of them. She pulled off her helmet and turned to wave wildly at Marinette, a huge grin on her face!

Marinette cheered again and laughed, waving back with both hands, and Luka grinned. He squeezed Marinette’s calfs in warning, and then bent his legs and popped her up, catching her by the waist as she came down. She didn’t quite manage to come down straight and she stumbled as she landed, but Luka kept his grip on her waist until she was steady. Then she turned and hugged him. “Thanks Luka! That was amazing! I didn’t hurt you, did I?”

Luka chuckled breathlessly and hugged her back. “Nah,” he said, and it was mostly true; the burn in his arms wasn’t her fault—though the lingering pain in his abs kinda was. “Been a while since I did that,” he said, letting her go and rolling his shoulders. “You followed my lead like a pro, though.”

Marinette tilted her head and quirked up one shoulder, smiling up at him. “Guess being a badass runs in your family too.” She brushed some dirt off the shoulder of his navy t-shirt and her gaze followed her fingers as they ghosted along the muscle of his arm before her hand dropped.

Luka grinned, suddenly feeling no pain. “Shall we go find Gina?” he suggested, and Marinette agreed brightly. She grabbed his hand, and Luka was so gone, so totally in love with this gorgeous contradiction of a girl that he wasn’t sure his feet actually touched the ground as they wormed through the crowd.

Marinette dropped his hand to throw her arms around Gina. Luka hung back, sticking his hands in his pockets, suddenly not particularly eager to meet the older woman’s sharp eyes.

“Well, well, my little fairy, have you found a friend?” she asked, and he wasn’t quite sure how to read the tone of her accented voice.

“You remember Luka, from the shop?” Marinette beamed back at him, her hand curling around his arm, and Luka couldn’t help returning it, though his cheeks heated slightly. His heart was beating so hard he felt breathless, but somehow he managed to get enough air in his lungs to speak.

“Nice to see you again, ma’am,” he said to Gina. “That was an amazing race. You really earned that win.”

“Oh, he’s a charmer, this one,” Gina laughed, though she shook the hand he offered. “Well, I can hardly complain about such sincere flattery. Thank you my dear, I am just a little proud of that one.” She put her hand on Marinette’s head. “Well, my fairy, I am positively famished. Let me pack up my gear and we’ll find a nice spot for that picnic your father packed.”

His heart dropped from his throat to his stomach, but he tried to keep up his smile. “I guess that’s my cue,” Luka said reluctantly to Marinette as Gina turned to put her things away. “I had a really great time hanging out with you, Marinette.”

Marinette’s face fell. “You’re leaving?”

“Well, it sounds like you have plans and I don’t want to intrude—” he began, hoping to at least get her number before he had to leave.

“Oh, no, please have lunch with us,” Marinette said eagerly. “Papa always makes twice as much food as we need for everything, I’m sure there will be plenty. I mean—if you didn’t have plans. I know you probably have lots you want to see so if you’d rather not—”

“No, I—I’d like to.” Luka reached up and ruffled the back of his hair nervously as he glanced at Gina. “But if this is your time with your grandma, I don’t want to intrude…”

“Nonsense, dear,” Gina said, straightening and slinging her bag over her shoulder. “Marinetta is right, Tom will surely have packed more food than we need, and you are quite welcome to join us. Unless, as Marinette said, you had other plans?” There was something about her smile and the sly look she gave him that made his face heat.

“No, no plans,” he replied, barely managing not to squeak. He cleared his throat. “Um, if you ladies wouldn’t mind the walk back to the campground, there’s a picnic area over by the day parking.” He looked at Marinette. “Right where I parked, you remember? There were tables but I don’t recommend them, they’re pretty gross, but there’s a big grassy area that should have plenty of room and it’ll be quieter over there. Of course if you had something else in mind, that’s fine too, I’m flexible.”

“That sounds lovely, doesn’t it Marinetta?” Gina slung one arm around Marinette’s shoulders. “We will go have a nice picnic, and then come back and watch the afternoon races.” They stopped to drop off Gina’s bag and pick up their cooler, which Luka offered to carry, and the three of them made the walk to where Luka’s bike was parked. They were having lunch a little late, so they didn’t have any trouble finding a comfortable patch of grass to lay out a blanket.

“You were right,” Marinette smiled at him as she opened the cooler. “It’s much quieter over here.”

“Wow,” Luka said, staring as Marinette unpacked the food. “You weren’t kidding.”

“My Tom believes in expressing his love through food,” Gina said with amusement. “He gets that from his father. It does at least mean we have extra for new friends when we meet them.”

It was a very French meal, with several different kinds of bread and cheese, including brie and chevere that Marinette drizzled with honey, as well as fruit and other treats.

“Wow, this is great,” Luka commented. “This is all delicious.”

“My parents run a bakery,” Marinette told him. “Best macarons in Paris. Papa made all of this himself fresh this morning.”

“Wow,” Luka repeated. “Thanks for sharing it with me. Definitely a million times better than anything I could have scrounged up around here.”

Gina, as it turned out, was a lot of fun too. She really had travelled all over the world. Luka was no homebody himself and had been to a lot of places both with his family and alone, but Gina was on a whole other level. Her stories frequently had him in stitches, though Marinette’s rolled eyes when Gina wasn’t looking told him that their charm had long ago worn off on her.

She listened to his stories, however, with big eyes and eager ears, and asked Luka a lot of questions which he wasn’t at all opposed to answering.

“That’s so cool,” she sighed as he finished describing sea kayaking in the Northern Highlands of Scotland, where his mother’s family was from. “You both make me sound so boring.”

“You’re kidding me, right?” Luka said, leaning back a little so he could look up at her. He was on his side, propped on one elbow with his long legs stretched out so that his boots were off the blanket. “Marinette Dupain-Cheng, designer for rockstars, rubbing elbows with supermodels and newscasters, taking the fashion world by storm one design contest at a time?” She blushed under his soft look. “Compared to you I’m just a hippy slacker with a guitar.”

Marinette brightened and she looked back towards his bike. “Your guitar! Can you play for us? If you don’t mind...I mean it’s okay if you don’t want to—”

“I always want to,” Luka chuckled, sitting up and grabbing a napkin to make sure his hands were clean. “I’d never stop if I had my way.” He looked at Gina, who waved him on before he could even ask, and pushed himself up to retrieve his guitar. He also brought his leather jacket back and offered it to Marinette. Some clouds had rolled in, bringing a light breeze, and she had goosebumps on her arms. She smiled gratefully at him and slipped it on and he had to keep his face turned away to hide his grin.

It was pretty close to heaven, sitting in the warm grass, comfortably full, with his guitar in his lap, playing whatever came to him. Whenever he looked up there was Marinette, with her sweet face and pretty eyes, enveloped in his jacket as she quietly cleaned up the remains of their picnic. When she finished, she moved over next to him, and without meaning to he looked up at her just at that moment, and their eyes caught and held, and he suddenly forgot what he was playing.

“Sorry,” she whispered. “I didn’t mean to interrupt.” Luka shook his head without looking away.

“It’s fine,” he said, hands already beginning to play a new melody, soft and warm like fresh bread and honey, but crisp on his steel strings like the fresh air. “I think I like this one better.”

They stared at each other a moment longer and both jumped when Gina cleared her throat. Luka ripped his gaze away from Marinette and swallowed hard, glancing guiltily at Gina.

Gina studied him for a moment, and then Luka’s heart nearly stopped when she smirked at him. “I’ll be back in a little while,” she said, getting to her feet, and waved Marinette down as she started to get up. “No, no, darling, you stay with your friend, you will be bored trailing behind me talking to people you don’t know about things you aren’t interested in. You look so comfortable, just relax. I’ll catch up with you later.”

“Are you sure, Grandma?” Marinette frowned. “You know I don’t mind what we do together.”

“I’m sure, my fairy, I want you to have a good time too. Don’t worry, I’ll be back before you know it. You won’t even miss me.” She winked over Marinette’s head at Luka.

“That’s strange,” Marinette fretted. “Usually when she’s in town she sticks to me like glue. I hope I didn’t do anything to upset her.”

Luka chuckled through his nose, setting his guitar carefully aside on the blanket. “I don’t think that’s it.”

“You don’t think so?” Marinette sighed, still looking towards where Gina had gone.

Luka took a deep breath and swallowed his nerves. Deceptively casually, he leaned back on his hands and nudged his shoulder against hers. “Well, I might be wrong, but I kinda think she’s figured out that I’m crazy into you and she’s doing me a solid by ditching us for a few minutes so I can ask you out.”

The sudden dump of adrenaline in his veins made the next few moments seem like they were in slow motion. God, she was beautiful, swallowed up in his jacket, her short braid flying as she whipped her head around to look at him, lips parting in surprise, cheeks rapidly turning pink, and her eyes—he could get lost in those eyes forever, and right now they were huge, the thick lashes dark against her pale skin.

Outwardly, he remained calm, but his heart was pounding, his fingers curling tight in the grass to keep his hands from visibly shaking, and his breathing was shallow.

“R-really?” Marinette whispered, and Luka dared to shift his weight and raise one hand to capture a strand of hair that kept whipping across her lips and tuck it behind her ear.

“Yeah,” he said,careful to meet her eyes. “Really, Marinette. The more I learn about you, the more I want to know. You’re amazing and I really, really like you.”

“I...I don’t know what to say,” she whispered.

“Oh, well, there’s plenty of options,” Luka shrugged, trying to be casual. “‘I like you too, Luka.’ ‘Sorry, Luka, I don’t feel that way about you.’” He had to clear his throat to go on. “‘Wow, Luka, this is kind of unexpected, I think I need some time to process before I can really answer.’ ‘I’d rather just be friends, Luka.’ ‘Shut up and kiss me, Luka.’ Any of those, really.” He softened as he looked at her. “Whatever you want to say is fine, Marinette. I won’t get upset if it’s not the answer I’m hoping for. I just, I’ve never met anybody like you, and I’d hate myself if I didn’t take the shot.”

Marinette opened her mouth, and then closed it again, and bit her lip. “Well,” she said slowly, Luka hanging on every breath, though her dawning smile made his heart gallop even faster. “It’s definitely not the second one. The third one is c-close, maybe,” she looked down at her hands in her lap, where she was playing with her fingers nervously. “But...I think I’m going to go with the first one.”

“It’s a good one,” Luka said, voice shaky with sudden giddiness. He tried to steady as it went on. “My second favorite option, I’d say.”

Marinette gave him that blinding smile, like the sun bursting out from the clouds. “Shut up and kiss me, Luka.”

“Yes ma’am,” he breathed eagerly, leaning forward without hesitation to cup her cheek and turn her face so he could kiss her pretty lips. It was only supposed to be gentle and tender and befitting a first kiss, but Marinette grabbed his shirt and kissed him back, harder and deeper, and he was sure his soul departed his body in the moan that he let out. His senses were overwhelmed; the smell of leather and grass, the lingering taste of honey, the roar of the engines in the distance, her fingers brushing over his jaw and down his neck, and the warm, electric feel of her mouth moving against his as they kissed and kissed again.

He felt downright drunk when she finally let him go. “I’ve maybe wanted to do that for a while,” she said with a mischievous, if slightly embarrassed, smile. The admission and the sight of her reddened lips did absolutely nothing to help his composure. Marinette’s brow creased as she looked at his dazed expression. “Luka?”

Luka lifted one finger and laid back dizzily onto the grass, staring up into the sky as a completely idiotic grin spread over his face.

Marinette’s face appeared over him, framed by the collar of his jacket as her shoulders hunched up, and the grin only got wider. “Are you all right?” she asked.

“Nope,” he sighed. “I must be dead, because I just kissed an angel.”

Marinette’s face washed over with color, sweeping the worried look from her face. “I don’t think angels wear leather,” she giggled. Something else seemed to occur to her and her eyes twinkled down at him. “But maybe fairies do.”

Luka chuckled. “When bards fall in love with Scottish fairies it never ends well.”

Marinette’s mischievous smile sent a thrill through his entire body. “It’s a good thing I’m French then, isn’t it.”

“I’m enchanted, that’s for sure.” Luka gazed up at her. “You’re so beautiful, Marinette.”

Why that particular compliment startled her so, he couldn’t say, but her face disappeared from his view as she shot upright, turning red.

“What?” Luka asked, chuckling, as he rolled up onto his elbow.

“You can’t just say things like that!”

“Why not?” he laughed. “I’ve been thinking it since we met.” He reached over and slipped his hand over Marinette’s, brushing her fingers lightly with his until she let him lift it and tangle their fingers together.

“I’ve always thought you were pretty,” he told her, in a conspiratorial whisper that had her unconsciously leaning towards him. “But I have to say you look really good in leather. Especially my leather.”

Marinette made an inarticulate noise in her throat, looking at him wide-eyed and blushing so hard it was a wonder she hadn’t passed out. Luka grinned. “And you’re so talented,” he told her. “You’d think I was a stalker if you knew how much time I spent looking through your Instagram feed.” She made another squeak and he could actually see her pulse fluttering in her neck. “And sweet,” he added, inching a little closer. “At least half those things you made were for other people.”

She was totally speechless now, so overwhelmed Luka put his fingers on her cheek and murmured “Breathe, Marinette.”

Marinette drew in a great gulp of air. “How can you say all those things,” she huffed as Luka straightened up and faced her more fully.

“I told you, didn’t I?” Luka grinned, fingers sliding around to the back of her neck, eyes fixed on her lips. “I’m crazy into you.” Marinette smiled and Luka leaned forward.

Suddenly something stiff whacked the top of his head. Luka ducked away and lifted a hand to shield himself.

“None of that now,” Gina declared. “At least not until you’ve taken my Marinetta on a proper date.”

“Yes, ma’am,” Luka said, sitting up straight quickly. “I absolutely will do that.”

“Grandma!” Marinette scowled, snatching the rolled-up motorcycle magazine out of Gina’s hand. “I can kiss him if I want to!” To prove the point, she tossed the magazine aside, grabbed Luka’s face, pulled it to her own, and kissed him firmly. He couldn’t have stopped himself from melting into her if his life depended on it, one hand coming up to grip her shoulder automatically.

Standing over them, Gina made an amused noise and folded her arms.

Marinette looked a little bit embarrassed when she released him, but her smile returned at the dazed look he gave her. “Will you, um,” he cleared his throat. “Will you go out with me? I don’t work on Wednesdays, we could do dinner and a movie?”

Marinette giggled. “I’d love to.”

Luka looked up at Gina, who shrugged, clearly finding the whole thing funny. “Good enough, I suppose. But you will treat my fairy right, or you will deal with Nonna Gina.”

“Don’t worry,” Luka said breathlessly, a smile spreading over his face as he gazed at Marinette. “No way am I ever going to want to break this spell.”

The rest of the day felt like a pleasant dream, his fingers tangled with Marinette’s, full of little touches, quiet laughter, and light, quick kisses—in between screaming trash talk at the races, which he still found incredibly funny. It was even funnier when Gina joined them, screaming in a garbled mix of Italian and French that had him nearly doubled over laughing. She grinned and ruffled his hair and scolded him half-heartedly.

Finally Luka looked reluctantly up at the nearly-setting sun. “I should go,” he sighed. Gina and Marinette were staying overnight for another set of races the following day, but Luka had only planned on a day trip. “If I leave soon I won’t have to make the whole trip in the dark.”

Marinette sighed and wrapped her hands around his arm, leaning her head on his shoulder. “I’ll walk you back.”

They strolled slowly back to where he was parked, taking their time. Luka perched on the edge of the motorcycle’s seat, and reached for Marinette’s hands. She let him take them and draw her closer so that she was standing between his legs. “I had a great time with you today,” he said, rubbing his thumbs over her hands. “I’m really, really looking forward to seeing you again.”

“Me too,” she said, smiling. “To both.”

“Now that I’m allowed to say it,” he murmured, running his eyes along the line of her shoulder and up her neck, where he’d been longing to run his lips all afternoon, “I want to make sure I tell you that you look super hot today.”

Marinette blushed, but looked pleased. “Yeah?”

“Hell yeah,” Luka sighed, chuckling softly. “Can I kiss you one last time?”

“One last time?” she asked, eyes twinkling above her fake pout.

“Last time today,” Luka corrected with a grin. “All bets are off when I pick you up on Wednesday.”

Marinette giggled. “Shut up and kiss me, Luka.”

He took her face gently in his hands and kissed her, brushing his thumbs over her cheeks, then sliding his hands down to her neck so his thumbs slid along her jaw. He felt her shudder and kissed her deeper, tilting her head back. Her fingers unhooked from where they were clinging to his shirt and slid up his neck and into his hair and she pressed closer, lips parting under his in an invitation he was not about to refuse. He finally pulled back slowly and more than a little reluctantly, giving into the temptation to suck lightly on her criminally plump, soft bottom lip for just an instant before letting it slide from between his lips and opening his eyes. To his satisfaction, when her eyes fluttered open she was looking up at him with the same kind of dazed look he’d given her earlier, her mouth so irresistibly reddened that he laid one more soft kiss on her lips before nuzzling her temple, waiting for her to find the ground again.

When she did she turned her face into his cheek and put her arms around his neck, making a small whine. Luka chuckled, sliding his hands across her back and hugging her tightly to him.

“Hey,” she said against his neck. “One more selfie before you have to go?”

Luka grinned, nuzzling her forehead. “Sure.”

***

“I didn’t know Marinette had a boyfriend,” Adrien commented.

Alya nearly spit her drink across the table. “What?”

Adrien turned his phone towards her to show her his instagram feed and Alya and Nino both gaped. Sure enough there was Marinette with a dark-haired boy with blue tips and a leather jacket. He had his arm around Marinette’s waist and she was draped over his side—wait was she sitting on his knee?—and beaming at the camera. The guy’s smile was softer but just as happy and he was leaning his head against Marinette’s. The sky behind them was streaked with sunset colors. Alya opened her mouth to deny it but Adrien swiped his thumb to show them the next picture, in which the mystery man was kissing a shy, blushing, but obviously happy Marinette on the cheek. The caption only said Fairy tales do come true.

“Wait a minute,” Alya said, grabbing her own phone and swiping furiously. “Isn’t that—yes! It’s the hottie from the motorcycle shop!” She turned another picture towards them from the previous weekend, where Marinette next to (though not nearly so close) the same guy, this time wearing a black t-shirt with a shop logo on it. “Marinette’s been hanging out at motorcycle racing and making out with a bad boy all day!”

“Oh, come on, I doubt she was making out with him.” Adrien rolled his eyes.

Alya now had the picture open on her phone and she looked up at Adrien from it with her eyebrows raised.

“Adrien trust me, that is a girl who has been very recently smooched.”

Adrien frowned, looking back at the picture. “Really? How can you tell? I mean she looks happy, but she could just be having fun.”

“Oh my God, you’re so dense,” Alya groaned. “Nino, what the hell, educate your boy.”

“Ah, nope, sorry. He can learn about makeout face from someone else.” He leaned over to look at Alya’s phone. “Hey, I think I know him,” Nino frowned, leaning closer. “He plays in one of the bands that do the club rounds.”

“Is he a player?” Alya demanded immediately, narrowing her eyes.

Nino shrugged. “Dunno. If he is, he’s not as blatant about it as some of the other guys.”

“That shade of lipstick really suits her,” Adrien commented. “I’ve never seen her wear it before.”

Alya groaned and dropped her head into her arms on the table. “You’re impossible,” came the muffled mutter as Nino patted her back sympathetically.

