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get-back-homeward · 1 year

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The Case of Thelma Pickles

Thelma's account of John is most often cherrypicked by detractors as evidence he was some lifelong wifebeater. While the violence in the incident she describes is clear, the nuance that makes her account so vivid gets lost in the debate.

I keep coming back to her account for her picture of John at a crucial time, only a few months after Julia is killed.

John’s girlfriend in the autumn of 1958 was Thelma Pickles, a new and interesting student at the art school, just turning 17. Initially, she thought him “a smartarse,” then changed her mind when she witnessed his reaction to a girl who asked if what she’d heard about his mother was true. “She said, ‘Hey John, I hear your mother’s dead.’ He didn’t flinch. He simply said, ‘Yeah.’ She carried on, ‘It was a policeman that knocked her down, wasn’t it?’ Again he didn’t react, he just said, ‘That’s right, yeah.’ I was stunned by his detachment, and impressed that he was brave enough not to break down or show any emotion. Of course, it was all a front.”30

Soon afterward, John and Thelma sat talking at the Queen Victoria Monument and each revealed being deserted by their dads. “He pissed off and left me when I was a baby,” John said of Alf, which was far from correct but no doubt how he felt. Thelma’s father had left home when she was ten; she was sensitive to the stigma of having only one parent and emotional when anyone mentioned it. “I couldn’t sustain the detachment John managed,” she says. “I thought it was quite an achievement to be able to behave like that.”

Suddenly, John and Thel, as he called her, were “going out.” The shared soul-baring cemented it, and also they fancied each other. Thelma was the first female John allowed to get close after Julia’s terrible death. She was given glimpses of his other side.

When we discussed it between ourselves I realized he was clearly more sensitive than he appeared. He spoke of the pure shock of losing his mother, and he said what a loss it was (though I don’t think he used the word “loss”). At such times, he spoke in a much softer, more explanatory way than usual, and though he never demonstrated extremes of emotion, his pain was clear. The other side of the coin was that he’d detect any minor frailty in somebody with a laser-like homing device. I thought he was hilarious, but it wasn’t funny to the recipients.31

Thelma was witness to a rare occasion at Mendips, when John, Paul and George all stood in the kitchen and played their guitars. Mimi was out, and before she was expected back Thelma and the two lads scarpered. John knew Mimi didn’t want them in the house and would raise merry hell about it, and he just didn’t need the headache. For a while, though, John and Thel took regular advantage of Mimi’s going out (it seems she went to play bridge one night a week). The plan, carefully formulated by John, was for Thel (who lived in Knotty Ash) to take the bus to Woolton; she and John would meet and sit across Menlove Avenue in a shelter on the edge of the golf course, and when Mimi left and walked down the street, over they’d go. “I only ever saw Mimi from a distance, in the dark,” Thelma says.

Mostly, Thel found John “enormous fun to be with, always witty, and when we were alone together he was really soft, thoughtful and generous-spirited.” He made them tea and toast, he made her laugh, and he made love to her in his little bedroom above the porch. “We didn’t call it sex—that word wasn’t really used by people then. John called it ‘going for a five-mile run,’ because he’d read or heard this was the amount of energy a man spent.” They used no protection, trusting only to luck, and John told Thel he was glad she was no “edge of the bed virgin”—his euphemism for the kind of girl who would take him half the way there but no further.

John and Thel often took afternoons off from art school to go to the pictures. He liked the old horror films at the equally old Palais de Luxe on Lime Street, and they also went to see Elvis’s final pre-army film, King Creole, which reached Liverpool Odeon in mid-October 1958. Though John very occasionally wore his glasses at college, he definitely didn’t do so in public, and without them, even sitting near the front of the stalls, he could hardly make out how his idol was faring up there on the big screen. He kept nudging Thelma, nagging her to describe all the action: “What’s he doing now, Thel?”

—Tune In, Ch. 9 (June–Dec 1958)

Her account of the beginning of their relationship supports Paul and Cynthia’s characterization of young John as a kid that put on a public front to mask fear and insecurities and grief. She is surprised by his detachment to loss, something she wishes she could attain. (Echoes of this story of John and Paul. Like recognizes like?) Yet with further scrutiny, she sees the detachment as a facade and discovers a shared trauma, and they bond over opening up about their family losses.

