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jasonspetertodds · 3 years

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The House of Wayne

warnings: swearing, past mentions of abuse, homelessness and violence.

Jason silently slid through the window, his hips barely scratching the worn wood of the sill as he dropped into a crouch. Was it a little dramatic? Maybe. He didn’t care as he turned to shut the window just as silently as when he pulled himself through. Only when the window was locked did he finally stand to his full height. He hadn't been there in almost three weeks, preoccupied with a mission with the Outlaws.

He hummed, hand running along the edges of the dresser as he moved deeper into the room, avoiding all the creaky floorboards that would betray him. He didn’t really want anyone to know he was there, just wanted to get in and get out.

He should’ve known better, though. He was never that lucky.

He was lucky, on occasion, but not now, and not before. It wasn’t luck that kept him alive on the street, that was his own scrappy determination of wit and spite, he wasn’t lucky when he died. He was lucky when it didn’t matter. When it wasn’t life or death.

He inched his way closer to the hallway, palming open the door keeping the creaking hinges at bay. He could hear a TV going a floor down, in the kitchen, and he could hear a faint beginning of a noise a touch to his left, behind one of the other doors.

He ignored both, heading down the hall, staying off the runner to not track mud in and let them know he’d been there. He could keep his steps quieter than if they were on the carpet anyway. He let his shoulders drop in a dangerously casual manor as he passed the door he had heard something rustle around inside, not even a flicker of curiosity flitting through him.

Instead, he turned to the left, down the hall, past the study, silently lifted himself over the rafter of the first floor staircase and silently dropped down, landing in a crouch. His eyes narrowed before he moved deeper into the house, passing the silver candelabras that were dusted but never used, the same candles standing tall since he first arrived and died and the same Boston fern propped in the corner. He’d intentionally avoided the portraits, not being able to stand the wax sealed letter written in neat legible script asking if he could, would, sit for one. How it was different then the handwriting that carefully wrote his safe house address on it.

He had equal parts wanted to shred it, burn it, and curse it. In the end, he didn’t do anything. Just shoved it in the drawer of his bedside table along with his knife that he’d use to open the damn thing, resigned in ignoring it until he was in a better headspace to answer it. He shook his head as he turned through the french doors near the parlor and into the library. He knew Alfred was about, but knew because it was Tuesday the butler wouldn’t be anywhere near the library, too busy running laundry and preparing this week’s meals and dusting the upstairs.

Jason still didn’t know how the monolith of a man managed to clean the entire manor to such pristine condition, but like most things, he learned not to question it after awhile. Alfred just did. No more explanation needed than that. He launched himself over the settee, sliding easily over it, jumping up to climb up the grand bookshelves, not even giving an oblong glance to the rolling later not two feet from his side.

With the same ease of a jaguar climbing up its favorite napping tree, Jason pulled himself up to his bookshelves, easily sliding his leather-bound and gold leaf copy of a collection of Edgar Allen Poe’s short stories and poems. He had picked it up at the flea market near his house and decided it was worthy of the collection. He had slipped it between two others, one a first addition illustration of Poe’s work and a first edition copy of Frankenstein. 5¢ was a pretty good deal despite the small fortune he had spent on the first editions. But like Jason said, he was lucky when it didn’t matter. He’d found multiple rare books at the bottom of rotting cardboard boxes all across the globe.

He shifted a shelf up, his left foot freestanding while his right was firmly planted on the mahogany of the thing. He didn’t even turn, while pulling a battered paperback of Pride and Prejudice out, mulling over if he wanted to read it when he felt a presence behind him. He rolled his eyes, gently placing his book back and dropping two shelves below, “What do you want?”

“Why are you here, Todd?”

So it was demon he had heard shuffling around upstairs and not his dog. Damian was really the only one that lived permanently at the manor. Tim would float in and out but since Bruce came back, hell, even before that, he wasn’t always around. Jason couldn’t really blame him, instead he opted for his apartment in the Diamond District if he wasn’t in San Fransisco helping out with the Titans. Dick had his apartment in Blüdhaven, continuing his crusade there and if he was in Gotham he was in his own apartment on the Lower East Side or the Penthouse. Jason wasn’t familiar enough with Cass’ living habits but he figured she floated around a lot with hero business too, even if this was her home base.

It always kept them busy but Jason didn’t quite know how to stomach the fact that the manor had always been crushingly lonely even without him haunting it despite how many of them there were now. He shook his head, returning his copy of Robert Frost poems before moving to the right to the comedies. He didn’t want classics, instead opting for something a little more contemporary.

“Haunting your Dad.” He deadpanned, sarcastically as he was climbing over his collection of Greek tragedies to get to the section that housed Carl Hiaasen and Pat F McManus. He knew better than to open himself up to whatever barb was planted on the little bird’s tongue. Instead, he grabbed the copy of They Shoot Canoes, Don’t They? and jumping down from the thing, landing perfectly in front of the little Wayne’s judgemental gaze. He strolled nonchalantly from whence he came, noticing Damian tagging along behind him, demanding; “What were you doing?”

“Getting a book,” Jason responded, hauling himself over the banister, ignoring the kid’s scowl as he hurried around to climb up the steps.

“What are you? An animal?” Damian sneered, relentless as he followed Jason up to the second landing. Jason shrugged, “I’m a bored bat.”

His back was turned so he didn’t know if the demon rolled his eyes at his response, didn’t know if the boy could dignify himself enough to roll his eyes. He was eleven, though. It warranted an amendment of pride at that age. Jason wasn’t really in mad march to the window he was going to disappear through, keeping up his casual pace as he turned the corner to the office, curious that Damian was allowing himself to chase him throughout the place. Maybe he was lonely. Or, same as Jason, bored. He didn’t care to imagine keeping himself occupied in the vast expanse of the house while Bruce and Alfred were busy and Dickiebird left three weeks before in a huff.

Jason had time, he asked in his usual gruff tone, as he turned into a separate guest bedroom. Not the one he had come in, no sense in wasting a good entry and escape when he didn’t need to, “What do you want?”

Damian looked appalled that Jason would even suggest he wanted something from the older man, “What good is a street rat for anything I could want?”

Jason felt a vague flicker of annoyance bubble up in his naval, before he squashed it down, rolling his eyes and making a move to the windowsill, tossing the book down on the bedspread before roughly placing his thumbs where the fingerprint readers were. Jason hadn’t known what to make of Bruce programming his fingerprint into the fire safety automatic windows when he first found out, still didn’t. Bruce hadn’t even told him, but Jason was sure Batman knew that he knew now. Batman, after all, was omnipotent. Or damn near it when it came to his kids.

He shook his head, not wanting to focus too much on that particular detail. He hadn’t come here to get harassed by the little demon behind him, honestly? Jason didn’t even really know why he had his back turned. He didn’t trust the brat not to stab him in the back the second he saw an opening. Jason slide the window open, feeling the breeze on his skin as the old sycamore’s leaves danced outside.

Maybe it was because Damian had a certain amount of respect for Jason. Despite Talia keeping them both separate as best she could with his time at the League, Jason wasn’t stupid. He had put two and two together pretty quickly and he knew Damian wasn’t stupid, either. The kid had snuck in to watch him spar when he was still at Nada Parbat, risked what would be an abusive punishment if he got caught to watch Jason learn and fight. He cringed inwardly, knowing half the abuse that kid suffered even when he was the heir to that empire, when he did things right, let alone when he disobeyed.

Talia, he knew, tried to shield her youngest from as much of it as she could, but it was still an abusive death cult. Maybe Damian had picked up the care his mother showed to Jason, though he didn’t want to know whatever justification she had told her son about Jason. He cringed inwardly again.

While Talia saw and fostered the potential Jason had, in the beginning she hadn’t quite seen him as him. She had ulterior motives, but she always had and Jason knew he was being used, but couldn’t muster enough up to care. He had started as a rehab project due to his connection to Bruce.

Talia had thrown him into the Lazarus Pit, saved him the trouble of a second death after he so shortly woke up from before, to win points with her beloved. Affection and attachment had come later and Jason still wasn’t sure where he stood. As a pseudo second son? As another project? As an informant? He never had good luck with mother figures. It didn't really matter to him.

The point was Talia loved Damian with her entire being. Sure, it was misguided occasionally on account of them both being raised in a hellish death cult of the ages, but if anything they fit perfectly within the current generation Wayne Family, dysfunction was a lifetime warranty at this point. He knew where he stood with Damian. He would normally get a disgusted sneer of a Todd when he was around and outside of that there wasn't anything to work with. Sure, he knew the brat knew about him, probably more than he knew about Damian from his mom. Jason always noticed his eyes on him any time he was interacting with Dick, especially. It was there when he was talking or dealing with B on the rare occasion, but never as heavy.

Honestly? Jason wasn't going to touch the weird pseudo father-son bond those to had while Bruce was lost in time with a ten foot pole. It was increasingly funny to watch the dynamic as they went back to Nightwing and Robin, brothers. Dick might say that they were like him and Bruce when Grayson had first come to the manor. A mentorship, but that could really only fool a deaf and blind man. And Jason had seen through that veneer easily.

He snorted, maybe he should've picked up something with the House of Atreus, considering the House of Wayne was becoming incredibly close to it.

"You didn't answer the question." Jason stated, simply. Not sure how long the silence lapsed between them while he was internal monologueing. Like he could help it. Damian had crossed his arms behind him now, Jason spying on him in his peripheral, his expression was still harsh disdain, but it had softened some.

"Why are you here?" The kid asserted again, taking a step toward Jason. Jason turned to look at him, shrugging. He was ignoring Jason's question. The older man answered him again, "Like I said, I wanted to get a book."

"Don't lie. Todd. I'm not nearly as gullible as the rest of this family."

Jason fought the urge to roll his eyes, but made a mental note that Damian had said family, "I'm not lying." He didn't really know who the kid considered family, but he could guess and it was miles more improvement than when he first came to the manor. I am the blood son and all that. Not that Jason could blame him, his mother dropped him on the doorstep and his Dad, his real biological father had all but disowned him without knowing him.

He even scooped up the book off the edge of the bed, dumping it upside down to show that nothing was hidden between the pages before offering it up to Damian so he could flip through it if he wanted. The brat just stared at it, deepening his scowl, looking at it like it was rigged to blow. Jason supposed that was fair, in any other case, but his soul was exasperated at this point. He vaguely wondered if every conversation with the kid was like running into brick wall after brick wall at full speed. It probably was for Bruce, at least.

"You come here every once in a while just to read?"

"I don't read here," He was pointedly ignoring the other part of that sentence. He wasn’t going to be baited into giving himself away by short-stack to his left. Jason was getting impatient, so he asked again, "What do you want Damian?"

He knew the kid wouldn't have stuck around this long if he didn't want to talk to Jason about something. He flopped down on the bed, his ankles crossed as he folded his hands behind his head, the picture of relaxation. He watched out of the corner of his eye as Damian stiffened at the accusation, eyes narrowing the tiniest bit at being found out before he bit back, "Like I said before, Todd, what could I possibly want from you?"

"I don't know? Enact a grisly revenge scenario, cover for you, murder someone?"

He watched the kid flinch at the murder word. It was subtle, but Jason could still see it, the way he grit his teeth, eyes snapping shut as if he was suffering an actual blow. God, everyone in this family was dramatic. Jason rolled his eyes, waiting for a few more seconds before admitting, "I'd do that for any one of you. 'Cept Bruce, but you're smart enough to know that."

"I--I can't."

The younger boy didn't say anything after that and Jason inched forward, sensing where this was going to go. Jason didn't think he was the best person to comfort a child assassin, but maybe that made him the best person to comfort a child assassin. He pinched the bridge of his nose, exhaling slowly, trying to collect his thoughts. He hadn't meant to drag this up.

"Dami," He said gently, crouching so he was almost kneeing before his youngest sibling, the leather of his boots and jacket cracking at the action as he ignored the heel of a knife digging into his ankle. Damian slowly, almost shyly opened his eyes, keeping half of his face hidden from Jason. Jason, for his part, tried to paint a softer expression onto his face, "It's okay."

He recoiled at the nickname, but still had the same haunted face when he looked at Jason, voice hushed, "How?"

How did he know? Jason couldn't tell give him an answer outside of straight intuition, his voice was invariably softer as he shifted forward on his toes, leaning closer, "Damian. It's okay whichever one you chose, okay? If you completely reject what the League expected of you or if you decide to change B's philosophy down the line. Or if you create a third options for yourself. This, despite what your Dad wants you to think, isn't black and white, okay?"

Dami swallowed, hard. Obviously trying his best to keep his emotions under control, to squash any and all vulnerability down within him. Jason could relate. It was honest to god heartbreaking that a twelve year old like Damian had to be confronted with the complexities of an ethical debate like this. To be put in that position in the first place, but Jason knew life was very rarely fair.

Damian was making direct eye contact with him at this point, "How can the blood on my hands, even when I didn't know any better, be forgiven? Washed away?"

"Because you're a kid, Dami, you were just doing what you could to survive."

He looked affronted at Jason's suggestion that it was to survive but it wasn't like Jay was lying, even if his younger brother didn't believe him. If he didn't go through with League training and be up to snuff, he couldn't imagine the amount of abuse tenfold that the kid would endure. It was insanely traumatic already and he was their Prince who followed orders. That didn't stop them from almost killing him on multiple occasions if not for Talia's interference and his own sheer force of will that all Bats apparently had.

"You're still a kid," He countered, looking Jason full in the face now, refusing to hide, but his voice was significantly quieter when he asked, "So why haven't you been forgiven?"

Jason didn't know if he should be offended or deeply amused that a twelve year old called him a kid. He shook his head, standing up again to start to pace around the room. His soul was getting restless having a conversation to this magnitude. He needed something else to focus his energy on. He sighed, halfway to the bed, "Because I already knew Bruce's rule. I intentionally broke it. It was and still is a conscience decision to take someone's life."

He was struggling with his words, while Damian cut in, "I told you, ignorance isn't excusable for my actions."

Jason scrubbed his hand down the front of his face, suddenly very tired. Damian was still looking at him but it had shifted into a glare. He fought the urge to throw up his hands, instead focused on keeping the frustrated bite out of his tone, "What I meant to say, I think, is that every time I have ever decided to kill it's been my own decision. My own agency. No one was threatening me with anything when I pulled the trigger. You-- you didn't have that."

This wasn't working. He could tell by the way Damian looked like he was about to interrupt him again, so he plunged on, hurriedly switching examples. "Look, when I was on the street, I only ever stole out of necessity. I never took more than I needed," He explained, leaving out that he really couldn't have afforded to be greedy for a number of reasons, but Damian didn't need to know that, "Because otherwise I wouldn't have made it."

He still looked like he wanted to argue, but something in the way he shifted his clenched jaw was different, his mood softening the slightest when he finally seemed to grasp what Jason was saying to him. Jason probably should've gone for an animal allegory but he couldn't think of another species on the spot that coerced others to do things in quite the same way humans did. God, he felt like such an older brother, but he didn't think many older brothers needed to talk to their siblings about past infractions that included murder and the trauma that comes with growing up in a sadistic secret cult.

"It also doesn't matter," He said, a little offhandedly, flopping back down on the bed as he tried to shake the restless feeling out of his bones, "It's in the past. All that matters now is how you deal with it."

"Anyone can see how hard you've been working the last year and a half Dami to transform yourself, to be more informed and do the best at what you think is right."

He got a ghost of a smile for that, and Jason wouldn't normally admit such a thing, but the brat really needed a little bit of reassurance. The smile dropped though and with it, so did Jason's stomach.

"You've transformed, too. You reinvent yourself every time you step into this godforsaken city. And father still refuses to forgive you."

"Like I said," Jason murmured, feeling very much like he was repeating his conversation with Dick a month before, "'S different with me."

"It should not be." Jason shrugged, suddenly so worn out from the entire conversation and the mere idea of explaining the complexities of his relationship with Bruce. How it was rocky and probably never going to end in anything other than tragedy and heartbreak to a twelve year old. He also had heard the unvoiced question. Will it be like that when I'm older too? He didn't know. You'd think after six kids and a few other strays Bruce felt personally responsible for, he'd be better at this parenting thing. What was different though, was Bruce did seem to trying with Damian. He felt a twinge of jealousy at that. Whatever. He didn't want another one of them to suffer the same fate as he did. He was strong enough to take it for them.

Jason shrugged again, getting up off the bed and ruffling Damian's hair before taking his book and ducking out the window without so much as a hint of a goodbye. He couldn’t deal with this much emotion. He’d hit his limit and he needed to leave, his skin crawling with the scent of the manor.

Damian would know where to find him though, if he did was a whole different thing entirely. But it didn’t really matter to Jason as he dropped down from a tree and started his trek across the manor grounds, debating if he should check in on Alfred’s sage bushes.

#jason todd #red hood #damian wayne #robin #jason todd fanfic #red hood fanfic #damian's better to write than dick #but he still has a little ways to go #my writing #changed the ending bc i hated it

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julessworldd · 4 years

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Little Rose ch. 5

Warnings: cursing, angst, fighting, overdose, flashbacks(if that’s a warning?), a happy ending..

A/n: I wrote down what this chapter was supposed to be focus on, but I got to writing and the focus changed. This fanfic has really fucked up the original timeline of the band, but it’s fanfic so you gotta do spin offs. Not sure how long, I’ll keep writing for this fic. I love this universe along with my others, I’ve created since bringing my work to the public. I’ll stop talking now. Hope you enjoy! :) sorry i missed any grammar errors, what should be warning. I was starting to have a migrane as I was finishing editing.

I loved being on tour, seeing the world, watching my brother and his band doing what they enjoy so much. This tour was different from any other before, Erin, my sister-in-law is pregnant. Axl had updated me about her and my peanut, Erin had braxton hicks the last couple months. Peanut loved kicking the hell out of her ribs all through the day and night, heartburn from hell, swollen ankles, sore feet. Poor Erin was exhausted and she wasn’t even due for another 3 weeks. Axl had been on edge, worrying that he would miss the birth of his first child. Their manager told him that we would be back in LA around a week before she was due. It had helped him some but he was still on egg shells, Axl’s behavior was affecting the band. They never seen him so worrisome before, sure that time I had the flu and food poisoning at the same time. We’re all still so young, none of us really knew what to expect with his daughter on the way.

Duff was in the shower, I was sitting at the table that was in our room, looking over dates. Some many shows and interviews, I don’t see how they function this shit especially on tour. “Hey Pumpkin, what are you doing over there?”, Duff said. I looked up to see a white towel low on his hips, “Just passing time. Get dressed, you’re dripping all over the floor”, I said. “When is baby Rose due again?”He asked. “Huh oh uh”, I flipped through the planner. “September 24th, if she’s not stubborn. Poor Erin is miserable right now”, I smiled, thinking of Erin all swollen belly, waddling around, mental cursing Axl for making her pregnant. “Izzy and I are betting against Slash that Axl will faint when he’s in the room with Erin”, Duff grinned. “Don’t do that. They’re both scared having their first kid”, I sighed. “I’m sorry I already put 30 bucks on Axl fainting and Erin crushing his hand”, Duff stuck his tongue out. There was a knock on the door, Duff walked over to answer it.

“Hey Izzy”, Duff said, shutting the door. “Hey Izzy, sleep good?”, I asked, shutting my planner. “We need to talk, Jane”, Izzy gritted his teeth. “What now?”, I sighed, trying to read his body language for signs of withdrawal. Izzy was gonna speak but he fainted, He hit the floor hard and started jerking around. “Izzy!”I ran over to him and tried to get him before he hit the floor.

I looked over at him, his lips were blue, he was fighting for air, his heart was beating hard as I felt his chest. “Shit!”I started to panic, I looked at Duff. He was stunned and rubbing his chest. Possible overdose and panic attack, great. “Duff, baby. I need to breathe okay? Breathe with me”, I said. “1,2,3 and breathe out on 4. Duff, I need to call the front desk and have them get the paramedics here”, I said calmly. Duff walked over to the phone, “Izzy, come on wake up”, I looked for bloody track marks or a needle stuck in his clothes. “Ma'am, I need you to move for me. Your friend needs help”, I felt a hand on my shoulder. I turned around to see a tallish, dark haired behind me. “Yeah, sorry”, I said, walking over to Duff. He tears in his eyes, his breathing was out of rhythm again. “Duff, baby I need you to focus on me, okay? Izzy is gonna be alright. Hey look at me”, I whispered, rubbing his arm. “Miss?”, a tiny femme voice asked. I tore my attention from Duff, “Yeah?” “What’s your friend’s name?”She asked. “Izzy Stradlin, 26, April 8th, 1962”, I realized what she was doing. “Okay thank you. What happened? You two didn't take anything right?”

“He came into our room, said he needed to talk to me about something, he collapsed before he got to me and said what he needed. We didn’t take anything. I’m just gonna save you and your partner trouble. Izzy is on heroin and some sorta pills”, I said, looking at Izzy being pulled on the stretcher. “Alright, thank you. I’m sorry you two witnessed his overdose”, She gave a small smile. “Thanks. I have to tell my brother what happened and we’ll be at the hospital”, I said as Izzy was pushed out of the room. “What the hell?!”, I heard Axl yell. “Janiee!!”He rushed into the room. “What happened to Izzy?”, Axl yelled. “Knock it off, you’ll trigger another panic attack for Duff. Izzy collapsed when he came in here, apparently it’s an overdose according to the medics. Axl, I’m so scared”, I cried, Axl pulled me into his arms. “Shhh, it’s okay. We’ll go see Izzy when we can. I’m not gonna let him join the 27 club a year early or ever”, Axl brushed my hair.