#quickspins #i'll never not know you #motorcycle fairy #lukanette #i am lukanette trash i admit it #luka couffaine #marinette dupain-cheng #miraculousladybug #miraculous ladybug #ml fics #meet-cute

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blankdblank · 4 years

Text

Next Caller Pt 43

Tapping fingers on the counters was the reaction of the Dwarf population listening to the end of your show where again Durin had just been narrowly skirted past engagement. No doubt the fourth of hundreds Thorin expected to be put through and already his pocket was buzzing on the family group messages that had been going off since the show had begun. No doubt his relatives were in a whirl wondering just how the couple’s path would unfold as Gorgo called to check in for another update on the production numbers for printing your first novel.

Out of your booth you giggled again shaking your head at Mal’s apology and walked behind the twins to get a look at what they had done so far. Nearly all completed you watched as Elurin flipped through a few sections giving a hint of the commercial in its drop. Saying, “Tomorrow if you have the background book we can compile them for the background.”

Smirking at him you replied, “If I have it.”

Elured chuckled saying, “Meant if you had it at home. In case you loaned it to Celebrian or something.”

Ori asked as you eyed the last panel he was fixing, “Would you let us back tomorrow?”

Grinning at him and Shari you said, “Of course, if you like. At this rate should have it done by the weekend. Audio on Thursday. Next week if you aren’t bored enough I could show you how to scan it all into the system.”

Shari nodded, “We won’t be bored.”

You grinned and said, “I’ll try and see once this is put together just what I can wrangle up for you to try and help till your program starts.”

The doorbell rang and Ori said, “That would be Bofur,” Looking to his bag then to the papers then to you.

“You can leave those, nobody will bother those overnight.”

He nodded and they both thanked you again and hurried to the door promising to be here first thing making you smile and turn to your friends. Elured said, “They have talent.”

Elurin, “Messed up a panel and they both nearly cried. So, merely have to remind them there is no death penalty for mistakes here and they should relax into the process. We know your style to have a new one copied up before they could fuss over it.”

“I think they’re sweet, still young, they’ll find their feet.”

Your eyes turned to Mal holding BamBam in his bag again saying, “I am so sorry.”

“He’s adorable, it’s forgiven. No doubt Dain will be thrilled his BamBam is now famous. The only live Boar on voice actor staff.” Making her giggle and roll her eyes, “You rode your scooter, right?”

She nodded, “Yes, off to bag shopping.” Giving you a hug and walking herself out as the twins joined you to your room where they looked through your leather bound reference book on the entire Palace Beatrice lived in from blueprints to the silverware designed for each occasion they held in your books.

“Have I said how much I love you?” Elurin said as you changed into shorts and the tank top Thorin loved to ogle you in to go under your favorite forest green flannel.

“You have,” You giggled back adding your converse.

To which Elured answered, “Because you are every animator’s dream. You know if any broadcasting company sees these you could very well have an animated show on your hands.”

“Either a show or proof that I am borderline obsessed with this imaginary world of mine.”

The both said, “A little obsession goes a long way when living in genius.” Following you to the studio they left the book in that you powered down and closed so the birds wouldn’t get into it.

Onto the foot of your bed Belly flew extra puffed up proudly landing beside you making you smirk and say, “Morning Belly. You are up early.”

With a nod he replied smiling as he said, “Darling is carrying eggs!”

“Very well done! That’s amazing!” You said scooping him up for a gentle hug he cuddled into, “I take it she is nest bound until the laying?”

He nodded as you pulled him back settling him down beside you again on the bed and he puffed up again replying, “Yes, and I have been tasked to gather her morning fruit and food supply, merely I wished to inform you on your way out.”

“That is amazing news Belly, congratulations, truly, and please do pass on the same to Darling when she wakes up.”

He nodded, “Absolutely, safe travels Jackrabbit.” And promptly turned to take off to tend to his expecting mate leaving you giggling and sharing to the twins who praised the pair with you while you made your own stop to peer into the greenhouse that Roac, once having said good morning to you was off to find food for Dot’s daily offering.

To the door you walked with the pair complimenting you on what they saw so far of their tour of your home that you locked up to head out of your garage, stopping only to toss your tea stained sweater into Thorin’s waiting basket of laundry yet to be washed. With the two adorably squeezed into your car for the drive to the studio that you let them out on the curb just outside it. “Bright and early tomorrow JackRabbit.” The pair of them waved and watched you pull away to make a stop to see just what Thorin had thought of the show halfway still mentally stuck on just how Cirnaven would react to your home and if he’d already told your family who was being surprisingly mum on the topic. Unless of course they were trying to be as to not spoil the outcome of the interview or the list of possible interns to protect his usual reputation for utmost secrecy until the day of released names for said program.

Once parked through the back door you walked stopping outside the back end of the herb shop hearing Thorin and Dwalin talking while Balin manned the counter with the other younger employees. Stopping just shy of the door wondering if you should interrupt them or not yet merely listening in for a break to let them know you were here.

Dwalin sighed out, “It’s on Saturday. They hardly ever bring the show to town.”

Thorin, “Then get tickets, Bilbo has to go to Bell’s for that thing with their uncle so you have a night off.”

Dwalin scoffed, “Even if I could get the tickets so I could take you Bilbo would shun me for a month for not taking him. You know how he loves to collect playbills and getting signatures even though he’s seen it twelve times I couldn’t dare go without him.”

Thorin hummed back, “Unless you brought him back a playbill. He’s seen it twelve times, play to his pity then, you’ve promised to take me three times and ditched me to-,”

Dwalin pointed at him, “Hey, that last one Frodo had to have his feet measured and you know it for those moldings on Gran’s mantle.”

Thorin, “Doesn’t excuse the two times before that.”

Dwalin, “You and I both know Mafioso pouted like that you’d drop what you had that week to stay with her. Besides, how am I supposed to buy tickets when we’re knee deep in inventory spreadsheets?”

Thorin huffed and said, “Fine, but the very next time Clustered Anchors comes to town or any country close by rail you are taking me no matter who is pouting.”

Already on your phone you had pulled up the page for the theater and managed to get two box seats. A ridiculous sum, but paid for by your little black card making you smirk as you pocketed your phone to the squeal of a woman noticing you over the counter of the tea shop, “Miss Pear!”

In a ripple more people pooled into view over the counter and Thorin was nudged by Dwalin to go spend your hour lunch break with him to the blend of questions coming from the customers all pleading to know what was coming next. Upon seeing Thorin you smiled imagining the note coming with the delivery of the tickets the next day hoping that the pair of them would enjoy their surprise night on the town all on you. Straight to your side Thorin walked flashing you a grin and you said with Dwalin in view, “Belly and Darling have a clutch on the way.” His jaw dropped and he glanced at the crowd after a flash from a stolen picture and then led you into the office where the warm lunch was waiting in the lunchbox he unpacked the interior trays for it out on the table. “Belly had to get to fetching food and Darling was still asleep and on nest rest until hatching but I think by how eager they have been it is bound to be a large clutch.”

“That is amazing. No doubt that would push Dot over the edge.”

“Roac was onto fetching more food when I left, no doubt he could hint that she could have a full nest of her own if she just lets him wiggle in there,” Making him smirk and look your way. “How’s inventory?”

“Good, same as usual. Shouldn’t be late by how it looks we should be done early. How did the show go, heard BamBam sneak in there, Dain was thrilled.”

“Yes,” you giggled out, “Snuck in on my bathroom break. Mal got him out. And Ori and Shari did well. Should be done for the most part by the weekend.”

“Bofur texted, they were thrilled about it. Couldn’t stop praising what you had completed on your own already and the styles they are getting to learn they had only read about in school.” After a moment he asked, “Are you excited, your uncle is coming to town?”

“I do miss him, more curious than anything, even Naneth hasn’t said anything and usually she lets on a hint when something is coming my way, even a postcard. Must be his usual secrecy about who he accepts.”

Thorin looked you over asking, “That it?” Your eyes met his after a glance at the tea Balin brought in for you both before darting away closing the door behind him. “Seems like there is something else behind that look of yours.”

“Oh, I just,” you sighed and said, “Darling isn’t very young,”

“Ah,”

“I want to email the zoo but I don’t-,”

“In case they lose the clutch.”

“I think once they are laid should be good. No doubt they’re bound to be healthy with how much weight and the shine her feathers have put on.”

Thorin nodded, “She is looking much more striking with her stripes.” Hastily he wet his lips and said, “I will message Gran, have her inform our flock and the Elders to convene with Mahal.” You began to shake your head and he laid his hand over yours, “This is a delicate matter, you are concerned and Mahal granted our kin union with Ravens, perhaps it might help bolster her strength to know she has a flock behind her wishing her along. Gran could send along tokens to comfort her from them.”

You nodded smiling to try not to cry saying, “I just hope when she has her first clutch it doesn’t take too much out of her.”

“She is very strong now that she has been pampered by Belly. I know you care for his pain as well as having bonded with her for the brief time knowing her. Please do not doubt Darling is very emboldened by the greenhouse her clutch will grow in.”

“I do try not to be so,”

“My kin know these worries, laying eggs is a fragile thing. We all mind carrying females just as we mind expecting mothers. There is no weakness in it, I will tell my family. I should ready some of the usual biscuits our clan bake for clutches in fact, this is what I know to be the first Zebra Striped Raven clutch to hatch in fifty years, legitimately that is. It is quite sacred thing to mark.”

“Belly does like biscuits.”

He chuckled and murmured shifting to ease the food closer to you on the table, “So does Roac. Whenever you decide to share the news they will be thrilled.”

“Besides, I doubt they are done throwing a celebration over the three chicks. The footage has been playing on loop on their website.”

“Yes, had several people talking about that when we got unlocked to serve, front page in several papers that Hector has a little family. Best news they have gotten since hearing he was let out of the Aviary upon discovery of his Mate.”

“That must be what the emails were about from them. No doubt it’s helping to boost money for their rescue programs. Even heard the page for Darling and Dot have blown up hearing they have Mates found as well.”

Thorin chuckled, “Yes, Roac heard about it from one of the neighbors Ravens and had me look it up. Leads back to Belly’s dance video with a counter on how many days since to give hope on clutches, statistics and percentages listed underneath to guess when they would succeed.”

“Does his family put pressure for grandchildren?” making Thorin smirk, “I’m not too common on flock dynamics. Or is it a what will be will be?”

Thorin wet his lips again as you readied your fork for a bite, “A little of both. It is more towards the latter, merely they give pointers on choosing Mates to fit the flock.”

You nodded asking, “Would they have liked Darling for Belly?”

Thorin chuckled and patted his hand on your thigh, “They are perfectly matched, do not worry on that. She would have refused if he was anything but the best Mate out there for fathering with. You have done very well giving them such living spaces, even back in Beryl. It was incredible and he has strong wings and sturdy legs having had ample exercise and mental distractions, even more so now. Please don’t doubt yourself. That is exactly why the Aviary is re-planning their exhibits to follow more along the natural splendor your greenhouse has.”

“I just know Kuu is a bit odd,”

Thorin chuckled, “All owls are odd, even ones that aren’t Great Owls. Kuu is more accustomed to people, not odd. I actually like him, and think we are growing to be friends.”

“He does like you,” making him smirk, “If he didn’t he would bite you. Clawed at a man in the Aviary first time who tried to lift his wing without asking.”

“That’s just rude.”

“Exactly, then Kuu made a point to flash his wings for anyone but him.” Making Thorin chuckle, “He’s inherited some of my spite.”

After you had eaten a few bites he hummed out, “The show was incredible. Should have heard the groans, and the messages in the family chat are still going.”

“No doubt.”

“And Gorgo says they are about halfway to a first shipment amount of collections. Could have gone faster but they want to be extra careful with these.”

“Thank you for that, well not you perhaps per se, but your family, for taking such good care of it.”

“Your story deserves respect. The utmost respect available.”

“It really means a lot, and no doubt due to,”

“The use of the Durin name has little to do with it and everything to do with the story itself and care that went into it. We’ve had books crafted more like pamphlets put out with our clan name who have garnered less praise from our clan. I am going to go out on a huge limb here and say much like you are an honorary Stonefoot you are as good as a Durin, even before our betrothal.”

“Careful who might hear that.” Making him smirk again, “I hear your clan refuses to comment on that subject.”

He rolled his eyes, “You know precisely why they haven’t.”

“Oh I assure you I have precisely no clue the reasoning of Durins.” You said smirking at him around another mouthful of your meal making him smirk again.

“The reasoning, if you must know, would be that it would be all over every front page and gossip broadcast until an engagement was announced and all the way to each anniversary and possible birth announcement in the future. It is fortunate we have been able to hide Dis’ pregnancy this long, convenient shoulders and bodies were blocking her belly in each shot posted in the hotel. Last time she was hounded for three years up till we had her bolted in the Midwife’s cottage on our grounds.”

“So one public date and it’s countdown to babies just like Belly and Darling?”

He chuckled at your giggles humming back, “In not so glorious terms, yes. If you like I will practice a dance.”

“I look forward to it.” The answer nearly making him swallow his food the wrong way and smirk at you when you took another bite.

For the rest of the break he kept the conversation going as casually as possible while his nerves grew, eager to return home to see just how the Ravens had managed, namely the males who were readying for the change. It could be up to 25 days until eggs would arrive and he knew his family would be anxious to help calm your nerves and join in the support for the expecting parents. When you had headed off to the hotel post stolen hugs of the brothers who were just as elated to head of the news for Belly with the trio conferencing about it.

Balin, “Are you calling the Elders or shall I?”

Thorin replied, “I probably should, I could while I drive home and start the laundry then I can check in on the happy couple and see if Roac has any news for me.”

Dwalin chuckled out, “No doubt Dot will have accepted him by now with Darling’s news, won’t want to be too far behind.”

Balin, “Jaqi is terribly concerned?”

Thorin wet his lips, “Darling is considerably older. She has gained weight and is striking in her coating feathers now, she worries for Darling’s pain and Belly’s, if anything went wrong.”

Balin nodded, “I will tell our couple at home. They would wish to join in on the tokens.”

Dwalin, “Last I saw Darling was thriving, we will add our support in this as well for the household and their future clutch.”

Thorin, “Jaqi guesses it would be a large one. I do hope so. Darling has well earned a healthy large clutch of her own with Belly.”

“There is a new Durin on the way?!” An eavesdropping woman asked halfway leaning over the end of the counter to listen in on the trio in the herb shop.

Dwalin turned to answer, “One of our ravens is carrying a clutch of eggs. Bit aged, but it is her first clutch so we are wishing for the best.”

Her mood deflated and she looked to Thorin, “I hoped you and your lover were expecting.”

Thorin chuckled replying, “Were we expecting I would be glued to the floor.”

They all answered a few more questions on people lingering about before Thorin broke from the pair eager to send him home at the circumstances since most of the work was done anyways. The call to his Gran shifted the mood in the Durin lands and right away they got to spreading the word through the flock who indeed got to fashioning tokens knowing Roac would be right behind his new friend they wished the best for, including the continuance of the rare breed of raven. Concern surely was shared along with hopes that the best would come of this.

Though by the time he’d dumped his basket of laundry in the washer and started it he had hung up and went to the greenhouse. A smile easing across his lips hearing Belly serenading Darling while she snacked and relaxed as he watched Roac carrying more leaves to Dot’s spacious house. Right inside he fit decorating the second nest he would claim now. And quite eagerly Thorin got to sharing the news that Roac was now coupled and as Dot was choosing the right spot for their own mating grounds Roac shared his hopes and took tips Belly had granted him for success. Thorin answered the video call coming in so Roac could speak with his father and brothers for more details to remember for success only bolstering his hope while Darling and Belly fluffed up giddily hearing the praise from the Durin flock on their news at the end.

For as long as he could manage he remained with them until he got to cleaning his lunch box and prepping dinner for you and lunch for the following day. Washer to dryer the clothes were eventually moved and after peeking in at Roac again now flying off with Dot to try for mating after the rituals just hearing made Thorin want to go outside for a walk for how awkward it was for spectators of the non feathered persuasion.

A stolen trip into your studio had his smile returning as he flipped a bit through the stacks seeing just how much work had indeed been managed in one day after the bare sketches he had seen the other day. Proud already from the naked ones now he was justly beaming for the next to finished product he couldn’t wait to see online knowing how grateful you and your kin would be to see it for yourselves after the near impossible wait for it to just be.

Thorin did what he could to transport Roac’s favorite things to his new house around his nest he had been asked for then went off to bed once the biscuits had cooled enough to pass out among the couples and Kuu woke long enough to enjoy the peas boiled for him. Deeply he drifted off to sleep with your comments on the Durins naming your relationship and how accepting you had seemed to the possibility. Hoping that if a public official date would be publicized that you wouldn’t be regretting choosing him. Even if you had your cohabitation papers signed and sealed filed away in the clan vault he still hoped you would never regret just how public his clan would make your life even without the Bunny Show already in it to boost your name.

Still with no word on any visit from family you settled your cleaning cart into its spot and turned to head for lunch. You made it into the lift before realizing that Vili was in it with you waiting for you to take notice of him. “Hello, wanted to make sure I didn’t catch you off guard.”

“No, it’s fine. Busy day?” You asked making him chuckle at your clear nerves towards why he had come to find you.

“Sort of. Wanted to check in, let you know how excited we all are at the news about Belly and Darling.”

“Yes, he is so excited. Told me between shifts.”

“I bet. It’s huge news, and Thorin passed on Dot did allow Roac to move in as well.”

“That’s amazing. Hopefully that has her adoring him now and nod bickering.”

He nodded and wet his lips, “I had another reason to check in with you, I am not certain how much press you have been noticing.”

“Oh, well I got my nails done and they had a show with three ladies on it talking about the suspicions I guess Thorin and I have stirred up. First I’ve seen of it beyond people snapping pictures at dinner and rug shopping with him the other day.”

He nodded, “And, how are you taking that?”

“It’s, I mean he’s a Durin, so I didn’t think it would be fully anonymous forever. I guess it really goes more into my keeping my head down so long and being cautious in pictures outside of family and friends. But I’m getting better on that, people seem nice so far when they aren’t arguing over points on the show. He says he likes the sort of, avoidance? I don’t think that’s the right word. But with just us for now, says if they know then the clock will start on babies.”

That had Vili laugh and nod stepping out with you, “Yes, well even with Dis and I it was massive in the tabloids when we were courting as teens. But that was a joining of two huge clans, and we are trying to ensure you have all the time you need and what privacy we can grant you.”

“Well it’ll happen when it happens, eventually word will slip out that we are living together.”

Vili chuckled again, “Oh yes, then we can be blazed in the press for hiding a union from the public. Have you spoken to Gorgo yet?”

“No, but Echo did tell me we were about halfway, or nearly halfway, to enough books to ship out for sale.”

“Yes, so hopefully in a couple months we can all see what drove her so crazy. We love the show but to get the full world you built up, sketches and all. Bofur says the kids said the commercial is stunning even silent.”

“I think it should be cute, build up suspense, it’s kind of like how the show started with Beatrice, her welcoming you in and at the end the book bomb is dropped.” Making him chuckle and turn hearing his name called. “Look at you trying to sneak out of work.”

Playfully he smirked at you saying, “Enjoy your lunch. We’ll try to set up a dinner or something later.” Flashing you a quick wave in his trot off to meet up with his relative that had flashed you a wave you returned as well.