After this recognition, they become close. When alone, Thelma sees the softer side to John, thoughtful and generous. When in public, she notices his awareness of the eyes of others, mocking frailties of others while walking around half-blind himself. She finds him hilarious as long as his target is someone else, feeling a sense of specialness by being part of his crew. You can see echoes of John and Paul's mean girls schtick here.

It's notable that by 1959, John has made a habit out of bonding over shared grief/trauma. John meets Paul just after his mother dies, and John lost his father figure a few years before that. John meets Thelma after Julia’s death and they bond over absent fathers. John goes on to meet Cynthia, who has just recently lost her father.

Her account of the end of their relationship supports how John would lash out when power shifted and exposed his insecurities. This lashing out comprises not only one hit in a moment of anger, but several days/weeks(?) of public mocking in response to her ending the relationship over his own actions. Notice how he mocks her with a lie they both know isn’t true all because she wounded his ego? It’s the performance of it all that sticks with me.

And the only way she gets him to shut up is to match him in being equally vicious back. The games of adolescence perhaps, but its echoes in John’s other significant relationships suggest a pattern. Mind games, more than anything, is the weapon of choice.

[Quotes and sources under the cut]

During the course of this, John leaned over to Thel and asked if she fancied “going for a five-mile run.” She agreed, and they slipped upstairs to the Art History room, assuming it would be free. “It was dark but we could tell there were other couples in there, probably having a five-mile run of their own, or trying to,” Thelma recalls. “I told John I was uneasy about doing it in a place like that, especially with other people there, and he wasn’t happy with my attitude. When I insisted on going, and got up to leave, he became rough and whacked me one—his fist connected somewhere between my shoulder and my head, around my neck.”8

Thelma stormed off, and decided that was the end of their relationship. She did her best to avoid John through the following week, and when this wasn’t possible she simply ignored him. He started to mock her but she resisted his gibes, and this went on for several days until reaching its culmination in the Cracke. “He was still mocking me, in front of others, and then he called me ‘an edge of the bed virgin.’ That really pissed me off because we both knew it wasn’t true. He was just being sarcastic and wounding because he was pissed off with me, and I got so enraged I shouted back, ‘Don’t blame me just because your mother’s dead!’ It was a cruel remark, but he knew all about those. It just seemed the easiest way to get back at him.”

John and Thelma had reached the end of the line, though they’d remain friends and keep in touch for several years. In an interview in 1980, John reflected on his teenage behavior: “Hitting females is something I’m always ashamed of and still can’t talk about—I’ll have to be a lot older before I can face that in public, about how I treated women as a youngster.”9 Except that he was talking about it, and with the sort of candor customary even when it was to his own detriment. In 1967, John mentioned it within a song lyric and spoke about it to his biographer Hunter Davies. “I was in a blind rage for two years,” he said. “I was either drunk or fighting. There was something the matter with me.”10

This was also, of course, the way it was in many other relationships, and had been for a long time and would be in the future, especially in the north of England. It wasn’t excusable but nor was it unusual, and such attitudes were reinforced constantly in receptive minds by the silver screen. “Not only did we dress like James Dean and walk around like that,” John later remarked, “but we acted out those cinematic charades. The he-man was supposed to smack a girl across the face, make her succumb in tears and then make love. Most of the guys I knew in Liverpool thought that’s how you do it.”11

In terms of dress, John continued to interchange between college scarf and Teddy Boy drape, though being a Ted was always more a state of mind for him.12 The persona remained very much part of his attraction to Paul and George, however—as Paul says, “We looked up to him as a sort of violent Teddy Boy, which was attractive at the time. He got drunk a lot and once he kicked the telephone-box in … [and] what might have been construed as good old-fashioned rudeness I always had to put down to ballsiness.”

—Tune In (Ch. 10, Jan–July 1959)

Based on the accounts of Thelma here and Cynthia elsewhere, both known incidents of John being physically violent with women are single, isolated events. Thelma describes a hair pull and full-on hit (punch) in the neck, which is physically painful to think about, whereas Cynthia describes a slap in the face. In both cases, they feel confident enough to shut it down and walk away, Thelma for good and Cynthia at least making him grovel first (Christmas 1959 card). Domestic violence comes in several forms, some of which do match John’s behavior with Cynthia even if they were common for the time (controlling appearance and activities, possessiveness and paranoia of infidelities, etc.), but neither of these women describe habitual physical violence.