The doctor finally told us what happened to Izzy, he swallowed his entire pill stash, overdosed into a coma. Highly recommend we cancel our show this week. “You can go see him, but one at a time”, the doctor said. “Janie, you go”, Axl gave a weak smile. “Alright”, I turned the knob and shut the door behind me. Izzy laid still on the bed, wires stuck in him, IV bag by his beside with other machines. His face was pale like a ghost, he looked skinnier than usual. “Izzy, it’s me Janie. Can’t believe you overdosed, I thought you were wanting to get clean. You were over the heroin shit and you started pills. Please wake up Izzy! I need you just a bit longer, you’re my big brother. Who else is gonna listen to me when I’m pissed off at Duff?”, I held his hand. Machines just beeped and oxygen was flowing in his nose. “I read where coma patients can hear what’s going around them. I hope you can hear me because I want you to know that I love you very much. Please get better soon. I’m gonna go now, Axl will be pitching a fit if he doesn’t get to see you”, I smiled. “Normally you would bitch if I hugged you without asking, but tough shit”, I walked up his bed, to hug him. I held Izzy to me the best I could. His heart was still beating fast, but was slower than this afternoon. His bourbon, smoky, vanilla scent was comforting as always but I was the one having to comfort him.

“You okay?”, Duff asked. “Oh yeah, I just hate seeing him like that”, I said. “I’m gonna see him now”, Axl whispered. I slid down the wall and brought my knees to my chest. Duff pulled me into his lap, “Is he gonna be okay? He looks so pitiful, Duffy”, I asked, holding his hand. “He’s a fighter, little scrappy but yes, he’ll be okay. I know you told him to get better, he always listens to you. Izzy bitches about it but he does it anyways”, Duff whispered. “Yeah”, I smiled a little

“Now, Janie, I have a friend coming over. Please don’t bother us, I don’t want the little sister crap.”, Bill said. “Alright Billy, I’ll stay out but I wanna meet the poor soul that decided to be friends with you, chicken legs”, I rolled my eyes. “Fine, you can say hi but then you go to your room or go talk to Amy”, Bill groaned. The doorbell rang, “I got it”, Bill said, racing to the door. “Hey, glad you could make it.”, Bill said. “Hey. Sorry it took so long, mom wasn’t at home. She doesn't like my brothers to be alone”, a voice said. “I understand that. I have three siblings”, Bill laughed. Bill’s friend walked in as Bill shut the door. “This is my younger sister, Janet, but we call her Janie for short”, Bill said, rolling his eyes. “Hi”, I blushed. “Hi yourself. My name’s Jeff, but everyone knows me by Izzy”, the brown headed boy said. Izzy was looking at me, I felt weird and pulled my sweatshirt sleeve down. “Alright, Janie. Leave now”, Bill said.

Another flashback

I was searching for Bill, he was nowhere to be found. “You promised me that you would bring me home, Billy”, I cried even more. My boyfriend had broken up with me because he wanted Jackie Anderson, head cheerleader. I passed the bleachers heading towards home. “Janie?”, I heard a familiar voice. I turned around and saw Izzy with the stoners(his buddies) and Pam Macy hanging on his arm. “Hey, what happened? You’re crying”, Izzy threw his cigarette bud down and walked towards me. “Eric broke up with me. Said I wasn’t good enough and that I wasn’t a cheerleader, he wanted to be with the head cheerleader instead.”, I tried to hold my tears back. “I’m sorry Janie, he was an asshole anyways. You’re a good girl and any guy would be lucky to have you. It’s his lost and Bill and I hated him.”, Izzy reached up to pet my hair. “Thanks Iz. I’m gonna go home now”, I tried to push by him. He had my wrist, “Come on, I’ll take you for food. My treat”, Izzy smiled. “What about Pam?”, I asked. “You’re my favorite girl and you’re heartbroken, I gotta pay attention to you now”, Izzy smirked.

“You’ve never listened to the Stones? Janie!”, Izzy threw his head back groaning. “I’m sorry that my step dad thinks that rock n’ roll is devil’s music”, I said. The bell rang, someone had walked in. “Janie! There you are!”, Bill said, rushing to our table. “Bill, lay off. I found her”, Izzy said. Bill looked at my face, “What happened? You were crying” “Eric broke up with me today for a cheerleader”, I said almost crying. “She passed the bleachers and I saw her. I decided to bring her for food”, Izzy said. “Thanks Izzy. I’m sorry about Eric, he was just an asshole anyways”, Bill pulled me into his chest. “Izzy said the same thing”, I said. “I know, I was at the meeting”, Bill laughed. I looked at Izzy and smiled. He winked at me.

That was when I realized Izzy was the older brother I always wish I had besides Axl. He was protected and took care of me, I love him for it. “Janie”, Axl said. “Yeah?”, I looked up at him, Duff was holding his hand out for me. Management had come to me about Izzy overdosing well fainting in my room. They wanted to know if I knew what caused Izzy to swallow his entire pill stash. I decided to turn on the radio for a while, sure enough ‘Paint it Black’ came on. First Stones’ song Izzy showed me, it was in his car when he brought me to smoke weed with him near Chicago.

It had been 96 hours since Izzy was in a coma, he finally woke up and we all rushed to the hospital to see him. “Janie, you go in first”, Axl said. “Why? He’s your best friend”, I sassed. “Lady’s first”, Slash grinned. “Fine”, I walked in. There was a nurse taking Izzy’s vitals when I walked in. “Are you family?”, The blonde nurse asked. “Baby sister”, Izzy answered before I could think of something. “Oh well. I’m done here for now, you can come see your brother”, She smiled. “Thank you”, I said. “Hey Kid, just woke up from a killer nap”, Izzy joked. “Jeffery Dean! You fucking overdoesed because you decided to swallow your pills like candy. Don’t joke about that, you could have actually died. You know what? Fuck your joke, you had us worried to death. Izzy, you fell in mine and Duff’s room in front of us. You came in and said you had something to tell me. Duff barely closed the door before you collapsed on the floor”, I was fuming. “I’m sorry Janie. Management told me to get rid of them, housekeeping found one of my stashes. I panicked.”, Izzy said. “So instead of flushing them like a normal person you popped them like Tic Tacs like some manic?”, I rolled my eyes. Izzy stayed silent. “Your turn Ax”, I said walking out.

Axl and the boys walked in and I decided to go get a coffee from downstairs. I walked up to the nursing station, “Uh hi. Do you have any idea when Izzy Stradlin is being discharged?” “Hi, what’s the birthday?”, a petite brunette smiled. “7-8-62”, I nodded. “Looks like he needs a doctor to talk to him about his overdose and a last check up then he should be released maybe this evening”,She said. “Are they gonna send him to rehab?”, I asked. “Looks like it might be possibly, he was in a coma for 4 days”, She said. “Are you his girlfriend?”She stood up. “No, more like the baby sister he never had”, I gave a small smile. “Janie?”, Steven said. “Yeah? Izzy okay?”, I walked over to him. “Izzy’s fine, but we need to talk to you”, Steven said. “Okay”, I followed behind. “Listen, this is your sister, friend and now girlfriend talk not our assistant right now”, Steven stopped, before we reached Izzy’s room. I nodded my head. Everyone was sitting down, Izzy was lying down. “Hey”, I shut the door.

“What happened four days ago was hell, we almost lost Izzy. After, you left Izzy told us how you yelled at him for his drug stash. We’ve made the decision to go to rehab together”, Axl said. “That’s great, but you have a kid on the way.”, I said. “We’re going after she’s born, pretty sure Izzy is going first anyways. We’re gonna go to the same place together”, Axl reassured. “Not to be a bitch, but why was I brought into this. This is a band thing not the singer’s sister and the band”, I looked at Izzy. “You’ve been here since the beginning, we value your opinion”, Slash finally spoke up from leaning on the wall. The doctor came into the discharge Izzy, the band went different ways. “Seeing Izzy overdose in our room, you run to him with fear in your eyes. I realized that I don’t want that to be me and you freaking out”, Duff said. “Not sure what to say, but I really hope you guys get clean and stay clean. I don’t want to lose my boys so soon”, I hugged him. “You can’t get rid of me that easy, Janie”, Duff held me. “Good, I don’t want to get rid of you yet either”, I said, inhaling his scent.

Izzy got discharged and we flew back to L.A. before Erin gave birth. Almost 5 days that we got back, Erin gave birth to the new addition to the Guns N’ Roses’ family. Sarah Aless Rose-Everly, 7lbs and 4oz.

#guns n roses x reader #duff mckagan x reader #oc!reader #izzy stradlin x reader #axl x reader #guns n roses imagine

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ursie · 4 years

Note

hazel hcs!! all the hazel hcs!!!

SHE!!!! I live her she’s baby

Ok I haven’t reread Kane chronicles yet but Sadie x Hazel is where it’s at no I will not elaborate

She’s not a great bake or cook she’s not like terrible and can follow a recipe well enough as long as she’s not distracted but she’s not good either. Her cooking w Nico is really more her dancing around the kitchen w him while standing on his feet and eating raw dough

She’s not really into makeup tbh and I think when she gets older she’ll identify as Butch she has a lot of issues w how she views womanhood as so many people’s definition of womanhood doesn’t include her

After coming back from the dead she has attacks of dizziness and fatigue and is a part time wheelchair user (Leo tricked it out)

She also uses wrist braces due to the damage and strain moving sm earth caused her

Traditional therapy doesn’t work for her by itself so Hades/Pluto enrolled her and Nico in different non traditional therapy units like animal therapy, art, writing, and music therapy (the latter they enjoyed the most together)

She loves jazz, blues, old rock, gospel, country, she loves music but nothing is funnier than lil Hazel rocking out to heavy metal while cleaning the stables or something

Despite iding as Butch later on she never cuts her hair as she finds her fro more empowering than any haircut could be personally

She does let Nico paint her nails she hates the feeling the texture of chipped nail polish tho and always removes it that day

She’s a very good short story writer there’s something simple and sweet about her writing, she’s very good at poetry too

She likes to draw she does not have the patience to paint but she is learning

She cannot sew knit any of it everyone tried to teach her but she’d rather die than actually sit still and do it so she makes Nico mend her clothes (she asks and he’s physically incapable of saying no)

She grows up to be a veterinarian!! I don’t know if she marries or anything she’s thirteen but given her complex relationship with her mom and womanhood I don’t think she’d ever have kids I think she’d be a very good Aunt tho

She likes to read even if it takes her forever and once she reads a book she likes she always reads everything by that author before moving on

She’s still learning to fight and she’s powerful but lacks finesse and technique esp in hand to hand and other weapon fighting she’s a much better mage but man does she make up for it in commitment and fighting dirty hand to hand? She fights to win she is scrappy Nico teaches her a lot of Underhanded tricks they have to be they’re tiny

She is tiny she literally never gets any taller she stoped growing at 5’-5’2 and she’s valid!

She works very hard to pick up technology and is a very skilled photographer!!

She’s claustrophobic and scared of the dark so Nico built her a dresser so she wouldn’t have to use a closet and there’s a drawer unit under her bed and under any staircase in any house she’s in. She knows how dangerous the shadows can be

She has a complicated relationship w religion esp due to the nuns ⚠️ abuse but she eventually starts going to church again and she finds it a very healing process (I can def see her converting to Judaism or Islam too as you can find a community and healing in any major and frankly almost all religions)

She’s colorblind as underworld kids see in the dark and therefore their eyes are different therefore they see a different range of colors therefore she’s a colorblind legend

She’s gay she actually ends up having a p good relationship w Hades as Nico already did all the emotional labor for him and is holding a gun to his head, she can drive, she’s actually p good at math, her mind

She’s left handed and cannot use scissors she hates them she is physically incapable of cutting anything it is very trying for her

She likes pineapple on pizza

She’s from the south yes she’s anti grits they exist (she’s very pro sweet tea)

She has a very heavy accent and a def lisp that gets extremely prominent when she gets nervous

She has a tooth gap and she gets glasses when she’s older

Thus was off the top of my head!! I love her!! Baby she’s baby!!

#long post #hazel levesque #pjo hcs #pjo #asks

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anubislover · 4 years

Text

A Family Matter - Chapter 1

(As far as Ikkaku was concerned, deep down, every Marine was a corrupt scumbag. Some were just better at hiding it than others)

“Really hope Law doesn’t take too long to rescue us,” Shachi sighed, laying against the cool tiles of the prison floor, staring at the florescent lights in the ceiling, “otherwise I’m gonna die of boredom.”

“Agreed,” Penguin said from the cell next to him, using his shoelaces to make a cat’s cradle. They’d been locked in there for two days, and he had managed to tie and untie every type of knot he could think of for the sake of having something to occupy his brain. “They could have at least let me keep the deck of cards I’d brought.”

“Or given us a checkerboard or something. Hell, I’d take a book on Marine rules and regulations at this point—at least I could use it to beat my own skull in.”

“Ah, it’s not so bad,” Ikkaku chuckled from her cell across the room, folding her hands behind her head as she settled against the wall. “There are worse places to be incarcerated than Drake’s ship.”

It was true; while the brig was grey and boring, it was undeniably clean and well-kept, which was far more than they could say for other prisons they’d seen. On top of that, while the three Heart Pirates were locked up in separate cells, they weren’t chained to the walls or even cuffed, there were small cots with pillows and blankets, and no one was being tortured or interrogated. Hell, they’d even been given regular meals that resembled actual food, which was a pleasant surprise.

Really, the only concerning part was the cell in the far back corner that, from the look of things, had Seastone bars and shackles. Anyone could guess who Drake had reserved that one for. He might as well have hung a welcome banner.

Of course, the brig could have resembled a 5-star spa resort with meals prepared by a personal chef and Ikkaku would still have a fairly low opinion of the commodore. He was still a Marine, and she’d never known a Navy dog that wasn’t some kind of corrupt scumbag deep down, especially those that attained an officer’s rank. Some were simply better at hiding it than others.

But for now, she’d appreciate the decent-by-Marine-standards captivity, then take great pleasure in wrecking their shit.

“Maybe, but that doesn’t make me any less antsy,” Penguin stated quietly, suspicious of any guards that might be listening just out of sight. “We’ve got to be ready. Remember the plan.”

The mechanic rolled her eyes. “Of course we remember the plan.” Law had basically drilled it into their heads; the three of them had been dropped off on Einer Island to cause a commotion as a decoy while Law took the ship to Zwei Island to quietly raid the Marine base housed there. He’d known Drake would take the bait and capture the three of them, and the Polar Tang would intercept his ship a few days later so Law could sneak aboard, free them, and they’d set about causing some wonderful havoc for the commodore and his crew. It was convoluted and complicated and she had no doubt Law would get the exact result he wanted. Which was, she suspected, the ire and attention of a certain Allosaurus.

Her grin widened as she connected the dots. “You’re not worried about the plan; you just don’t like thinking about the last time we were aboard this ship.”

Shachi sniggered while Penguin blushed from his neck to his hairline. His expression was nearly as mortified as it had been during the incident in question. “Damn it Ikkaku! I was so close to repressing that, too!”

“When we next hit land, I’ll buy you a bottle of grain alcohol as brain bleach,” she cackled without remorse. Really, being locked in a Marine prison cell would never be her idea of fun, but she was glad she was stuck with these two—teasing Penguin was far more entertaining than any poker game.

The good cheer was swiftly vanquished as a deep, cold voice from the doorway stated, “Honestly, Ikkaku, are you really still such an idiot? Or do you find the idea of dying in prison amusing somehow?”

No. It can’t be, she thought, freezing as her mind registered the familiar, intruding voice. She hadn’t heard in years, save the occasional nightmare, but it still made a wave of dread crash over her like a tsunami. Her palms immediately began to sweat while her heart pounded in her ears. He’s supposed to be stationed in the West Blue, not the North.

In sync, Penguin and Shachi turned to observe the unfamiliar man that entered the brig. He was about Law’s height but with at least three times the muscle mass. He wore the crisp white suit of a Marine officer, his coat dutifully perched on his broad shoulders. His hair was jet black and gelled back, but it was clear that the locks were naturally curly despite his efforts to tame them. There was something vaguely familiar about him, though neither man could put their finger on it. He wasn’t that different from most Marines they’d encountered; he held himself with the same over-bloated self-importance to match his too-polished appearance. His smile was especially disconcerting—there was nothing genuine about the curl of his lips, as not a hint of warmth reached his dark brown eyes.

The newcomer approached Ikkaku’s cell with measured, slightly-too-loud steps. “What, not going to greet me properly? It’s been at least four years.”

“…hi, Ushi.”

His insincere smile dropped as he scowled in disapproval. “Tch. Try to say my name with more respect, you worthless little brat. I’m a Marine captain now.”

“Good evening, Captain Ushi, sir.”

Shachi’s jaw dropped when Ikkaku didn’t make some sarcastic, biting comment. The woman he knew never let someone talk to her like that. She’d certainly had no trouble sassing the Marines when they’d been captured. Hell, once she’d gotten comfortable among the Hearts, she’d taken to back-sassing Law on the regular. It was funny as hell to watch the two of them go at it like a couple of squabbling siblings. In fact, he suspected Law enjoyed and even encouraged it to an extent, as he’d just argue right back instead of pulling rank or disciplining her. The crew occasionally wondered if their captain spoiling her like that was a good thing, as it reinforced her lack of respect for more powerful figures.

To see that fire doused so easily by one man set Shachi’s teeth on edge.

“Better,” the Marine said blandly, pulling a key out of his pocket. “Though, it’ll be Commodore Ushi soon; there’s been talk of promoting me. I’ve made a good impression among some important people. People who want to see me advance. Unfortunately, that’s unlikely to happen unless I clear up a few loose ends first.”

Instinctively, Ikkaku shrank back, pressing herself hard against the wall as if it might open up and swallow her. Her big brown eyes were fixated on the floor, and her lips were pressed together so tightly they’d turned white.

It was easy to guess what “loose ends” he was referring to. Ushi had always been ambitious. Praised for his strength, intelligence, sense of responsibility, and charisma, the whole island had loved him, giving him a grand send-off the day he left for the Marines. On the few occasions he’d had time to visit home, everyone was quick to call him the pride of Rivet and a future hero.

The handful that knew better had learned to keep their mouths shut long ago.

In the cell across from her, Penguin’s hands clenched as he watched the interaction before him. This was very, very wrong. In the year and a half that he’d known her, Ikkaku didn’t shrink. From anyone. Not Law, not enemy pirates, not drunken brutes twice her size—even Drake had gotten a few bruises when he’d been forced to subdue her during their capture. She was feisty and scrappy and wasn’t afraid of slamming her foot into some asshole’s groin when threatened.

It became clear that this particular Marine was the exception when he unlocked her cell door, marched inside, grabbed her by the collar of her jumpsuit, and dragged her to her feet.

Ikkaku didn’t resist. Resisting had never done her any good in the past. Ushi always took it as a personal offense and would come up with worse punishments. Or make Hapushiru, Nausagi, and Fukuro beat her up instead so he could keep his hands clean and maintain his image as the “responsible” one.

Of course, she was swiftly reminded that he’d never been shy about taking matters into his own hands when he was in the right mood when he sharply smacked her across the cheek so hard she saw stars for a moment.

At the loud smack, Penguin and Shachi sprang to their feet, ready to fight. “What the fuck—”

“You’ve got some balls hitting our crewmate!”

Ushi ignored them in favor of sneering down at the woman in question, “Can you believe the twins were actually bragging about you being part of the most wanted crew in the North Blue? As if you’re the one the family should be proud of! You’re going to come with me, nice and quiet, or we’re going to have problems. And you remember how I tend to make problems disappear, right?”

She shuddered at the memory. Three days. She’d spent three days wandering alone in the woods, cold and hungry and terrified that she’d be eaten by wolves. Three days wondering if Ushi was right—that Mama and Papa would be better off without her. Without a worthless daughter than would never amount to anything holding everyone back…

Gramps had been the one to find her. Nausagi and Fukuro had realized that, even if their baby sister annoyed them, and even if having one less mouth to feed meant more money for toys and treats, leaving her out there to die was sick and wrong. The twins had defied Ushi and told their grandfather she was missing. The old lighthouse keeper had searched the woods in the middle of a storm for the sake of finding his seven-year-old granddaughter, and she could still remember his wrinkled face lined with worry and raindrops when he’d finally found her shivering in a hollowed-out tree.

As relieved as her parents had been that she was safe, Ikkaku had been scolded for causing such trouble and forcing Gramps to abandon his post and risk something happening, like the light going out and a ship crashing into the rocks. How dare she run off without telling anyone? She’d put herself and others in danger! Why couldn’t she be more responsible like Ushi?

Neither she nor the twins had told anyone that it had been Ushi’s fault—no one would believe them, and he’d just make them pay for it.

He had made them pay for it. He’d taken his aggression out on Nausagi and Fukuro, beating them both bloody while making Ikkaku watch, telling her that it was her fault, that he wouldn’t have to hurt his beloved little brothers if she’d just stayed gone…

CLANG! Shachi threw himself against the bars of his cell, desperately grasping for Ikkaku in hopes of getting her away from the Marine. She hadn’t even noticed that Ushi had dragged her out of her cell—she’d been too caught up in the past. Of the memory of how pointless it was to fight Ushi.

“Buddy, I don’t give a shit if you’re an Admiral—you let Ikkaku go right the fuck now, or so help me I’ll rip your goddamn throat out!”

Meanwhile, Penguin was yelling towards the doorway, “Hey! Is somebody out there? I know this asshole isn’t part of Drake’s crew! Get him out of here!”

Ushi gave the younger men a death glare. “Shut the hell up. I sent the guards to get some coffee so I wouldn’t have any interruptions. Not that they’d step in anyway; what self-respecting Marine would help a bunch of pirates?”