Curious what could be coming next you were lost to your thoughts again only this time you got to wondering how the show Thorin and Dwalin were talking about. Everyone said it was fabulous but until now even the recorded shows on stage were way out of your price range leaving you seemingly the only person you knew in Erebor, other than Thorin it seemed, who hadn’t seen it out of the film adaptation that others claimed paled in comparison to the stage version. To you at least the film was pretty spectacular and you really didn’t have any experience with shows at all to have a clue how they might differ past the obvious lack of variety in locations for depth to the scenes to take in. Truly it didn’t matter anyways it was their day yet you looked forward to helping him get ready for it, And the thought of him in a suit certainly was tempting to day dream about.

Lunch to clock out you phased out and somehow ended up fifteen minutes early giving you time to linger in emptying and restocking your cart. One of your fellow maids came up to you smirking in her gentle tap on your arm, “Where did you drift off to? Looks like fun?”

Softly you giggled replying in a near sigh, “I like suits.”

Making her chuckle and walk with you to the locker room, “Don’t we all. New guy surprise you in a suit?”

“No, but he’s been talking about suit worthy plans this weekend with a cousin.”

“Durins do dress up well.”

“I think I’ve only seen pictures of him in suits. I bet he’d wear blue.” Making her chuckle again as you opened the door for you both and followed her inside where you saw three of the ladies promptly toss magazines into their lockers. With an awkward grin you said, “If it’s about me at least let me know if I have a weird look on my face in the picture or something. I’ve only been getting decorating magazines lately. Coffee cart guy is out at my second job or I’d be caught up on the gossip rags.”

One of the other ladies pulled out her magazine and brought it to you saying, “This one has you buying carpets and paint? They’re hinting you might be shacking up. I mean, we know you’re joining the fold but you haven’t been announced yet how would your clan take it if word came out you were cohabitating?”

“Well they know, my friends too. My sisters have even been keeping copies of stories they see on me.”

The first one asked, “Your clan does not have rules against being rumored in public before publicly being claimed?”

“Technically, that’s a grey area, because Hobbit, no, Elf, sort of,” you said tilting a hand side to side, “But I’m three different variations of Elf and a pinch of Maiar, who don’t technically share a lot when it comes to courting because there isn’t really a set plan for it.” They all stood looking you over and you said, “I’m a bit of a mutt.”

One of the ladies couldn’t help but giggle asking, “So, Elf and Maiar, no offence but how are you so-,”

“Travel sized?” She nodded trying not to laugh and you said, “I got no clue, something to do with Hobbit and Maiar genes mixing, always end up adorably tiny Elves. Trust me the Durins got a giggle on it too when they helped me move. But my family should be fine, as long as they get to meet him before anything closer to marriage were to happen.”

“Fair point,” two of the ladies said.

The woman with the magazine asked as she opened the magazine, “Please tell me you didn’t pick this sherbet rug.”

You giggled and said, “No, picked white fluffy ones for my home studio, it’s dark stone so I needed something light and I like fluffy rugs.”

“Home studio?” Another squealed out and she asked, “So the show is getting bigger?! Please tell me it’s getting bigger!”

Giggling you replied opening your locked to change, “My friends bought the station and they are doing remodels so now I can broadcast from home so they can have five hours to do whatever they are doing at the station.”

“That’s so incredible! And is there any news on your other show yet?”

“Not as far as I know. Another of my friends was the other artist/creator on it and she’s got three not so little ones at home, but I know if anyone contacts her on possible interest we have a few ideas shelved for it from when it got canceled.”

“How did it get canceled in the first place?! It is fabulous.”

Pulling on your shorts you replied, “Well, there was a bit of legal warfare, production company was bought and then pretty much every other company refused to air it leaving it just to Hobbit stations. And we own it but now thanks to the old owner dying Bombadil jumped on the chance to broadcast it on their system and now the old stations are murmuring on possibly playing it again in syndication.” Over your head you pulled on your tank top and your flannel after it hanging up your uniform while they delved into their favorite parts of the show and wishful thoughts for your show to be picked up again. Each of them stunned that such a great show got shelved in red tape for so long.

Pt 44

#Thorin x Reader OC #Hobbit #lotr #tea shop au #OC Mal

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swtorpadawan · 4 years

Text

Breaking Even

“Kriffing Nar Shaddaa.”

Captain Errul Marsh grumbled under his breath as his light freighter, the Devil’s Horn, finally broke orbit from the infamous Smuggler’s Moon. The Zabrak merchant captain – which, sure, made him a smuggler if you wanted to be crude about it – pinched the bridge of his nose and let out a long sigh. It was getting harder and harder to make even a (moderately) honest living in his line of work, especially where it concerned the Hutts.

But that was the galaxy for you. With war brewing between the Republic and the Empire everyone was quickly picking sides and carving out their territory. The true independents were getting squeezed out or just dying off.

Errul might have done business with the Republic. He might even have appreciated the Republic when they weren’t trying to arrest him over one of their silly ‘law’ things.

But Errul Marsh was, above all, a true independent. He owned his own freighter outright and incredibly he was debt free, even if he was just keeping his head just above water. He’d die with his ship before he gave any of that up.

It was an existence that had its price. He hadn’t seen or even heard from a family member in decades. Friends (the kind who hadn’t tried to stab him in the back, anyway) had been few and far between. Crew and companions aboard his ship had proved fleeting, signing on with him and staying for a time but each eventually leaving when they finally found something better for themselves. Lovers, likewise, came and went. Usually amicably and with no hard feelings, but sometimes only when they realized that the ace smuggler would never be tied down to anything, not even by love.

He didn’t begrudge any of them – family, friends, lovers, all – anything. Everyone in the galaxy was chasing after something and they were welcome to chase it. Many of his old associates – the ones he’d stayed in touch with, anyway – had done well for themselves. Two of his erstwhile proteges were now captaining their own cargo ships. Others were running cantinas or small shipping companies. One had ultimately made a name for herself as a Mandalorian bounty hunter, of all things. Indeed, there were worse legacies a man could leave behind.

Still, as the Zabrak had inevitably advanced deeper into middle age, he recognized that his had become mostly a solitary existence. And he was comfortable with that, but still, every now and then…

Ah, well. Life was too short for regrets.

Regardless, loner or not, he still had to make a living. Paying off those Cartel ‘customs agents’ at the spaceport had cut deeply into his profits on this trip. In fact, after his projected expenses for docking at Carrick Station, what with refueling and the Republic’s precious ‘docking fees’ for non-Republic personnel, he’d barely break even after delivering his cargo of adrenals.

Errul exhaled again. He wasn’t that old for a Zabrak, but he was for an independent smuggler. This life would be the death of him.

Force help him, he wouldn’t have it any other way.

The ship wouldn’t be ready to jump to hyperspace for about half an hour, and it wouldn’t reach Carrick for a couple of days yet. Still, there was no reason to prolong anything that needed doing.

Errul rose from his seat, feeling his back ache in protest. He’d been in hundreds (thousands?) of firefights throughout his life, and he could still beat any young up-and-comers on the draw if it came down to it. But the price being paid by his aging body didn’t make it any easier.

Silently telling his back to stow it, the old smuggler made his way to the cargo hold. The room was stocked with pallets full of stim-packs and combat adrenals, and his ‘arrangement’ with the Republic meant that this shipment was bound for their military. With fighting breaking out in so many theaters, the ‘Pubs couldn’t be too choosy these days about from whom they received their supplies.

Errul surveyed the stacks. It was all in order. The Cartel agents had threatened to delay his departure as they ‘processed’ the outgoing cargo and verified the contents. Errul knew that game, and knew how to haggle them down on the inevitable bribe he offered them. The delay would have cost him with the Republic, and he certainly couldn’t let those agents spend too much time in his cargo hold, anyway.

“Barely breaking even.” The Zabrak sighed again as he stomped his foot three times on the floor panel to the right between the pallets.

“You can come out now.” Errul called out to the empty room. “It’s safe.”

It took several seconds, but finally, tentatively, the floor panel slid open, revealing the secret smuggling compartment he had installed years before.

Huddled within, looking up at him with a frightened expression, was a young Twi’lek woman.

She’s still rattled. He reminded himself. He’d have to play this carefully. Very slowly, making no sudden movements, he reached down, offering her his hand.

“It’s safe.” He repeated softly. “Nar Shaddaa is already behind us.”

The woman – the girl he should say – slowly reached up and took his hand. He helped her out of the hold, and she looked around anxiously.

Errul regarded her with care. Looking at her now in the normal lighting of his ship’s cargo hold, she was clearly even younger than he’d originally thought, having met her in the darkened chambers of Donje the Hutt’s extravagant sanctum. She was still wearing the yellow jumpsuit he had given her earlier – it was at least two sizes too large for her, but it had been all he had lying around that she could wear. It was certainly more appropriate than the skimpy ‘slave girl’ outfit she was still wearing beneath it that left nothing to the imagination. (There was no way he was going to have her running around his ship dressed like that, thank you very much.) Her face and lekku were adorned with elaborate markings which Errul judged to be natural Twi’lek birthmarks and not artificial tattoos. She was quite beautiful, with a painfully feminine figure and lovely blue eyes almost matching the shade of her skin. But then, physical attractiveness tended to be a much sought-after trait of Twi’leks working for Hutts.

Certainly, with the female Twi’leks. Errul reflected somberly. Rescuing her from that disgusting Hutt on Nar Shaddaa, ferreting her to the spaceport undetected and smuggling her off-world had pressed even his considerable talents. He didn’t doubt for one moment that both of their lives would get very complicated if the Hutt ever found out what he’d done.

“Donje cannot reach me?” she swallowed, finally looking up at Errul, hopefully. Her hands had slid from Errul’s hand to his arm.

The Zabrak shook his head for emphasis.

“No, that giant slug can’t reach you here. In a while, we’ll be in hyperspace. After that, you’ll be out of Hutt space entirely, and you’ll be as free as a bird.”

The girl blinked up at him with her blue eyes, still gripping his arm for comfort.

“I…. thank you, master.”

Errul shook his head vigorously again. He had to put the kibosh on that idea right away.

“I’m not your master, kid.” He insisted. “Call me ‘Captain’. Or Errul, if you like. You don’t have a master anymore.” Errul tried to give her a comforting look. “That’s what being ‘free’ means.”

The smuggler let that sit with her for a moment. He figured she’d probably been born into slavery… or maybe she’d been taken so young that she didn’t remember anything else. The Twi’lek looked down at the floor, and for a moment, Errul was worried he’d lost her entirely. But after a long moment, she looked back up at him with a hopeful look in her eyes.

“Free.” She whispered, like it was all a dream to her.

Errul grinned. “Free.” He repeated, for emphasis. The Zabrak tilted his head. “What’s your name, kid?”

The Twi’lek swallowed, nervously. Probably she’d been forbidden to use her real name in public. Forced renaming was a common enough practice among Hutt pleasure slaves.

“Rhi’kih.”

Errul then gave her his most charming smile. It was a look that had melted the hearts of hundreds of women over the years. (And, Errul reflected, a handful of men, as well.)

“Are you hungry, Rhi’kih?”

“I…” the Twi’lek looked up at him, uncertain, as she regarded his expression. Finally, her features softened and she swallowed again.

“Yes, I am.”

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

The galley wasn’t much to look at. To be honest, with the Devil’s Horn having only one permanent resident who wasn’t a droid – that being Errul himself – it didn’t really need to be anything special.

Yet another benefit of bachelorhood. Errul reflected. Unlike some of his contemporaries, he disliked over-decoration, preferring the utilitarian to any ostentatious aesthetic.

Nevertheless, he had always tried to keep it fairly well-stocked and in good order for when he did have company, and with the help of his Seetoo droid, it was kept clean as well. At this moment, there were exactly two frozen bantha steaks left, and Errul decided now was as good a time as any to break them out of the freezer and grill them up.

The girl - Rhi’kih, he had to remember – had sat down at the small table only at Errul’s prodding. She was still very skittish, taking everything in with trepidation. He couldn’t blame her, given where she’d been living.

Finally finished preparing the food, he served the steaks up on a pair of plates, along with glasses of blue milk for each of them.

“Here. Eat up.” Errul smiled, taking his own seat after distributing utensils.

The Zabrak took up his knife and fork and then tasted the succulent meat, closing his eyes in pleasure. Out of all the skills he’d picked up over the years, learning how to cook – properly, and not like the bachelor he was – easily ranked in the top three in having improved his personal quality of life, going along with how to pilot a ship and how to talk your way out of a tight spot.

(Shooting a blaster? Oh, don’t be silly. He was born knowing how to do that.)

Opening his eyes again, he noticed that Rhi’kih was merely poking the steak with her fork, clearly troubled over something.

“Something wrong?” he asked, concerned. “Its not undercooked for you, is it?”

“Uhm. No.” She looked down embarrassed. “My… my master never let me use knives. No one taught me.”

Errul cringed inwardly. There were a hundred plus one evils resulting from slavery. One of the most underrated was the lack of basic life skills many oppressed people suffered from even after finding their freedom. It could keep them on the fringes of society forever, and perhaps, more likely to end up in the desperate circumstances that had seen them become slaves in the first place. Neither the Republic government nor anyone else seemed equipped to help them acclimate.

“Here.” Errul got up and came around the table. Very gently, he took her by the wrist and helped her grasp the knife. She let him, having apparently grown comfortable with him by now.

“Hold it like this. Good. Now the fork like that – yes. Good. Now cut…. Perfect.”

It took about a minute. But Errul was finally satisfied the Twi’lek had learned how to cut her own food adequately.

“It’ll get more natural with time. Trust me.” He reassured her, observing her progress as he took his seat back.

Rhi’khi finally tasted her steak. Her eyes lit up, and he couldn’t help but think of it as a sign of life.

“Good?” he asked with a grin.

“I…. yes!” she gasped.

Errul was rewarded with a lovely smile from the Twi’lek. It was the first time he’d seen her smile genuinely since meeting her. He’d seen the conditions under which slaves were kept on Nar Shaddaa, and what sustenance they were given. Occasionally, pleasure slaves like Rhi’khi would be fed rich food or wine from the plates and goblets of their masters, almost as if they were pets. The rest of the time they tended to be served an unappetizing gruel back in their pens. Neither option was particularly healthy in Errul’s estimation.

A reasonable nutritional diet – including bantha steaks – was another thing she’d have to adjust to.

As it turned out, Rhi’khi was famished. Her table manners needed some work, but she ate her bantha steak and drank her blue milk with gusto. Errul took it as a positive sign; she’d have to learn to pace herself, but that could come later.

Errul was almost done with his steak when he glanced up, realizing that the girl was eyeing him tentatively as if chewing something over.

He put aside his utensils.

“What is it now?” he asked.

The Twi’lek swallowed, then reached out, laying her hand on his.

“I owe you everything for freeing me… Captain.” Rhi’khi smiled up at him, coyly. It was the same smile she’d worn while dancing for Donje’s visitors back on Nar Shaddaa. Noting her brief pause, Errul suspected that she had had to stop herself from calling him ‘master’ again. “I am… very grateful.” Her fingers gently entangled themselves with his, her thumb brushing against his palm.

Errul felt a sudden but familiar warmth in his belly and down to his loins. This beautiful young woman – with her lovely figure, pretty blue eyes and coy smile – was offering him comfort. Even at Errul’s age, the urges still came, and he certainly couldn’t deny the Twi’lek’s sex appeal.

It was the Zabrak’s turn to swallow, as he looked up into Rhi’khi’s eyes.

Errul Marsh prided himself on his ability to read people. During negotiations. During games at the Pazzak table. During a tense stand-off with guns drawn. And the fact that he was still alive after all this time was a sign that he was good at it. It had always been a talent, but he’d refined it over the years with invaluable experience.

So it was that he noticed things. In particular, the slight tension around the girl’s otherwise enticing eyes.

No.

This was not a young woman who was genuinely smitten or enchanted by him. (Galaxy knows Errul knew what that looked like, even if it had been awhile.) No. This was a girl who was, even now, still worried that he would sell her off to the next gangster he ran into or that he’d otherwise abandon her to some unknown fate the moment she became inconvenient.

In her mind, this was about taking control of the situation in the only way she knew how. Rhi’khi was desperately trying to offer him something to ensure he would protect and look after her, this was only coin she could possibly offer him. It bothered him that she’d been conditioned to think that her sex appeal was all she could ever offer to the galaxy. Errul added that to the growing list of consequences of her enslavement. The fear of going back to Nar Shaddaa or the fear of the unknown would lead her to continue living the life she had been living, even after she had just risked everything to escape that very life.

After all, it was all she knew.

That wasn’t what bothered him the most, though.

No, what bothered him the most was knowing – knowing – that not so many years ago, Errul would have taken her up on the offer in a heartbeat. By now, his lips would have been on hers, she’d have been propped up on the table and soon the clothes would have gone flying. (And few of Errul’s lovers had ever complained about his skills in the bedchamber.) Oh, he’d have shown her a great time; he’d have taken her on a trade run or two to some exotic planets and shown her sights few beings could even imagine. Beautiful beaches, majestic mountains, cities that were clean and comfortable in stark contrast to the filth and grit she’d seen on Nar Shaddaa.

He’d have let it last a week. Or maybe – maybe – as long as a month. (He’d only gone as long as a month with a woman a couple of times. It was better that way.) Certainly no longer than that. Then he’d have found something for the young Twi’lek, letting her down gently and making sure she had something to get her started on the rest of her life.

After all, he’d have thought to himself, what she was offering him had been offered freely and was therefore his to take.

That was one of the lies people told themselves. But with age had come wisdom, and Errul liked to think he had given up lying to himself a long time ago.

“How old are you, kid?”

The words came from his lips abruptly. Rhi’khi looked confused for a moment, then worried, as if she thought she had done something wrong, and might be punished for it. She withdrew her hand.

“I…. nineteen, I think.” She said with uncertainty.

Nineteen. Shavit. He was more than twenty years her senior. Force. He’d lived too blasted long.

“Hold on a second, okay?” he offered.

Errul rose from his seat and walked to the far corner of the galley, right next to the washer. He opened the small cabinet above, being careful to block Rhi’khi’s vision of what he was doing. (He didn’t have any reason to distrust the Twi’lek, but he hadn’t survived this long by being careless.) He removed the panel at the back of the cabinet, revealing a hidden biometric safe box. The Zabrak pressed his hand to bio-scanner, then entered a code into the keypad. The safe popped open.

There were a number of trinkets located within, some appearing to be mundane while others would have caught the eye of any professional treasure hunter. Errul ignored the rest and took the one object he had sought. Then he closed the safe, putting the fake panel back in place.

Errul turned back to Rhi’khi, setting the item down on the table. It was a small metallic cube, with ornate engravings etched on all six sides.

“Don’t worry. It won’t hurt you. Promise.” He gave her a soft smile. “Go ahead and touch it.”

Rhi’khi tentatively reached out and lightly brushed the foreign object with her fingertips.

After about a second, the cube suddenly lit up with the engravings emanating a blue light. A small holoprojection then materialized above it, revealing a Cathar woman wearing long robes.

“I am Master Juhani of the Jedi Order.” The projection spoke in an accent that was provincial, but the voice was clear and nevertheless confident. “And these are my teachings.”

Rhi’khi cried out in alarm, withdrawing her hand from the cube. All on its own, the object went flying off the table and through the air, ricocheting off the ship’s bulkhead before coming to a rest on the floor. The Twi’lek, plainly rattled, pulled her knees up to her chest, staring down at it in fear.

Errul just chuckled nonchalantly.