However, this incident does not seem to reflect the guilt with which John talks about it later. Even when put together with Cynthia’s account, which is less than a year later (fall 1959), the level doesn’t seem to match. I notice both incidents would be within the two years after Julia’s death, yet he’s writing about it in 1967 (“I hit my woman”) and still talking about it in 1980. Even 3 months before his death, he was calling himself "a hitter." Either there were more incidents left untold (e.g., Thelma and/or Cynthia are condensing into one where they left, or other women who’ve remained silent) or John’s guilt spun it into more over time. This is notable because there’s not much else he ever seems to publicly regret.

Looking up Lewisohn’s sources, the worst quote from John is actually from Source 11 (the James Dean quote above), a print interview from a dubious author (link in the sources listed below). The author Sandra Shevey has claimed to have spent at least 12 hours interviewing John and Yoko, and while at least one recording of her interview with them is available, I’m skeptical about other quotes in print considering her output. Reading a few pages of her book on John, some parts are so unhinged I wondered why on earth Lewisohn even used anything from her as a source (serious burn book vibes). John has mentioned elsewhere about being influenced by Hollywood’s images of (toxic) masculinity as a teen, but her full quote makes it sound like he was basically raping women all the time. She uses the quote as a springboard to her more outlandish theories (like devoting several pages to the idea that John raped and then murdered Brian over a contract detail?!).

Burn book moments aside, Shevey also gets tons of basic details completely wrong like attributing Get Back’s writing or Bernard Webb’s Woman to John (both are Paul’s) and in general treats Paul as a nonentity in John’s life and work. So I have a hard time trusting anything from her book. However, she is one of the few John bio authors to consider bisexuality (unhinged theories aside) and is questioning the ballad of John&YokoTM in print as early as 1990, perhaps because she spoke with them during a time when the cracks were more visible. So assuming her quotes are accurate and her reading is just wildly off the mark, I think it’s worth mentioning the context of this James Dean quote in her book. It's prefaced with background that may shed light on the case of Thelma Pickles, who had the dubious honor of being John’s first real girlfriend.

Talking in 1972, he's speaking about this in relation to his struggle with accepting Yoko as an equal creative partner on the latest album. There’s a flavor of blaming British society and American culture that sounds very Yoko shaped (he goes on to call British men both effeminate and sadist). However, applying this background to 1958, you can see how a young John would have struggled to apply his relationships with other boys to his first attempt at a relationship with a girl, especially one who was by her own account looking for recognition and belonging with the boys.

Aside from the physical violence, Thelma’s account details the headtrip of John’s verbal violence. When you’re 16, a week of public mockery can feel like a lifetime. Doubly so when it comes from someone you were once close to. Like Pete and Paul, Thelma figures out how to match John’s level and shut him up. Bill Harry also recalls the importance of standing up to John to gain his respect. Thelma has to deal with him like one of the guys, delivering a verbal uppercut that leaves him clocked out and in the sand.

In a way, John’s mockery of Thelma looks like a mirror of the much longer, much more public mockery Paul gets from John 1970-1972. Ram aside, Paul waits to turn the public equivalent on John until 1972—which just so happens to be when John starts to cool his fire toward Paul. Shevey claims to interview John a day in September 1972 and the only recording she’s released is John ruminating about working as a partner with Yoko vs male artists (“It’s a plus, not a minus. The plus is that your best friend, also, can hold you without…I mean, I’m not a homosexual, or we could have had a homosexual relationship, maybe that would have solved it”) and the continued struggle of making this transition. Assuming Paul knew more about John after 13 years than Thelma did in 6 months, I’m left wondering why did Paul wait so long in the 70s? Maybe it’s harder to kick back when you’re feeling down? Or guilty? Maybe smarting from result of the last attempt? Maybe it’s harder to kick back when there’s a mountain more of feelings between you.

After Thelma gives him a taste of his own medicine, they continue to be on speaking terms though the closeness they had was gone. She recalls loaning him art college assignments because he’s in danger of flunking out. John goes on to date Cynthia, and Thelma remembers thinking he’d fancied her given his taunts but sounds a bit dismayed by how he got her to change her entire identity for him (“He got what he wanted”). She recognizes being married to John would be a “gargantuan task” and had no regrets herself.