As if to prove his point, he slammed his fist into Ikkaku’s stomach, his grip on the collar of her boiler suit the only thing keeping her from crumpling to the floor.

She would have sobbed if she had the breath to. He was right. Ushi could do what he wanted, and no one would help them. Hell, they’d probably thank him for taking them off their hands; no need to expend resources on prisoners, after all.

Men like Ushi were the reason she could never trust the Marines. The fact that they’d allowed such a violent bastard to advance to a position of authority—that “certain people” wanted to give him even more power—told her everything she needed to know. The World Government was just a gang of bullies who liked to push people around just for kicks. She’d seen it plenty of times; Navy dogs refusing to help innocent civilians, valuing the glory of arresting a notorious pirate over human decency.

Hell, Commodore Drake was probably lounging in his cabin, greedily counting however many belli her brother had paid him to take a single problematic prisoner off his hands.

No one would come to help the Heart Pirates.

That didn’t stop Shachi from straining against the bars harder, the veins in his neck bulging as he struggled to rescue his friend. “Go fuck yourself!”

Smirking, Ushi moved so he was just out of reach of Shachi’s grasping fingers, making sure to harshly shove Ikkaku behind him to keep her out of the way. “Do yourself a favor and stand down, scumbag, before I break that spindly arm of yours. This is a family matter, anyway.”

“Then it definitely involves us! We’re nakama!” Penguin snapped, turning away from the door to face the Marine. If the guards couldn’t help them, he’d just have to figure out how to take down this asshole himself.

Ushi raised a disbelieving eyebrow. “Seriously? You wanna fight me for her? Why? Is it because she’s the only woman on your ship?” He glanced over his shoulder at Ikkaku, who was still clutching her stomach in pain, silently praying that the boys would back down before they got hurt. She knew from experience that breaking an arm was far from an empty threat. “Are you the ship’s whore or something? God, you’re an even bigger disgrace than I thought.”

Eyes lighting up with fury, Shachi pulled his arm inside his cell, took several steps back, and then rushed forward, slamming his shoulder against the door in an attempt to break it down.

“She’s our mechanic!” Penguin defended, teeth grinding as he tried to figure out some kind of plan. Damn it, there had to be something in that stupid cell he could use as a weapon. He couldn’t just stand there while this bastard manhandled and insulted Ikkaku! He’d throw his boot at the son of a bitch if he had to!

“Tch. You people must have been really desperate to hire a talentless brat like her.”

“Ikkaku! Are you really gonna let this guy talk to you like that?!” Shachi shouted as he futilely slammed into the door again. He winced at the pain the shot through his shoulder, but he couldn’t bring himself to care. Not when his shipmate was in trouble.

“She’s the best damn mechanic in the North Blue,” Penguin stated, his tone leaving no room for argument. “Soon she’s going to be the best in the whole world. And you’d better let her go right now; otherwise, you’re in for a world of pain when Law finds out you’ve threatened his nakama.”

A pang went through Ikkaku’s chest at their words, warm and stronger than even the pain in her stomach. It was still such a foreign feeling, having people that genuinely cared about her. That believed in her abilities and her dream. Only the twins had really ever had her back, and it had been too dangerous to show it until Ushi had finally left…

She was given a stark reminder of why that was when her oldest brother drew his pistol.

“Ugh, arguing with you two is a waste of time,” he scoffed, pointing it casually at Penguin, whose eyes widened beneath the brim of his hat as he realized there was no space to dodge in the cramped cell. “I’m on a tight schedule, and I’m pretty sure Drake doesn’t need both of you alive to lure out Trafalgar.”

Without even thinking, Ikkaku lunged forward, desperately grabbing Ushi’s arm and jerking it upwards so the bullet hit a ceiling light instead of her friend.

“Don’t you fucking touch them!” she screamed, spinning around and slamming her foot into his ribs. For a moment, her boot appeared black as it made contact, and the blow made the Marine faulter, the gun falling from his hand to clatter on the tile floor.

Unfortunately, he recovered quickly, and before Ikkaku could dive for the gun he grabbed her by the shoulders, lifted her up, and bashed her right against the bars of her empty cell. The impact shook her to her core, and she once again curled into herself, the blood pounding in her ears sounding like frantic footsteps to her dazed mind.

“You stupid fucking bitch!” he shouted, shifting one of his hands so it wrapped around her throat. “You just never fucking learn!”

Thinking fast, Penguin reached through the bars for the pistol, but it was just out of reach. He yanked off his hat, planning to use it to catch the gun and drag it towards him before Ushi could strangle the mechanic.

Everything came to a halt when the sound of stomping boots became unmistakable.

“WHAT IS GOING ON HERE?!” Drake bellowed from the doorway. He charged into the brig, sword drawn, ready to end whatever fight had resulted in a gun being fired on his ship. His eyes widened at the sight before him; a Marine officer choking his sole female prisoner—who for some reason was out of her cell instead of locked up tight like he’d ordered—while another prisoner reached through the bars for the smoking pistol at their feet. Shards of glass littered the floor of Penguin’s cell, the remains of the florescent light sparking dangerously above him while Shachi clutched his shoulder in pain.

Instinctively, the two guards that flanked Drake drew their rifles, though no one was quite sure if they were aiming at the Captain or the pirates.

“It’s about fucking time,” Shachi said shakily, gripping his shoulder. The adrenaline was beginning to wear off, and the pain was making its presence known. He was sure he’d injured himself trying to break the door down, but there was no way he was going to stand down until he knew his comrades were safe.

Drake didn’t spare him a glance, his intense grey eyes solely focused on the two figures that weren’t locked up.

“Captain Ushi,” he growled, “while I gave you permission to come aboard my ship, I don’t recall giving you leave to visit the brig. Mainly because you didn’t request it.”

“Ah, yes,” Ushi said, releasing Ikkaku’s throat. His grip on her shoulder remained firm as he lowered her back down to the floor. “I apologize for that. You seemed extremely busy planning Trafalgar Law’s capture, so I planned to bring it up at dinner.”

“Dinner started ten minutes ago. I was waiting for you.”

“Must have slipped my mind.”

“Much like I’m sure your hand slipped when you fired that gun.”

“More like it was forcibly jerked about,” Ushi replied, sparing the wheezing Ikkaku a disdainful glance. “I drew my weapon in self-defense.”

Drake sheathed his sword, mainly so he could cross his arms in disapproval. “Against three unarmed prisoners, two behind bars and one of which is a woman a third your size?”

He had the gall to shrug. “From what I’ve heard, you shouldn’t underestimate the Surgeon of Death or his men. I mean, they’ve been crafty enough to slip through your fingers before, Commodore.”

Grey eyes narrowed at the small show of disrespect. “While this is true, I’m curious as to what business you have with them. And why you sent the guards that were stationed here away. Surely if you’re intent on not underestimating them, you’d want backup? And given the state I’ve found everyone in, I’d say it’s a damn good thing they came to find me instead of taking a coffee break like you suggested. Otherwise you’d have been shot in the back by Trafalgar’s first mate, and the woman could have unlocked the cells, thus allowing them to slip through my fingers once again.”

Ushi glowered at the man in question before grimacing, fully aware that Drake had backed him into a corner. “Fine. I’m here because I’m taking custody of the Heart Pirate woman.”

“Do you have some sort of official paperwork formally requesting a transfer?” he asked, lifting a critical eyebrow.

“Well, no. I was hoping I could make that request of you personally. Of the record, so to speak.”

“Why?”

Shooting Ikkaku a sharp warning glare—the kind that promised unimaginable pain if she dared speak against him—Ushi indicated the woman he had pinned against the bars. “You see, sir, I’m ashamed to admit it, but Ikkaku of the Heart Pirates is my baby sister. She’s always been a spoiled, disobedient brat, but I’d never expected her to devolve into piracy. Maybe it’s my own fault; I left to join the Marines when she was twelve, and I guess without me around, there was no one willing to discipline her.”

Drake looked thoroughly unconvinced, giving a meaningful glance at her cheek, which was already darkening into an ugly bruise. “Is that what you were doing? ‘Disciplining’ her?”

Penguin and Shachi could practically hear the air quotes around the word, and the duo found their hopes beginning to rise just the slightest bit. Drake was their enemy, but they knew for a fact that his tolerance for bullshit was exceptionally low.

Ikkaku was less convinced. There had been plenty of times when it seemed like someone would finally see past her brother’s lies, but he always managed to talk his way out of it and push the blame back onto her. Partially because people didn’t want to see the town’s Golden Child as anything but the perfect, responsible young man everyone had set him up to be.

Seeing that his superior was less than impressed with him, Ushi immediately set to justifying himself. “Look, our parents worked long hours to put food on the table for five kids; keeping them all in line fell to me. I did my best but, well, I guess her career choice shows she’s always been a bad seed.”

Drake actually scoffed. “Your failure as an authority figure among your siblings does not fill me with confidence, Captain Ushi. Get to the point—why do you want me to hand the woman over to you?”

His jaw tightened in frustration. “Because this is a family matter. I’d rather spare our poor parents the shame of the world finding out their daughter became a pirate.”

“You fucking liar!” Shachi shouted.

“You just care about your damn promotion!” Penguin grabbed the bars of his cell in a fruitless attempt to break down the barrier and get to the man who held his crewmate hostage.

“Like he’d listen to scum like you,” Ushi jeered.

“And yet I find myself inclined to believe their side of the story over yours,” Drake snarled, jerking his head towards the prisoners. “I have no time for games. If you don’t start telling the truth in the next three seconds, I will report you—and your little ‘off the record’ request—to Headquarters.”

Frustration finally coming to a boiling point, the Marine captain snapped, “Look, I know it’s a bit unconventional, but my superiors say I could be up for a promotion soon, and I can’t let her cost me everything I’ve worked for. Surely you understand just how difficult it is to advance your career when the Navy knows you’re related to a pirate, right Commodore Diez?” he finished with a sneer.

Silence filled the room at the utterance of the ginger’s surname. Penguin and Shachi actually froze; they vividly remembered the name Diez Barrels, the pirate captain that had made the neighboring Minion Island his base of operations. They’d never seen the man himself, but their parents would often whisper about bodies of those he’d brutally murdered washing up on Sparrow Island’s beaches.

Drake was the son of a pirate?

Meanwhile, the man in question took a deep, calming breath as he assessed the situation. As tempting as it was to rip the man to shreds for daring to bring up his father, doing so would do nothing but make things spiral into blood and chaos. He needed to keep his temper in check and be rational before he made his call.

He regarded his colleague carefully. Captain Ushi had been perfectly cordial when he’d requested permission to board his ship. Had commended Drake’s bravery and impressive record, and the way he led the men under his command. He’d been polite, professional, and while perhaps a bit heavy-handed with the praise, a generally respectable man.

Now, he had his little sister pinned against the cell he’d dragged her from, a smoking gun at his feet, and two prisoners declaring he’d basically tried to kill her for the sake of a promotion.

Drake turned his full attention to the woman. She hadn’t spoken a word since he’d arrived—very odd based on what he knew of her, though their interactions were limited. What he did know was that the mechanic was mouthy and quite the plucky fighter. After all, she’d tried to break his nose and had called him a rather colorful array of curse words during her arrest. Yet now, she was silent.

Her body language spoke volumes, however. Glistening eyes averted to the floor so as to make her assailant feel dominant. Shoulders hunched in pain. Teeth digging into her bottom lip so as to hold back any defiant words that might slip out. Hands and knees trembling ever-so-slightly.

It was when a pair of tears bubbled over and trailed down her bruised cheeks that he made his decision.

“You’re right,” he said slowly and calmly, taking a few casual steps forward. “I do know how difficult it is. It takes an exceptional amount of hard work and ambition to overcome the stigma that comes with being related to a pirate. You may have her.”

One of Drake’s hands shot out to rip Ikkaku from Ushi’s grasp while the other fisted the collar of his shirt, lifting him up so his toes dangled over three feet off the ground as the ginger growled, eyes momentarily burning orange, “When you have the appropriate transfer paperwork, signed by an Admiral, stating the exact reason you wish to take this particular pirate into custody. Until then, she remains my prisoner on my ship. And speaking of, I’m revoking any permission I gave you to come aboard. As such, I’m going to ask you—once—to leave quietly. Immediately.”

For his part, Ushi stared at his superior in unconcealed shock, however any argument he might have made was swiftly silenced as Drake unceremoniously dropped him to the floor. He crumpled a bit, but at the larger man’s ferocious glare he backed off, clumsily scooping up his gun before marching out of the brig with his head held deceptively high, not even sparing Ikkaku a glance.

“Athos, escort Captain Ushi to his ship so he doesn’t get lost,” Drake ordered.

One of the guards nodded and lowered his gun, running off after the chastised officer.

Silence weighed down the cramped room until the pair’s footsteps faded. It didn’t escape Drake’s notice that Ikkaku’s slight shoulder still trembled beneath his hand. Duty momentarily fought with compassion in his mind. Her reaction to her brother’s presence was painfully familiar. And while he shouldn’t give any preferential treatment to a pirate, even a female one, he had no doubt this would not be the last time Ushi came after her.

“It’s Ikkaku, correct?” he asked her, voice gentle but firm.

She blinked up at him, surprised at his tone. “Uh…yeah.”

Nodding to the remaining guard, he shifted his grip so his large hand wrapped almost entirely around her bicep. “Given the current circumstances, I believe it is no longer safe for you to reside in your cell, at least until I can be certain your brother is well and truly gone.”

Loathe as she was to agree with a Marine, Drake was right on the money; Ushi may have retreated for now, but there was no way in Hell he’d let Drake’s ship out of his sight so long as she was on it, especially with the added threat of his superiors finding out about both their relation and his attempt at an under-the-table transfer.

Marines were shady bastards, but they liked to pretend to be squeaky-clean. Ushi’s screw-up might have cost him his promotion, but that didn’t mean he’d give up. If anything, he’d be even more determined to kill her.

She glanced at Penguin and Shachi, who seemed just as conflicted. Separating them wasn’t in Law’s plan. Sure, there was no place on the ship they could put her that he couldn’t find, the it could cost him the element of surprise if he had to Scan the whole ship.

Then again, if Ushi did manage to sneak aboard before Law arrived, there was the very real possibility that he’d come to find a dead engineer, and potentially even the corpses of his first and second mates, too.

On top of that, Drake’s firm grip on her arm and the fact that he’d managed to throw Ushi around like a rag doll made it clear that, as polite as he was being, she didn’t really have a say in the matter.

Heart in her throat, Ikkaku found herself nodding. “Ok. Yeah, that’s…that’s reasonable.”

Pleasantly surprised at the Heart Pirate’s compliance, Drake gave her a brief smile before leading her towards the hallway, turning to the remaining soldier. “Porthos, double the guards in the brig, and if anyone you don’t immediately recognize as a member of this crew shows their face, notify me at once.”

“Hey, where are you taking her?” Penguin called, eyes narrowed. In all honesty, he didn’t disagree with either Drake’s or Ikkaku’s decision—it was more important for his crewmates to be safe than conveniently together. Law should be there to get them tonight, and it didn’t matter if they were on opposite sides of the ship or not; he’d rescue them all. The plan would be fine. Drake wouldn’t know what hit him…

His blood ran cold when Drake actually smirked at him over his shoulder. “When he comes to rescue you, tell your captain that he can find Miss Ikkaku safe and sound in my quarters. And that the cell in the corner is reserved just for him.”

To Be Continued...

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hamanuelton · 4 years

Text

my favorite parts of hamilton:

- “I imagine death so much it feels more like a memory.”

- every time Leslie Odom Jr. as aaron burr begins another part with “how did a bastard, orphan-“ or like in that same way ‘cause he doesn’t always start it that way but you know what I mean

- the way Leslie Odom Jr. as My Boi Burr™️ says “well, the world got around, they said, ‘this kid is insane, man!’”

- also when Leslie Odom Jr. as A. Burr says

“WHAT’S YOUR NAME, MAN?!”

- “our man saw his future drip-dripping down the drain, a pencil to his temple, connected it to his brain”

- “Alexander Hamilton. My name is Alexander Hamilton. And there’s a million things I haven’t done, but just you wait, just you wait...”

- background “just you wait, just you wait”’s as hammy’s putting on a new jacket and ensemble is praising nyc

- “and me? i’m the damn fool that shot him.”

- “Burr, sir” + the continuation of this all throughout

- “If you talk you’re gonna get shot” / FORESHADOWING WOOOEEEEWOOOOO

- “i’m John Laurens in the place to be”

- Lafayette’s fuckinf accent

- “BRRRAH! BRRAAAH! HERCULES MULLIGAN UP IN IT LOVIN IT”

- “if you stand for nothing, Burr, what’ll you fall for”

- “‘Onarchy?”

- hey, yo, i’m just like my country, i’m young, scrappy, and hungry—

- the way Odom Leslie Jr. as The Hamburrglar™️ says ‘shot’ and they all take a shot

- this ⤵️

- Hammy getting //flustered// about friendship

- WHEN ARE THESE COLONIES GONNA RISE UP

- Angelica’s face when Burr is tryna tell her bout herself and she shows him up and ships him out

- Act 1: 6. Farmer Refuted

- honorable mention: “my dog speaks more eloquently than thee!" "but strangely, your mange is the same." "is he in jersey?”

- King George pouting

- Jonathan Groff’s overarticulation of each syllable as King George is a work of art

- “♪ Da-da-da-dat-da-dat-da-da-da-dai-ah-da! ♪ Da-da-da-da-dai-ah-da! ♪

- “Everybody! —“

- “We keep meeting.”

- “i imagine death so much it feels more like a memory. when’s it gonna get me? in my sleep? seven feet ahead of me?”

- “See, I never thought I’d live past twenty.”

- “this is not a moment, it’s the movement”

- “I’m laughin’ in the face of casualties and sorrow, for the first time, I’m thinkin’ past tomorrow!”

- “dying is easy, young man, living is harder!”

- “i’m being honest. i’m working with a third of what our Congress promised.”

- “you need all the help you can get. i have some friends. Laurens, Mulligan, Marquis de Lafayette, okay, what else?” — “we’ll need some spies on the inside, some king’s men who might let some things slide.”

- “watch this obnoxious, arrogant, loudmouth bother be seated at the right hand of the father.”

- “Martha Washington named her feral tomcat after him” — “That’s true.”

- “Yo, if your marry a sister, you’re rich, son!” — “Is it a question of ‘if’, Burr, or which one?” and then the little ‘hey’ ‘hey’ thing they do gets me every time

- literally the use of yo throughout the production fucking gets me every single fucking time

- “i’m writin’ a letter nightly. now my life gets better, every letter that you write me. — THE PURE UNBRIDLED SENSE OF FORESHADOWING IN “laughin’ at my sister, cuz she wants to form a harem” — ft. “i’m just sayin’, if you really loved me, you would share him!”

- the irony in “Eliza, i don’t have a dollar to my name”, you’ll be on the $10 bill, my man

- top-notch brain

- Angelica TRIED TO TAKE A BITE OF ME

- the way Anthony Ramos as John Laurens says “alright, alright. that’s what i’m talkin’ about!” and also the face that he makes

- hunger-pang frame

- “You strike me as a woman who has never been satisfied.” — “I’m sure I don’t know what you mean. You forget yourself.” — “You’re like me. I’m never satisfied.” — “Is that right?” — “I have never been satisfied.” — “My name is Angelica Schuyler.” — “Alexander Hamilton.” — “Where’s your fam’ly from?” — “Unimportant. There’s a million things I haven’t done but just you wait, just you wait...”

- tbh the way ‘Schuyler’ is spelled is oddly satisfying to me

- honestly just the way LMM says Alexander Hamilton+/ my name is Alexander Hamilton, and there’s a million things i haven’t done, ‘just you wait, just you wait...’ throughout the production

- “i’m the oldest and the wittiest and the gossip in new york city is insidious”

- “You are the worst, Burr.”

- Act 1: 12. The Story of Tonight (Reprise)

- “love doesn’t discriminate, between the sinners and the saints, it takes and it takes and it takes”

- “love doesn’t discriminate, between the sinners and the saints, it takes and it takes and it takes and we keep living anyway. we rise and we fall and we break and we make our mistakes. and if there’s a reason i’m still alive when everyone who loves me has died—“

- “Chick-a-plao!”

- the way they say ‘raise a glass’ is both elegant and (appropriately) reverent

- “i go back to new york and my apprenticeship” — i shouted MY BOI HERCULES MULLIGAN UP IN IT LOVIN IT DID NOT JUST SAY THAT, IF HE ACTUALLY LEFT AND ISN’T JUST UNDERCOVER OR SOME SHIT IMMA WRITE LIN-MANUEL MIRANDA A STRONGLY WORDED LETTER

- the minute General Charles Les came into the picture i hated him so hard, even though his literal first word was ‘Whee!!!!’, though i can appreciate the sentiment and what LMM was tryna do there

- “Washington cannot be left to his devices indescisive, from crisis to crisis” — sweet baby jesus that alliteration, and jon rua totally pulled it off (i hate General Charles Lee not the person who played him, i can also appreciate the fact that as an actor it takes a lot of talent to be able to make you hate a character so easily, also shoutout to Jonathan Groff as King Georgey-Boy™️, Sydney James Harcourt as james reynolds, and the general way LMM somehow made me fed up/turn on Alexander with the whole scene with him and Maria Reynolds — and not only that but somehow redeemed himself to me which is easier said than done for characters and people alike.. i’ve been hurt too much to play like that.