“Sorry about that. I had to be sure, and this saved me a lot of time.” The smuggler reached down and picked up the cube, setting it back on the table. It was undamaged from Rhi’khi’s inadvertent outburst, which he took a relief in. Errul knew it was nearly three hundred years old. “Like I said, this won’t harm you.” He regarded her with a satisfied expression, having been proven right. “I figured as much about you, when I saw you talk that Gamorrean out of ‘enjoying’ the company of your Nautolan friend back at Donje’s club.”

“What… what was that?” Rhi’khi asked nervously, still staring at the cube.

“This? This is a Jedi Holocron.” Errul tapped it, nonchalantly. “I’ve been hanging onto it for a while, mostly for occasions like this.”

The Twi’lek swallowed, starting to regain her composure.

“I don’t understand.”

“Hmmm.” Errul regarded her, debating how to continue. “Have you ever heard of the Jedi?”

“I… yes.” Rhi’khi stammered. “My master… Donje, I mean… sometimes ranted about them. He called them ‘meddlesome Republic fools’. And he said that they fought the Sith.” She paused. “I think he was a little frightened of them.”

The Zabrak just nodded.

“Not without cause. Jedi and Hutts don’t really see eye to eye on much.” Errul sat down across from her, stretching his arms. “Jedi are… well, peace-keepers, you might say. When things are going alright for the Republic, they’re like diplomats. They go around resolving conflicts and helping to uphold the law. They’re pretty… noble, I guess. They’ve helped a lot of people when no one else could. Not as many as you’d hope, but a lot.” He chewed that over. “Of course, these days, they’ve been at war with the Sith Empire, even when they’ve had that sham of a peace treaty. So it’s been tough going these last few decades. They’ve got a lot of rules they have to follow, and they can be very pretentious. These days, they have to defend the citizens of the galaxy, uphold their own lofty principles and beat the Sith all at the same time. No one is going to succeed at that. But to their credit, they keep trying.”

“Having said that…” he continued. “I can honestly say that they do the best they can in a crazy galaxy.” Errul paused at a bygone memory, his voice taking a more conciliatory tone, then looked the Twi’lek directly in the eye.

“You’re Force-sensitive, kid.”

Rhi’khi just blinked.

“The… Force?” she asked in confusion.

“Yeah.” The old smuggler settled into his seat. “It’s like this… invisible energy field created by all living things. It binds the galaxy together, or so the Jedi say. And some special people – like the Jedi and the Sith – can manipulate it; it gives them power.”

“You have that power. You’ve been able to talk people out of doing things before, haven’t you? Maybe not Donje or other Hutts, but others, right?”

Rhi’khi nodded nervously.

“Right. Basically, Rhi’khi, it means you have the chance to become a Jedi.” He paused and looked up at the ceiling. “Or a Sith.” He added dourly. “If you like, I can introduce you to someone on Carrick Station, and, if you decide it’s what you want, they’ll test you to confirm what I just told you. The Jedi usually recruit kids young, but they’re less discerning these days. I don’t know if that’s good or bad, but I’m confident they’ll take you in and teach you how to become a Jedi.”

Errul paused here for effect.

“But I won’t do that if that’s not what you want.”

The Twi’lek stared down at the table.

“I don’t know what I want.” She whispered quietly.

The Zabrak nodded. No surprise, there. Rhi’khi had probably never been given the chance to think about what she wanted.

“Well, I think you’re in shock, kiddo. A lot of stuff is happening to you very quickly. I wish things were different, but here we are.” He gave her what he hoped was a comforting look. “Not everybody can quite get over the things life throws at them. And you’ve had way more thrown at you in the last few hours than a lot of people will experience in a lifetime.”

“But… if you can let go of it – what with growing up a slave, everything that’s happened to you, everything that was done to you – then maybe, just maybe, this is for you. And maybe, maybe, maybe someday you can help some other little girl from having to grow the way you did.”

The Zabrak considered what he had said. She deserved the truth. All of it.

“No promises, though.” He added firmly. “Even at their best, before the Empire came back, the Jedi couldn’t stop the Hutts from trading in slaves entirely. The best they could claim to accomplish was keeping the slugs in check. And like I’ve said, the Jedi aren’t at their strongest right now. It’s a dangerous life, what with the Empire hanging around.”

Rhi’khi seemed to chew that over for a long moment. Despite his reputation for being a fast-talker, Errul was actually quite comfortable with long silences, and gave her all the time she needed.

“What if I can’t do that?” she finally whispered.

He understood. Rhi’khi might seem meek and innocent at the moment, but Errul couldn’t imagine anyone going through her life without building up a sense of indignation, and scars on her soul that ran deep. If she were aware of that, then she was wiser than she let on.

“If the anger and resentment are too much, well, odds are you’ll become a slave again. Except not a slave to another Hutt, but a slave to your own anger. And to your past. I’ve seen it happen with others who’ve been through the kinds of things you have, even the ones who weren’t Force sensitive. They just… can’t be free of it. They can’t be free of what they’ve gone through. Even with otherwise good people, it eats away at them, over time, and it never ends well.”

The Zabrak looked away, not wanting the Twi’lek to see the look on his face just now. He was speaking from experience, but that experience wasn’t something he was ready to share.

“And then a lot of them wind up doing to others what was done to them.” Errul continued, speaking from experience. “They all have justifications, of course. Little lies they tell themselves. ‘Oh, the galaxy owes me this’ or ‘these people deserve what I’m doing to them because their ancestors killed my ancestors’. It’s all a load of druk.”

“People hurt other people because they can’t let go.”

Trusting himself now, Errul took a breath and turned back at Rhi’khi, giving her a hard look in the eye. She was still watching him closely.

“The ones who do that who are Force-sensitive? We call those Sith.”

The girl shivered again, wrapping her arms around herself.

His expression softened at the sight. He’d given her the ice bucket of water to the face. The least he could do was offer her a towel.

“But… if neither of those choices appeal to you, the guy who runs the cantina on Carrick Station owes me a favor. He’s a tough boss, and the pay isn’t that much, but he treats his waitresses right. He doesn’t put up with any flyboys like me messing with them, y’know? I could set you up. You could work for him for a while, just serving drinks and finding your feet, until you found something better.”

“As for this ‘Force’ business… well, maybe it will let you just live your life.“

“I promise I’m not going to make you choose anything. I’m just telling you what I can do to help you, since you look like you need it.”

Rhi’khi was looking up at him again. She probably didn’t completely understand everything he had said, but she seemed comforted by his words nonetheless. Maybe she liked having a third option, or maybe she just liked listening to his voice. That didn’t really matter right now.

“Well. I’ve just dropped a barrel of Hutt manure on you, kid. I’m sorry to do it like this, but I find it’s for the best in the long run.”

Errul polished off the last of his blue milk, then cleared the table. He put everything away in the washer, set the machine to run, then turned to her again.

“I don’t pretend to know what’s best for you. But I’ll give you as much time as I can to think all this over.”

He moved to stand, only for Rhi’khi to reach for his hand again.

“Captain, wait.” She suddenly interrupted.

Errul noted she didn’t need to stop and start again to remember to call him ‘Captain’ and not ‘Master’. He smiled at her progress and stopped, sitting back down.

“How… how do you know all of this?” she asked. “If you are just a ship captain, how do you know about the Force, and me, and… why do you have this?” she looked at the holocron again.

The Zabrak slowly grinned. She was a sharp one. Most people struggled to use their intelligence in tight spots; when you’re threatened and focused on simple survival, it was hard to think things through. He’d seen enough of that in the refugee camps growing up. But if you offer folks just a little security and comfort, a little breathing room, sometimes they could surprise you with what they could come up. Rhi’khi may have been under-educated and naïve, but he was suddenly confidant that whatever path she took, she’d figure things out, in time.

“Well, let’s just say that once upon a time, a Jedi helped me out of a jam.” He answered wistfully. “They took the time to tell me about a couple of things. As for why I have the holocron… well, it just sort of fell into my lap during a little misadventure on Dantooine this one time, years ago. It’s no good to me personally; I’m not Force-sensitive. But it’ll make a useful bargaining chip if I’m ever in a tight spot… or for confirming cases like yours.”

The Twi’lek took that in and released his hand, thinking.

A chime sounded throughout the ship, and Errul cocked his head.

“I’ve gotta get that. We’re ready to jump into hyperspace.”

With that, Errul stood up. Rhi’khi turned and stared down at the holocron, lost in thought. The Zabrak made for the door and then stopped, turning just enough to speak to her over his shoulder.

“Just remember: Whatever you choose, that’s your choice, and yours alone. That’s the hardest lesson of freedom. What’s happened to you up until now was someone else’s doing. What you do after this is yours.”

As Errul stepped out of the galley and prepared to head back to the cockpit, he hung back for a second out of view around the corner, watching the young Twi’lek mull over her future. He certainly didn’t envy her the choice before her, but he needed to make sure she was okay to be alone right now.

Slowly, tentatively, Rhi’kih reached for the holocron. As she touched it, the little holo-image – the ‘Gatekeeper’ – once again materialized.

“I am Master Juhani of the Jedi Order.” The Jedi started again. “And these are my teachings…”

Errul observed as Rhi’khi watched the projection, a look of fascination coming across her features. As she listened to the words of the long-dead Jedi, she seemed to Errul to become more relaxed, a small smile coming to her lips. A natural, organic smile – not the coy put-on she’d shown him earlier.

The Zabrak turned away. He didn’t pretend to know his own destiny any more than he knew Rhi’khi’s, but maybe both of them were about to take the next step on their respective paths.

Errul sighed again as he sat down in the chair of his cockpit, finally pulling the lever and triggering the jump into hyperspace. The stars outside the cockpit canopy shifted as the Horn made it’s jump, as the galaxy seemed to bend around the trusty old freighter. It was a welcome sight. No matter how many times he saw it, it always relaxed him.

This had already been too much philosophy for him in one day. He decided to blame it all on that Reactor Core he’d had at the cantina before he left Nar Shaddaa. That Rodian bartender was a good listener, but he always put too much spice liquor in his concoctions, and no doubt that was making Errul sentimental. It made him reflect back on what he’d thought to himself earlier.

If it wasn’t ‘this life’ that would be the death of him someday, then it would be sentimentality. He didn’t doubt it for one minute.

He thought back to Rhi’kih listening to that holocron in the galley.

“Yeah, barely breaking even.” He whispered with a smile. He shook his head. He wouldn’t have it any other way.

“Kriffing Nar Shaddaa.” He grumbled.

END

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

Author’s Notes: I’ve never written about Errul before, but he’s my oldest ‘active’ O.C., as I developed him way back when I was on Free-to-Play. I eventually abandoned his game play, as in my mind, I don’t see him as an ‘Outlander’ type figure. But I keep him around. I saw some talk on Tumblr complaining about the player’s tendency to make our O.C.s on the young side. Errul, in my head-canon anyway, is a smuggler on the wrong side of forty.

People do change. They learn and they grow and they don’t stop doing that the moment they turn into an ‘adult’. (Which is totally a made-up word anyway.) True, the changes aren’t always for the better, but they do come. How you feel about things twenty years from now may be very different than how you feel about things now. That doesn’t make your opinions any less valid; it just means that they don’t define who you are.

Juhani is here just because I like Easter Eggs.

The character of Rhi’khi is inspired by a Twi’lek slave in Nar Shaddaa who was planning to escape with a smuggler in a bit of ambient dialogue within the actual game.

I remember reading an article about people who defected from North Korea, and the immense challenges they faced adapting to the modern world. Even given assistance by South Korea and other countries, most of them have no practical job skills and an education that was incomplete to say the least. It was very sobering.

Oh – and spoilers – Rhi’khi ‘grows up’ to be the Barsen'thor of the Jedi Order in this iteration. The first lesson there is you never know what the person you help might go on to do. The second lesson is don’t worry if you feel you’re getting a late start on pursuing your life goals. Honestly, it is not a race. It never was.

Good luck, and may the Force be with you.

#swtor #swtor fanfiction #oc: errul marsh #oc: rhi'khi #zabrak #twi'lek #smuggler #jedi counselor #juhani #kotor callback

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buckysforeverprincess · 5 years

Text

First World Problems

Bucky Barnes x Reader, Steve Rogers

Words: 2061

Warnings: Language

A/N: This idea was taken from one of the panel’s where the person complained about standing in line waiting in heels. Who wears heels to a con, I don’t know. But thankfully they did, because it got the best response ever and I cranked out a fic!!! Enjoy!

Ugh! Why the hell won't she just shut the fuck up?! This was totally not how you wanted to spend your Saturday night, but once again, here you were; to say this was absolute torture was an understatement.

Steve and you were sitting at the table in your shared apartment, listening to Bucky's latest date ramble-complain really, about her “traumatic” day, and you were over it! Death could come for you anytime, you'd welcome it over sitting here for another painful moment listening to her high-pitched voice and the bitching that would never end.

It didn't help matters that you were in love with him and hated when he asked Steve and you to meet these women after he'd had a couple of dates with them. He was always looking for approval from his best friends, and he rarely ever got it. Maybe it was because you were in love with him and hated the fact that he didn't see you that way. Was it fair? No. Maybe one day he'd finally bring home a girl worthy of that approval. Today was not going to be that day!

“I mean-can you believe it?!” You rolled your eyes while looking down at your food. “She was taking so long! Like, what the hell? You work in service! You have to be faster than that!” She was so whiny, you had a hard time focusing on the plate of food in front of you.

“So why didn't you just leave? Go back another day?” You almost wished you hadn't asked that. It guaranteed she'd continue to talk.

“Because, I already waited two weeks to buy that dress, and I just had to have it! It really shouldn't have taken that long to ring people up! Like, my feet hurt so bad from standing and waiting for ten minutes, then it took her another five minutes to complete my transaction! Do you know what it's like to stand there that long in Jimmy Choo’s?! You just don't do that!” She looked appalled that you'd even asked that ridiculous question in the first place.

Yeah, this wasn't gonna work. Even Steve could see the fire burning inside you. He quickly dropped his fork and reached out to you, but it was too late. You were ready to explode and there wasn't anything anyone could do.

“Who the fuck goes shopping in Jimmy Choo’s anyway?!” You asked giving her your best resting bitch face.

“Obviously someone that cares about their appearance! I do have a little respect for myself and like to look good when I'm out. Clearly it works. I'm here with James!” She smirks at you like she's just one up’d you. This crazy girl has no idea who you are!

“Fuck you and your first world problems!” The laughter erupts from the table and both men are in hysterics.

“Excuse me?” She asks, sounding offended and hurt.

“Why is looking good a ‘first world problem’? Taking pride in oneself should never be an issue!”

“No, it's called vanity and it's really not a turn on.” You tell her as if it's a new eye-opening experience.

“What's your problem with me?” She's glaring at you, and you look to both Steve and Bucky wondering if they were going to stop this insanity. The two of them look blank, as if neither of them knows what to do or say, so if they are willing to play along and let this train wreck of an evening continue, you might as well give them they show stopper they're waiting for.

“My problem?! Well, let's see...you're so self-absorbed you can't see in front of you!” She inhales a deep breath, shocked that someone would say such things to her, but she says nothing in her defense. Good. You have no intention of taking it easy on her. Maybe it's time someone told her how the world really works and does not revolve around her desires.

“You bitched about the cashier. What the fuck was she supposed to do? Cater to your every need? Realistically, you walked out of that store with your Jimmy Choo’s on and an expensive ass dress; while that cashier was still there WORKING, taking care of asshole customers like you, making minimum wage and dreaming of wearing clothes you take for granted! So, pardon me if I give no fucks about you or your material wants and needs!”

There's a clap next to you and you turn and see Steve clapping at your speech. Of course, he would. You shake your head and turn your attention back to the woman across from you, and she still sits there in a state of shock. You must have stunned her into silence and thank the lord for that! Her lack of response is golden and you for real can't take any more of her tonight.

“Bucky…,” you look towards your other best friend with a halfhearted smile, “if you’re looking for my approval, don't. I can't, in good faith or in any religion, give it to you. I seriously don't get what you see in these women. So, from now on, if you're looking for my validation, just don't. It's not happening.” You tell him as you push your plate away from you and stand up to leave the table. You've had enough of this shit to last a lifetime.

“Aww, poor baby! Are you jealous?” You hear her high-pitched voice ask and it stops you dead where you stand. “I know you're single, James told me. You must be jealous he doesn't see you how he sees me!” The bitch is goading you and you know it, and the guys do as well. Both men give out a groan knowing what is about to come next, and neither one of them has the will or the balls to stop you.

“You think you know me?!” You say as you turn around, a smirk across your face. “Let me tell you about me. First, I'll admit I have a thing for Bucky, however, seeing the girls he constantly brings home...I think I'll pass. Every one of them is the same; self-centered, materialistic, look at me bitches, and if that's what he's attracted to, then I hope he eventually makes enough to support your lifestyle without going broke!” Steve laughs at you knowing your analysis of Bucky's dates is highly accurate. He's seen it too but can't convince Bucky he needed to re-evaluate his standards.

“And second, let me know how all your vanity works out for you when you come to the ER covered in blood and I'm part of the team that saves your life!” The bitch is glaring at you but chooses to say nothing. Smart girl!

“Let me tell you how much I don’t care about your expensive dress if you come into the ER. Zero-fucks-given! I may not ever be the picture of perfection or beauty, and that's ok. I work twelve-hour days, wear scrubs to work that most days get covered in bodily fluids-making showering mandatory! My hair is rarely done because it’s easier to keep it in a bun. I sweat, cry, run, have panic attacks; I see patients on their worst days and pray to God that I don’t have to tell the parents of the kid that was just brought in on a stretcher they’ll never be able to see their smiling face ever again! I put all of myself into each person that comes through the door, so excuse me if I give no fucks about your vanity or your Jimmy Choo’s or any of your first world problems!” You can feel the redness in your cheeks as you finish telling Bucky's date off.

None of the three-other people in the room made any movement or sound. If a pin were to drop, everyone would hear it. Your words had left them all speechless, trying to process the impact of what was said. When the silence was broken after several tense moments, it wasn’t the voice you had most expected...instead, the voice that broke the tension was the very man that had invited this woman in your shared apartment in the first place.

“You should go.” Bucky's tone was flat and void of any emotion.

“Are you serious?!” She questions him with raised eyebrows.

“Leave. Now!” He says with a little more force when she made no attempt to remove herself from the chair.

The second time was more effective, and she got up with a huff and stomped her way over to the door. “Hope you know I'll always remember this, James!” She yells back at him when she opens the door.

“I'm counting on it!” He smirks back at her, immediately watching her throw her middle finger up at him as she exits the apartment, slamming the door behind her.

You look over the two men left in the room, Steve sitting there still stunned, Bucky's head now lowered in the direction of his long-forgotten food. “Steve can you give us a moment?” Bucky says never looking up.

“Yeah, I-uh, I'm-I'll just go for a walk.” Steve stutters, getting up from the table and heading to the door. “Let me know if you need anything!” Looking back at you, walking out quieter than the woman who left just a few minutes prior.

“Why didn't you tell me?” The door has only just closed when the words come from his mouth.

“Would it have mattered?” You're still standing near the table, not moving from the spot you had planted yourself at earlier.

“I had no idea. I thought-I thought you didn't see me like that.” Bucky finally look up at you with a soft smile on his face. It's a smile not used often, but one you've seen him direct at you on more than one occasion.

“It doesn't matter…,” you fold your arms to your chest embracing for the impending rejection, “I've seen the girls you've brought back for my approval. I will never be your type.” You lower your eyes no longer able to look in his direction.