Lastly, a comment on Lewisohn’s framing here. I think it’s appropriate to mention John’s guilt and the effect of pop culture on the social mores of the time here. But I find it incredibly distasteful that Lewisohn concludes this incident with a quote that suggests Paul liked John violent and hitting women, considering the actual context of the quote.

Here's Paul's words in Many Years From Now that Lewisohn quotes from:

The first sentence of Paul's words on this says it all. This quote is all about the image of the Teddy Boy as a protective measure. Conflating violence against women with fashion is not helpful at all.

This word-twisting feels especially terrible because Paul ends up dating Thelma himself a few years down the line...

All the Beatles were now in settled relationships. Having ended with Dorothy Rhone, Paul played a broad field without hindrance, sparking flames old and new, and he also (from August 1962) found himself a special new “steady.” This was Thelma Pickles—John’s art school lover before he got together with Cynthia. Paul had always liked Thelma, and happened to see her in Liverpool while driving his car—his proud and precious Ford Consul Classic, which he bought new (“on the never-never”) in early August.16 She married, had a baby boy and then separated from her husband. Approaching 21, Thelma lived in a Prince’s Avenue bedsit as a single parent and was trying to resume her art school studies, a talented young woman … and here in her life arrived Paul McCartney.

He was no longer a slightly plump young schoolboy but very much his own person. I only like visual art, I’m not into music, so I had just a vague notion that John and his group were still going. Paul said he’d pick me up later to see them play at the Cavern. It was a jazz club when I’d last been there. It was full of raw energy. Girls were screaming and boys liked them as well. I’d only ever watched Six-Five Special and this was different. I hadn’t believed what Paul said about their increasing fame—being brought up working-class in that era, we were given to believe “our sort” couldn’t become successful.17

—Tune In (Ch. 31, Aug 19–Oct 4 1962)

Her comment on class and success is important to put in context with the rest of her account. Given John's more middle class standing living with Mimi at the time, I’m sure Thelma felt the power differential between them at least the first time she visited Mendips. Notice how sneaky John is to make sure Mimi doesn’t meet her? It mirrors how John only has the band over when Mimi's out of the house; he knows how she will react to him seeing a working-class girl and doesn’t want the trouble. That sticks with a girl, feeling like you’re not worth the trouble. He does end up introducing the much more prim and proper Cynthia to Mimi, and it still goes terribly, but at least he tries, signaling to Cynthia he sees some future with her. That hit in the neck? Sounds a lot more gruesome than a slap in the face. And it's in public, after she turns him down. Despite their shared closeness alone, the power differential in public still reigns supreme. But she knew her limits and stood firm in spite of it all. We only have one picture of her at this time, but it’s a telling one all the same. I look at it and can’t help thinking, oh, I know this girl. Good for her.

Even after Thelma and Paul’s relationship fizzles, they stay friends through other connections. She ends up dating (and later marrying) Mike’s bandmate, Roger McGough. She recalls staying with Roger at Cavendish in the 60s. It’s not clear if she crosses paths with John at this time. Perhaps her presence prompted the guilt we see John express in 67 in Getting Better and interviews with Hunter Davies. I hope she haunted him…even just a bit.

Sources by Chapter

Chapter 9

30 Observer, December 13, 2009.

31 Author interview, September 6, 2010.

Chapter 10

9 Interview by David Sheff, September 24, 1980, for Playboy.

10 Davies, pp56–7. The song lyric: “I used to be cruel to my woman / I beat her and kept her apart from the things that she loved”—“Getting Better,” 1967.

11 Interview with Sandra Shevey, the Hartford Courant, November 26, 1972.

12 “The Teddy Boy … that was my scene, but it was only a club to belong to at the time”—interview by David Skan, Record Mirror, October 11, 1969.