- Act 1: 15. Ten Duel Commandments

- honorable mention: “if you don’t reach peace, that’s alright. time to get some pistols and a doctor on site. you pay him in advance, you treat him with civility. you have him turn around so he can have deniability.”

- Act 1: 17. That Would Be Enough

- honorable mention: the melody that LMM went with for that turn of phraseis a truly beautiful thing

- “Immigrants:” — “We get the job done.”

- THE FACT THAT MY MAIN MAN HERCULE MULLIGAN WAS ON THE INSIDE NOT ONLY DID I CALL IT BUT DAMN HE REALLY GOT THAT GOOD HOT TRIBUTE HE DESERVED

- “To my brother’s a revolutionary covenant! I’m runnin’ with the sons of liberty and I am lovin’ it! See, that’s what happens when you up against the ruffians. We’re in the shit now, somebody gotta shovel it! Hercules Mulligan, I need no introduction, when you knock me down I get the fuck back up again!”

- Act 1: 21. What Comes Next

- honorable mention: “i’m so blue” — the little squat that Groffsauce does as the light turns blue really got to me

- Act 1: 22. Dear Theodosia

- Leslie Odom Jr.’s voice is so ding dang delightfully airy

- honorable mention: “You have my eyes. You have your mother’s name. When you came into the world, you cried and it broke my heart.”

- Act 1: 23. Non-Stop

- as someone with siblings i can appreciate that they’re bickering like that’s just what they are

- “I was chosen for the constitutional convention! *squeal*”

- “Burr, we studied and we fought and we killed for the notion of a nation we now get to build. For once in your life, take a stand with pride. I don’t understand how you stand to the side.”

- Act 2: 1. What’d I Miss?

- honorable mention: “But the sun comes up and the world still spins.”

- Act 2: 2. Cabinet Battle #1

- honorable mention: “DOIN’ WHATEVER THE HELL IT IS YOU DO IN MONTICELLO!”

- tomorrow and tomorrow and tomorrow

- “Daddy, daddy, look.... My name is Philip. I am a poet. I wrote this poem just to show it. And I just turned nine. You can write rhymes but you can’t write mine.” - “What!” - “I practice French and play piano with my mother.” — “Uh-huh!” — “I have a sister but I want a little brother.” — “Okay!” — “My daddy’s trying to start America’s bank. Un deux trois quatre cinq!” — “Bravo!” — “Hey, our kid is pretty great.”

- as much as i hate Act 2: 4. Say No To This (because for some reason i though Alexander Hamilton was better than that) Jasmine Cephas Jones sings in it is like a hot knife through butter — namely; “My husband’s doin’ me wrong beatin’ me, cheatin’ me, mistreatin’ me...”... I guess maybe I understand it ‘cause damn Jasmine Cephas Jones is so ding dang pretty and ding dang talented and wow what a remarkable person

- the way that Lin says “And her body’s saying, ‘hell, yes’ is um.. 😓

- “You see, that was my wife you decided to” — “Fuuuu—“

- Act 2: 5. The Room Where It Happens

- honorable mention: “Bros.”

- “Talk less. Smile more.” LMM being a dramatic bastard

- Act 2: 6. Schuyler Defeated

- Act 2: 7. Cabinet Battle #2

- “revolution is messy but now is the time to stand."

- honorable mention: “Ooh!!”

- “We signed a treaty with a King whose head is now in a basket. Would you like to take it out and ask it? ‘Should we honor our treaty, King Louis’ head?’ ‘Uh... do whatever you want, I’m super dead.’”

- Thomas Jefferson all like “but sir do we not fight for freedom” MY BAD SIR YOU ARE A SLAVE-OWNER HOW ABOUT YOU NOT

- mentioning Lafayette because apparently LMM has no problem with breaking the fourth wall

- “Daddy’s calling.”

- “I’m in the cabinet. I am complicit in watching him grabbin’ at power and kiss it. If Washington isn’t gon’ listen to disciplined dissidents, this is the difference. This kid is out!”

- “Southern motherfuckin’ Democratic-Republicans!”

- “The emperor has no clothes.”

- “Sir, I don’t know what you heard but whatever it is Jefferson started it.” — “Thomas Jefferson resigned this morning.” — “You’re kidding.” — “I need a favor.” — “Whatever you say, sir, Jefferson will pay for his behavior.” — “I’ll use the press. I’ll write under a pseudonym, you’ll see what I can do to him—“ — “Yes! He resigned you can finally speak your mind!” — “Ha. Good luck defeating you, sir.” - “I’m sorry, what?”

- Act 2: 10. I Know Him

- “—Vice President.” — “— No more Mr. Nice President.”

- “Sit down, John, you fat motherf—“

- Act 2: 12. We Know

- honorable mention: “You see that was my wife you decided to—“ — “WHAT—“

- Act 2: 13. Hurricane

- Act 2: 14. The Reynolds Pamphlet

- honorable mention: *DEEP VOICE* “DAMN”

- Act 2: 15. Burn

- i’ll be the first to say i wasn’t a huge fan of Eliza at first aside from Phillipa Soo’s killer voice

- this gave me a lot of respect for her

- honorable mention: “You have married an Icarus. He has flown too close to the sun.”

- Act 2: 16. Blow Us All Away

- i would like to point out that tweet where someone @‘s LMM about not mentioning Philip’s hot and he responds “I’M FAIRLY F**CKING SURE I DID”, y’know ⤵️

- “The ladies say my brain’s not where the resemblance stops.”

- “God, you’re a fox.”

- Act 2: 17. Stay Alive (Reprise)

- The ‘I know, I know. Shh.’ and the full circle back to his mom teaching him french on the piano really got to me for the beautiful artistry in it but also damn them feels

- Act 2: 18. It’s Quiet Uptown

- “I spend hours in the garden. I walk alone to the store and it’s quiet uptown. I never liked the quiet before. I take the children to church on Sunday, a sign of the cross at the door, and I pray. That never used to happen before.”

- “Philip, you would like it uptown. It’s quiet uptown.”

- “You knock me out, I fall apart.”

- “Eliza, do you like it uptown? It’s quiet uptown.”

- “There are moments that the words don’t reach. There is suffering too terrible to name. You hold your child as tight as you can and push away the unimaginable. The moments when you’re in so deep it feels easier to just swim down.”

- “There are moments that the words don’t reach. There is a grace too powerful to name. We push away what we can never understand. We push away the unimaginable.”

- “Can you imagine?”

- Act 2: 19. The Election of 1800

- honorable mention: “And they say I’m a Francophile: at least they know I know where France is!”

- “You used to work on the same staff” — “Whaaaat.”

- “Honestly, it’s kind of draining.” — “Burr...” — “Sir!” — “Is there anything you wouldn’t do?” — “No. I’m chasing what I want. And you know what?” — “What?” — “I learned that from you.” / this moment made the blow that he voted for Jefferson like a damn hole in my chest and i actually really felt for Burr. i get Hammy’s reluctance, i think if anything he was hoping voting for Jefferson would give Burr the chance to have experience as VP and then the next election he might vote for him then depending

- Act 2: 20. Your Obedient Servant

- A. Burr

- A. Ham

- “I just need to write something down.” / really resonated as one of the last things they showed him doing before going off to the duel, his life really was writing and that was the perfect way to say that in a very subtle sort of way. i really appreciate it artistically, whether it was intentionally so or not.

- Act 2: 22. The World Was Wide Enough

- okay but first of all i would like to comment on the fact that Ariana DeBose PLAYS THE GODDAMN BULLET, I JUST

- THE FACT THAT THE BULLET HAS A PART

- “This man will not make an orphan of my daughter.” / this made me really sympathize with Burr, as well as when he tries to go towards Hamilton (at least in the play but I sincerely hope that was historically accurate) / but also that fact that Theodosia Burr was lost at sea at 29 makes me sad because Hamilton’s life was taken to give her one and then she just up and disappears in a freak accident

- Act 2: 23. Who Lives, Who Dies, Who Tells Your Story

- the orphanage got to me

- i loved that he (LMM) didn’t end it with himself or anything

- he let Phillipa Soo tear my heart out

- it killed me but i died quite happily

- and really what more could you ask for.

#okay so #i know thw subheaders are probably grossly uneven #but like #i had to space manually #and this already took a lot of time to do #so i couldn’t give two fucks #lin manuel miranda #hamilton #hamilton film #daveed diggs #jonathan groff #anthony ramos #christopher jackson #jasmine cephas jones #leslie odom jr #leslie odom junior #ariana debose #jon rua #hamilfilm #shit i lost steam to tag cast members #you know and if you don’t look it up so you do #that’s how you learn shit like that the bullet had its own fucking role #the orphanage part also hurt because i was disowned by my father and then disowned by my mother (again) and then my father just decided he #wanted back in on my life #my shit family life has cast me out of my family #i feel like an orphan except i can’t be adopted #even though i want more than anything to have parents or parental figures #sadly my dad just isn’t #he kind of ruined that for me when he screamed me into a panic attack that almost killed me and then left the front door open to tell me to #get out

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prosenkhans · 4 years

Text

Kobe

And they were going to a youth basketball tournament.

Just think about that for a second. When we distill what actually happened yesterday to its essence, it was a group of parents and coaches bringing their young girls to an organized youth basketball game on a nondescript Sunday morning in January. There is nothing more vanilla than that. Then it ended. Just so suddenly.

I can online imagine the fear those 3 girls had in that chopper in its final moments, the bargaining that went on within the minds of those parents as that hillside emerged from the morning fog. I am not lucky, blessed, or even really deserving enough to know the joy of parenthood. However, even the least empathetic of individuals would be hard pressed to deny that Kobe was utterly in love with his family, and Gianna to her father. All the videos, the images, and interactions caught for celluloid and digital posterity, all of them showed a family deeply appreciative of one another. Beyond all things, that seems to drive this feeling of devastation further up my throat.

The level of tragedy is defined by the amount of potential lost within such an event.

That fact that Gianna and her friends were 12 and 13 is more than enough to gut most people with a soul, however, the potential lost goes beyond even that. He seemed happy. Genuinely. Kobe seemed happy in what was in store for the rest of his life, his “second act”. The stone cold competitor with the icy scowl and bared teeth had transitioned into a statesman, an ever present and positive force within the game of basketball. Where once there were thorns, we now saw the pedals of the rose. Hugs and high fives. Congratulations and teachings. Puppets and children’s book. What we saw was a man secure in his legacy, and very much looking forward to the next chapter of his story.

But that story ended before the sequel could truly begin. As a group of people very much looking to see how the story would continue, we are left to wonder about what those potential chapters would have said. How would he have spoken during his Hall of Fame speech? Would he talk shit, or be humble? What number would be on his chest when his statue would be unveiled? Would he demand 2 to Shaq’s 1? Would we be lucky enough to be in the building when he and Gianna would sit courtside at a game? Would he still allow us to show him appreciation and stand an acknowledge the cheers? Would he be embarrassed by the continued adulation? Would we see him at UConn games, or maybe in an Oregon sweater? Would he be a leading voice in promotion of female athletics and the WNBA? Would he still allow us a peek in his mind, dissecting basketball games for public consumption? Would he write the stories that he wanted to tell? Would he make more art? Would he go on Kimmel and talk smack about the current stars of the game? Would he still smile and wave and take a selfie with us if we were oh so lucky to meet him? Would he continue to push us to be better? These are all questions in which we will never get an answer.

The hero’s journey is not supposed to end like this. The hero fights the good fight, gives all he/she can give, and then ride off into the sunset.

And I use the word here appropriately in this case. No, not a hero in the sense of how your parents and role models should hopefully provide the “hero” role in one’s life. No. Kobe Bryant was a hero in the sense that Superman is a hero to anyone that paid attention to his exploits. To my generation, a group of kids and adolescents that grew up watching him, Kobe is as much of a hero to us as Batman, Wolverine, and anyone else that wore a color coordinated uniform. He was an individual blessed with glorious purpose, a res on detra. And what made it better was that he was real. Real in the sense that we could actual see him be super, see him share his gifts, in real life, gallantry made flesh. What makes a superhero super anyway? Simple. Belief. We believe that when they dawn that cape, put on that cowl, they will be there to ensure everything is all-right. That everything gets the ending that we the masses so badly want. That they will come through when we need them the most. When Kobe put on that purple and gold tunic, he became our superhero. He gave us that belief, that sense of the universe being set right because he was our guy, and he would make it so. With him gone, it just doesn’t feel the same.

I’ve been asked through the years on why Kobe holds such esteem in certain pockets of our culture. Every time someone asks me that question, I always think back to the quote from Norman Vincent Peale.

“Aim for the Moon, and you’ll still land among the stars.”

Within the fast majority of the collective consciousness of sports fan, there is one name that is always associated with Kobe Bryant. And that is Michael Jordan. Now I was lucky enough to have watched Jordan as a very young kid, fully appreciating the skill and special athlete I was observing. There is no denying of that. However, Kobe was different. Coming in during Jordan’s waning years, Jordan and Kobe never clashed at their individual apexes. A spry and almost cocky kid, you were drawn to him. He was just a few years older than I, and thus making him a huge part of those who would call themselves a millennial. While Jordan was seen as God upon high, the antecedent ruler of the NBA, Kobe quickly became the scrappy upstart. As the years went by, we were able to follow him on his hero’s journey, watching and developing into what he eventually became. A transcendent figure in basketball. And his game was so beautiful. The efficiency in his ability to score. The complete mastery of all phases of the game. His footwork was exquisite, it was art. His ability to hit the most impossible shots, and give you the faith he would make it. You had the sense watching him that no other human had ever played basketball as beautifully, skillfully,and as passionately as Kobe Bryant. You have to remember, Kobe played for 20 years. For most of my generation, that is more than half our lifetimes. We literally couldn’t imagine basketball without him in it. But why was his story so compelling? Simply put, Kobe was really the only one daring enough to challenge Jordan at his own game, the apprentice succeeding the master. He shot for the Moon, and had no qualms letting you know that’s what the hell he was doing. And I’ll say this. He touched down on those sands, stomped his feet, and pounded his chest, as to say “It’s mine now.”

The whole comparison debate and legacy really doesn’t hold much water. The game changes. Everything about the sport changes. The names change with each passing generation. However, Jordan and Kobe represent something quite different. While the pioneers and legends helped move the rocketship of basketball through the void of space, we can honestly say that Jordan was the first man to touch down on the Moon. He is the Neil Armstrong of basketball in a sense. All credit given. However, if he’s Neil, Kobe is Buzz Aldren. They are on that same rocket ship together. Jordan may have touched the sands of immortality first, but just like Aldren, Kobe followed him down that ladder and followed those footsteps to the same place. His legacy, his imprint, is right up there with the first. It is the sequence of history, with one’s value not diminishing the others’. And just like Aldren’s actual footprints on the moon, Kobe’s legacy will be set eternally, looking down upon us from high.

But what will that legacy be? There is this silly debated, a national question of “who is the greatest Laker, Magic or Kobe?”. I always found the question silly. In short, the wrong adjective is being used. Magic, who is naturally gregarious, warm, and a welcoming personality became a leader and 5 time champion in his legendary career. Apparently you can’t be in Magic’s presence without wanting to hug him. He is the most beloved Laker. Beloved. Kobe, simply put, is the most revered. Revered. Kobe once said, “I always want to outwork my potential.” That was Kobe as a Laker. Sometimes cold, often surly, he was a driven kid that became a man obsessed with being the best. And it drove some people, competitors, and even teammates away at times. However, as a person who was privileged enough to watch his entire career, he did the one thing we can only ask for as fans. He lived up to his potential. As the world of athletics change into self branding, load management, and disconnected passion for the process of improving as a professional, Kobe stands as the shining example of someone who literally gave all he could to his craft. By blood, by sweat, and by tears.He dared to be great, unapologetically striving for perfection. He knew he was the best, and made sure that all his competitors and people watching were aware of that fact. He accepted the responsibility of the dawning the mantle, of being the standard bearer, the face of a sport. He certainly failed at times, but he never wavered in his journey. Often the most talented player in the room, his work ethic and drive was that of a player with a fraction of his gifts. And we loved him for that. You never felt cheated when you saw Kobe Bryant play. He squeezed every ounce of the potential within himself and left if on the hardwood floor for all of us to behold. He gave us championships, memories for the rest of our lives. He gave us that. He gave us himself, and we were so happy to see him walk off that court, thank him, and let him enjoy his next chapter. And now he wont.

I can go on and on about this. I still don’t have the ability to eloquently describe all the thoughts and feelings about all this. I’ll just lastly state that we are lessened by the loss. Not just as Laker fans, or basketball enthusiasts. We are lessened as a generation when our hero’s depart with words left unwritten. We are lessened by all potential lost. But we go on. Jerry West, with tears in his eyes, said it best about his surrogate son.

“A singular word, Kobe, will resonate forever.”

In a city that is defined by the brightness of its stars, the most brilliant of them all has dimmed from view, and future seems so much more caliginous than it did just a day before.

#kobe #kobe bryant #black mamba #kb24

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ifonly4mynallas · 5 years

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NIGHTMARES: PART 5 w/@BellaRAhgony

Bella: *I woke up from my nap with Nalla with a start. Nalla was snoring lightly beside me hugging her baby dragon Rhage had given her concentrating on her face as if she was trying really hard to grow.

I wiped the sweat from my brow and realized that these nightmares were getting out of control. Zsadist was worried about me. I he needed all his concentration out on the field. I’d never forgive myself if I ever became a distraction for him causing him to be hurt.

I picked up my phone and texted Mary to see if she wanted to have some coffee or hot chocolate with me in the library. It was time to talk to someone about these dreams. @IfOnly4MyNallas

Zsadist: Wrath had allowed me to cut back on my hours, but that didn’t mean that I didn’t have things to do. Tonight, I was on rotation, but I had nothing scheduled for after that, no training of, or driving the trainees home, no one-on-one sessions, and no sparring with any of the other males of the manse. Tonight I would actually be able to come home after fighting, put my young to bed, and see my shellan before she fell asleep. This was going to be a first in a very long time.

I took care in strapping on my gear. It was something I did almost every night, but I was methodical about it. Mary has said that my OCD tendencies spark from all the past trauma in my life. Now, my brain wants to control anything it can, right down to where and how all my weapons are strapped onto my body. A slight smile crossed my features as I thought about all that Mary had helped me with, over the years. She made me realize why I did a lot of the things I did, and it made me come to grips with who I was and who I wanted to be. She made me face things I didn’t want to, and head on. It took a while, but I was in such a better place now, then I had been for over two centuries. Well, recently I had been having some issues, but I was still better off than I had been a decade ago. I could only hope that once Bella spoke to Mary, Mary could do the same for her. I knew it was going to be an uphill battle, and it wouldn’t happen overnight, but if anyone could help Bella with what she was going through, it would be Mary.

Bella: *It was almost time for Last Meal by the time Mary and I were done talking. We spent hours in the library talking about those weeks I had been kidnapped those many years ago. Mary went down the hall and stairs and straight into the kitchen. She apparently wanted to see if could get away with baking cookies for Rhage before Fritz catches her.

I shook my head and the image of my head of Fritz keeping track of Mary will preparing the rest of Last Meal. For such an older doggen, he could still multitask like a young vampire. I head towards the playroom where Beth was watching the kids and see if Nalla needed to change clothing before Last Meal.

Walking into the playroom, I witness Nalla just as she flicked some blue paint at LW with Beth laughing at their antics. My head fell back in laughter as I pulled my phone out to take a picture. Nalla was covered in all sorts of colors. “Mama!!” she yells with a big grin. “How beautiful, baby.” I commented as she proudly showed me her artwork. Beth hands me a towel I could wrap around her so I wouldn't get paint on myself and we said our quick see you laters as we retreated to our suites to get the kids cleaned up for dinner.

As I gave Nalla a bath, I thought about Mary’s suggestion to perhaps start training with the trainees. At least in self defense. She thought that if I could defend myself that I would feel more powerful and more confident. Then perhaps in my dreams a different outcome would manifest. Nalla was singing and playing with the bubbles as my mind wondered about how Z would react.*

Zsadist: It had been one of the craziest nights I had experienced in a while. I had been paired with Phury and it was as if we had walked into a hive of lessers. We barely had time to call for backup before the action got rough. There were about twelve of them, and the two of us. Thankfully, Phury and I knew how to work as a team. We may not have been raised together, and may have lived a lifetime apart, but we were twins to our marrow. He zigged and I zagged. We were Yin and Yang when it came down to fighting. I was lean and fast. He had strength and power. Together we were virtually unstoppable. But, twelve were just a couple too many for the two of us to handle. We were warriors, we weren’t stupid. We knew when to call for backup and tonight was that night.

JM and Q were the two that showed up in an instant. As much of a hothead as Q was, I respected him. He was almost as scrappy as I used to be. And, JM was the one that saw the fight as a whole and plotted it out before he jumped in. Between the four of us, we had the situation under control in about 15 minutes.

It’s amazing how fast things can happen. A battle that seems almost insurmountable can be won in the blink of an eye. Yet, when it comes to battles of another nature, like the mind, they can take years, sometimes decades to barely gain a footing.

At the end of the fight, Phury called for Butch to run cleanup. As soon as Butch’s feet touched the ground, I was gone, dematted back to the manse. I could do my debrief tomorrow. Tonight, I was going to see my shellan and my young to bed.

*****

It took me all of ten minutes to scrub the lesser blood off my body down in the training center. I never took this shit to my quarters. I kept anything to do with the lessers as far away from my family as possible. It was kinda like church and state. There was work and there was life. It wasn’t so long ago that my life was encapsulated by fighting. Now, I had my life with Bella and Nalla. If it weren’t for them…

I quickly tossed my soiled clothes into the laundry room, on the way by, and raced up two sets of stairs to my bed chambers. As I slowly opened the door and walked in, I called out, “Bella?”