Bucky stands up and walks over to you, placing his hands on your upper arms. “Hey, look at me.” His voice is soft, and you slowly look up and into his blue eyes. Bucky pauses, taking in the sight of you looking at him and a loving grin appears on his face. “You've always been my type.” He whispers and moves in, placing his lips to yours in a kiss that should have happened so long ago.

It starts out slow, both of you testing the waters, but increases in intensity as time passes by. Your arms are no longer to your chest and have made their way to the back of his neck, caressing it softly. Neither one of you wants to stop, but you know you need to before things get even more heated than they already are; so, you pull back, breaking the kiss, both of you out of breath and panting for air.

“That was-”

“Long overdue.” Bucky interrupts, but his observation is spot on. “You don't know how long I've wanted to do that!” Bucky laughs and rests his forehead on yours.

“Seriously, Barnes?! Why the hell did you keep bringing those girls home?” You push him off you but are grinning ear to ear.

“Because you didn't show an interest-ouch!” You reached out and smacked his arm, not hard, but enough to cause a reaction.

“For fuck sakes, all those women I had to meet! Ugh! Un-fucking-real, asshole!” You were yelling, but it was more of an excited, happy yell. The revelation of Bucky having feelings for you was all you ever wanted. You had every right to be happy in this moment.

“So, what now?” You ask him, and he moves over and places his hands on your hips.

“Well I was hoping we'd start out with a date, followed by lots of kissing, a declaration of love, and a happily ever after?” Bucky placed his lips to you in another soft kiss. It's gentle and full of promise and you could get used to this every day.

“As long as you leave your first world problems at the door, I'm all in!”

Bucky laughs and nods in agreement. “From now on, you're my only first world problem.”

#bucky barnes #bucky #james barnes #james bucky barnes #james buchanan barnes #bucky barnes x reader #bucky x reader #james bucky barnes x reader #james buchanan barnes x reader #steve rogers #steven rogers #steven grant rogers #con panel inspired fic #marvel #marvel au #james barnes fanfiction #james barnes fic #bucky barnes fanfiction

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amethystina · 6 years

Note

Cougar/Jensen for 6 &22!

Alrighty then! Let’s see what I can come up with ;)

THE TROPES:6. Bookshop AU22. Space AU

Again, below the cut because I don’t want to swamp your dashes with my over-excited writing. Someone seriously needs to stop me.

Jake’s gig at the bookshop is pretty nice, all things considered, be it a career path he had never quite expected. He’s always been more fond of technology than books, but the money is surprisingly good and it’s not like he’s got anything better to do after deciding not to continue his career within the Army. He got the job as store manager at the small, obscure second-hand bookshop through a series of unlikely events involving kind, elderly neighbours, their children, and a fair share of luck.

Overall, Jake likes it. The books in the store are so old and weird that the only patrons are either obscenely rich collectors or obscenely eccentric enthusiasts.

Jake gets along better with the latter than the former, unsurprisingly, but that might just be because of his experience of growing up in a poor neighbourhood and the innate dislike he has for rich people.

Either way, he enjoys his job. He gets to spend most of his time playing games on his phone or reading through the insane amount of weird books in stock, which has taught him even more useless knowledge than his Googling. It’s a cushy job that allows him to spend the majority of his time as he likes, and most of his evenings with Jess and Beth. All in all, Jake is quite comfortable with his life.

That changes, however, when a stranger steps into the shop.

That in itself is pretty unusual since most of the patrons are regulars aside from the occasional hipster who wanders in looking for first editions of some book they love. And, to make matters worse, Jake can tell straight away that this is not a man he should take lightly.

Jake can’t put his finger on what it is about the man that unsettles him, but he seems off, somehow. Perhaps it’s the fact that his clothes have a weird cut, or maybe it’s the smooth, almost predatory way he moves. He’s clearly a fighter of some sort — Jake knows that walk from his years in the Army — which doesn’t calm him at all.

He tells himself it must be his imagination when the stranger’s eyes seem to flash gold for the briefest of seconds.

The man’s eyes are brown. A beautiful, dark, rich brown for sure, but brown, not gold.

To Jake’s infinite surprise, the man doesn’t seem to be there to rob the store. Instead, he smiles politely and asks for a book. It’s one they have — one of the old sci-fi novels about a prophecy and magic and lost princesses and whatnot. It is, admittedly, one of Jake’s favourites because of how utterly fantastic it is, and he’s very excited to find another person who is interested in it — be it someone who might also be a serial killer.

Jake fetches the book, talking all the while, but stop short when he notices the way the stranger is looking at him. There’s too much intensity in his dark gaze, as if he’s cataloging every inch of Jake with disturbing interest.

Jake is understandably uncomfortable and hands over the book, careful not to let their hands brush as he does so. The stranger looks down at the book, clearly amused, but says nothing more before he pays and leaves. Jake isn’t sure what that was about, but he knows for a fact that he doesn’t like it. He pushes it from his mind, however, writing it down as yet another weird customer and continues with his day.

Except, on his way home after closing up the shop, he sees the man again.

Jake is far too cautious not to notice someone following him and he is both unnerved and pissed at the man’s audacity. Before Jake has time to confront him, however, he is attacked by… well, Jake isn’t entirely sure.

They don’t look like anything he’s ever seen — black, insect-like things, except they’re the size of dogs and have far too many teeth for Jake’s liking. It’s like something out of a horror movie and the only thing that saves him from an early death are his reflexes, honed from years of training.

Well, that and the creepy stranger.

The man is suddenly there, cutting through the nightmare creatures with something that looks suspiciously like a lightsaber yet not at all, and Jake gives up on trying to follow the situation. He doesn’t even struggle when the man grabs his hand and drags him off down a narrow street, clearly intent on getting them away from whatever they’re now running from. As far as Jake’s concerned, he’ll take a creepy stranger over certain death.

It takes a while, but they eventually manage to shake the creatures. Before Jake has time to ask what the FUCK is going on and why THE HELL this stranger suddenly does have golden eyes after all — slitted like a cat’s and distractingly bright — the man mumbles a soft, “Sorry,” followed by a jolt of electricity that makes everything go black.

Jake wakes up in a foreign bed and has no idea where he is, but the man who apparently had the nerve to taze him is sitting calmly on a chair at the opposite side of the room, arms crossed over his chest and eyes keen. For a split second, Jake debates grabbing the weird-looking clock on the bedside table and throwing it at the man, but then his gaze happens to land on the window.

There are stars outside. Only stars. Just a wide expanse of stars, stretching out into what Jake knows is almost literal infinity.

“I have been kidnapped by aliens,” is what he blurts out, rather than the angry accusations he had intended.

The stranger tips his head as if to say “fair enough” but says nothing else. Jake has no idea what to do with that. He has no idea what to do with ANYTHING in his current surroundings. He’s in a room that is grey and bland and there’s soft humming of engines in the background and some kind of control panel on the wall and he is undeniably on a spaceship of some kind. And the man in front of him is some kind of alien because those eyes are not natural and Jake has to be dreaming.

Except he knows he’s not.

When he asks why he’s there — what the stranger wants from him — he’s told it’s for his protection. That makes no sense at all to Jake because he lives a dull, uneventful life since he left the Army and he certainly hasn’t done anything that warrants getting kidnapped by aliens.

When he keeps pushing, he gets an eye-roll for his troubles and the stranger reaches into his pocket and tosses something across the room. The book the stranger bought from the store lands in Jake’s lap and he looks down at it in confusion.

“It’s all real,” the stranger says, as if that’s enough of an explanation.

It isn’t.

When Jake points this out, the man sighs and tells him to read the book. Jake tells him that he already has — it’s one of his favourites. The man smiles at this, as if he finds that funny, but Jake doesn’t.

The book is about a rich, beautiful planet on the other side of the galaxy on which a civil war breaks out when the king is betrayed and assassinated. His five sons all battle for the throne, almost tearing their planet apart in the process, and they end up plotting and murdering each other as the story goes along. There are twists and turns and, eventually, the youngest brother is the only one who remains standing. But only after it has been revealed that he was the one who murdered their father, corrupted by the old, forbidden magic that runs through their planet.

Out of all the other children of the king, only the daughter survives. The princess flees from her planet in desperation and fear of her brother’s wrath, but the story ends with the prophecy of her return — how she will come back and take the throne from her brother and cleanse their planet of the foul magic once and for all.

Jake has always been disappointed that there’s wasn’t a sequel somewhere, where the princess does all the things the prophecy says that she will. Jake has looked far and wide, but there are no records of it anywhere and, since the book was written at the end of the last century, Jake knows the author isn’t likely to take requests, what with being dead and all.

“It’s all real,” the man repeats, nodding towards the book. “The lost princess. The prophecy.”

As much as Jake likes that thought, he’s still not pleased.

“And what does that have to do with me?” he asks.

Liking the story is hardly enough grounds to get kidnapped. He receives a flat look in return, followed by a shake of the man’s head.

“It is time,” he says, which isn’t foreboding at all. “For her return.”

Jake gets frustrated. “Again, what does that have to do with me?”

And then comes the words that completely rearranges Jake’s grasp on the world, himself, and the galaxy as a whole.

“Everything, Your Highness,” the man says. “Everything.”

I really need to stop here or else I’ll end up writing the whole thing and I don’t have time. But yeah! JAKE IS A SPACE PRINCESS! Because I say so.

So, like, the actual story would be about reclaiming the planet and falling in love with Cougar and all that lovely shit. Because I can’t think of short space AUs?

ANYWAY. I hope you enjoyed that ;)

#Amethystina Does Memes #Fanfiction Trope Mash-Up Meme #The Losers #Jake Jensen #Carlos 'Cougar' Alvarez #Anonymous

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jacobmybeloved · 6 years

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Little Lamb - Ch.1 {Farcry 5 fanfic/prequel/OC Deputy}

Before you begin reading please refer to this post:

It gives a brief description of the story and possible triggers.

The target was in her sights. Nayeli took a deep breath as she drew back on the string of her bow, her eyes gazing down the shaft of the arrow. It was midday, and the Montana sun was beating down heavily on her. A dip into the river sounded like a great plan once she took care of the “rodent” problem. Some turkey vultures had set up shop on the roof of her mother’s hunting supply shop, swooping in on would be customers if they got too close. Nayeli figured she was doing her mother a favor.

She released the nook and bowstring, allowing the arrow to soar to its rightful destination. The vultures caught wind of the impending danger, but one was not able to make it off the roof as quickly as their comrades. The arrow pierced easily through its body, slumping down the slope of the roof to the ground. “Yes!” Nayeli cheered. That should scare the others away for now until they could come up with a permanent solution to keep them away.

Archery was her favorite pastime, though her mother wished she had chosen something more “practical”. Nayeli turned her head as she heard tires rolling across the gravel towards the shop. A woman jumped out of the truck immediately, eyes wide, her mouth already running at a hundred miles an hour, hands gesturing in the air. “Nayeli Lamb, what you think you’re doing!” Even screaming, Nayeli thought her mother to be one of the most beautiful women she’s ever seen. Her Salish characteristics stood out amongst the rest of the residents in Hope County: her raven black hair was in a single braid today, whooshing left to right as she marched towards her daughter, her tawny skin complimented by the glow of the sun, brown eyes the color of milk chocolate. While Nayeli shared many of her mother’s physical characteristics, her eyes were hazel and her hair was more reflective of her father’s genes. Though still dark, in the sun, hints of brown showing through. Her skin was also a tad lighter, once again, attributed to having a Caucasian father. It was part of the reason they decided to move away from their original reservation: children could be cruel, and at times violent, especially against the young Nayeli who they lovingly nicknamed “moon-walker” – poking fun as her parentage. Once her mother was within arms reach, she yanked the bow from her hands, exasperated. “How many times have I told you not to use this without my supervision.”

Nayeli’s kept her head up as she stared at her mother head on, “I know, but I thought I would surprise you-you know?” she smiled sheepishly, gesturing to the dead vulture laying at the foot of the shop. Her mother sighed, rubbing her eyes with her index and thumb respectively. “Nayeli…I’m not worried about the vultures. I am worried about what someone would have done if they saw a child without their parent wielding THIS.” Her mother tossed the bow to the ground. “Your father is making this custody battle hard enough. I asked you to look after the shop for one hour. We cannot afford to lose it, Nayeli..” She could see her mother doing her best to remain calm, but she could see her eyes begin to squint, holding back the feeling of tears. “I cannot afford to lose my only child.”

The divorce had been finalized over a year ago. Things weren’t going well for her parents for a long time, but they stayed together for her sake. After the death of her brother, it seemed like the last straw. Nayeli’s father had been adamant about getting her to move out to California with him after the divorce. Better schools, more opportunities, financial security. Sounded like a bore, to be honest. She enjoyed running the hunting supply store with her mother, though it did mean she often missed school. Her mother worked graveyard as a waitress, but this store was their main source of income. The guilt of adding more stress to her mother’s load was beginning to sink in. “I’m sorry mom. It won’t happen again.” Nayeli removed the quiver from her back, handing it to her mother. Her mother sighed and set the quiver down, bringing Nayeli into an embrace.

“It’s okay. Just…please be more mindful of what you’re doing.” Her mother ran her hands through her hair as she placed a kiss on Nayeli’s forehead. As her mother pulled away, Nayeli could see another vehicle pulling up to the storefront. The word SHERIFF was embedded into the side of the vehicle, which would have normally struck some sort of discomfort into others, but Nayeli could not help but smile. An older man stepped out from the vehicle: he had a bit of a gut, and he hid his receding hairline with his sheriff’s hat, but Sheriff Whitehorse had a kind face, and this was just a routine stop for him. He removed his hat as he approached, Nayeli’s mother turning to him with a smile. Everyone in the county knew Whitehorse had the most severe case of puppy love when it came to Nayeli’s mother from the moment they met so many years prior. He would often stop by the shop under the guise of the interest in buying a new handgun, but Nayeli knew he stopped by mostly just to see her mother. “Sokanon. Nayeli. How are my two favorite ladies doing?” Whitehorse gazed curiously at the bow and quiver laying on the ground and then to the corpse of the turkey vulture some yards away. “We’re well Earl. Just..having some mother-daughter bonding.”

“If you want to call it that.” Nayeli snickered. Sokanon glared, but in a playful way at her daughter. “Go inside the house and wash up. I’ll close up the shop and we can order some pizza for dinner.” Nayeli smiled, “Extra cheese?” Her mother laughed and held her close to her before letting go. “Extra cheese. Just for you.” Nayeli gleamed. Even in their worst moments, Nayeli and her mother usually made up within minutes. Before going into the house, Nayeli turned to the Sherriff. “Would you like to join, Sherriff?” Whitehorse was always kind to her family, even if her father was not very receptive to him. He probably could see the feelings he had for his wife radiating off his aura after all. If they ever had issues with anything, Whitehorse was usually the first to offer his full-fledged support. If he and her mother ever got together, Nayeli would not object, though she was not sure if the feelings were reciprocated anywhere close on her mother’s part.

Sokanon gave Nayeli a raised brow at the request before turning to the Sherriff. “I don’t mind. There’s always room at our table for you, Earl.” The Sheriff’s face, though already red just from sun exposure on the job, turned an even deeper shade. He cleared his throat before speaking. “I would be honored but I don’t want to intrude.”Sokanon walked towards the Sherriff, placing a hand on his shoulder. Nayeli could see his grip on his hat grow tighter. “It would be our honor to have you for dinner Sherriff, I insist.”Nayeli wasn’t sure if she should walk away at this point because number one, seeing men pining after your mother was always awkward in the first place, but now she was beginning to think that there may be mutual feelings. Not that she would mind if they did end up started dating. Her mother deserved to have something nice. Someone nice.

Whitehorse glanced at Nayeli as if looking for some sort of approval or gesture of what to say. Nayeli raised both thumbs, nodding. Earl cleared his throat once more smiling. “My shift is over in forty minutes. I’ll clean up and be right over.” For the most part, Sokanon’s back was turned towards Nayeli as she spoke to Whitehorse, but she could see her smile from where she stood. It was the most genuine smile she had seen in a long while.

---------------------------------------------------

Nayeli and her mother resided in the residential suite above the shop. It was a tight fit but Nayeli did not mind. Despite the living room having more room obviously to sit upstairs, her mother and the Sherriff took residence downstairs in the shop in the seating area designated or husbands or wives who were dragged along to look at weaponry. She could hear her mother’s laughter through the floorboards. Dinner had been over for over two hours now, but Sokanon and the Sheriff retreated downstairs to have some privacy to “chat”. Thank the Lord because if anything more were to happen, Nayeli would like to be exempt from hearing it. Nayeli’s room was simple: wooden paneled walls, pictures of her favorite bands, hunting magazines spread across her floor, mattress on the floor, and a desk with textbooks slowly accumulating dust. Nayeli was sitting cross-legged on her bed, shuffling through her CDs deciding what to play next on her portable cd player. Most of her music variety came from the 40’s to early 50’s. She had some contemporary music, but she found the oldies to be preferable. She continued debating on what to listen to when she heard a light tap at her window.

At first, she thought she was just hearing things but it was followed by another tap. Nayeli groaned as she dragged herself from her bed. She looked out and saw the figure of a boy standing down below, smiling and waving up at her. Nayeli smiled when she realized just who it was. She slid the window up and stuck her head out. “Staci Pratt, what are you doing here?” She did her best to keep her voice down. Despite her mother seemingly having the best of times downstairs, she did not want to risk the chance of her hearing her and Pratt talking. “I was in the neighborhood. Thought I’d just say hi.” Pratt grinned. “You’re a terrible liar, Pratt.” Nayeli giggled. “You’re right. So are you going to let me up or what.” Nayeli took one of the pebbles that landed on the edge of the roofing and threw it down back at him, nearly missing him. “Are you nuts, my mom will kill me if she knew you were here.”

“Even better. The higher the risk, the better the reward,” he teased. Nayeli groaned. “You are the most ridiculous boy I’ve ever met. Don’t you have finals to prep for or something?”

Nayeli was only a few months older than Pratt, but because she missed so much school to begin with helping her mother run the shop, she had been held a couple times. He would be graduating within the next two months while she would barely be finishing her junior year. Guess getting her GED was always an option.

“You are…not wrong,” he beamed. “I wanted to ask actually…some of the guys are throwing a bonfire after graduation at the end of the semester to celebrate. Would you be interested in going? I mean, with me?” Nayeli rested her arms on the window seal, enjoying every moment of Pratt becoming flustered. Pratt was one of the few boys her age she actually found attractive, not that there was a large variety here in Holland Valley. He was a decent student, but at the same time had a bad boy vibe, but he seemed like he’d be too much of a huge flirt for anything serious. He was though probably the closest person she had to a best friend.

“Depends. Who’s all going?”

“Well, us obviously. Mary May possibly. Some of the oldies: Nick Rye, his girlfriend Kim. You know, most of the graduating class should be there. Boshaw said he would bring the fireworks and alcohol. We’re shooting for just outside of the reservation, so the cops don’t catch on and shut it down. Everyone knows the reservation’s security is lackluster anyway.”

Nayeli stood up, “Hold on, rewind. Boshaw? That Sharky guy? Isn’t he a bit old to hang out with a bunch of high school graduates? Plus, hasn’t he been arrested like a million times for arson?”