13 Many Years From Now, pp49/33.

Chapter 31

16 Author interview, May 2, 1991.

17 Author interview, September 6, 2010, and e-mails August 29, 2010, and February 28, 2012.

#thelma pickles #the only girl on record that was with both john and paul #poor girl #beatle girlfriends #understanding john #teddy or not #my text #reading tune in #her account touches on several bits i keep coming back to #i think the most telling parts about thelma’s story are the trauma bonds that start the relationship #and the lies he spouts at the end after she wounds his ego #okay and 50s schools really failed kids by not giving them medically accurate sex ed #the pill is two years away from release at this point but even then youd need disposal income for it #five mile run euphemism fits in well with his skywriting euphemisms #wordplay #clearly john had an exhibitionist kink #no one ever told teen john your kink isnt your partners kink and thats ok #class and the beatles #long post #women and the beatles #grief #mothers and sons #mark lewisohn #sandra shevey #you know what sends me into a blind rage men calling women ‘females’ at least johns comment is 40 years old what’s marks excuse #more about shevey later bc seriously wtf

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vaporvipermedia · 1 year

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“My heart cannot wait until I see your face again”

Name: Kei Yoshihiko

Stage Name: KEISHI

Age: 18

Birthday: Sept.30

Height: 5’6

VO:

Rina Satō(JP)

Anna Graves (EN)

Singing VO:

Ms. Ooja(JP)

Taeko Ohnuki(JP)

Likes: Songwriting, directing, making close bonds

Dislikes: Being alone for a long time, Escalators (after an embarrassing incident that happened)

Favorite Artists: SUZY, Ms. Ooja, Ladies Code

Favorite Food: Tempura

Least Favorite Food: Oysters

(She tried them at an event party she went for her company and immediately ended up sick from the taste. Having her live stage appearance to be pushed back until she felt better)

Idol Division: Ramshackle Division

Idol Group: N/A

Position: Soloist

Background:

Kei was a young child actor at seven who starred in mystery/detective shows. She was mostly casted in side character roles until she finally became a main role in a show called “Give It Your All Tamiko-San!” A mystery show with a bit of magical girl elements. She also sang and wrote lyrics for the show's opening “The Lead to Your Heart” which gained a lot of love and popularity. According to old fans of the show, it was extremely catchy and even played on several radio news sessions just because it was that well liked.

Kei was taken aback by this praise for her song. By then, he was just a well known enough actor but now to the world he’s a natural born singer. He started to wonder if this was truly a path he should go down on. And after the final season of “Give It Your All Tamiko-San!” he finally had an answer.

Not only did she pursue becoming an idol but she also trained under NRC for two years. Eventually becoming a soloist at the age of 16 with her first solo mini album “Open Shut Case”. The whole concept of the albums’ meaning is that no matter what your love for her is very clear. An open and shut case if you will- ok imma shut up now

TRIVIA:

Kei is a soloist who has mostly jazz-like and casino-vibes songs

He often gets invited to be the MC of some award shows for other idols, announcing the winner of each category

Has a YouTube channel that shows what happens behind the scenes of her music videos and mostly does livestreams to talk to her fans

Still keeps in touch with his old actor crew and often goes on lunch dates with them

Used to have a old channel that was dedicated to her acting profession but decided to make a new account for a fresh new start

Often gets asked to sing her old show’s opening for nostalgia sake

Had a whole ARG as a teaser for his up and coming comeback as well as new mini album based around city-pop music

Is friends with @oseathepebble’s Tsukiko in the idol AU and usally hangout away from cameras

Kei’s fandom called themselves “Scenes” before Kei could come up with an official name. She thought the name was cute and decided to make it official when she decided to post on Magicgram on stage with a crowd behind her the caption is “scoping out the scene!” (@twst-vampire came up with the suggestion)

Kei’s favorite song is Love Space by Tatsuro Yamashita, and often finds herself listening to it from time to time in order to help her insomnia and just help herself settle down when work gets too stressful.

Reblogs > Likes

#twisted wonderland #twst oc #oc #twisted oc #twst #my artwork #twst idol au #idol!kei #idol au #kei yoshihiko #KEISHI #THIS TOOK FOREVER NGL😭

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panthera-tigris-venenata · 11 months

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Mutually destructive (TM)

But don’t worry, they are having fun. Just fair warning, story contains alcohol & other drugs & closely unspecified violence and other terrible coping mechanisms, because they are Isle kids, what did you expect.

Also it's exam season (tm) and I'm not entirely responsible for my mind, so there is that. This is like therapy but cheaper ✨

Anyway, enjoy?

They crashed at Mother Gothel’s place for the night, the old hag having disappeared somewhere or other, though probably to Evil Queens to plot dark rituals involving brutal sacrifice of young maidens or whatever.