Bella: *I was still lost in my thoughts as Nalla said “Papa” and I realized that Zsadist had returned home. Relief washed through me as I could her his baritone voice echoed into the bathroom.* In here! *I responded as I finished rinsing Nalla’s hair from the shampoo as she continued to play with some bath toys. Z walked in and his beautiful citron eyes focused on me and he kissed my neck on both sides before giving me a kiss. Then he pulled a towel from the rack and opened it up for Nalla to snuggle in and dry off. I smiled as Nalla giggled as she shook her hair making all the water goes everywhere. Z teasingly scold her for the mess but smiles. I picked up another towel to dry off her hair as we both starting drying her off together and getting her ready for bed.

We had a routine, after a bath and brushing her teeth, Z and her laid in our mating bed to read a book until she fell asleep and he carried her to her nursery. I watched for a bit as I got myself for bed. I could hear their voices together, him reading and her babbling in baby talk with a few words here and there. Zsadist had come a long way since she was born and I’m forever grateful to the Virgin Scribe that our family was whole and healthy.

I wondered how to broach the subject that Mary had suggested. I wasn’t sure if Zsadist would take it as thought he could not protect me. Of course he could. Mary’s thought was that perhaps it would build my courage and confidence in myself. It was about me and my nightmares and what I needed to get rid of them.*

Zsadist: I can’t even tell you how good it felt to be able to do all this again. On nights that I actually made it home from work early enough to see my young to bed, this had been our routine. However, those nights had been few and far between for quite some time, so to be able to lie back, in my mated bed, and read to Nalla as she fought to stay awake, was like what I expect walking into The Fade must be like, pure fucking heaven. She cooed and babbled on, as if to respond to what I was reading, and every time I thought she was asleep, her eyes would pop back open and she would start all over. She didn’t realize that this wasn’t one of those rare nights that she would see her sire before bed. She had no way of knowing that tomorrow would be the same, and the night after that, and the night after that. She would take some time to get into this new routine.

Finally, after two books, both read twice, she finally knocked out hard. So, I quietly put the books down on the bedside table and slid my arms under her tiny frame. For a second, I thought she might wake up again, but she didn’t. She just rolled over in my arms, slinging one around my neck and started snoring again.

Gently, I walked her into the adjoining nursery and laid her down in her crib. I stole a few minutes to watch her sleep before heading back into Bella and my part of the suite.

“She’s out.” I let Bella know before walking over and wrapping my arms around her waist and kissing her neck from behind. “So, how was your day, my Nalla?”

Bella: *I was just finishing up brushing my teeth when Zsadist came up behind me. I turned my head to kiss him sweetly as we greeted each other.* It was … productive.

Mary spent some time talking today. *I waited to see if he would respond. He stayed quiet as waited for me to continue. I turned around in his arms so I could look up at him and fully gage his reactions.*

She feels that perhaps the nightmares stem from my insecurities. Everyone has been so busy lately so it’s just been Nalla and me mostly. So we’re by ourselves most nights while your out in the field. *I shrugged, I didn’t want to make him feel guilty about doing his job. The Brothers were out there protecting the race … savings lives. They saved mine not too long ago. So I fully understood the importance of what he did each not personally.

I had no idea how Zsadist would take what she suggested next. I never wanted him to feel that he wasn’t enough to protect me or Nalla. I took a deep breath and quickly told him what we discussed.*

She thought perhaps I need to train in self defense. Learn how to protect myself.

Zsadist: Once she turned, I leaned in and began to kiss down Bella’s neck as she spoke. I loved the way her head would ever-so-slightly lean toward me when I did that. I don’t know if she was even aware of it, but it was just one of those endearing things. However, when she mentioned being home alone all the time, I pulled back. This was something I was working on. I had already gone to Wrath about it, I had cut back on my hours, I was here now, and I planned on being here most every night from here on out. Was this a guilt trip? I know I haven’t been around, I’ve made a point to correct that. Is she upset that it took her nightmares to make me realize. Well, maybe so, but she also could’ve mentioned them to me. She could have spoken up long before. She didn’t have to suffer through all the nights she did and not told me there was a problem.

I knew that my thoughts were flying off the handle, but I already felt guilty enough. It was bearing down on everything and wearing my patience thin. I took a deep breath as I waited for the other shoe to drop. I had no idea what it would be, but I was expecting some long, drawn out night of this to escalate into, “You just haven’t taken my feelings into consideration, lately.” or maybe, “What about your young? Doesn’t she matter to you, at all.” I certainly wasn’t expecting what did come out of her mouth.

Instinctively, images of another Brother’s arms wrapped around Bella, as she tried to get herself free of him, flashed across my mind and I began to see red, pacing the tiled, bathroom floor like a caged tiger. There was no way in fuck this was going to happen! Absolutely, fucking, not!

Then memories of my conversations with Mary creeped in. Talk about trusting in oneself. I had the utmost respect for that woman, and if this was what she was recommending… Shit! I stopped and scrubbed my face with my hands. If this was what Bella needed, I needed to stand behind her...but, the training she would be doing would be with Payne, or Xhex, or even with the other female trainees. She would not be training with any of the males. I loved most of my brothers, but they were not laying a finger on my shellan! “Nalla, if that is going to be what makes you feel comfortable, better, and stops these nightmares from happening, then I’m good with it. But, I will have conditions.”

Bella: *I looked up at him and watch his expression stay tight and all emotion gone unless you paid attention. His citron eyes giving him away. Imperceptible. Barely. If his eyes had been midnight black … you could only see darkness at the surface. You had to look deeply.

I could see curiosity, anger, guilt? He seemed relieved. Which was odd. Not an expression that I was expecting. Anger. Disappointment in me maybe. As I looked into his citron eyes all I could see was concern now.* Conditions? Wait, you’re not angry? Or offended?

*I was pleased that he knew that I never doubted his ability with protecting me. I knew he would lay his life for me. Mary and I spoke about my fears about his doubts. Zsadist and I have come a long way since we came into each other's lives. I thought back at those weeks I spent in this very manse after being rescued. I had felt so guilty that I could stop from being near him when I knew he didn’t want anything intimate with me. My need to feed … I could still feel my surprise with finding him scrubbing his wrists raw … cleansing himself of unseen contamination.

My memories were jarred from the past and back into the present, as Z’s voice penetrated through my woolgathering.*

Zsadist: Angry? Offended? More like anger and guilt… at the fact that as much as I wanted to be, I couldn’t be by hers or Nalla’s side 24/7. There would be times in their lives when it was going to be up someone else to put their lives in front of my Nallas. That thought gutted me to the core. It was my responsibility to keep them safe from any kind of harm, however, it was also my duty to keep the race safe. I couldn’t do both, 100% of the time. So, as much as it did anger me, and yeah, maybe it offended me in some small part, I understood why this subject had come up.

The other thing was, after all my years of treatment with Mary, I had to remind myself that none of this was about me. This was all about Bella and her sense of security, and as much as I would like to be the knight in shining armor in her dreams, she has to be that for herself. I wanted her to be that for herself. I wanted her to feel that no matter what, she had the ability to stand on her own two feet.

Reaching back out and pulling her close again, I looked into her eyes. “Nalla, as much as I want you to trust that I will always be there to put myself in harms way to keep you safe, I know that in all actuality, I can’t be there, with you 24/7.” I pulled back just a tad, “That kills me, by the way!” Offering up a soft smile, I continued, “Also, after all my time with Mary, I understand that this isn’t about me. It has nothing to do with me. This is all about you, you and your ability to trust in yourself. I know that in here...” I put one palm on her chest, right above her heart, “is a warrior’s heart, and if you doing a little bit of training is what you need to believe that truth, then I’m all for it.”

Bella: *I knew this would be hard for Z. I can also understand it may get harder for him. Especially after my first bruise … I remembered what it was like for the boys at the beginning with they were pre-trans and after. It made me happy though to see them now. I guess I needed to talk to Xhex and Payne about seeing if they could make some time for me in their schedule. Cause sure as Dhund … none of the Brothers would ever consider it.*

Are you sure? Are you ready to possible see bruises on me? *Dame watching those eyes go from citron to obsidian in a blink of an eye was something else.* Baby, you know it will happen when I start sparring. I have to engage to learn. *I said slowly as I watched the blackness slowly disappear into the yellow I love after a few moments of contemplation.* Just know that it just means that I’m growing stronger … hopefully. Unless you want to teach me? *I asked knowing that he would no doubt refuse. He would never be able to strike me. I could however see him instructing me with the punching bag or something.*

Zsadist: At the mention of bruises, every single muscle in my body went rigid and fire sparked in my soul. The very thought that my Nalla was going to be marred in any way, shape, or form made me think twice about my compliance in the whole idea. How was I going to lie next to my shellan every single night, seeing these wounds all over her body, and just be okay with it? How was I going to handle her flinching at my touch? A low rumble radiated from my gut at the thought. Then I saw the look in her eyes. She needed this so fucking much. How could I say, “No?”

Taking a deep breath, I closed my eyes to process everything that was running through my mind. I was going to have to make peace with this. Then she dropped the next bomb.

Me teach her?! Was she fucking mad?! I took a step back, held up my arms, and shook my head once. “Absolutely not! And don’t think of asking any of my Brothers. Training will be with Xhex, or better yet, Payne. You probably shouldn’t work with any of the female trainees. Most of them don’t know how to fight their way out of a wet paper bag yet, and you’d only get hurt.” I took a step back in and put my finger to Bella’s chin, “Can we agree on Xhex or Payne?”

Bella: *Smiles as I predicted his reaction correctly.* I was thinking of you teaching me techniques like a punching bag or something, Z. *Shakes my head knowing he would never be able to hit me in any form.*

But yes, I can agree with Xhex or Payne. I’m sure they both wouldn’t mind. *After a few moments of further contemplation his eyes finally returned to the beautiful citron. I knew it would be difficult for him to see me hurt in any way. I remembered once when he wouldn’t even let me dematerialize when I was pregnant before I was unable to. A bonded male always protects their mate regardless sometimes of the ridiculousness. I smile and give him a kiss.*

Try not to worry baby, ok? And let’s avoid watching any of my training sessions, shall we? *I suppressed an internal cringe at the thought of him watching me spar with Xhex or Payne. I highly doubt that he would ever strike a female but one was a symphath with her own set of hidden assets and the other was half deity also with her own special gifts.*

Zsadist: Leaning in, I returned her gentle kiss. I wasn’t sure how I was going to handle all this. Saying I was okay with it and being okay with it was going to be two entirely different things. Right now, I could spit out the words. Living through it all was going to be next to impossible, though.

Throwing my head back, I let out a hefty groan. “Me, watch? Seriously?” There was no way in Dhund I was going to step foot in that gym while anyone was putting their hands on my shellan. Someone might end up hurt. The only female I ever dreamed of doing harm to was my mistress. However, I couldn’t promise that my instincts wouldn’t take over were I to witness any harm coming to Bella. I think I might just see red and lose all sense. “Bella, no need to worry about that. I won’t even be stepping foot downstairs on nights you are training.”

Reaching an arm around Bella’s waist, I pick her up and carry her off to our bed. “Now, less talk … “ I suggest as I drop her on the bed and lean in to indulge in my female.

#Nightmares #PartFive #SaintsNSinners #BDB #SASBDB

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thesportssoundoff · 6 years

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Thoughts from the SportsSoundoff while on the road

Just got in, watched the FightPass fights on the ride and caught the end of Islam vs Kajan:

Scrapper Alert Devin Powell finishing Alvaro Herrera was a big time win and performance for him. There's NOTHING as genuine in MMA as the body shot finish. It's insane to see a grown man crumple with a shot to the gut and it has to be MMA's most humbling finish.

Randa Markos out here going W-L-W-L-W-L into 2020 seemingly. What was so weird about that fight was how it was basically two rigid fighters who lacked any sort of versatility in their games. Everything Markos did was going to be predicated upon creating a clinch situation where she could get a takedown and control. Once it became obvious that Markos had no answer for ANY kick thrown, it was just a matter of whether or not Nina Ansaroff could shuck off takedowns enough to take a 29-28. I don't know if Nina Ansaroff is going to have a lengthy stay in the top 15 but I'd like to see her get a gradual step up. Wouldn't surprise me if they tried her vs a Gadelha type.

Dustin Ortiz's journey from "Flail and mail stand up" guy to fight finisher has been fun. It doesn't remove the fact that Ortiz was getting worked on the feet prior to the finish mind you but you don't get a .5 in your loss record for "I was losing until I won." Ortiz may be one of the best fight finishers at 125 lbs if we're being honest. The problem for Ortiz is that there's at least three dudes ahead of him on the pecking order in Deiveson Figuierido, Sergio Pettis and Jussier Formiga. Ortiz needed that big win to at least put himself in the discussion and any dude who can finish fights and hasn't faced Demtrious Johnson will be in the big title conversation.

Kaitlyn Chookagian seems to always make things harder on herself than she should. I'm not going to act as though Alexis Davis is a jabroni or anything but Chookagian made that harder than she really had to en route to her decision win. It was a damned good fight though if that's what matters the most to you folks. Chookagian's ability to throw 3 for 1 but give up a lot in the significant strike department is an unnecessary way to live in the UFC. Her combinations were on point and once Alexis Davis started to slow down, she just kept pouring on volume. She's the go backwards version of Joanna. It feels like a natural-ish fit to do Kaitlyn vs Jessica Eye given that they're both 2-0 in the division and likely on their way upwards.

Ross Pearson and John Makdessi had a fun scrappy fifteen minute tradeathon. Pearson really only has three weapons; a left hook, a snapping jab and a left straight behind said jab. He was outgunned vs Makdessi who is criminally underrated at this point. He'll never be the Canadian savior the UFC was hoping for upon his first few fights but he's a proven crafty veteran. Makdessi's jab is PERFECT and watching him bait Pearson into wild exchanges so he could piece him up was great. Would've liked more uppercuts from Makdessi on those in tight clinches. Having SAID that? Ross Pearson absolutely had his moments, primarily in those wild exchanges. EVERY TIME he sensed Makdessi taking a backwards step, Ross would power up like a video game villain.

#MMA #UFC #Fox #Calgary

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ganymedesclock · 6 years

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Hello I asked for the child headcanons and was not let down so I need to know your space pirate headcanons as well for scientific purposes. (To elaborate, how you think the Paladins would fair as space pirates.)

I could see them like. settling into a kind of Robin Hood arrangement because that’s about the most piracy I can see half of these people getting up to. Dang heroic goobers. I also went into like, equipment and weapons assuming they don’t have access to the Lions or Paladin Gear, at least at first- since they have a very knightly image that’s very cool but very not conducive to getting your pirate on.

Shiro

Probably the least into this. He takes it seriously and tries to make sure everybody has fun, only pillages what they’re supposed to, and adheres to the buddy system. He’s the captain at first on the ship later stepping down to First Mate, if we’re determinedly injecting as much actual pirate into this as possible (and if we’re not, I’m not sure why we would propose a pirate AU)

Can see him doing a sort of saber-and-pistol fighting style where he has a nice effective little one-handed gun and pairs it with his laser hand. I can also see him slowly coming to terms with a somewhat sinister reputation and figuring out how to use it around other less ethical pirates because there are advantages to being able to make someone back down where they stand with a single stern look.

He figures he’s doing all right once, on allied planets, kids aren’t afraid to walk up to him.

He has a moderately cool pirate coat here but it ends at the waist for practicality’s sake and his gear sort of combines layered cloth with some modest armor piecing (if you’ve seen Guardians Of The Galaxy think a little Starlord in aesthetic) but mostly he wants to be light on his feet and balance defense with agility.

Keith

He’s not intentionally dressing like a pirate he just wants to hide in his layers, danget. Sort of as a nod to Keith’s heritage and his very “it’s complicated” status with it, as well as his natural survivalist streak, I can see Keith bulking up a relatively shabby pirate look with pieces that are clearly stolen off of galra soldiers, though the armor is so mix-and-match that he doesn’t exactly have the Imperial Look- he might have a shoulder piece from a commander connecting to the bicep armor of a lieutenant and the bracer and glove of an ordinary foot soldier.

Even though this isn’t an AU that really would shuffle around a lot of other factors necessarily, I sort of like the idea of pirate Keith showing a lot more of his heritage so his inclination to hide as much as he can is a bit more, uh, practical, because on the fringes of the empire you probably find a lot of people who are a lot more enthusiastic about their dislike of galra.

Keith is basically born for pirate skirmish fighting. He’s fast, he’s scrappy, I can see him much more enthusiastically dual-wielding with his dagger in one hand and a sword in the other. (The sword could also be a stolen imperial piece). With less armor and riskier situations (much more one-on-one fighting) I can see him having some scrapes and stumbles that leave scars. Out of the team he’s probably the main dogfighter, deploying a smaller ship from their hub vessel to defend it in battle, though I can see most of them participating in that.

He’d probably be less interested or focused on looting and selling things off or trying to balance the budget since he strikes me as much more living hand-to-mouth just. “We need a new engine? Okay. hit a ship with a nice one and we’ll grab it.”

Pidge

What are you talking about, she’s not a criminal! Look at this adorable rosy-cheeked kid in a dress, oh, she’s so sad, let’s go see if she’s okay-where’d that knife come from.

Let’s be dead honest Pidge would take to being a criminal mastermind really well. Her armor is more for muffling than for protection, she’s got cool goggles. Need to pick your way past security, get in get out without being seen? Pidge is your adorable pirate brat. Equipped with knuckleduster taser, buncha little sharp things, grappling tether, and the kinda quick and efficient tactics like she pulled on the bomb merchant in s4e2.

Pidge is basically already a space pirate you just gotta factor out the paladin gear. Also if anybody has an alien space parrot, it’s her. She gets it.

Hunk

The ship is his baby. He built this thing himself with his own blood, sweat, and tears, and he’ll acknowledge people have good ideas and there’s room for improvement but it’s still his baby.

The thing about pirates and explosions is they get along really, really well, and I think if we’re putting anybody as local demolitions expert its Hunk. I think at least initially, rather than dogfighting he’d use the arsenal of the main ship. For personal fights he pairs an artillery piece the size of his canon one with a couple of power gauntlets for brawling.

He’s not so big on this robbing thing but I can see him doing a lot around the base to help connect and take care of people.

Lance

Lance is the one actually killing this pirate aesthetic. Has a couple of pistols plus his rifle and swaps between them as-needed, long coat, layers, swishy fabrics, he’s doing fantastic thanks. If anything I imagine he complains a lot that the rest of the team isn’t giving this pirate thing their all. C’mon guys, where’s your sense of adventure? Of romance? The call of the stardust in your blood?

I can see him doing so many dumb aesthetic things because just. listen. Listen. He’s a space pirate. There is no way in hell he is not going to milk this for everything it’s possibly worth.He keeps desperately trying to come up with a cool pseudonym but they never stick.

As far as selling stuff they stole but don’t need, I think Lance would be the best out of that, he has that good bartering charm and a keen sense of when somebody’s stiffing him, plus potential fences tend to underestimate him because he’s young and goofy.

Consequentially though he’s the most directly responsible for the team’s finances so sometimes they have to deal with him making slightly questionable decisions. (“Is that a cow?”)

Allura

Remember how I said Shiro gets demoted? It happens once they find the Alteans. It’s kind of a slow slide at first where they’re just trusting and listening to Allura because she knows all this secret magical stuff they’re digging up but like after a while it’s just, “Allura, listen, we’ve thought about this a lot, and here’s the best coat, you’re the captain now. Getting a cool hat is on you but highly recommended.”

So, yeah. Pirate princess. Shiro politely defers in the face of Her Highness but she respects his experience and closeness to the crew regardless. Lance totally spoils her with jewelry on at least a few occasions and while she doesn’t feel that way about him and this is made clear, she does appreciate sparklies. Also with the diplomatic background and just plain being so goshdarn pretty she is a massive boon negotiating with other crews or locations.

By their powers combined, Allura and Lance form the Diplomacy Team: they’re here to look better than you and forge agreements at the same time.

Even if it’s not necessarily explicitly piratey, I want her to keep her whip blade just because it’s an absolute thing of beauty. She probably has the nicest armor at least initially, before she helps these vagabonds shape up into a better crew, since it’s like. an actual full suit tailored to her.

Coran

As much as Hunk loves his ship, Coran definitely moves to his usual position as helmsman, which is a much appreciated change because for the first time in a long time Hunk can leave the ship for raids and such without worrying or saddling someone else with Ship Babysitting.

I can see Coran being more than a little bit goofy in that he’s determined to fit this pirate thing but his overall result is more vintage space-flavored swordsman dandy than anything, which he will adamantly defend as the attire of any proper pirate. (he and Lance get into arguments about pirate aesthetics sometimes)

Under Coran’s guidance the ship ends up being an increasing hodgepodge of Altean aesthetics. This can’t end well when they have their inevitable team-up with those other cool pirates in season 5

#voltron legendary defender #vld #Shiro #Keith #Pidge #Lance #Hunk #Allura #Coran #AU ideas #readmore #Anonymous

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pervincetosscobble · 7 years

Text

horizon

TAZ, 2.8k. cw: allusions to major character death.

Julia leaves Raven’s Roost, not because she has to leave but because she knows she can’t stay anymore. (Or: Julia survives. Magnus doesn't.)

[Read on Ao3]

“Based on your requests,” Hurley says, and tosses the first box over. Julia catches it reflexively and glances up at Hurley, who gestures at her to open it. She can feel Taako and Merle watching her as she lifts the lid of the box.