Pratt laughed and shook off her concern. “I mean, it was all in good fun. Sharky is a cool guy, you just gotta get past his weird humor.” Nayeli was all for a fun time, but this was sounding a bit risky especially adding fire, alcohol, and teenagers into the mix. “I don’t know Pratt…my mom has been on my ass lately, especially with…with everything going on between her and my dad.” Pratt looked disappointed, but he knew better than to push the matter further. “It’s cool. Maybe you and I can hang out another time. Maybe your mom’s place for a milkshake? After graduation? Start off the summer on a good note.”

Nayeli smiled, and that seemed to trigger one for Pratt as well. “Yeah, I like that plan.” Pratt nodded and looked around sheepishly. “Well, you have a good night Nayeli.”

“You too Pratt,” she spoke as she slid her window back down. She sat back on her bed, sort of staring off into space. Maybe, just maybe, if she was out front about it and asked, her mother would let her attend the bonfire. She knew she would have to leave out some minor details, such as possible underage drinking taking place, and resident arson Sharky Boshaw being present. There was no harm in asking though, and she had the end of the month to work up the courage. For now, she did not want to work up her mother any more than she was already though that did not seem to be a problem at the present moment. Nayeli could still hear her mother’s laughter from downstairs. The sound brought a smile to her own face as she laid her head down to sleep.

------------------------------------

*Month and a half till the Bonfire*

“Nayeli. Nayeli!”

Nayeli groaned as she raised her head from her pillow. The blurry figure of her mother stood over her as she tried to focus her vision on the alarm clock beside her mattress. The ominous red numbers read 3:08am. On what planet was this an acceptable time to be awake on a Saturday morning.

“Nayeli, I have to go to the diner. One of the girls called in. Do you think you can open up and keep an eye on the shop until I get home?” Her mother was still in the process of getting ready it looked like. She just finished tying her white apron around her waist and was now securing her flowing hair into a messy bun secured at the top of her head. “Yes mom, I believe I can manage,” she mumbled as she stuffed her face back into her pillow.

“Thank you, sweetie.” Sokanon kissed Nayeli on the back of her head. Nayeli turned her head just in time to hear her mom mumble to herself before shutting the door to Nayeli’s bedroom. “Things will get better. I promise.” Whether it was directed to herself or Nayeli was up for debate.

Nayeli laid in silence for a few moments. Now was not the time for an existential crisis. But her mom’s words were like a gong going off in her head. She knew her mother must have felt some guilt for keeping her from completing high school like a normal teenager, but they were not a normal family. While her father was off in California in his bungalow or whatever, she and her mother were here struggling to stay afloat. It had been easier when her brother was…was still here. Not by much but his mere presence made things seem better. He had worked as a local car mechanic, and the boy could light up the room with his smile. Best mechanic in Hope County people would say. Bright future he had ahead of him. He would have graduated last year. Gone at the hands of a drunk driver. It was no wonder her mother seemed so high strung lately. This was a stressful time, to begin with, and now with her father breathing down their necks with wanting Nayeli to move to California to live with him instead.

Things will get better. I promise.

I know mom, she thought to herself.

Falling back asleep became more of a hassle than it was worth following her reflective episode. Nayeli sat up in bed and looked at her alarm clock. 4:43am. Might as well get this day started. Nayeli spent the next couple hours before opening the store tidying upstairs; one less thing for her mother to worry about when she came home. Not that there was much to clean, to begin with. They did not have much in terms of material items. The most extravagant item Nayeli owned, to be honest, was her portable cd player. Every ounce of the coin they had gone into this shop and keeping it open. It was a worthwhile investment when Sokanon and Nayeli’s father first married. Despite being in the middle of the wild, open country, Hope County did not really have a lot of places to buy hunting supplies. Sokanon would speak to Nayeli of how her people descended from skilled hunters which first inspired her to take up archery. Nayeli’s father cared less about the passing down of tradition and more of making a profit to keep the family afloat. Nayeli did not know all the details, just because she had no real interest but apparently, state-government interference with hunting laws kept people from being able to hunt, which dragged the business down to the current slump they were in. Money became an issue which sparked arguments, arguments sparked into pure disdain for each other, and that disdain was amplified with her brother’s death, thus ending in her parent’s divorce.

Nayeli did not hate her father for leaving. She simply just did not really care for him. Last time they spoke a few months ago, he had already started up a new business and was raking in the money, thus, why he wanted her to live with him instead of Sokanon. Nayeli could never get her mother to admit it but she knew her mother sacrificed a lot for her family: moving away from the reservation in the first place for the sake of Nayeli, the fact that she was subjugated to hate from her own tribe for marrying a “white devil”. All Sokanon had was Nayeli, and if cleaning up the house and keeping the shop operating helped her mother, then goddamn she was going to do it.

Apparently, cleaning had taken longer than expected because the next time she looked at a clock, it was 8:04am. Already four minutes past opening time. Shit. Nayeli did not even have time to fully get dressed. She threw on the basics: bra, tank top, and yoga pants and pulled her long-ass hair into a low-ponytail before sprinting downstairs. She had barely flipped the CLOSED sign to OPEN and unlocked the door when already she spotted a trio of older guys walking up. She recognized them immediately. These were the boys from the reservation who had given her the kind nicknamed “Moon-walker” when she was little. What the fuck are they doing here? She’s had her run-ins with them before, but it’s been a couple years since she last saw them.

Nayeli stepped back from the door as they entered. Mischief was written over their face. The leader of the group grinned as he took her image in. “Well, someone aged well didn’t she.”

Nayeli felt disgusted by his comment before getting straight to the point “What do you guys want.”

“There’s been a rumor going around that the locals are planning a bonfire at the end of the month. Problem is, they’re planning to have it on the edge of the reservation.”

Nayeli could see where this was going. “-and the reservation is dry.” AKA, alcohol was forbidden. “Precisely.” He replied.

Nayeli shook her head. “And? What does this have to do with me?”

“Well, you see moon-walker, we know reservation security is too lazy to actually uphold our values, so we are taking matters into our own hands. We figured you could pass the warning along.” At this point, the other two guys were browsing the variety of knives and guns enclosed away in the glass cases. Nayeli scoffed, “You’re joking. You’re going to shoot up the bonfire because they have alcohol?” The guy wasted no time getting into her face. He had at least a foot over her. “They’re on reservation land. Technically, we’re free to do whatever we want to them. And if they’re going to go into our territory, and disrespect our rules, then we’re going to react accordingly. So, you’re going to sell me something, so that I can act “accordingly.”” He chest bumped her at this point, which she was not expecting so she stumbled back, ending up with her back to one of the other fellows.

“I’m not selling shit to you assholes. Get out of my store. Now.”

“Oh, so it’s your store now. Thought your white-devil loving mother owned it- “

Nayeli wasn’t sure what she was thinking but by the time the palm of her hand slapped the ever-loving hell out of the main guy, she immediately felt some form of stupidity as the two other guys grabbed her by her arms, holding her in place.“You fucking bitch-“the one who just got bitch slapped looked like he was revving up to knock the life out of her when the bell to the front door rang, indicating a customer entering. It was a low, stoic voice. Almost like a growl. “Is there a problem here?” Everyone’s attention turned to the gentleman standing in the doorway. Nayeli’s eyes widened.The man was at least six feet tall, if not taller, built sturdy, reddish hair, dressed in what looked like army fatigues with J.SEED labeled on his right side. What was most noticeable were what looked like scars, or…some kind of rash on his arms and hands.

The two boys with their hands on Nayeli let go and stood beside their designated goon leader. He made a gesture to speak but the stranger raised his hand slightly, making a “nuh uh” gesture. “I suggest that whatever cogs are turning in that head of yours should probably decide that marching your ass out that door right now is going to be the wisest thing you do today.” It took less than actual seconds before the three idiots were out of the store. Nayeli’s hands reached up to the hand imprints left on her arms as she stared at the stranger, who was now casually browsing the store. “Sir…” He must’ve not heard her because he continued to browse. His eyes seemed calculated, focused. “Sir..?” Nayeli didn’t know why but when he turned to her she jumped back slightly. His gaze was intense, his eyes a shade of piercing blue she had never seen before. His face was covered in the same rash and scars that decorated his arms. She swallowed nervously, “I-thank you for your help.” The stranger said nothing but kept his gaze on her. This was incredibly awkward. After what seemed like a whole minute of staring, he spoke.

“Knife.”

“What?”

“How much for the knife.” He pointed to one in particular inside one of the cases.

“Oh. Give me one second.” Nayeli made her way around the counter and opened the case. Lifting the knife, she told him the price. It was just shy of the quadruple digits. A hard sell for sure. She placed it on the counter for the gentlemen to examine. As he reached for it, she could not help but notice his scars more in detail. What sort of hell had this man been through? His hands alone were large enough to snap her in half if he wanted to. His examination of the knife was followed by more awkward silence. What he did next made her gasp: he drew the blade across the palm of his hand, not too hard, but enough that it sliced through it like a knife through warm butter. For some reason, this brought what sounded like a sound of satisfaction from him. “Hmph.”

Nayeli was not sure what to do at this point, nor was she sure how to react when he pulled out two-thick rolls of cash from his pocket and set them on the counter. Nayeli knew that was way too much. “It will take me a moment to get you change sir, I have not opened the safe yet today.” The man glanced at her as he placed the knife into a holster that seemed like it was always meant to hold that knife. Like it was fate. “Keep the change…miss…?” Was he asking her name? She figured she could give him that much considering he saved her from a possible black eye, or worse. And his generous over-payment. “Nayeli. My name is Nayeli Lamb.”

“Nayeli Lamb.” He spoke, pronouncing each syllable individually. “Jacob Seed. My brothers and I are rather new here…any interesting points of interest, little lamb?”

#farcry 5 #farcry 5 fic #joseph seed #john seed #jacob seed #faith seed #oc deputy #nayeli lamb #farcry 5 prequel #little lamb #fan fiction

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aion-rsa · 3 years

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Doctor Who Holiday Gift Guide: A Holiday in Who-ville

https://ift.tt/eA8V8J

The Doctor is in, and it’s about time. Although, it should be noted that the Doctor is also in a maximum-security prison, and time is running short for Earth with the return of the Daleks. Thankfully the Thirteenth Doctor, played by Jodie Whittaker, has her Companions, as well as the newly returned Captain Jack Harkness, on hero duty on our little planet.

That is all happening on New Year’s Day in the Doctor Who holiday special, “Revolution of the Daleks.” Debuting on BBC-America at 8 p.m. ET, the January 1 episode picks up from the action following the twelfth season of the revived 56-year-old series, which aired this year from January to March.

Just to recap, that canon-shaking season brought The Master back, regenerated once more as a male human; traveled to Gallifrey, reduced to ruins (again); introduced Time Lord Cybermen, aka CyberMasters. The season ended with the whopper that the Doctor is the Timeless Child from another realm – with a lot more regenerations than previously confirmed — and that she is a being from whence all Time Lords emerged, thanks to DNA splicing. And all that happened before the cliffhanger of the Doctor being imprisoned for life by those intergalactic rent-a-cops the Judoon.

So yeah, a lot happened, and that doesn’t even cover the epic decade in the making surprise return of John Barrowman as Captain Jack Harkness, who is back again for the holiday special.

With so much happening in the world of Doctor Who, it seems like a great time for a themed holiday gift guide, a season in Who-ville, if you will. The items that follow are perfect goodies to wrap up, and stuff in a TARDIS-sized gift bag (bigger on the inside, of course) for all the Whovians in your life. And if you shop for something for yourself, that’s ok; just say you got it for one of your other regenerations.

David Tennant Does A Podcast With … Jodie Whittaker (Free)

You don’t need to spend money to let the Whovian in your life know you’re thinking of them this holiday season. And trust me, if they don’t already know about David Tennant’s podcast, they’ll be thanking you. Tennant, aka the Tenth Doctor, is a delightful human being, and a genuinely engaging conversationalist. And in his podcast – which just wrapped a second season – he converses with famous friends, costars, and newsmakers, such as Neil Gaiman, Ian McKellen, Billie Piper, and Stacey Abrams. His episode with Jodie Whittaker in February 2019, following her first full season as the Doctor, is a special treat. The two discuss getting to know one another on Broadchurch, but also discuss the unique role on Doctor Who – and what it was like for her to be the first woman to step into the part.

Listen to the podcast episode here.

Thirteenth Doctor Mug ($8.95)

Blue shirt, rainbow stripes, and suspenders. If the Whovian in your life is like me, occasionally you want your fandom served up simple along with a cup of coffee. This orb-like mug captures the essence of the Thirteenth Doctor’s outfit with a few basic elements immediately recognizable to other fans. And it looks like it holds a lot of coffee, which is a perk.

Buy the Thirteenth Doctor Mug on Amazon.

Big Finish Audio Plays ($9+)

“I don’t want to go.” These last words of the Tenth Doctor are relatable for most Who fans when they see a character depart from the show, but thankfully there is Big Finish Productions. For more than 20 years, the company has produced Doctor Who audio plays starring cast from the show, including six of the nine living actors to have played the Doctor (with Christopher Eccleston set to reprise his role as the Ninth Doctor in stories to be released in 2021). In addition getting more adventures from favorite characters, Big Finish also has characters collide who never met on screen — such as Missy and River Song, played again by Michelle Gomez and Alex Kingston, in The Diary of River Song. And while Captain Jack Harkness may only be returning to Doctor Who for the holiday special, John Barrowman voices the character in more than two dozen Big Finish dramas.

Listen to the audio plays here.

Doctor Who Face Mask ($12)

Bowties, fezzes, Stetsons; the Eleventh Doctor (Matt Smith) was especially known for his pursuit of the cool fashion – and a lot of hats — and 13 seems to be keeping the pattern going (see the tuxedo and ear cuff listings below). But if it’s one thing that’s cool in 2020, it’s face coverings, and it would not at all be a surprise for the Doctor to exclaim, “I wear a mask now. Masks are cool.” So this item from Liesl Schulz of Sewn by Liesl on Etsy is a timely entry for the Whovian on your gift list. They can also feel like a Time Lord out to protect humanity and can do so with the most minimal of effort by sporting a TARDIS-blue mask emblazoned with 12’s quote.

Buy the Doctor Who Face Mask here.

Thirteenth Doctor Action Figure with Red Top ($13)

I remember the moment we were all treated to the first look of Jodie Whittaker as the doctor in her cool coat, and that blue shirt with rainbow stripes. But by the third episode of Season 11, “Rosa,” the Doctor had switched things up with a red shirt. Even though this wardrobe change is a bold choice — considering red shirts are just bad luck in other sci-fi universes – I’m more partial to Jodie’s crimson shade. As such, this 5.5-inch Doctor action figure with bum bag and sonic screwdriver is a cool collectible for Whovian fans who like a different color on 13. (Although you can get the figure in blue as well, and a TARDIS playset she can fit in.)

Buy the Thirteenth Doctor action figure on Amazon.

Doctor Who Psychology: A Madman with a Box ($15)

What makes an ancient time-and-space traveler tick? How does an immortal deal with death? And why did he once say she “got on very well” with Freud? This book edited by Travis Langley, Ph.D., the fifth in the psychology professor’s “Popular Culture Psychology” series, explores the minds of the Doctor, her Companions, and villains. And while you may not think the Whovian in your life has a lot in common with a Time Lord, Madman delves into what Doctor Who says about human nature, and humanity. Full disclosure: I am a contributor to the book, which contains my interviews with Matt Smith, and David Tennant.

Buy Doctor Who Psychology on Amazon.

Thirteenth Doctor TARDIS Distressed Rainbow T-Shirt ($16+)

Combine the Thirteenth Doctor’s TARDIS, her signature rainbow (which doubles as a symbol for pride and acceptance), with a distressed design, and you have this happy, colorful shirt from Hot Topic. It feels like a retro design out of the 1970s (back when some older Whovians were watching the show on PBS) but celebrates the new Who. Just looking at it puts me in a better mood.

Buy the TARDIS Distressed Rainbow T-Shirt here.

Doctor Who 13th Doctor 3 Piece Gift Set – Journal, Mug & Superbitz Plush ($16.99)

This officially licensed trio of goodies packs a lot of holiday cheer for less than $20. The Thirteenth Doctor Superbitz plushy collectible is incredibly cute, while the 16-page lined journal features a rainbow striped hard cover with the phrase “The Future Is Not Written.” Meanwhile the “13 Is My Lucky Number” sporting a golden TARDIS graphic rounds out this happy little set.

Buy the 13th Doctor 3-Piece Gift Set on Amazon.

Doctor Who Friends and Foes of the 13th Doctor Set B ($25)

Nearly as soon as the Doctor regenerated into 13, she began gathering a family of four with Bradley Walsh’s Graham, Tosin Cole’s Ryan, and Mandip Gill’s Yaz. Yet, in a November interview with the BBC, Jodie Whittaker revealed “the fam as a four is no more,” and that Walsh and Cole would be leaving Doctor Who after the holiday special. But just because Graham and Ryan’s adventure on the show is coming to an end doesn’t mean their characters have to leave the world of your Doctor Who fan. Instead, if you picked up the Doctor 5.5-inch action figure above, you might as well couple it with this “Friends and Foes” set with all three of 13’s original companions.

Buy the Friends and Foes of the 13th Doctor Set B on Amazon.

Ian Leino Doctor Whoville T-shirt ($25)

Artist Ian Leino’s Doctor Whoville tee has been an evolving work for several years now. His Seussian design of all the regenerations of our favorite Time Lord gathered around a holiday TARDIS initially ended with Matt Smith’s Eleventh Doctor. But over time, he has included John Hurt’s War Doctor, Peter Capaldi’s Twelfth Doctor, and now Jodie Whittaker joins the Whos for a snowy celebration. Full disclosure: Ian has become a friend because I love this nerdy mash-up design so much, printed on a high-quality Bella + Canvas shirt. The design is likewise available on a hoodie, and holiday greeting cards.

Buy the Doctor Whoville T-Shirt here.

Hero Within TARDIS Woven Shirt ($45)

Across the globe, the TARDIS is more recognizable as the Doctor’s ultimate companion more than the police call box it’s disguised as. It is iconic and serves as a great inspiration for creative fans. Enter Hero Within, the apparel company that has been killing it with officially licensed, and well-made, nerdy fashion. Currently celebrating its new Doctor Who license, Hero Within has recently unveiled this woven TARDIS button-up shirt that calls to mind a work shirt while unmistakably inspired by the best ship in the universe.

Buy the Hero Within TARDIS Shirt here.

John Barrowman Cameo ($125)

There are few entertainment spectacles quite like a John Barrowman panel at a comic con. The man is a showman, and truly one of the funniest people to encounter at an event. Unfortunately comic cons are on hold at the moment, and the Doctor Who fan in your life might be craving the con experience — and jonesing for John. Thankfully, Barrowman is on Cameo, where he delivers pep talks, sends well wishes, and even sings a tune. And a custom message from Captain Jack Harkness himself is a great way to prepare for the New Year’s Day Special.

Subscribe to John Barrowman on Cameo.

Doctor Who Galaxy Single Ear Cuff ($150)

Jodie Whittaker is not only the first woman to play the Doctor, she is also the first to wear an earring. And what a great earring she debuted with! Designed by Alex Monroe, and available for purchase, the Galaxy Single Ear Cuff is a sterling silver piece that begins on top with a cluster of shooting stars, connected to a 22ct gold plated hand grasping another in harmony. The elegant design conveys much about the Doctor’s philosophy, but this jewelry is striking even absent any knowledge of the show. Monroe likewise created a Doctor Who Companion single stud earring of clasping hands, and a Galaxy necklace to complement the other pieces.

Buy the Doctor Who Galaxy Single Ear Cuff here.