Either way, it was not Anthony’s problem, as that mainly meant that her place was free – and that Ginny has invited him and Harriet to spend the night. Or several nights, until someone inevitably remembers they need him and/or (more likely) Harriet to survive and comes looking for them, or until Gothel comes home. Which could take weeks. Her relationship with time was a bit wonky ever since she turned one hundred seventy or so. Anyone’s guess when that was.

But… It’s way past midnight and Anthony’s heart is pounding for all the wrong reasons.

Fucking nightmares.

He wakes up with a start and manages to come to consciousness quickly enough not to scream or accidentally hit or stab any of the girls.

Fucking Isle.

He knows he won’t fall asleep again tonight.

So he carefully gets up from the bed, trying not to disturb the girls – they deserve to sleep, you know?

But before he can make more than a step, he sees Harriet stirring: She was sleeping with one around Ginny and the other carelessly thrown over her eyes, as if to block out the light.

She is now looking at him in between her fingers.

„Ssh, love. Go back to sleep,“ he whispers at her, still softly as not to wake up still sleeping Ginny.

…And she’s glaring at him. How nice.

„Seriously, Harriet. Go back to sleep–“

„I wasn’t sleeping,“ she tells him, voice quite raspy. But then again, that might just be from yelling at the pirates day and night, so Anthony is not gonna argue.

„Where are you going?“

„…Nowhere.“

„Asshole.“

Ginny stirs too and Harriet moves her hand into her hair, and without missing a beat, she accuses him of lying to her and of having nightmares. Like, she is right, on both accounts. She just has no right to say it out loud.

He glares at her too.

And of course, still petting through Ginny’s wild curls, she has the bloody audacity to smile at him – more teeth than anything else – and say: „Let’s go do something.“

He gestures to Ginny: „She’s sleeping.“

„She wouldn’t mind.“

Ginny, apparently minding the sound quite a lot, hides her face into Harriet’s neck and fucking whines still mostly asleep. Harriet only shrugs at that.

Anthony sits back down, keeping his bad leg straight, and leans close to Ginny, his lips almost touching her ear:

„Wake up, Sunflower,“ he whispers, and bites down at her earlobe, just because he can.

Harriet laughs at that, and pushes the other girl off herself, ignoring her groans. She sits up and reaches for something under the bed: Her boots, maybe?

…Nope. A bottle of rum. Obviously.

She takes a swig from it and holds the flask out for him, too: He drinks, but grimaces at the taste. Rum will never be his thing, but it’s cheap.

Harriet just cackles and takes it back. And drinks again, because what else would she do?

„Rise and shine, Sunflower,“ he attempts to wake Ginny up again. He half-suspects she’s just faking it at this point.

And really: She turns around, eyes still closed,but one hand dramatically draped over her forehead.

„Shut up–,“ she groans, „I need my beauty sleep.“

In response, Harriet throws her cape at her.

„I’ll strangle you with that, Captain,“ complains Ginny, yawning exasperatedly „But not now. In the morning“

Both Anthony and Harriet laugh at that, ignoring Ginny hiding her face in the fabric of the cape, even though none of them has turned the lights on.

„Get up, Gin,“ decides Harriet in a voice that is far from her best command tone, „We’re going somewhere.“

She already has her coat and boots on.

„The End of the World?“ asks Anthony. It is quite nice on the reefs, and they can’t see Auradon from that side of the Isle.

He too stands up to get his boots and jackets.

„The Skull Rock?“ shoots Harriet back.

„Ew. Water. Bones..“

„Fuck you. The skull rock is an iconic place of my father’s story and it looks cool as fuck. Aesthetic, Tremaine. You wouldn’t understand.“

„Back to sleep,“ complains Ginny again, and throws her hairbrush at Hariet, who doesn’t even flinch as it hits her.

She deserved that anyway for that comment about aesthetic.

Anthony takes mercy at Ginny, then. Well, mercy… That depends on how one takes that.

He leans close to her, pushing away the cape, and says: „Come with us, Sunflower. I’ll carry you until you wake up…“ he promises her. He just wants to get out of there, you know? Do anything.

„Fine,“ allows Ginny, finally sitting up and slipping her feet into her shoes, „But only because you’re asking so nicely.“

He smiles at her, sacharine, as he helps her into her cape like the gentleman that he is.