The mask inside is a lioness’s head, snarling viciously, with cold yellow eyes. Julia pulls it over her head. It’s a snug fit, but it covers her face, and she feels sort of badass in it. She turns to Taako and Merle. “How do I look?”

“Terrifying,” Taako assures her, drumming his fingers on the handle of the Umbrastaff. Merle nods in agreement.

“It’s a good look,” Hurley says. “You look very threatening.”

“Perfect.”She tugs the mask back off and turns it in her hands so it’s facing her. “Thank you.”

She flicks her eyes back up to Hurley, who offers a lopsided smile. “I wouldn’t have picked you for a cat person.”

Julia laughs aloud, trailing her fingers up the side of the lion’s muzzle. “I wasn’t for the longest time,” she says. “I used to want a dog. But times change.”

“Times change,” Hurley agrees, and throws the next box to Taako.

Julia closes her eyes for a second. If she thinks hard enough, she can still remember Magnus’s voice. He wanted a dog so badly, and she kept saying that they could get one as soon as things had settled in Raven’s Roost, as soon as they were sure they were safe. But he’d said the same things, time and again, please, Jules, we’ve got to get a dog, we have to--

They never got a dog.

Julia looks at the mask again. The lion is staring at her, still snarling, like it’s ready to pounce.

They’re going to win this race, she decides. Because she won’t let Hurley lose someone she loves so much.

She leaves Raven’s Roost in the middle of the night.

It’s not cowardly, she tells herself, over and over. She’s not leaving them to fend for themselves. Nobody knows where Cailen is. Nobody has seen him in weeks, not since--

It’s not cowardly, is the point, even though she feels like a coward. At least she’s not running because of the fight, and at least everyone she’s leaving will understand. She’s had visitor after visitor after visitor, leaving condolences heavy in the air but not heavy enough to stick. The house is too empty now, without anyone there building chairs or forging metal or laughing. She can’t stay there.

So she brings what she can and leaves the rest behind. She brings all the food that she can carry. She brings her sword, strapped to her back, and lets the weight of it keep her grounded. She brings a bracelet, one that’s tight around her wrist but that she’s had since she was twelve years old. She brings a wedding ring.

Julia leaves Raven’s Roost, not because she has to leave but because she knows she can’t stay anymore. She leaves in the middle of the night and forces herself not to turn back until she’s miles away. She turns, and she can’t see the outline of the town anymore, and it’s only then that she cries.

Work is hard to find, is the thing. It’s not impossible - plenty of people are looking for sellswords, and Julia isn’t above leveraging her folk hero status if it means being able to eat. People have heard about Raven’s Roost by now, about the couple that led the rebellion, about the widow. But she avoids using those stories when she can. She doesn’t need that pity.

Instead she works odd jobs, mostly as a bodyguard, and makes a reputation that way. Burnsides the bodyguard. Burnsides the protector. That’s the way it should be. She takes the jobs when they come to her, and then, one day:

“It says it’s the last job we’ll ever need to take.” Merle smooths the flyer out on the table and scoffs. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“It means after this I never have to work a day in my life again,” Taako says. “And I like that.”

“Me too,” Merle says. “But we can’t do it on our own.”

They turn to Julia then, in eerie, perfect unison. Neither of them say anything.

She doesn’t know either of them terribly well - Taako has a reputation from his show, and Merle has tried to hand her more Pan pamphlets than she can count - but she knows they won’t last long in a fight. They seem scrappy, sure, like they’d be fine in most cases, but Julia has been adventuring long enough to know that sometimes “you’ll never work again” means “you’ll die on this job.” And she likes Merle and Taako too much to let that happen.

“I’m in,” she decides.

Taako claps his hands together. “This is going to be great.”

The moon is less peaceful than Julia expected.

Or, no, that’s not fair to say. The moon itself is fine, but the Bureau isn’t particularly peaceful. At any given moment either something is on fire or Taako is planning something that’ll end with a fire, or Merle is arguing with someone. Most days Julia is there with them. Most days she’ll either help pick targets for Taako’s pranks or gang up with Merle to heckle someone, or even lead her own prank assault against the employees of the bureau.

But she makes an exception for today. Today is… something else.

It takes a lot of walking to find somewhere quiet, but she finds something that looks like it would’ve been a garden, with a little more love. There are terra cotta planters and stone benches, and she settles onto one bench, clutching her wedding ring in one hand.

Julia closes her eyes and tips her head back. Magnus would’ve liked it up here. Or maybe he’d only like it if she were there with him. Gods know she’d be happier if he were here to celebrate his own birthday, instead of leaving her alone. She’d been considering going back to Raven’s Roost for the first time in years, to see if anyone would celebrate her, but that’s not really an option anymore. She doesn’t have anyone to celebrate with.

She gives herself a full minute to mourn before she says, softly, “I know you followed me.”

“You’re more interesting than anyone else here,” Merle mutters. He plops down on the bench next to her and waits. She can feel his eyes on her, so after a few seconds she sighs and uncurls her fingers.

Merle leans in to inspect the ring. “Yours?”

“Yeah.” Julia sighs. “He would’ve been thirty-three today.”

“How old was he?”

“Not even thirty.”

“That sucks.”

“Yeah.” Julia opens her eyes. Her throat is thick. She’s just glad that he didn’t say he was sorry.

Merle is quiet for all of three seconds, and Julia can appreciate the peace. And then, for some godsdamned reason, he grabs a lock of Julia’s hair and tugs it. Hard.

Julia yelps and slaps his hand away. “Watch it, old man!”

“Your hair is almost as bad as Taako’s,” Merle announces.

“That’s bullshit, nobody’s hair is as bad as Taako’s. He doesn’t know what a brush is.”

“And when’s the last time you brushed your hair?”

Julia pauses. “It was definitely this month.”

Merle makes a disgusted noise. “This month, Pan’s sake, neither of you know how to take care of yourselves.”

“I’ve been on the road for a while!”

“Yeah, and you’re a mess.”

“Well, what are you going to do about it?”

Julia has exactly two seconds to realize that this might be something she shouldn’t challenge Merle on - as earthy as he is, he’s always well-groomed, and he re-braids his beard every morning - before he jumps to his feet. “That’s it, I’m cutting your hair.”

“You’re what?”

“Yours and Taako’s both, come on.”

“Merle, this is ridiculous, I don’t need a haircut.”

Merle glares at her. “How’re you going to stop me?”

“Uh, I have a sword.”

“And I have spells.”

Julia raises her best skeptical eyebrow.

Merle crosses his arms. “And a warhammer.”

“I’m not letting you anywhere near my hair without a damn good reason.”

“If you let me cut your hair then I’ll let you help me cut Taako’s.”

“Deal,” Julia says instantly, because Taako’s hair is a rat’s nest, and that’s a sacrifice worth making. “Wait, can you cut hair?”

“I have cut hair before.”

“That’s not a yes.”

Merle waves her off. “Don’t worry, you’re in good hands.”

Julia thinks about it for a second. It’s been a few long years since she had someone who would cut her hair for her just because they cared. And the worst thing that could happen is she has to wear hats for a few months. Not a real problem.

She slips her wedding ring back onto her finger. Merle motions at her expectantly, and she gets to her feet. “I’m trusting you on this.”

“Big mistake,” Merle snorts, but he still looks pleased.

“Kravitz,” Julia says, before she can stop herself.

Kravitz turns to look back at her, looking confused, but Julia doesn’t let herself waver. This is her chance. Maybe her only chance.

Her voice breaks, but she says, “Tell Dad I miss him. And tell Mags I love him.”

“Mags could be short for a lot of things, you know, and there are a lot of dads,” Kravitz starts, but something on Julia’s face must show that she’s not in the mood for any jokes, because he drops it immediately. “I know who you mean. I’ll tell them.”

“Thank you,” Julia says quietly. She knows Taako and Merle are staring, but she can’t bring herself to care. “Thank you.”

Kravitz steps through a rift in dimensional space and vanishes. The world shimmers and reforms behind him. Julia’s husband is somewhere on the other side of that gap. His soul is still intact. That’s the best news she’s gotten all day.

The courier arrives three days after Magnus leaves for Neverwinter. He’s going for a carpentry competition, with a couple of friends and with Julia’s father. She doesn’t think anything of it. They should be safe. Everything should be safe.

Julia opens the door and sees someone she doesn’t recognize, stony-faced and watery-eyed, holding his hat in his hands. “How can I help you?”

“Julia Burnsides?”

“That’s me.”

The courier takes a deep breath, shoulders trembling. “Governor Cailen,” he starts, and Julia knows instantly.

She grabs the doorframe, digging her fingers into the wood. “My father,” she says, but her voice sounds like it’s coming from far away. “My husband?”

The courier shakes his head. Julia falls to her knees.

Magnus looks up as past-Julia comes into his workshop. His face lights up as soon as he sees her, radiating warmth, love, life, and Julia crumples to the floor.

She remembers every second of the day, but she makes a point not to think about it. She can’t stand to watch it happen in front of her. She doesn’t want to see a version of herself that’s younger, less scarred, not yet a widow. But she can hear her own voice laughing, and Magnus’s, and then her father’s, and she’s sobbing before she can help herself.

It’s funny, almost, all the details that she forgot. Magnus has a mole on his chin, barely darker than the rest of his skin. Her father’s hands are more wrinkled than she remembered. She wants to reach out to them, to say hello. To say goodbye.

“Why,” she says, when she catches her breath enough to look up. The scene is paused now. Magnus is inches away from kissing past-Julia. Both of them are smiling, caught up in each other’s presence. Dad is behind Magnus, smiling broadly, looking proud. None of them know that Cailen is riding out from Neverwinter, ready to take revenge upon the man who took Raven’s Roost from him. None of them know that this is the last time they’ll all be together.

“You feel guilty,” June says. Julia would turn to face her, but she can’t look away. “You feel like it’s your fault.”

“Magnus led the rebellion, but I planned it.” Julia takes a deep, shuddering breath. “We did it together. It shouldn’t have been him. It certainly shouldn’t have been both of them.”

“You left for revenge.”

“I left because I couldn’t live in a house where all three of us should’ve been living together.”

“But you looked for Cailen.”

Julia laughs, briefly, mirthlessly. “Of course I looked for Cailen. He killed my family. I lost friends in the rebellion. I’d rip his fucking guts out if I ever saw him again.”

“What if you didn’t have to?”

Both of Magnus’s hands are tangled in past-Julia’s hair, pushing it back from her face. From this angle she can see the way she used to smile at him. She can see the person she used to be: not innocent, certainly, but not prepared for what she’s about to lose.

“Julia,” June says softly, “what if you could save them?”

Two days later, as the morning-hazy light makes its way into the reclaimers’ official blanket fort, Julia says, “What did it offer you guys?”

“My arm.” Merle scoffs. “Like I don’t already have two of those.”

“The tree arm is cooler anyways,” Julia agrees.

“I’m glad you think so, because it’s your fault-”

“It’s not my fault, you were going to lose it no matter what!”

“Merle, you’re still pretty even with the wood arm,” Taako says blandly.

Merle pokes his head out from underneath a stack of pillows to scowl at Taako. “I don’t need your shit, you know that?”

“But I’m here anyways, so I might as well give you shit.”

Merle harrumphs at him. “Fine, wise guy, what did the chalice offer you?”

“Doesn’t matter,” Taako says. “What happened wasn’t my fault.”

“Yeah, but…” Julia pauses. They don’t do serious talks, the three of them, and this is the kind of question that she can’t un-ask, but she wants to know. “What wasn’t your fault?”

Taako waves a hand lazily in the air. “There was a whole thing with poison and people dying. I thought it was because of me, but it turns out it wasn’t.”

“Shit,” Julia says softly. As cavalier as he’s being, she can see how calculated the hand-wave is. Like he’s trying to act perfectly fine. This matters. “Someone else poisoned people?”

“Fuck that guy,” Merle says. “I’ll kick his ass.”

Taako snorts. “You could try. He’d eat you alive.”

“And Merle would give him indigestion,” Julia finishes.

“Yeah,” Merle agrees proudly.

“That’s sweet,” Taako says sardonically. “What about you, Jules, what horrors did you have to relive?”

Julia hesitates, but only for a second. “I saw my father. And my husband.”

The air changes in an instant. Merle and Taako don’t know anything about Magnus and her father as people, or about the rebellion, but they still know her loss. They know this is serious.

“The chalice told me I could save them,” Julia says. “I used to think I’d give anything for that chance, but…”

“But you wouldn’t give everything,” Taako finishes, a grim shade of understanding in his voice.

Julia nods silently. Magnus might be the love of her life, and her dad might be her hero, but neither of them would be happy if she unwound an entire reality to see them again.

“Shit,” Merle mutters. “Fuck that cup.”

“Fuck that cup!” Taako sits upright suddenly, and Julia turns to look at him. “We’ve made- listen, we’ve made a lot of mistakes.”

“This isn’t a good pep talk,” Julia says dryly, to cover up the tears welling in her eyes.

Taako waves her off. “But we already made those mistakes, and we don’t get to just… un-make them. Who is that cup to try and decide what we should do? We’re here, that’s what matters.”

Merle shoots Taako a bemused look. “I think that’s the most emotionally in-touch thing I’ve ever heard you say.”

“Oh, fuck you,” Taako says without heat, and flops back down onto the floor. “I’m just saying, as much stuff as we regret, the stuff after it was okay.”

“Yeah,” Julia says quietly. There are things she would do to get Magnus back, but she wouldn’t rip a world apart for him. She wouldn’t give up her two best friends for him. Magnus would understand. “You guys are okay.”

#julia burnsides #taz #taz fic #magnus x julia #ficcage

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kaikamahine · 7 years

Note

hiii, oh gosh, for once online when you reblog one of these

SALV MY DARLING THE LIGHT OF MY LIFE. You are always welcome to leave me prompts even if we’re not online simultaneously!!

Also, did anyone ask for a witch!AU? Because here u go.

5: Nail polish, silver rings, boots made for jumping in puddles

When Peridot was younger, and hadn’t yet learned that her perfect, reasonable, logical, brilliant mother could be wrong, they had a square patch of dirt between their front porch and the fence where their neighbors – with their identical patches – all grew scrappy blue fescue and tried to squeeze in Fisher Price playsets.

“What are we going to do with it?” she asks, clinging to the arm of her mother’s chair and holding very still, both wanting attention and terrified of it, too.

Slowly, her mother pulls her head up. Everything she does is deliberate, precise, no movement wasted. “We’ll make it a weapon,” she decides.

And that’s how Peridot grows up with a garden.

(”Dude, how is a garden a weapon?” Amethyst goes.

“Ugh! Against the bourgeoise, Ames, don’t you know anything? Refusing to have a lawn and commit to the expense of its noisy, unproductive upkeep fights the capitalist agenda!”

“Wow, I didn’t know tomatoes were that powerful,” Steven says. “That adds a whole new meaning to the word ‘superfood’!”)

Monitoring the garden’s growth became Peridot’s job, year after year. She snipped buds, staked tomatoes when they got leggy, collected seeds into folding sachets to restart next spring, canvassed the neighborhood after heavy rain to collect earthworms to smash up in the compost, smeared the fence with rancid garlic and chilies to keep the rabbits and raccoons and opportunistic teenagers out.

“Are you a greenwitch?” the neighbor’s girl asks her, peering through the chainlink gate. She’s got a bicycle helmet with flames painted on the sides and two Power Rangers band-aids protecting a scrape on her elbow, and Peridot is painfully jealous of how cool both those things are.

She sits back on her heels. “No, I just work hard,” she says, and then, because it’s that time of year when everything happens at once, “Hey, does your mom want any zucchini?”

Her mother gets news from Blue’s coven the week of Peridot’s fourteenth birthday, two months into the new school year. She uproots them and moves them north that same week, a heaving disruption in Peridot’s life like it’s rolling over and sloughing its skin.

“But - “ she tries, and her mother’s knuckles whiten over a rune, eyes coming up to cut at Peridot in that familiar way; why can’t I whittle you to a convenient size.

She says, “Do you have something to say?”

“No, ma’am,” Peridot ducks.

She doesn’t know anything about the north. She doesn’t even own winter gear - just her worm-hunting galoshes, with the ladybugs on them. And her mother won’t let her take those.

There’s no room in the car for sentimentality, so don’t waste our time. Only take what can’t be repurchased.

The spellbooks go into boxes, the rowan rings into bins with the maps the other covens lent them, and the warded topaz bottles get wrapped in cheesecloth to keep their contents calm during the car ride. Her mother hires Jasper to pack the car; she’s the starting quarterback whose trophies are behind glass in the hall where Peridot has - had - her locker. She’s more Arizona-colored than Peridot imagines the entire state of Arizona to be, and whenever her mother has to touch her, she immediately wipes her fingers on the pleats of her pants after.

“I hate it when witches bury themselves in someone else’s grave,” is all she says, inspecting her fingertips like she expects them to still be slimy, like Jasper’s gone-off, rotten all the way through. “Such a waste.”

The night before they leave, Peridot sneaks out the front door.

She starts with a pair of pruners, but those aren’t fast enough, so she resorts to her bare hands; the beans come up first, then the peppers, and the tomatoes as tall as their house, the sunflowers as big as satellite dishes shedding seeds for the birds. It’s the end of September, and Peridot had been looking forward to the weeks of canning ahead of her, pickling everything that could conceivably be pickled and adding them to the neat rows of salsa she made the month before.

When she’s done, the cement is littered with clumps of soil, naked roots, stems jackknifed out of their plots, and she breathes hard, looks at her hands, thinks: gravedirt, and, more accurately: grief.

In the morning, her mother walks over the carnage and doesn’t once look up from her phone.

(“LEAVE ME ALONE,” she shouts through the door, then scrabbles across the tile and pulls the shower curtain closed. “GO. AWAY.”

A hasty discussion happens in the hallway.

“- and that makes her just like us,” Steven’s voice comes out the loudest. “Come on!”

More muttering, and then Steven’s back, politely rapping his knuckles on the bathroom door.

“Okay, Peridot, you can stay there,” he calls. “There’s towels in the cabinet over the toilet. They’re pretty fluffy to sleep on, it’ll be fun! Oh! And can you water the plant, maybe?”

“The plant?” Peridot blinks, and looks around, and blinks again.

A pot sits on a ledge over the sink, sprouting tendrils in every direction that trail green, arrowhead leaves half-way to the floor. Curious, Peridot crawls over to inspect it, keeping her one remaining boot tucked possessively under her arm.

“What’s its function?” she asks, caught despite her best efforts.

“Uhh, I don’t … know?” Steven tries. “We don’t use it for spells, if that’s what you’re asking.”

Peridot’s brows come down. “Then what’s the point?”

A pause.

“There doesn’t have to be a point, Peridot,” Steven tells her, treading very carefully. “It just likes it in there. The low light and the humidity from the shower are good for it, and in return, it recycles our air. That’s a function, I guess.”

“You need to be more productive than just recycling air.”

“I don’t know, I’m pretty good at it,” and then Steven laughs, and Peridot touches a fingertip to one soft, green leaf. Her stomach knots itself up so complicated it probably deserves a boy scout badge: homesickness, earned.)

(”You know what this means, right!” Steven flings himself bodily down on top of her, somehow managing to squeeze her in a hug despite her greatest attempts to dead weight him into letting her go. “You’re one of us! You’re a Crystal Gem now!”

“Whether you like it or not,” Garnet adds, and her smile somehow even manages to reach her third eye, faintly illuminated over the skin between her eyebrows.)

(Amethyst props her hands on her hips. Hanging from her neck, the deep-cut pendant from which she got her name still glows from use, nestled against her breastbone.

”Okay, what’s really wrong with it?” she demands.

“I can’t do it,” Peridot says flatly.

Steven and Amethyst exchange a look. Peridot can feel it, the nonverbal discussion happening. She hunches her shoulders.

Her feet are sandy from the boardwalk, the toes bright green. Amethyst and Pearl had been painting their nails while waiting for the witch hazel to steep, and Peridot wanted in - she’d never done it before, since the fumes always gave her mother a headache. Stupid. Stupid, stupid, stupid. With runny eyes, she scrunches up her toes and starts dragging them on the cement, trying to get the paint to chip.

“You can’t - “

“Do magic,” Peridot snaps. “I can’t. I’m not a witch at all. Not in any way that matters.”)

She can’t do charms and wards like Steven, or transfiguration like Amethyst, and she definitely can’t do that elite-class elemental spellwork Lapis fires off without giving a shit. She’s not a (renegade) white-witch like Pearl, or a battle-witch like Garnet. She can’t even do necromancy like Jasper, and any idiot with half a brain can do necromancy - Jasper went and swore an oath to some coven leader Peridot never met, then never bothered to sever that bond when she went and got her throat cut. Honestly, and you wonder why the Diamond covens want to control all magic.

She’s seventeen, living in the north. She sleeps under the window in the barn, and it’s the best place she has ever lived.

There aren’t any herbs drying from racks suspended from the ceiling (honestly, she’d like to see you try to avoid banging your head into those when you’re returning several day’s worth of dishes to the kitchen at three in the morning) and no jars of fermenting spells on the shelves, no crystals recharging and no chalk lines to worry about accidentally scuffing and ruining when making that aforementioned shame-trip to the kitchen. The plastic bins aren’t full of rotten ingredients or misbehaving charms winding down their half-life, but perfectly reasonable things, like wrenches, toilet bowl cleaner, and Lapis’s twelve different pairs of the same black jeans. (Although not in the same bin.)

It’s not like anywhere Peridot’s ever been before.

It’s wonderful.

“You’re not a very witchy witch,” she says to Lapis.