The Thirteenth Doctor’s Tuxedo ($247+)

When Doctor Who returned for its twelfth season earlier this year, the Doctor sported a tuxedo that evoked the wardrobe of her previous generations, and basically had fandom freaking out with excitement. The outfit was likewise a nod to James Bond for the “Spyfall” espionage episodes. Well, Tamsin Hartnell of the “The Ultimate Guide to the Fashion of Doctor Who” has done an impressive job assembling the items for the Doctor’s tux for those who might want to recreate it. The Doctor’s double-breasted opera coat by Paul Smith runs for about $1450 alone (if you can find it). However, Tamsin helpfully suggests alternatives to creating an everyday cosplay of the outfit starting around $160, with the official black and gold bowtie by Blue Eyes Bowtie costing about $87. This will take some work to put the look together, but it’s time well spent. Also, take a look around the Ultimate Guide blog as it is chockful of interesting Doctor Who fashion info.

Assemble the Thirteenth Doctor’s look with this guide.

GeekOrthodoxArt TARDIS Stained Glass ($750)

For a thousand years the art medium of stained glass has been used to honor iconic figures and commemorate grand moments of historic and religious significance. And in the 21st Century, pop culture institutions can hold near religious importance, and are worthy of representation in this art form. So why not take your giftee’s Doctor Who fandom to the next level? This custom-made TARDIS stained glass artwork uses the medium’s traditional copper foil method and is composed from over 75 pieces of hand-cut glass. Crafted by GeekOrthodoxArt, the piece measures 12″ x 24″. The stained-glass design is likewise available as a $20 high-resolution professional grade vinyl window cling. (Also, if you want to make this gift even cooler for your Who fan, you can let them know that John Barrowman loved it so much, he bought one at the Pensacon event in 2018.)

Buy the TARDIS Stained Glass here.

TARDIS ($5800+)

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Much to this writer’s dismay, there is no pre-owned time machine lot to buy a working TARDIS for the Whovian on your gift list. But you can get pretty close. Iconic Studio Creations can build a custom, officially licensed, full-size TARDIS replica (well, technically, it’s a replica of the TARDIS in the guise of a police call box, thanks to the craft’s chameleon circuit). While not bigger on the inside, this is as close to the real deal as you can get, and ISC has worked with the BBC in building these babies. Sure, it’s a little expensive, but you can’t put a price tag on love – or time traveling ships. Iconic also creates replicas of Daleks, and a remote-controlled K-9, who would fit nicely in a new TARDIS. And if you prefer your time machine to have more practical applications, you can always get a DeLorean for your giftee.

Visit Iconic Studio Creations here.

The post Doctor Who Holiday Gift Guide: A Holiday in Who-ville appeared first on Den of Geek.

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#aion-rsa #Den of Geek

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alwaysaprille · 7 years

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APRIL’S UNITY DAYS WRITE UP

Day 2 (January 14th) Part 2:

After lunch with #Bactus:

it was time to go handle other business. We split up here, with some of going to the Costume Panel and others going for autographs, unfortunately the costume panel with Wendy Biscuit was cancelled with no notice and the autograph lines were horrendous so we wound up just charging our phones and chatting for a bit until the Delinquent Panel, which featured Eliza, Bob, Chris, Richard, Jarod, Chelsey and Katie (Lindsey was supposed to be on the panel, but she was still not at the even yet).

I was actually a bit late to the Delinquent Panel because I had my Bob photo op pictured here:

He’s a genuine sweetheart guys. Like, he remembered my name from the quick meeting we had at the panel in the morning, said he liked my hair, and asked if I’d eaten (he smells like mint-he was eating one-and super clean laundry, btw), before saying he had. When he asked how I wanted us to pose, I just asked for a hug and he said “Of course!!” He gave me a real hug first and then we did the side hug for the photo.

Then I joined the other gals in waiting for another Bob photo op, because Jen had two. After Gina, Sam and Jen took their individual ops, we all ran back for a group, which made Bob really smile, he was super surprised:

We finally made it to the Delinquent Panel and here’s the relevant info I gathered from there:

Everyone got their Custom Funko Pops, they were all super pleased (Sachin cat called from the audience because he didn’t get one).

They talked about their character’s ages, with Bob pointing out Bellamy isn’t really a Delinquent, Bob said Bellamy is about 24) so he must have had a birthday on the ground, same as Clarke.

This is Harper’s biggest Season thus far (which makes sense because she’s finally a series regular).

Clark says that the Jonty high five in the trailer is a good indicator of the promise for Jonty this Season.

Bob said Bellamy thinks Octavia is responsible for Monroe’s death (which I agree with.)

When asked why they sided with Pike, Monty said it was for his mother (which I’ve always thought, so good to have that confirmed!). Jarod (who was anti-Pike) said it was because Pike was a Brother (another black man) and that the others wouldn’t understand.) Someone reminded him he was anti-Pike, it was funny.

Jarod said he gets nervous working with Bob because he respects his ability as an actor so much.

Murphy had a lot of respect for Pike by the end of the Season, Richard loves Murphy’s relentlessness.

Clarke’s emotional side comes from Jake, while Abby is where she gets her diplomatic/political stuff from.

They all joked about being chipped or “chip-faced”.

Eliza said Monty is her all time favorite character on the show.

When asked which other show they’d like to be on: Eliza said Broad City, Bob said Black Mirror (everyone cheered), Chelsey said Homeland.

Richard said he thinks Murphy and Bellamy are back to some semblance of mistake and Bob made like...a “sure, Jan” noise.

Season 4 has a huge power imbalance, with no real Chancellor or Commander and so the power shift is tumultuous.

There will be a mutual respect between the Delinquents and the adults because they all have to collectively come together.

END DELINQUENT PANEL HIGHLIGHTS:

After the Panel was over, I had a few more photo ops scheduled, so I took care of those:

The Bad Boys op with Jarod, Bob and Richard. Sachin snorted when he heard their op was called “The Bad Boys”, lol:

I asked them to do a Charlie’s Angel pose, with me as Charlie, presenting my angels. Bob still looks too innocent (He can’t help it), but Richard’s face is perf!

I also squeezed in my Jarod Joseph photo op, I wanted to do the “Unfriendly Black Hotties” thing-Jarod, nailed it, me-unsure:

I missed the Camp Jaha Panel, because I was given a random free Meet and Greet with Luisa d’Oliveira.

Luisa is the sweetest, she started off by asking everyone where we were from (and remembered every place). She was so genuine guys. She doesn’t seem to realize that people actual like her outside of the Memori relationship.

@adancergirl did a thorough write up of this, so I’m linking that here:

http://bellamyblakesprotectionsquad2k17.tumblr.com/post/155973832354/forgivenessishardforus-adancergirl-luisa-meet

END OF LUISA MEET AND GREET SUMMARY

Then I shot over to get my Photo Op with Lindsey “Actual Angel” Morgan done:

After that was done it was time for the Grounder/Mt. Weather Panel which featured Chris, Jarod, Chelsey, Tasya, Luisa and Jessica.

Chris was late and walked on to the stage looking like a hipster college student. (He wears a backpack everywhere guys and he always has his hood up, it’s adorbs).

Tasya confirmed that Echo is a royal guard for the Ice Nation and said there will be more Becho interaction this Season. Bellamy is the only Arkadian that Echo trusts (although we don’t know if that sentiment is returned-I expect to see some tension here!)

Jessica said it’s pretty obvious when you start watching Season 4 where Niylah’s allegiance lies. She’s super funny, btw.

Chris is so deadpan guys. Like, his humor is out of this world. I love it.

My favorite Chris quote was: “When Jarod's hand was on my knee in episode 210, I've never felt warmer.”

He asked how many people shipped Minty by show of hands (and then Marper). It was about even and Chelsey raised her hand for both options.

Chris wanted a photo of the audience but he doesn’t have a smart phone (according to Jessica it’s a flip phone) and so he took out an Old School disposable camera that he’d just bought from London Drugs and took a picture of one side of the crowd, forgot to roll the film forward, so had to pause and do it, and then the other side. Jarod shook his head and laughed.

When asked which character they’d like to play other than their own everyone but Jarod said Bellamy. Jarod said Monty, because he’s like a cat-to which Chris replied “What?”

Marper was organic and not planned at all. They often didn’t have lines in Season 2, but were told to do things in the background, so Chris and Chelsey discussed what they would do in the situation if this was real (after Harper has her butt drilled) and Chris said “Well, we’re friends, so I’d try to make you feel better” and this is where the cup scene originates.

Chelsey said they kept improvising those little scenes in the background and eventually the writer’s must have picked up on it and actually made Marper canon.

Chris closed the panel with the following: He asked how many people had ever been in a breakup that was so bad that you thought you’d never love again, lots of people raised their hands, including all of the cast and then he said:

“Monty and Harper are at a position where they are super excited and super terrified because they are starting something new and they're sharing so much with each other so when that person leaves you it can be soul destroying. Welcome to Unity Days.”

Everyone cracked up and that was the end of that panel.

END OF GROUNDER/MT. WEATHER PANEL SUMMARY

Then I ran up to get my final two autographs of the day, both from Bob. I gave him #Bactus and a handwritten card first, he smiled super big when I gave him Bactus and he and his manager both laughed when I explained it’s name, he said that was clever.

I asked him to sign my “Bellamy Blake Protection Squad Shirt” with @indygoh‘s art on it:

and the postcard I won in the Cancer Gets LOST silent auction. He loved the BBPS shirt and said, sometimes Bellamy needs some backup and he and his manager said that the postcard’s artwork was cute. While I was leaving, he said “Thanks for Bactus, April.”

And I died on the inside because he remembered my name from hours before.

After the Convention closed for the evening, everyone gathered in my room and we had an impromptu pizza party where we just in person meta’d (and I got teary about Lincoln-which was super embarrassing) and it was such a great night, because talking in person is always so much easier than online.

We hung out pretty late, until most of us were sleepy and then parted ways to get ready for Unity Days Part 3.

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ultradaniblonde · 6 years

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Alice in Monsterland Excerpt

You glance nervously at the full-length mirror, your stomach twisted into knots. You know Jeff is downstairs making small talk with your parents hating every minute of it. He will most likely bitch about it later in the car, but for now you take a minute to admire your reflection. You’re sure the dance will be littered with updo hairstyles and fake eyelashes, but you opted for a more natural look. Your shoulder length blonde hair falls into soft beach waves. You applied more makeup than your weekday routine, not hard considering you barely wear any at all, but made sure to emphasize your eyes. They are brown with flecks of gold.

The dress you picked cost more than your parents wanted to spend, but it fits like it was custom made. It is forest green lined lace with fitted long sleeves that show off your lean arms. The sleeves end in a delicate eyelash trim at your wrist. The bottom half, which leaves about two inches of your torso exposed, cascades into a panels of lace creating a full skirt that ends just below your ankles. You opted for gold flats instead of heels, knowing you would most likely just abandon them the minute you walk into the dance. With a deep breath you steady your nerves and walk out of your room.

As you walk down the stairs, your hand gently on the balustrade to keep you from falling, your mom says “Oh Alice. You look so beautiful,” snapping pictures. “Doesn’t she look beautiful, James?” she asks your Dad. Your dad gives a nondescript “Mmhmm” not even cracking a smile making you think he wishes the dress showed less of your torso. Oh well, you think to yourself sweetly. If you are going to be an absent father….

You steal a glance at Jeff. He is wearing a black suit holding a cream corsage. Jeff is the type of guy who would look good in anything. He is a senior and quarterback of the varsity team; he is tall with broad shoulders, blonde hair and green eyes. Even you have to admit he is especially hot in his suit. You smile and ask him, “How do I look?” noticing his eyes look a little glazed. “You look like the most beautiful girl I have ever seen,” he responds, eliciting an “Awww” from your mom. Worth every penny, you think to yourself.

He removes the corsage from the package and slides it onto your wrist careful not to snag the lace. Your mom missed the moment, of course, and makes you awkwardly recreate the pose so she can take more pictures. You don't know why she even bothers, considering it isn't like she is going to show pictures of you with your Homecoming date around the office. You unwrap Jeff’s boutonniere and try to pin it to him without drawing blood. You laugh nervously as he stares at you the entire time you try and affix the flowers to his lapel.

“Just a few more pictures of the happy couple,” your mom says as you inwardly roll your eyes. After she takes a dozen more photos, you sneak a peak out the window. The beautiful clear October morning has turned into a drizzly wet night. Jeff escorts you to the car while holding a huge umbrella over your head. He opens the door for you and you gather your skirt in your arms trying to cram yourself in the front seat. Finally out of the rain, you smooth your skirt out hoping it hasn’t snagged or crinkled. Raindrops drip from Jeff’s hair as he takes a seat behind the wheel. “Hey,” you say softly, finally alone. “Hey beautiful” he says tipping your chin up giving you a soft kiss. You notice that his eyes are still glassy and hope he hasn’t been drinking. The car roars as he turns the key in the ignition and eases out of your driveway.

“Alice you really do look amazing,” Jeff says navigating the car to the highway.

“Thank you,” you respond with a smile.

“Alice, I know you don’t want to talk about this tonight, but I have to bring it up again” Jeff says eyes glued to the road. You immediately stiffen knowing exactly what “this” is and where the conversation is headed.

“Jeff, can we please just enjoy tonight? I really don’t think we should talk about this right now,” you say sincerely.

“But Alice next year, I won’t be here. We agreed to do long distance, but I am worried” he says agitated.

“What are you worried about? It won’t be easy, but I love you” you say pleadingly.

“I just need more of a commitment. We have to be together,” he says adamantly.

You tread lightly carefully considering your next words. You have been dating Jeff for almost two years and recently he has become even more possessive. You used to be flattered by his jealously, but last month he was suspended for breaking your chemistry partner’s arm. He was a shy freshman trying to make friends. They still haven’t removed the pins keeping his bones together. After a huge argument, Jeff agreed to keep his temper in check, but just last week he left you with a purplish bruise around your wrist after finding you talking to a fellow track team member. You still remember sitting on your bed as tears slipped out of your eyes staring at the bruise. Thank goodness you had the foresight to pick a dress with long sleeves you thought to yourself sarcastically.

“I think we should get married,” Jeff says calmly pulling you from your memories.

“WHAT? Married? Are you of your mind? I am sixteen,” you shout.

Jeff grabs your wrist squeezing, “What you don’t want to marry me?” he asks in an unhinged tone. He is squeezing your still tender wrist. “Is there someone else? Or were you just going to play the field while I am away?” he says accusingly.

You clench your teeth trying to keep the pain from your voice. “Let me out” you say vehemently.

Jeff takes his eyes off the road a second to look at you shocked. “Are you crazy? It’s raining and we have to get to the dance,” he says.

“LET ME OUT NOW” you scream.

He pulls up to a Gas ‘n’ Sip off the side of the road. You grab handfuls of your skirt hauling yourself out of the car. You slam the passenger door shut as you walk into the gas station. Unconcerned with the rain or whether your dress has snagged, you fumble for your phone. Jeff speeds away with a murderous look. You scroll through your contacts mentally preparing yourself for the conversation that is about to occur.

Ring.

“Hello? Hello?!”

“Mom. MOM, it’s me. I am at the Gas ‘n’ Sip off of 59. Can you come get me?” you say exasperated. Can't answer the phone like a normal person .. you think to yourself.

“What happened?” your mom says shocked.

“MOM! Just please come get me. Please,” you add desperately. You hear rustling in the background as she grabs her keys and coat.

“I will be there soon,” she says.

As you are about to hang up, your phone beeps letting you know you have another call. Jeff. Against your better judgment you answer.

“Jeff, I really don’t think we should talk right now,” you say immediately.

“Alice, you don’t understand. You don’t get it. I have to be with you,” he says frantically.

“Jeff you are upset and driving and we shouldn’t be talking about this right n—,“ you say.

“No!” he cuts you off. “I know what ‘talking about it later’ means. It means you are going to break up with me,” he says as you hear his car accelerate.

“Jeff. I love you, but I am hanging up now. This isn’t safe,” you say seriously.

“Alice. You d--- under—“ the call starts to crackle “I can’t li—without y--. I lo-- you, Alice” he says as the call drops.

Next Morning

The police fish Jeff’s Mustang out of the river the next morning. They drag the river and find his body shortly after. His death is ruled an accident, but you know better. They plan on conducting an autopsy to determine if drugs and alcohol were involved. You stand on the bridge in an oversized sweater, your head throbbing from crying all night. Your mom tries to put a comforting arm around your shoulders as the police ask you question after question. You wipe your nose with an already soaked tissue as they move on from asking you whether Jeff had been drinking and more about your argument. Question after question.

Tears leak out of your eyes as it dawns on you, they blame you.

#supernatural fanfiction #ao3 #shamelessly promoting myself #alice #siren series

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grimdarkandhandsome · 6 years

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Sunlight: Letters to Lysa

Dear Lysa,

The Bevelled Plains are ... well, they're weirder than I expected. Still, can't believe I'm here. The jet lag doesn't help with the sense that I'm in a holo or something. I guess my brain is much more familiar with processing the Plains as the setting of a story than as the setting of my boots. The internship still has two more months left. I can't believe how lucky I am.

Well, anyway, here's one thing I can tell you specifically: There are more robots than you'd think. I mean, that sounds dumb, but really, they're everywhere! They don't talk, so maybe that's why people don't talk about them much. But you know Cassidy Quintillion, the general? Her battalion is so good at breaking sieges because it's 85% robots! I know!

So the officers think of them mostly as just strength counts, but I'm new so I have to fight robots all the time. I never thought I'd say this, but sometimes I get tired of tossing grenades. Remember when we used to have Hail Mary competitions back at Academy? We were such meatheads, trying to impress cute girls! Throwing grenades from that far just means the other team learns to look up and sidestep your throw. Anyway, the robots here never learn. I just sit in my trench and chuck the bombs out all morning long. We can't even use mortars to do it, because every commander maxes out their artillery budget on armor divisions.

Anyway, I can't say much more because my wrist is cramped from the aforementioned bomb-tossing. Will write again in a few days.

Love from,

Hanna

Dear Lysa,

V. glad to hear about your promotion. Sorry I'm such a lug, but is an analyst cooler than a coordinator? You sound excited, so I'm guessing the answer is yes. You spooks have quite an opaque world up there.

Being stuck in the Siege Defense battalion means I've been spending a lot of time in an opaque subculture myself. I'm surrounded by the gorram gearheads! They want me to play historical wargames with them, heaven help me. It's much less cool than it sounds: It involves painting a table full of miniature models of airships, soldiers, mecha ... by hand, mind you. I told them I'll think about it, because my commanding officer looked so eager. I meant that as a nice way of saying No, but she keeps asking. Sigh. I'd have to customize my own tank armor panels T_T. Sigh. I don't mind old games - I like Descent, and I'd try Starcraft - but this tabletop reenactment stuff is awfully dry.

I lived with gearheads once, briefly, back when I was in the 48th Legion. I lived in my boyfriend Marise's barracks for half a year. (She was the one who wasn't male, really, but we used the word 'boyfriend' each other. I guess it seemed pretty cool back then. We were both in the Navy, both into old books, etc. I remember she also was into models, and she had a robotic model of this old aircraft called The Flying Fortress. It was older than real flying fortresses, tho. It was just an airplane, large for its time, from Ancient Europe. It was an important bomber in the Second Great War, or maybe Third ... well anyway one of those single-digits Great Wars. 1800s or 1900s, because it didn't have an artificial mind, just a bunch of husbands stuffed inside it. That model used to fly in circles over us while we lay in bed on Sunday mornings.