And then,as he promised, he quite easily lifts her off her feet and starts walking, only stumbling a little. Which Ginny either doesn’t notice or doesn’t care.

Harriet, however, barks out a cruel laugh:

„You’re gonna carry her? I thought you were joking!“

And she gestures at him, as if to hand Ginny over.

He gives her a look that would freeze most other Isle inhabitants on the spot. Which, unsurprisingly, doesn’t phrase her at all.

„What!“ she snarls, „You think I can’t carry her? Is that because I’m a girl, Lord Tremaine? Huh?!“

He can see her eyes rapidly darkening even across the unlit room.

„Answer me!“

„No, it’s because you’re–“

„Well, you’re basically a cripl!“ With the bottle in hand, she gestures towards his bad leg.

„I,“ he replies stiffly, „Have had a broken leg just few weeks back. And I was going to say: You are drunk, Harriet.“

She breathes in sharply to argue back, but before she can, Ginny lets go of him, annoyed, and quite loudly announces that if they don’t shut up at once, she’ll poison their next meal. Or, in Harriet’s case, probably a drink.

Anthony clicks his jaw back into the place and across the room, Harriet does the same.

„Let’s go to the Skull Rock, then,“ Ginny decides, and Anthony ignores Harriet mouthing „Told you, Tremaine. Aesthetic.“ to the best of his ability.

„If you two really insist on dragging me out of bed. But I want to go to Maddy’s first.“

So Ginny slips out of the door first, and Anthony follows, and as he walks past Harriet, she brushes her fingers against his, squeezing them for less than a heartbeat, which isn’t quite an apology, but that’s alright, because Anthony didn’t ask for one.

They walk through cold Isle night, shoulder to shoulder, and the few people on the streets get out of their way.

They don’t really talk.

Sonn, they get to Maddy’s – Madam Mim’s „Apothecary“, which her descendant correctly took as free real estate to get all sorts of free proviant. And free samples to cook drugs, as you do.

Ginny doesn’t bother knocking or anything, letting herself into the shop via picking the lock. What else are hairpins for? Honestly–

And besides, Anthony is convinced that Mad Maddy doesn’t sleep anyway.

„Maddy!“ calls out Ginny, „Maddy! A visit!“

Sure enough, dear Maddy drops down from the ceiling, probably, and quite unbothered dodges Harriet‘s knife. Good for her, and that is what she gets for surprises.

She and Ginny greet each other by exasperated kisses on the cheeks, and Athony pulls Harriet back, closer to him. She doesn’t argue and doesn’t stab. She does, however, pocket something from one of the shelves.

He loops his arm through hers as they listen to the hushed conversation, which is carried out in some unholy combination of dead languages.

Suddenly, Ginny turns back to them: „Do you want anything? Angel dust? Pixie dust? Seaweed? Regular weed? Good old crack? Cocaine? Well, not that, probably. Ettie? Maddy says she brewed this wicked absinth–“

He can see the gleam in Harriet’s eyes, and he decides he’ll get her the probably absurdly expensive absinth as a gift sometimes. But now, he speaks before she can: „Maybe another time. Just get me some tobacco?“

Both of his girls make a face at that,but it does distract Harriet, and Ginny does turn back to speak with Maddy again anyway.

After few more minutes, some gold exchanges pockets, and Ginny hides away most of her purchase, tucking it to her bra.

She drops the tobacco into his hand and mutters something that sounds suspiciously like „Don’t kiss me.“

He flashes her his best smile.

„No making out at my shop!“ complains Maddy, shooing them away, „This is a respectable business!“

Yeah, totally. Respectable business. Absolutely.

Still, Anthony is a little surprised Harriet kisses him, hard and quick, all teeth and spite. She then kisses Ginny just the same way, flips off Maddy, and walks out of the door. A bit dazed, Anthony follows after her, but hey. Harriet was never one for rules.

Ginny joins them quickly, joint in hand already. Anthony wastes no time in fishing out a lighter and giving her the fire, the joint held between her lips.

„You gonna share, Sunflower?“ asks Harriet.

„Nope,“ answers Ginny, dragging a long breath, eyes half-lidded, „It’s just weed. You aren’t allowed that, Captain Hook.“

„Why, you–!“

„Quiet!“ shouts some hag or another, or maybe Madam Mim herself. Anthony frankly doesn’t care.