Lapis lifts one cobalt-blue headphone off her ear, and from where she’s standing Peridot can hear the tinny feedback. She can’t make out the melody, but she’ll bet three dollars and half a donut that it’s Hybrid Theory. Theoretically, there’s a limit on how many times a person can listen to “Crawling,” but Peridot feels that if she pointed that out, Lapis would just take it as a challenge. She’s twice Peridot’s age and walks around with a near-permanent expression that says I have seen some shit, just try me.

“If I got a familiar,” Lapis says dryly. “Would that make you feel better?”

Peridot perks up.

She teaches herself how to play the recorder by watching YouTube, and the look on Amethyst’s face the first time she demonstrates convinces her she probably should have tried the harmonica instead. The look on Steven’s face tells her she probably shouldn’t have used his roaming data to do it.

“Here,” he says sympathetically, and plants his ukelele in her lap. “Do you think you can name the notes if we play a scale?”

“Of course I can,” Peridot responds haughtily, and touches her fingertips to the spellwork etched into the wood.

(Everything Steven owns comes steeped in generations’ worth of magic and love, all patiently waiting for Steven to grow into them.)

(She wonders if this is what having a family is like: a place you go where the love is already in your size, just waiting for you to pick it up and put it on: I am a person Steven loves. She wonders if they know she has it waiting for them, too, whenever they want to wear it: I am a person Peridot loves.)

She keeps herself busy - with music, with the barn, with the unusual breathless hitch in her chest at the way the heavy silver of Lapis’s thumb ring looks against her dark skin, with coming up with solutions to things that aren’t really problems. Steven and his dad take her to the mall to get her a phone, which turns out to be like her mother’s scry stone but with faster Internet connection. The common misconception about magic is that it’s somehow cheating, the lazy way out, but Peridot grew up in a witch’s house and knows exactly how much hard work it takes.

Furtively, she takes cuttings from Steven’s bathroom plant, and then from a monstrous leathery green thing in the laundromat, and an aloe plant sitting in a grocery store display with sunscreen and Solarcaine, and before long has several small pots lining the windowsill as the cuttings take root. The sight of them makes her feel better instantly.

“I still don’t feel like I’m doing anything productive,” she tells Amethyst, who’s got her tongue stuck between her teeth in concentration, picking at the stenciling of the tiny spaceships she’s painting on Peridot’s nails.

Amethyst snorts derisively. “You’re living, P-dot. Life is here to be consumed.”

“Easy for you to say,” Peridot fires back. “I saw you put mayo on your cereal the other day!”

“Exactly! And if I wasn’t here to do that, who would have done it? If you weren’t here, who would tell me everything there is to know about Camp Pining Hearts?”

Peridot swells up. “OKAY BUT - “

Here’s the thing about magic.

No wait.

Here’s the thing about love:

It comes up like a garden grown out of heartstrings and ribs, and you can spend so much time cultivating it, caring for it, but you’ll never really know if you’ll suddenly have to uproot it, or if you can trust its care to anyone else because so many people come in with good intentions but black thumbs.

But to try -

It’s so brave, just trying; the hope that you’ll get sunflowers as big as satellites turning their faces to the sun, and you’ll have enough love left over that you’ll have to go door to door just to share it all. Peridot grew up in a house with no room for waste. She never knew she had this capacity.

Her mother was wrong.

The earth was never a weapon.

Silence lands on them with deafening force.

Steven’s jaw hangs open, and Lapis’s eyes make shocked smears of blue in her face. Peridot trembles.

Amethyst recovers first, her voice revving up, “Perrrrrrr-i-doooooooooot!”

She whoops and pumps the air with her fist.

“LOOK! Look at what you did!”

Peridot tilts her phone towards her, disbelieving.

Spell charged, the screen reads. Would you like to share on Facebook? A minute vibration travels through the phone case into Peridot’s hand.

Magic, she thinks. My magic.

“I did it,” she says softly, in wonder. Then, louder, “I did it! Wait, what did I do?”

“I think,” and that’s Garnet, materializing behind them in that premonitory way she has. She’s smiling. “You made something entirely new.”

#markcat #fic:mine #steven universe for ts #i know i just wrote 20k about witches but also that didn't include a single witch so here:#baby witch getting started in 21st century techno-witchcraft #just because #THANK YOU SALV

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alethiometry · 3 years

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kassandra, connor, edward

answered edward here! 😊

First impression

kassandra: loved loved LOOOOOVED her from the start! i saw a couple screenshots in a polygon review before i bought the game and thought she was just the prettiest damn jock i’d ever laid eyes on... and she still is. and from the very first line of the game (leonidas prologue notwithstanding) - the cyclops’ thugs yelling “HEY! SHITFACE!” to her while she’s just vibing on her roof - i was in looooooveeeee. her Scrappy Punk Energy is impeccable.

connor: i actually was kind of ambivalent towards him in the beginning! this was ofc coming off the way-too-long-and-boring haytham sequences, so although i was impatient to get to connor, i was also a little annoyed that there STILL seemed to be so much story before we could run around and be assassin-y. so although i liked him, it was hard not to be annoyed at the slow start of his story. i think it took until like sequence 5 or something for him to get a hidden blade. which, considering there’s only about 12 sequences in ac3, was kind of annoying.

Impression now

kassandra: i still adore her, but for even more reasons! i will never not love the feisty misthios with the conflict deescalation skills of a molotov cocktail side of her, but equally i love her devotion to her family in the main storyline, her justified rage and love for her son in the legacy of the first blade dlc, and even her exhaustion but eventual commitment to her (awful, no-good, horrible) destiny in the fate of atlantis dlc. it’s a little difficult to characterize kassandra definitively, because i think her development/arc is far more loosely constructed than other assassin’s creed protagonists, but in general she is presented as somebody who is humorous and loving and cocky and formidable and charismatic, and doesn’t buckle under the weight of all the responsibility she has taken on, or that has been thrust upon her. she rises to every challenge thrown in her way and comes out of it more resilient and always with that sardonic twinkle in her eye and a smartass comment at the tip of her tongue.

connor: WE STAN A CHARACTER WHO NEVER LOSES HOPE EVEN IN THE FACE OF LOSING HIS MOTHER, HIS HOME, HIS BEST FRIEND, HIS FATHER, HIS PEOPLE, AND HIS MENTOR. WE STAN A CHARACTER WHO SURROUNDS HIMSELF WITH PEOPLE HE LOVES AND WHO LOVE HIM IN RETURN, WHO DOES EVERYTHING FOR OTHER PEOPLE OUT OF THE KINDNESS OF HIS HEART AND BECAUSE IT IS THE RIGHT THING TO DO, WHO DEFENDS THOSE WHO CAN’T DEFEND THEMSELVES. WE STAN A CHARACTER WHO, WHEN BETRAYED BY PEOPLE HE THOUGHT WERE ALLIES TO HIS CAUSE, SEVERS HIS TIES WITH THEM BUT RATHER THAN SUCCUMBING TO CYNICISM CONTINUES TO DO GOOD AND FIGHT FOR JUSTICE AND FREEDOM FOR EVERYONE. WE STAN A CHARACTER WHO IS ANGRY AND STUBBORN AND CONFRONTATIONAL AND BRUTALLY EFFICIENT AT TAKING DOWN HIS ENEMIES, BUT IS ALSO BLUNT AND HONEST AND SELFLESS AND KIND AND COMPASSIONATE AND UNWAVERINGLY LOYAL TO HIS LOVED ONES.

Favorite moment

kassandra: i can’t just choose one are you fucking kidding me they’re all so good she is so good she is perfect and has literally never done anything wrong ever in her life and we know this and we love her

but her monologue/voiceover to elpidios at the end of legacy of the first blade as she sends him away for his own protection always breaks my fucking heart so maybe let’s go with that 😭

connor: there are once again so many to choose from, but if i had to pick just one... i’m really feeling that haytham-washington-connor scene rn. where haytham exposes that washington was behind the shelling of connor’s village and the death of his mother - clearly with the goal of getting connor to turn on the revolutionaries and see the world for the twisted, cynical place that haytham sees it as (he even says as much in his journal in ac forsaken). but instead of taking the bait, connor responds in his own way: he shows that he is not blind to the fact that washington has been using him this whole time, but also that he knows that haytham is trying to do just the same thing to him now. he immediately recognizes that haytham was waiting to spring this information on him and calls him out on it, and reminds both haytham and washington that he is not stupid, that his loyalty is borne out of his sense of right and wrong rather than naivete, and that his people come first. his people ALWAYS come first.

and maybe i’m just a sucker for monologues but the ac forsaken monologue that was recorded but never added into the game for some unknown godforsaken bullshit reason was so so so fucking good and if it had been included in the game i am sure it would be my favorite. “FOR AT MY SIDE WALKS HOPE??????????? T H A T IS MY COMPROMISE???????????/” ✨🔥😲🌟🙌 ⁉ ⭐💯🙏‼😭👏😭🔥✨ BITCH WHAT THE FUCK!!!!!

Idea for a story

kassandra: i basically stuffed all my angsty kassandra ideas into one wip that i’m not sure if i’ll ever finish but love to daydream about. obviously endgame kassidas because, like, that’s my brand, but i also want to take the time to explore her relationship with natakas the way that ubisoft sure as shit fucking didn’t. it’s kind of an amphipolis fix-it and a legacy of the first blade fix-it all in one, if i can ever manage that. probably the most ambitious wip i’ve ever attempted. oh, and also she gets to raise her goddamn son and doesn’t get saddled with any of that keeper-of-memories bullshit. so in a way it’s just a fix-it for the entire goddamn game because kassandra deserved SO much better and i’ll never not be mad about it.

connor: in continuing the tradition of haytham leaving his journal for connor, i think it would be neat if connor kept a journal for io:nhiote. and i’ve rambled before about a connor sequel but you know what the more i talk about it the more i can maybe will it into existence. i think it would be neat if it was framed in a epistolic way where connor is preserving their family’s legacy as he discovers more and more about edward’s life, writing it all down for his daughter, similar to the way revelations was told through ezio’s letters to claudia. it would start in 1791 with connor traveling to the caribbean to aid the haitian brotherhood in the revolution, and it would take him all across the islands - to cuba, to new providence, to jamaica, to greater inagua. to all the places where edward had been. maybe there would be scraps of journals or message bottles with edward’s memories in them? and when the revolution has been won and connor has learned all he can about edward’s life, he travels to england to visit edward and tessa’s graves and to meet his last living relative: his aunt jenny. she’s old and dying at this point but she’s back at the kenway manor in queen anne’s square and after a little bit of trepidation (and maybe he shows her haytham’s journal or his hidden blade as proof that he’s not just some random dude) she lets him in. she tells him about her life and about haytham as a child, and the more she talks the more at peace she seems to be, and connor smiles and takes her hand and thanks her for letting him in, and she passes away quietly and painlessly. and the last thing he does in england before he heads back to his own family is visit his father’s childhood bedroom. he sees the same edward-ghost (like the altair-ghost at the beginning of acr) that he’s been following through animus-memory or eagle vision or whatever: only this time, it’s not some deep insight into assassin-ing or anything like that. all he sees is edward tucking haytham into bed on the night of his tenth birthday. UBISOFT FUCKING HIRE ME.

i also wouldn’t be opposed to a meet-cute type story for how connor meets his future wife, although it’s a story i would prefer someone else to write (to my exacting specifications ofc lol), rather than write it myself.

Unpopular opinion

kassandra: idk how popular/unpopular this is but i did find myself choosing a lot of the meaner dialogue options because although i think she does have a kind heart and feels genuine compassion for people, i think she is by nature a very blunt and often harsh person. i mentioned in the edward post that i think he and kass are kindred spirits, by which i mean i think they both have rough-and-tumble exteriors that they present to the world, and hold their loyalties and loved ones very close to their heart. they’re both exuberant and extroverted people who thrive as mercenaries but in their most vulnerable moments strive for something more long-lasting and stable and quiet. but where i think they differ is that kassandra is... just a little meaner/more abrasive?

connor: i don’t think i have any? i genuinely can’t think of any right now. connor is perfect and everyone knows it. nothing but respect to the king.

Favorite relationship

kassandra: romantically, obiviously it’s brasidas and/or roxana. i don’t think i need to go more into that. battle couples my beloveds 😍😘🥰

platonically, i of course love her relationship with her family. i would kill to have more endgame content with any surviving family members. i’d love a scene between kass and deimos and nikolaos, and a scene between kass and stentor and deimos. there is so much potential there and the game is so goddamn anticlimactic. and while i understand that some of that is because it’s already a long damn game and it’s difficult to program so many branching narratives and storylines and endings, i also... idk i just wish there was deeper relationship-building in the game

connor: i shipped him with miriam for a hot second until that french dude came along and swept her off her feet 😅 but mostly, as with edward, i don’t really him him romantically with anybody because i know he gets hitched later on in life and we don’t know anything about his wife. besides, there’s not a lot of hot singles in his area (rip). and he even says himself that he’s too busy to settle down just yet.

non-romantically, my favorite relationship/interaction is connor and haytham. they’re such a hot mess and i love it. i love how at odds they are ideologically, and yet despite the constant bickering and snapping at each other they still manage to work well enough together. and the fact that haytham can’t even define how he feels about the son he didn’t know he had and who seems to reject him at every turn, while connor continues to hold out hope that he can reconcile with his father.... but they’re both too goddamn stubborn to voice it... i should be angry with These Idiot Men for bottling up their feelings like this, but with these two, i get it. i get why they are the way they are, and i’m just here for the ride. they’re not passive-aggressive about it (well - haytham kinda is), they’re just aggressive. and i love that. the scene on the rooftop where haytham tells him “the only different - the only difference between myself and those you aid, is that i do not feign affection” is SO good. (i almost listed it as my favorite scene but i think i like the washington scene better bc it’s more indicative of connor’s character, whereas this one is more indicative of haytham’s)

Favorite headcanon

kassandra: can barely cook. it just wasn’t something myrrine taught her growing up, because as spartan nobles/royalty they probably had helots doing the cookiing (i think there’s at least one helot you see in one of the family flashback scenes), and she would have been way more interested in combat training with nikolaos anyway. and by the time she’s on kephallonia, i highly doubt markos would know how to cook much more than just the bare minimum for them to both survive. and she wouldn’t have access to the meats and spices that she probably grew up eating in sparta - just bread and cheeses, and fish if she can catch them. simple stuff that she can either prepare fairly easily, or that she can steal. essentially, my headcanon is that kassandra can prepare food just enough that she can feed herself (and eventually phoibe). but if you gave her like a chicken or a pig or some other animal and said “make it tasty” she would have no fucking clue what to do.

connor: i like to think that after achilles’ passing, he started taking in stray animals. the mansion is so big and lonely when it’s just him; he’s always lived in close quarters with other people, and as introverted as he is i think the solitude of the empty mansion is just way too fucking bleak. so obviously the solution is that he just starts bringing strays home. maybe it starts with an injured critter that he nurses back to health, or a dog or a cat that keeps following him around when he’s in boston/nyc. but much like how eivor eventually winds up with like 80 pets inside the longhouse, i like to imagine that at some point there’s like 3 dogs, and 2 cats that curl up in/around his bed at night, birds that repeatedly come and nest in the beams of the mansion roof year after year, deer that come by and nibble at the weeds/bushes by the cliffs, because connor may or may not go to great lengths to ensure that their favorite nibblin’ plants grow there year-round.

send me a character!

#assassin's creed #ac odyssey #ac3 #kassandra #connor kenway #ratonhnhaké:ton #MY BELOVEDS....... thank you alli for humoring me!#ask games

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thedrowsydoormouse · 5 years

Text

Blame @anangelamuse-castiel-spnfam for this long ass post!

1. What’s your first name?

Marilyn

2. How old are you?

3. Where do you live?

California (near Hollywood)

4. How tall are you?

6′1/2″

5. What colour is your hair?

a really pretty purple-y red

6. Do you have any siblings? If so are they younger or older than you?

I have a bunch of siblings. One is older and all the others are younger.

7. What time is it for you right now?

7:30-ish

8. Can you dance?

I should hope so considering I’ve been doing it for about 21 years now!

9. Do you have any pets? What are their names and species?

I have an adorable doggo named Zorro!

10. What is your eye colour?

Blue in the way the sea looks during a storm which is a total cliche but also very accurate!

11. Are you in a relationship?

Yes

12. Have you ever been in a relationship?

Many many relationships which were almost all huge mistakes.

13. What is your sexuality?

Pansexual

14. What is your type?

It really varies depending on gender but the one universal thing is dark hair and light eyes.

15. Have you had your first kiss?

Considering I’m married, yes!

16. Have you had a sexual experience with same gender?

Once in high school.

17. Have you had a sexual experience with someone of a different gender?

Many, many times.

18. What is your ideal date?

Disneyland during the Halloween season.

19. Are you a romantic?

Very much so!

20. Who is your celebrity crush?

I have way too many to list but right now my phone wallpaper is a pic of Alex Calvert from comicon this past weekend.

21. Do you like to draw?

I used to love it but going to art school in college kind of ruined it for me which makes me really sad but I just don’t find joy in it anymore. Now it just stresses me out. Hopefully that changes after a while.

22. Are you a good singer?

I love singing and the people I live with say I sound good but I think it’s all kind of subjective. I can carry a tune and stay on pitch and sometimes, if I’m really lucky and my emotions are right and all the stars are aligned, I can get a good amount of power behind it and really belt out when I sing which makes me really happy!

23. What was your best subject at school?

I was always amazing at anything creative so things like art, acting, dance, music, photography, creative writing (is it obvious I went to private school).

24. Do you enjoy physical activity?

I love some kinds. I could spend the rest of my life dancing all day and be the happiest girl you’ve ever met. I also like walking if I’m shopping or walking around Disneyland. And I get pretty physical when I’m cooking because I’m running around the kitchen doing like 12 things at once! Outside of that me and physical activity are not friends!

25. Have you ever done a marathon?

Never have, never will.

26. What is your favourite activity?

Dancing. Many people have said I light up even when I’m just talking about it! My husband just said he could tell I was thinking about dance because I started grinning like an idiot while typing this!

27. Have you ever traveled over seas?

No, but I plan to someday. I love traveling and seeing as much of the world as I can!

28. What would you consider your best skill?

Calming my mom down when she’s having one of her classic freak outs. I’m the only one who can get her to just chill out!

29. Favourite childhood movie?

Princess Bride! I still have to show it to Jack so I’ll probably be watching it later tonight!

30. What is your best quality?

I had to ask Jack about this because I didn’t want to sound too stuck up or full of myself. He says my strength.

31. What is your biggest fandom?

Considering my wedding band has an anti-possession symbol on it I’m going to say Supernatural.

32. What fandoms are you apart of?

Supernatural, Good Omens, Doctor Who, Lucifer, and a few others I can’t really think of or can’t list without taking an hour to type this up!

33. What is your favourite head cannon about anything?

Sam got super jealous when he found out Gabe and Rowena slept together.

34. Who is your all time favourite book character?

Westley from Princess Bride. I like to think I married the real life version of him!

35. Do you read smutty or fluffy fanfiction? (or fanfiction at all?)

Give me all the fanfic all the time!

36. What is your favourite book?

Princess Bride! I read it in middle school ad it still stuck with me.

37. Why did you choose that particular username?

I was studying fashion design, the guy I was with at the time always called me “Ducky” and I was 18 and in 12th grade.

38. Do you play video games? What is your favourite?

I have spent god knows how much time playing Sims 4 building houses and sims based on my favorite tv characters and some of my closest friends.

39. What is your all time least favourite fan theory or head cannon about anything?

That Lucifer would’ve been a good father to Jack. We already saw that he only wanted to use and control him so I can safely assume he would’ve been even worse than Dean was before Cas came back.

40. Star Wars or Star Trek?

Star Trek (she says while her husband yells “Star Wars” from across the room)!

41. What is your saddest experience?

I went though a month and a half long depression spiral when they announced season 15 of Supernatural would be the last which got even worse when I read what had happened to Jack in the season 14 finale.

42. If you could apologise to anyone at all right now, who would you choose and why?

Jack because I kept him up all night last week when there was a shadow demon thing standing outside my door that I could tell was scared of Jack so I used him as a pseudo human shield thing!

43. What makes you fizz up (get angry)?

When people are close minded. I ruined last Christmas because my great aunt wouldn’t stop being a bigot so I yelled at her and screamed “fuck you” in a crowded Chili’s!

44. Have you ever been in a fist fight?

Many times. And I’ve won every single one. I’m scrappy af and very light on my feet!

45. What is something you would change about yourself and why?

I would put more money in my bank account because a bunch of stores are starting to bring out their Halloween stuff and I want need all of it!

46. Describe the last dream/nightmare you remember having?

The shadow demon from outside my room was trying to strangle me (like hand around my neck lifting me off the floor so my feet were kicking like in the movies). I woke up and couldn’t breathe with Jack leaning over me looking genuinely terrified.

47. What are you like offline?

Pretty much the same as I am on here. Maybe a bit more bouncy and bubbly but that kind of stuff doesn’t really transfer to online unless I’m in a video on like youtube or twitch or something.

48. What is your biggest secret?

I think I caused the deaths of not only my first grade teacher but also one of the girls a couple years behind me in middle school and one of my classmate’s father.

49. Have you ever committed a crime?

I stole a lip gloss when I was about 3 or 4. Also so much jaywalking.

50. What is your most controversial belief?

I don’t know how controversial this would seem to my followers but trans women are 100% women and trans men are 100% men and asexuality is a real thing that 100% belongs in the LGBTQ+ community.

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harstinedogs-blog · 6 years

Text

Our New Foster Dog!