Okay, ladder-climbing Lysandra, tell me your tips. How do I get reassigned out of this gorram trench? I want to fight in an assault team, or be a crisis paratrooper, or just use a melée weapon, for heaven's sake. Who do I talk to and what do I do? Teach me your mystical social skills. Save me from these siege nerds!

Requesting support,

Hanna

Dear Lysa,

First of all, yeah, your informant sounds very presumptuous. I don't see why she expects you to send a warship to her planet just to cover for her faux pas. If she wants to be a good spy she shouldn't exaggerate about force projection while undercover. I hate people who are too hotheaded to think of their teammates.

Second, okay, I like your idea of asking my officer about getting transferred. I think it will be a little tricky since all the fun positions on this planet are surely at capacity. But okay, I'll try to get to know her a little, and I'll tell her what I want. And you know, I guess I could also talk to Frederik, the dropship pilot. He's worked with infantry in a couple different battalions, so maybe he can connect me to, you know, normal people. People who fight with their arms, not this stupid obsession with vehicles and cannons.

Lysa, I'm not just griping; it's ridiculous. They're so tedious. Remember the chess nerds? (Oh. Shoot, you were in that club. I forgot, sorry.) Well, remember the bad chess nerds? The ones who were no fun and who would make remarks like, 'Hmm, I don't think that's a tournament-viable opening...'? Anyway, these gearheads in my squad are all like that. Dogmatic, opinionated about when helicopter parts should be titanium and when they should be aluminium, mock-surprised that a newcomer doesn't know how a diesel engine works ... it's terrible. I managed to get out of their hideously time-consuming model-painting competition ... but in the course of doing so I kindof sortof agreed to help them build a mech - a full size one, I mean - in their garage. Ugh. I mean, yes, if we finish it it'll mean I can stop taking shifts bored to death in the trenches and will get to ride in an armored transport and finally use proper weapons up close. But that's if we finish. They've already scrapped their design twice apparently, because they wanted a more efficient pattern of rivets or something stupid like that.

I despair of this, Lysa. I know, I know, I shouldn't complain, I have a job fighting robots on the coolest planet in known space, but it's honestly very lonely in this battalion. And there is absolutely no skill in my current assignment. I toss bombs like pebbles into a river. Sometimes they bomb me back, and either they miss and I'm bored or they hit, I can't do anything about it, my body is reconstructed back at base, I watch the replay of how the battle went on fast-forward, and I'm still bored. I'm good at fighting! I'm just, you know, not allowed to fight here apparently. Sigh. It's very inefficient.

Reading what I've written, I see that I have forgotten to give you my advice about your dilemma: Yes. Yes, you are so right, definitely ask Cute Economics Guy out. At least go dancing with him and have some fun, even if he does turn out to be lame or something. All of us who've moved to new planets deserve some fun. And his robot eye probably has some perfectly normal explanation. He probably just uses it to read romance novels when his officer thinks he's doing work. :) Just kidding. IDK, maybe he was injured in a swordfight. Use it as an excuse to ask him out!!

Okay, must go to the aforementioned mech design session. Sorry I complain about my life so much. You are a very patient friend.

Love, your Oracle of dating advice,

Hanna

PS: Now they are arguing whether to give our mech chicken legs or dove legs. What the hell. What are dove legs? Who cares??

#sunlight #creative writing #short story #fiction #science fiction #epistolary #letters #robot eye

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jelenedrake · 7 years

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Session One: Death’s House

Hey, so like... here are some session notes for my current Curse of Strahd campaign if anyone is interested. I might post up more... maybes.

Our party:

Yura Varen: Half-Elf Devotion Paladin of Sune Knight of the Order of the Ruby Rose (me!) Empath. Does not like this place. Mar’Rok is her bestie. They have traveled together before this adventure. He taught her how to speak Orcish. She taught him elven.

Mar'Rok: Half-Orc Life Cleric of Illmater Acolyte. Will ease everyone’s burdens at the cost of his own flesh. Covered in the scars he has taken to protect other people. Calls Yura “Little Sister”.

Constantine Cain: Tiefling Revenant Gunslinger. Monster Hunter Total Edgelord.

Zavrum: Half-Orc (takes after the human side more) Former Soldier turned Monster Hunter

Erevan Stonegem: Half-Elf Warlock Guild Craftsmen, hired to work on Cain's guns. Likes it clean, clean, clean. Occasionally, someone... else takes him over.

Titanius Anglesmith: Half-Elf Bard, entertainer, tall with a huge beard. Substance abuse problem... I mean... it’s not a problem until he runs out.

We all meet in a tavern in Daggerford. Most of the town is here talking up a storm trying to get out of the cold fog. Erevan talks to Cain about his guns, Cain talks to his guns about letting the half elf touch them. Erevan begins to engrave the guns. The strange pairing of the Half-Orc Cleric and Half-Elf Paladin sit off to one table. They clearly know each other. Mar'Rok is broody and Yura is trying to cheer him up. He points out Cain and Erevan to her, distressed about the guns that Cain is wielding and their inherent violence. Zavrum overhears him from the other table and asks what is wrong with a bit of violence. They both reply that for the right reasons: nothing. Mar’Rok and Yura both claim that they fight because sometimes others can’t. Mar’Rok tries to ease their burdens by taking the blows no one else can while Yura says that giving people something to look forward to can make any fight seem easier. Zavrum warms to this idea and his defensiveness drops and he invites them to his own table. They happily join him and continue their discussion.

Titanitus makes friends with Everan and Cain. He is excited about Erevan customizing his dagger. Mar’rok is still worried about Cain’s gun so Yura makes her way over to their table and attempts to make friends with Everan and Cain, but Titanitus is rude to Yura (she feels at least). So her efforts are stifled. Erevan is a bit nervous around Yura, his quiet voice drops to a nervous stutter and he will not meet her eye. Mar’Rok jokes with him that she has that effect on lots of people.

Just then a strange man dressed in (what we will later learn is Vistani garb) drops a letter on our table. It is a message from the burgermeister Kolyan Indrivich calling for heroes. The messenger urges us to to take the west road in the morning to Barovia. Kolyan’s love, Irena Kolyana, has been afflicted by an evil so deadly that no one can protect her. The man is seemingly unable to answer many of our questions and when we turn to each other to discuss it the man vanishes.

We sleep on it and head out in the morning. The town still covered with the thick fog. The trail leading west isn't too bad. Worn dirt trail. Erevan notices to the right some sort of stake has been planted into the ground. Has a small cross on it. Mostly ornamental with a ring of garlic and the initials V/S on it. Little off the beaten path... but the fog closes in around them. We grow uneasy and leave.

Little while later, Zavrum sees a creature is laying on the trail. Black ooze is around the creature. A giant black wolf, guts and intestines out blood all over the trail. Titanius finds giant paw prints leading away from the trail. Zavrum thinks it might be a huge bear. We decide to continue on and hope that the village may know where the creature’s lair is.

The fog is draining our energy the longer we spend within it. Zavrum and Cain completely pass out, Titanius grows exhausted from the fog. Yura, Mar'Rok, and Everan are okay? Yura tries to wake them but they are unresponsive. Yura and Mar'Rok carry Cain and Zavrum and we continue on. A few hours later, Yura and Titanius collapse. Unable to continue, Everan and Mar'Rok set up camp. The fog continues to creep up on Mar'Rok and Everan until they cannot even see each other across the fire and they too, are taken by the fog.

We wake up to darkened and twisting trees. Completely unfamiliar territory, we now do not know exactly where we are. The road is now graveled instead of well beaten mud and dirt. With no choice, we continue down the path to a village. The buildings are dark and black. No life around except for two children crying in the middle of the road. A boy and girl. They tell us their names are Gustav and Elizabeth. They say there is a "monster in the house”.

They point to a house with darkened windows and a porticullo, the houses to either side are clearly abandoned. They say the monster is in the basement. Their parents left many days ago. Their baby brother, Walter, is trapped in the house. The mist is encroaching on their position. Everan makes the children toys small toys to calm them. We go in. The children wouldn't follow us, Yura tries to question them about the monster within the house, asking about different qualities and features to which they all proclaim, “Yes! Yes! It has that!” Zavrum points out to Yura that the children are parroting her and out of frustration she attempts to drag them into the atrium. When they cross the threshold they slip out of her grasp and vanish into thin air. The door behind them slams shut and will not open.

Exploring the house: dining room. Everan finds faces and evil looking wolves carved into the wood panelling. Creepy. In the hunter den's we find a heavy crossbow, light crossbow, hand crossbow and 60 bolts. Yura gives them all to Everan. There is a small box with playing cards and wine glasses. Yura takes the playing cards and Everan takes two wine glasses, and with an unusual purple glint in his eye slyly says that "one is for him and one for her... for later". Yura makes a note of his sudden shift in personality but chooses not to comment on it for now. The cloak room has a fancy top hat that Zavrum takes and looks dapper AF in.

Second floor: desk/painting of windmill. Desk has parchment and wax, Everan takes them and a book of poetry. Titanius finds a secret door: more books and a chest with a skeleton with a letter bearing Strahd. Leather armor, deeds for the house and another house and a windmill. Spell scrolls x 3 (Bless, Protection from Poison, and Spiritual Weapon). 3 black leather books (Priests of Osybus necromatic rituals fiend summoning books). He also finds a letter from Strahd to the patriarchs of this family. They had been begging him to assist them. It looks like the family was summoning demons and sacrificing people on a secret altar hoping to gain favor with Strahd... they say they are cursed. He has no pity for them it seems...

#Curse of Strahd #Dungeons and Dragons #D&D 5e #Yura Varen #Jelly does RPG things

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papermoonloveslucy · 7 years

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Lucy and Viv Open a Restaurant

S2;E20 ~ February 17, 1964

Synopsis

Lucy talks Viv buying a run-down cafe. Unable to attract even a single customer, they transform it into a gypsy tea room and then a Colonial themed restaurant – all to no avail. When Mr. Mooney learns a highway will be built nearby, he offers to become a partner. Unfortunately, blasting for the highway ruins both the café and any chance for success.

Regular Cast

Lucille Ball (Lucy Carmichael), Vivian Vance (Vivian Bagley), Gale Gordon (Theodore J. Mooney)

Candy Moore (Chris Carmichael), Ralph Hart (Sherman Bagley) and Jimmy Garrett (Jerry Carmichael) do not appear in this episode. Jerry, however, is mentioned.

Guest Cast

Kathleen Freeman (Olga, the Cook, below left) was ‘born in a trunk’ to a family of vaudevillians. She made her stage debut at age two in her parents’ act. Equally at home on screen and stage, Freeman was appearing on Broadway in The Full Monty in 2001 when she died of lung cancer. This is the second of her five appearances in various character roles on “The Lucy Show.”

This episode was first aired on Freeman’s 45th birthday!

Jack Albertson (Herbert, the Waiter, above right) played the airport dispatcher arranging the helicopter when Lucy misses the ship in “Bon Voyage” (ILL S5;E13). He went on to win a 1969 Oscar for The Subject Was Roses. He would also play Grandpa Joe in the 1971 movie Willy Wonka & the Chocolate Factory, but is perhaps best known as ‘the man’ on the TV series “Chico and the Man,” which won him a 1974 Emmy.

Alan Hewitt (Mr. Dutton, Society Columnist for the Danfield Tribune) was a veteran of sixteen Broadway shows, including the original production of Death of a Salesman (1949) and Call Me Madam starring Ethel Merman (1950). From 1964 to 1966 he played Detective Brennan on “My Favorite Martian.” This is his only appearance opposite Lucille Ball.

Benny Rubin (Mr. Smith, Linen Supplier, below center) played the snarky Hollywood Bus Driver in “The Tour” (ILL S4;E30). His first “Lucy Show” appearance was in “Lucy and the Runaway Butterfly” (S1;E29). The recognizable character actor is probably best remembered for his association with Jack Benny.

Jay Ose (Mr. Jones, Linen Supplier, above right) made a career combining gambling and up close magic involving cards. He was a favorite at Hollywood’s Magic Castle Club. In this episode, he demonstrates his skills by pulling the table clothes off the tables without disrupting the place settings. Ose has no dialogue; Rubin does all the talking for the pair.

Rubin and Ose are not referred to by their last names in the episode. At one point, however, Rubin does call Ose “Charley.”

Sid Gould (Mailman) made 46 appearances on “The Lucy Show,” all as background characters. He also played a Mailman in “Lucy and the Military Academy” (S2;E10). He did more than 40 episodes of “Here’s Lucy.” Gould (born Sydney Greenfader) was Lucille Ball’s cousin by marriage to Gary Morton. Gould was married to Vanda Barra, who also appeared on “The Lucy Show” starting in 1967, as well as on “Here’s Lucy.”

James Gonzales (Mr. Dutton’s Dinner Guest) was a popular Hollywood extra who first acted with Lucille Ball in the 1953 film The Long, Long Trailer. He was previously seen on the series as Stan Williams in “Lucy Digs Up a Date” (S1;E2). He was seen in more than 20 episodes of “The Lucy Show” and 3 episodes of “Here’s Lucy.” In this episode, he has a line of dialogue when ordering dinner.

William Meader (Mr. Dutton’s Dinner Guest) had appeared as an airport extra in “The Ricardos Go to Japan,” a 1959 episode of “The Lucy-Desi Comedy Hour.” He made many appearances on “The Lucy Show,” most times as a clerk in Mr. Mooney’s bank. In this episode, he has a line of dialogue when ordering dinner.

Three uncredited women play Mr. Dutton’s other dinner guests.

This episode was filmed on December 19, 1963, the last before the holiday hiatus. The final draft of the script was dated December 12, 1963. It was the 50th episode of the series to be filmed. Although filmed in color, CBS originally aired it in black and white.

The night this episode originally aired (Monday, February 17, 1964) opposite “The Lucy Show” on ABC, “Wagon Train” featured Eliva Allman (left) Marjorie Bennett (center), and Amzie Strickland (right), all of whom had been seen on “I Love Lucy” and “The Lucy Show.”

Lucy responds to an ad in the Danfield Tribune.

“For Sale: Beautiful Restaurant! Great Location! Real Money-Maker! A-1 Condition!”

Viv puts down $1,000 of her ‘nest egg’ to buy the restaurant.

VIV: “If I want to spend a thousand dollars for a meal, I’ll rent a couple of togas and fly in Cary Grant for a Roman banquet.”

Viv may be referring to the 1961 romantic comedy Come September, starring Cary Grant and Gina Lollobridgida and set in Italy. The handsome actor was first mentioned on the series in “No More Double Dates” (S1;E21). He was mentioned in four episodes of “I Love Lucy,” all during the gang’s stay in Hollywood.

Lucy and Viv’s newly refurbished Four Corners Cafe brings in no customers in five days of being “Under New Management”!

Chef Olga’s Advice: “Push the lobster. In one more day he has to go bye-bye.”

Lucy and Viv apply for a GI Loan due to their service in the WAVES. Viv says 'serving their country’ consisted of typing eight hours a day in the Navy purchasing department. Lucy and Viv’s experience in the WAVES was established in “Lucy Becomes an Astronaut” (S1;E6). Unfortunately, they discover they are one week past the ten year window of eligibility. The special delivery letter from the Veteran’s Administration is signed John Foley. In real life, John Foley was the name of the series’ editor.

LUCY: “How about making it a Spanish restaurant? VIV: “Great! How about calling it El Fiasco.”

They settle on a Gypsy Tea Room serving Hungarian fare.

The Gypsy Tea Room – In “No More Double Dates” (S1;E21) Lucy wanted to go to a restaurant called Café Tambourine.

Chef Olga’s Advice: “Push the Hungarian Goulash.”

Lucy Ricardo played Camille, the snaggle-toothed Queen of the Gypsies in “The Pleasant Peasant” during the episode “The Operetta” (ILL S2'E5). This time, Lucy plays the violin while Viv has the tambourine. Lucy Carmichael first played the violin in “Lucy the Music Lover” (S1;E8). Lucille Ball learned to play violin for that episode, but only managed to muster a squeaky rendition of “Twinkle Twinkle Little Star.” In this episode, Lucille Ball is not actually playing.

When the Gypsy Tea Room doesn’t work out, they change to an Early American motif, complete with the George and Martha as greeters.

The Colonial Inn - This was also the name of a Colonial-themed establishment mentioned in “No More Double Dates” (S1;E21).

Chef Olga’s Advice: “Push the Yankee Pot Roast.”

Before quitting, Olga suggests that Viv (dressed as Martha Washington) close the restaurant and open a candy store. The Martha Washington Candy stores were a national chain started in the 1890s, selling ice cream and chocolates, and furnished in an early American motif. By their peak in the twenties, there were several hundred stores across the country, but the Depression and the death of their founder hit them hard and most of the stores had closed by the mid-thirties, although a few lingered into the mid-forties.

The writer of the society column for the Danfield Tribune comes to the Colonial Inn because the bridge to Ridgebury is out. In “Lucy Becomes a Reporter” (S1;E17) Lucy fills in for The Danfield Tribune’s society column editor Betty Gillis.

Mr. Mooney mentions that the new highway to New Rochelle will bypass Brewster and tunnel through Stone Mountain providing the restaurant lots of potential customers. Or so he thinks!

Genealogists say that Lucille Ball is a distant cousin of George Washington!

Lucille Ball in front of the show curtain for publicity stills. (photos by Getty Images)

Callbacks!

This story resembles “The Girls Go Into Business” (ILL S3;E2), where Lucy and Ethel buy Hanson’s Dress Shop, which becomes a potentially much bigger real estate deal when a developer wants to turn the property into a skyscraper. In “The Diner” (ILL S3;E27) the Ricardos and the Mertzes partnered to open a restaurant: A Little Bit of Cuba / A Big Hunk of America.

The bank of wooden ice box doors glimpsed in the kitchen area are the same units used on “I Love Lucy” in “The Diner”, in Tony’s during “The Black Wig”, and in the kitchen of the unnamed Italian restaurant in “Equal Rights”!

Fast Forward!

George Washington (Don Wilson) dropped by for a word with Mr. and Mrs. Paul Revere (Lucy and Jack Benny) on “The Jack Benny Program” in October 1964, eight months after “Lucy and Viv Open A Restaurant”.

The construction of a new highway through town is what galvanizes Lucy Carmichael and all of Bancroft into action in “Main Street U.S.A.” and “Lucy Puts Main Street On the Map” during season five.

Mr. Mooney briefly appeared as ‘the Father of His Country’ (in painting form) when “Lucy Gets Mooney Fired” during season six.

Blooper Alerts!

Memory Lapse! Viv says they started to live together six years ago. Just ten shows earlier, in "The Loophole in the Lease” (S2;E12), Lucy said they had lived together for 5 years.

Where There’s Smoke... When Lucy backs into the candle setting her wig on fire, the smoke is clearly emanating from the wall panel behind her, even after she moves away. Also, the 'smoke’ behaves very much like dry ice, clinging to the counter top.

“Lucy and Viv Open a Restaurant” Rates 4 Paper Hearts out of 5

#Lucy and Viv Open a Restaurant #The Lucy Show #Lucille Ball #Vivian Vance #Gale Gordon #Kathleen Freeman #Jack Albertson #George Washington #Martha Washington Candy #Sid Gould #William Meader #Benny Rubin #Alan Hewitt #Jay Ose #James Gonzales #Cary Grant #veteran's administration #john foley

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