So we went and picked up the new foster dog. We didn’t end up with the dog I thought I was originally going to get, turns out that another dog needed our help even more, so we ended up with her instead. She’s a little pit bull, one whom I believe may have come from the fighting world as her face, neck, and chest are covered in scars and one of her ears is torn nearly in half and missing a rather large chunk from it, though it could also be caused by her being what she is. She’s a cute little thing with a sassy attitude and a whole lot of spunk. She’s super sweet and friendly towards everyone human, including children. She’s an incredibly happy, wiggly, energetic, scrappy little girl. I’m rather glad that I ended up with her since she thankfully has no sign or indication of any human aggression issues.

She is definitely not without her problems, however. She needs a lot (a lot!) of obedience work and she needs to learn her manners, though those are both pretty basic and shouldn’t take too much time for her to learn. She seems to be pretty attentive, alert and eager to please, even towards someone she’s never met before, has no allegiance to and no reason to work for. She seems to be pretty food motivated as well, which always makes things easier.

The real problem she has is her incredibly high prey drive. Every little thing that moves grabs her immediate attention and all thought dissipates like vapor and she just throws herself full bore at it. If there is an actual animal visible she goes absolutely nuts and continues to go nuts until it’s out of her sight. Normally a high prey drive wouldn’t really bother me too much, it can even be a good thing at times, as it can provide motivation and drive for quite a few various activities and games. However, this particular dog has an overwhelming desire and need to eat my two beloved cats, which is absolutely not okay, definitely not allowed and will not be tolerated in any way, shape or form.

The first few days she was here she was absolutely nuts. Completely overwhelmed and overstimulated by everything out here in the middle-of-nowhere country, she was trying so hard to focus on everything around her all at once, plus we had a few guests over for the weekend so there were extra people walking around, extra noise and activity. There was sunshine and fresh air, birds, rabbits, deer, cats, dogs, raccoons, rats, ravens and all manner of other things that caught her attention. There was grass, bushes, trees, fences, ties, trails and buildings that needed to be fully sniffed and inspected, even though we tried to minimize her exposure as much as possible in the first few days so she had a chance to adjust to her new environment and her new humans. Since she didn’t know me from a hole in the wall, she paid absolutely no attention to me at all, and wouldn’t give me any acknowledgment or eye contact. I pretty much felt like I didn’t even exist to her, and for a while, I didn’t, not really anyways. I was just someone annoying on the other end of the leash preventing her from getting to all the things she was so eager to get to.

I’ll admit, I briefly entertained the idea of giving her back at that point. I wrote to the lady from the rescue that I got her from and talked to her about it, and that didn’t go very well. They finally revealed some of what they hadn’t wanted to tell me before this “slightly reactive to small dogs and animals” dog came into my life. I found out that there really is nowhere else for her to go. She can’t go back to where she came from because there are 5 other dogs there and no one really has any time for her. So I’m kind of the end of the line for her, and if I can’t deal with her then her next step, unfortunately, is euthanasia. I believe it’s because of the way she is, the way she acts. Though she is an incredibly happy dog and very friendly with humans, they are definitely not her first priority. As much as she likes humans, she has a hard time focusing on them unless they have food to offer her. Her attention and focus is so wrapped up in looking for small furry creatures to kill that she’s constantly in hunt mode. While on a walk she can barely pay attention enough to go to the bathroom because she’s so caught up in looking for something, anything, everything, to chase and kill. She never stops, she never shuts off, and she hardly ever relaxes. She’ll barely even lay down because she’s so focused on what’s going on around her and when she does lay down it’s more of a tense, stiff-legged crouch than an actual, genuine down. She refuses to lay on her side and fights like hell to keep her feet under her and keep her balance and grip, and she never stays sitting or laying down for very long. It’s more like she pretends to sit and down rather than actually doing it.

When she does actually see another animal, regardless of what size it is, it becomes nearly impossible to get her attention off of it and onto something else. Even her food motivation goes right out the window. If you tug on her, she pulls back with everything she’s got, rearing up on her hind legs and choking herself in her frenzy to get the animal. If you turn around and try to walk away, she fights like crazy to stay pointed in the direction of her prey. If you try to body block her you end up doing a strange little dance as she tries to see around you and try to block her view. If you try to give her a command or instructions, she is completely deaf to them. Treats must be thrust in front of her nose before she’ll notice them, and while she will eat them if they’re more enticing than plain kibble, she refuses to break eye contact with her target or turn her attention away from them, not even for food. The only way to get her to come back to you is to drag her, forcefully while she’s kicking and screaming in protest, far enough away so that she can’t see them anymore. Even then it’s hard to get her attention since she keeps looking back at and focusing on where she knows that animal is, or was.

I finally resorted to making her steak bite treats (much to the frustration of my father, who was going to eat that steak…) and while she absolutely loves them and happily works quickly and with plenty of motivation for them while she’s alone, if another animal is within 50-100 feet of her, they may as well not even exist. So that’s going to be an incredibly difficult challenge to break. Honestly, I don’t know if she’ll ever be completely free of the behavior, and she may never be able to go into a home that has any other animals. I definitely can’t trust her for even a second, and I have to constantly remain on guard and alert for anything that moves and breathes. But we’re working on it…

I have managed to get her into a sit when she sees another living thing, and she’ll only break the sit if they come within a few feet of her, at which point she lunges wildly with all intent to kill, or at least maim and injure. So it’s a very small start, but at least it’s a start. We are also working on impulse control in a lot of other areas, such as not rushing and pushing our way out of the crate simply because its been unlatched, or not pushing and rushing our way out of a door simply because it’s been opened, and not pouncing on the food bowl before it even hits the ground, and not devouring a treat that’s offered along with half of the hand that offered it.

She definitely has a very dominant, pushy and stubborn nature, and when she is forced to do something she definitely does NOT like it and will push back with everything she has against giving in and actually submitting, though she will do it eventually. She develops a major attitude and resentment, a giant doggy “Fuck you, I do what I want” kind of response. I don’t think she’s ever had anyone really enforce the rules on her, and she’s used to getting her own way if she stands her ground and doesn’t give in. But she is beginning to get the hint that those type of behaviors just doesn’t fly with me, and that there are consequences to being defiant, just as there are rewards for being obedient. She has missed out on a meal or 5 for a few hours because of her refusal to cooperate and play nice. However, these lessons all seem to be sinking in rather slowly, considering how smart and crafty she has shown herself to be.

We don’t have much of a bond yet, though we are gradually developing a relationship and respect. At least I get to exist in her world now, and she is beginning to give me eye contact and acknowledgment when there are no other critters or distractions around to catch her attention. We are working continuously on “Leave It” and she really only gets praised for actually looking away from her prey and making eye contact with me, however brief it may be. So she is improving, though very, very slowly, and only with a lot of work and frustration.

We are also trying weight pulling with her, and she seems to be responding to it quite well. At the moment she’s only dragging a single tire behind her on our walks, which she does with ease, though it does an excellent job of giving her a workout and wearing her out after about a half hour walk. Since she gets tired and starts lagging in the middle, we take her harness off to give her a break and a bit of a normal walk for 10-20 minutes before we finish bringing the tire back home. She always pulls it just a little bit further each time we go out. She seems to really be enjoying it, and will even walk calmly off-leash for short periods when we’re safely back in the woods. On-leash she does an excellent job at keeping up, with a slack leash most of the time and she doesn’t need much encouragement at all, though she does enjoy nearly constant praise and a steady supply of treats when she’s working. She is also starting to understand that when she has the harness on she is “working” and not just walking and that many behaviors that are allowed on a regular walk are not tolerated when walking in-harness. She really is quite smart and actually learns quite quickly, and she remembers very well, even if we only did an exercise once or twice a day or two before, she only needs a couple of reminders before she picks it back up again.

She’s not quite as affectionate as I would like her to be, and she’s not very snuggly at all, except for the brief, rare moments when she chooses to forget about the outside world and it’s critters and relaxes, allowing herself to just be a dog and be loved. She’s even let me roll her over and scratch her tummy a couple of times. So she is definitely showing major signs of improvement.

She is certainly going to be a very difficult dog to work with, but I think that once our relationship improves and our bond strengthens, once she actually begins to trust me, and trust that she can rely on me, things will improve dramatically.

There are certainly times, however, that I have to pause, take a deep breath, and remind myself that I volunteered and asked for this, that I wanted a difficult dog to work with, one that everyone else had given up on, one who was out of chances and at the end of the line. That is exactly what I ended up with. Be careful what you wish for! You just might end up getting it. I know that I have, many times over.

Even with all her problems and the difficulty of her particular challenges, I have to admit that I am much happier and more content now that I have a dog to concentrate on and work with again then I was before when I was still wishing that I had a dog. Life is just so much better when you have a dog by your side, however difficult and frustrating said dog may be. Life is always better with a dog to love.

#Dogs #Dog Behavior #Dog Training #Foster Dogs #Rescue Dogs #Dog Behavior Problems #Behavior Rehabilitation #adopting a dog #dog adoption #dog rescue

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reesesxxpieces-blog · 7 years

Text

Chapter Eight : The Slap

Spencer James The night was wordless. There was nothing else to say. Instead, just silence between the two, even as they assumed their routine positions against one another. A silent comfort, which could have easily stood as the first night since their vows that the two had not partaken in their marital perks. Waking the next morning in one of John’s t-shirts instead of in their typical nude state, she reached over, silencing the alarm on her phone. A soft grumble on her lips, she curled back into him for just a moment longer. As the backup alarm sounded, it was her cue to officially get up and moving. Slipping from the bed, she was met with a pup at her feet, already ready to go outside. “Alright, Scrapster. Give me just a second.” She stated as she slipped into the bathroom, turning on the shower water to allow it to heat up while she grabbed a pair of shorts and flip flops to take the dog outside.

John James Due to the lack luster night that had possessed the two of them, he didn’t sleep very well or very deep. He hadn’t knocked out. He had merely convinced himself to try to sleep yet that light sleep came no rest. He was nearly counting down the minutes until it would be time to get up and just rid himself of some pent up energy. Feeling her move, he was slow to open his eyes yet doing so. Planning to close his eyes each time she looked at him but not sure if he was that dedicated to the cause as he reached up to brush his fingers through his hair.

Spencer James After slipping on the shorts and shoes, she grabbed the leash and made her way out of the apartment door. Down the short flight with pup tucked under her arm, swearing he got heavier by the day and her days of carrying him down the stairs were surely numbered. After getting outside to the small patch of grass at the side of the building, she realized she had broken one of the first laws John laid down for her. Her firearm sat on the nightstand beside the bed, just beside his. Making a quick visual sweep of the area, she opted to brave it. “Let’s make it quick, Scrappy.” She urged, as if he would heed to her request.

John James Getting up after she had taken the dog out, slow moving to pull himself off of the mattress with a loud grunt that would surely announce he was awake to his neighbors. He walked into the kitchen. Too half asleep to notice where his own piece was. A dangerous position for the man as he approached the coffee pot that had already been prepped the night before. Hitting on the on button as he pressed his forearms to the counter. Allowing his head to rest against it as well as he waited. Timing out the drip of the coffee pot until he could help himself.

Spencer James The pup took his sweet time, par for the course. Ten minutes later, she was walking back towards the front of the building with the pup jumping at her calf, demanding to be picked up as he had become accustomed to. “Alright, alright.” She agreed as she lifted him back up under the curve of her arm, resting against her hip as she entered the building. Head slightly down, eyeing the steps as she proceeded, before she was at the landing, opening the apartment door to find John in the kitchen. Scrappy released from the leash, she hung the leash by the door. Stepping into the kitchen, she offered a soft smile as she came up behind John as he leaned over the counter, both hands finding their way against his sides, pressing the side of her face against his back. “G’morning.” She whispered. “I didn’t wake you, did I?” She asked, having intended to let the man sleep if at all possible. 5 a.m. was less than desirable for anyone, especially without warning of the earlier set time on an alarm.

John James “Mmm…” he seemed to grunt out at her good morning, finding the term contradictory in all ways possible. Hearing her question, he grunted again. Shaking his head as he heard Scrappy’s nails against the floor. Already wound up as he felt her against his sides and over his back. Actually touching him unlike she had done tonight which left him somewhat surprised as he slowly lifted his forehead from the counter. “couldn’t sleep yet I’m tired.” he confessed drowsily.

Spencer James Remaining at his back, taking in his scent, finding some comfort in it which still managed to come as a surprise to the woman. “I’m sorry,” she offered, similar to the last sets of words she had spoken the night before. She wouldn’t be able to shake the idea that it was her fault for all of what had happened. The sound of water running in the next room reminding her of that which was her typical next step of the morning. “Join me?” She asked, a hopeful hint to the sound of her voice as she attempted to put the night before behind them and move forward.

John James Grunting in response to her apology, it again, was not her fault but he didn’t have the energy to battle with her about it. If she wanted to take up responsibility over something that really wasn’t on her, she’d be torturing herself in the end. Though it would inevitably come full circle and back to him, maybe she’d have to find out the hard way. Hearing her question, it took him a moment to hear the water in the other room. “Yeah, sure.” he concluded as he straightened up.

Spencer James As he stood, she slipped from his back, bringing her small hand to his, leading him through his own apartment to the bathroom. “I don’t want to ever go to bed like that again.” She began as she brought her free hand to slip the shoes from her feet, leaving them haphazardly along the way to the bathroom. “That’s not us.” She reminded him as she guided him to the awaiting shower. Once they were at the bathroom doorway, she released his hand, slipping both hands to the bottom of the stolen shirt she adorned, slipping it up over her head before abandoning it on the floor. Hands returning to his sides, this time to slip within the waistband residing there.

John James Following her into the bathroom, rubbing at his eyes. In autopilot as she guided him within. Finally able to pull his hand back and watch her as she pulled off her shirt. Hearing her statement, nodding slowly as she reached for his bottoms. Fighting off a yawn before ultimately letting it happen. “How the fuck do you get up this early?” he finally asked, the question weighing on his mind. “Every morning?” He followed up, knowing full well the way he distracted her from sleep through the night.

Spencer James Nodding her head, she had to agree to the answer to his question. “Almost. This is a bit earlier than usual, but it’s necessary.” She assured, relieving him of his bottoms, going with them to the floor where she slipped them free of him completely, forming a small pile on the floor just to their left. Standing back to her full height, her eyes met his own. “In Dallas, I’d get up earlier and drive forty-five minutes to get to my favorite running spot.” Details into her past offered, something neither of them seemed to often go into. “Then I’d drive all the way back to shower and head to classes or work.” She continued as she slipped the shorts from her own body, directly followed by her undergarments as she spoke. “I have to get up early so that after work, I’m yours. This is how it works out for you so well. And probably why I pass out in seconds once you take me to bed.” She smirked as she rejoined her hand to his, tugging at his hand to prompt steps towards the shower.

John James Stepping out of his boxers at her willing as he watched her, both watching her and listening to her speak while still staying upright. The sound of her schedule only managing to make him more exhausted as he groaned lightly at her, taking a step towards the shower. “I’m going to need you to slap me. Right here…” he instructed, tapping the side of his cheek. Seeing if she’d be willing to do it though he could go for it in that moment.

Spencer James “Wait, what?” She asked, not quite registering with her what it was he was asking her to do. He wanted her to slap him. To take her hand and land it quickly and somewhat forcefully against the side of his face. Surely he already knew she would ultimately concede to anything he desired from her, yet this one caught her off guard. “John…” she whispered, a look of surprise painted plainly against her features. “You’re serious?” She asked, a deep breath drawn within as she slipped her dominant hand from his own, almost preparing herself to go through with it should it be what he truly desired from his wife.

John James Surprised she was even willing to go ahead with it though he was not kidding and did want to feel the slight jolt to maybe wake him up some. Bloodshot eyes meeting hers as he nodded. “Dead serious…” watching her hand slip from his, giving another tap to his cheek. “Make it a good one, copper…”

Spencer James Her eyes dead set on his as she heard his words assuring her it was what he wanted from her, she drug her lower lip between her teeth. Visually working her way through it, yielding to what he wanted or declining for the first time ever, she was clearly at a loss for the moment. “Okay…” she whispered in a tone just barely audible. Clenching her eyes closed for a moment. It wouldn’t stand as the first or the last time she would smack someone across the face, but it would stand as the first time she had ever made such a contact with a man with whom she held such feeling for. As she opened her eyes, she drew her hand back, her eyes begging him to stop her as she brought her hand, palm forward, towards his face in a quick motion, sure to make quite a substantial impact should the action be uninterrupted.

John James Meeting her eyes, he watched her. Still not sure she’d follow through with it. In some ways, it was a test. Not that he wanted her to refuse but to do quite the opposite. It would suggest for one that she would listen to him and two, that she was evolving towards his side a bit more. Women of his lifestyle would not hesitate. They’d love nothing more. Feeling the impact of her palm against his cheek, the sound of it nearly making his ears ring as his jaw tightened and he met her eyes. A slow moment before he slowly began to smile. “You are stronger then you look…” he commented honestly as he felt the pleasant burning to his skin.

Spencer James Hate. She hated every single second of it. It was unprompted for her to do such a thing. Had he said something wildly hurtful or inappropriate. Had he been condescending to her. Had he called her something horrific. Then she would have held contempt and motive, yet in this, she was left to only obedience. Proof to the professional that she was completely lost for him to complete such a request. The smile to his face. His compliment. Both served as payment for that which she had completed, though her reaction was to lift her hand back to that place where redness formed an outline of her hand. “I didn’t want to be.” She stated in response to the compliment of her strength. She had to be, but in this instance, she wanted to go softer, though she knew with John, it was all or nothing.

John James “I would have fallen asleep on my feet…” he reassured her as it definitely woke him up some and put a bit of a hop in his step, seeing the hesitation there in her eyes as her hand swept his cheek. In that moment, it seemed she almost understood and acted on aftercare. What it was to inflict and soothe though he doubted she realized as much. Gesturing his chin towards the shower, his hand found her hip.

Spencer James Her hand at his cheek was kept soft, as if she could take the scorch away, though it had managed a smile to his face. The idea of hurting him was something she couldn’t have imagined before the moment he required it of her. A slight nod of her head in response to his clarification of why he had requested such an act from her. With his hand felt against her hip, that nudge of his chin towards the shower, she reluctantly withdrew her hand from his face, turning as she stepped to the shower, drawing the curtain back and stepping within, making a quick adjustment to turn the temperature down just a bit. “If it’s too hot, you’ll have to tell me. I can bear it to be a bit cooler, but I like it as hot as you can tolerate.”

John James “I’ll manage.” he confessed, it was her shower, he wouldn’t boycott it though it wasn’t exactly his ideal as she slipped into the shower. Stepping in a moment later as he pulled the shower curtain closed behind them. Hands settling at her hips as he felt that smack still filtering adrenaline through his veins and waking up a bit more with each moment.

Spencer James His hands always seeming to find their way to her hips, she had to offer a small smile, though she still wasn’t entirely comfortable with the slap she had just delivered to his face. Lifting her hand to the back of his neck as she guided them both beneath the water. Once the water was filtering over their bodies, she lifted to her toes, pulling at the back of his neck as she brought her lips to softly pass over the reddened area at his face.

John James Feeling her pulling him under the water, the heat of it unable to be mistaken but he’d deal with it as he felt her pulling in. Thinking he’d get a kiss only for his cheek to get that kiss, raising a brow as he looked down towards her. Feeling the water hitting the back of his neck and down his back. “You missed.” he teased, pressing his forehead to her temple as his nose nudged her cheekbone.

Spencer James “I didn’t,” she whispered honestly, making the slight adjustment so that her lips would meet his. “Better?” she added, a small smile to her lips as her lips fused to his once more. Both hands coming up around the back of his neck, tugging her frame to his in a manner that they should have been engaged in the night before. “I missed THIS.” She corrected him, a series of passes of her lips against his own, broken only by her words.

John James “Better.” he agreed, feeling her against the back of his neck as he leaned in. Feeling each kiss to his lips as she spoke, snagging her bottom lip between her teeth if only to stall her for a moment. “Yeah? shouldn’t have had to miss anything…” he reminded her with a lift of her brows. “You got it in your head last night that I was upset or mad. Wasn’t.”

Spencer James The tug of her lower tier had her eyes cutting up to his, filled with nothing but pure desire for the man. Such a small act, yet the infliction of it had her pressing her body closer to that of his. “I was being respectful. Giving you your space.” She reminded him, hand slipping from behind his neck, ghosting over his chest downward. “But what I really wanted was this.” She confessed. It was always what she wanted. There was a comfort there in the physical relationship the two had easily established. “But someone didn’t kiss me.” She pointed out, as it truly wouldn’t have taken much more than that to have changed the course of events of the night before.

John James “‘Cause someone didn’t want to be kissed.” he reminded her in return as he felt her against his slick chest, they could go back and forth all morning and know they wouldn’t achieve much. A waste of time. His arms slipping around her midsection to pull her into him. Skin to skin with nothing left between them.

Spencer James With proximity closed completely, the pull at his neck, bringing his lips back to her range. A fiery kiss transferred to him with no reservation as she kept a tight hold at the back of his neck, fingers prodding against his flesh as she clung to him. Lower hand gripping at his ass, leaving no room for wonderment over that which she desired now. As quickly as the kiss had been initiated, she pulled back from it, leaning slightly back, creating the only space she could, though not truly wanting any at all. “I always want your kiss.” She stated plainly to him as she brought her lips to crash against his once more, leaving him no opportunity to argue further without breaking the kiss, determined that if it was intense enough, she could convince him of the facts as they had been presented.

–July 16, 2015

#bookofjames #chaptereight #tildeath #2015

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