As one, the three of them turn around and yell: „Shut the fuck up!“ in the general direction of the voice.

Anthony then takes the girls hands – it’s night, no one can see, it’s just for a moment – and they walk towards the port, towards the reefs and the skull rock.

They walk around the Lost Revenge, and Anthony can see two figures sitting on the railing of the ship, too close to each other and definitely too close to the edge.

There are sharks circling around, but that has never bothered the two of them.

Teeth flash through the dark as Harriet flips her brother off in greeting.

„Sammy and Murph were looking for you,“ he informs her unnecessarily, „But you seem quite busy, sister. I’ll tell them that.“

„Whatever you do, do not tell Calista you saw me.“

„For a price, sister dearest…“

…And that’s how a bit of Ginny’s angel dust ended up in the hands of Lost Revenge’s Captain and first mate, if you were wondering.

Though judging by noises alone, they might have gotten distracted before they took it, too: Anthony is fairly sure he heard them jump into the sea before they rounded the corner, as to not walk around Hope.

„Swimming with the sharks, such a nice date,“ remarks Harriet dryly, „Love that for him.“

„Shut up, Ettie.“

They get to the Skull Rock without running into anyone else.

More like, no one runs voluntarily into them, which is as it should be.

They stand on the shore above the sea, looking into the deep and hollow eyes of the Skull Rock. Dead place, just like the whole Isle.

Anthony can hardly stand its glare.

They stand still and Harriet drinks again, offering him the flask too, and ostensibly ignoring Ginny for her stunt with the joint. Anthony takes it, and so what if he lets his fingers linger on hers a heartbeat longer?

The wind tugs at their hair and flares Ginny’s cape.

The cape flies away a moment after, when Ginny unclasps it. Anthony looks at her in surprise.

„What?“ she smiles, pupils blown wide already, „It’s hot in there. Lets do something!“

She laughs as if nothing mattered, and maybe it doesn’t, because soon, all three of them are laughing.

Nothing matters, you see?

Nothing matters.

Up until Ginny decides to jump off the cliff.

(It’s not that high, and it was so hot in there, Anthony!)

(Lets do something!)

Harriet is still cackling.

„She just jumped off the cliff,“ he says, unsure if Harriet is, you know, still mentally there.

„Yep.“

Okay, she is.

„In the middle of the night. Near Skull Rock.“

„Yep.“

„High out of her skin.“

„And she wouldn’t share, that bitch.“

„Harriet, she can’t swim.“

„Well fuck,“ notes Harriet dryly before she, too, lunges herself off a cliff.

Oh, what a night…

He peers over the edge, and in the dim almost-dawn, he spots the girls soon, two dark figures in darker sea.

He can hear them laughing, too.

„Anthony, join us!“ shouts Harriet.

„Don’t be a coward!“

„Ah, fuck it,“ he mutters before shrugging off his jacket and jumping down too.

The water is cold, but it doesn’t matter. Not right now, at least – and it seems that all the sharks are still circling the Lost Revenge.

He swims to Harriet and Ginny, clumsy but above water, and he laughs too.

#harriet hook #disney descendants #anthony tremaine #ginny gothel #anthony temaine/ginny gothel/harriet hook #terrible coping meachanisms #tw alcohol #substance abuse

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voraciousvore · 6 months

Text

Bucky's (17/44)

***Contains soft, safe vore***

Chapter 17: Drinks at the Bar

Ronny was beginning to despair of ever finding a woman to love. His options were rapidly drying up as he swiped through the dating app on his phone, taking rejection after rejection, getting blocked, finding he was not compatible with most of the Giantesses on there. He was frustrated. He could only conclude that most of the women were stuck-up hoes not worth his time. It probably didn’t help matters that he was so picky with his selections.

One particularly lonely night, he was feeling hungry and restless. He didn’t want to stay holed up in his apartment, alone, gorging himself on frozen TV dinners. He wanted some comfort food, to fill both his heart and his belly. He didn’t have a date to go out with, so he decided to eat out at his new favorite restaurant, Bucky’s, by himself. It was drizzling outside, so he grabbed a raincoat before heading out into the stormy weather.

He trudged through the gray streets, hood up to keep his head dry, the rain tricking down his huge back. The sun, hidden behind a thick layer of clouds, was setting, making the gray sky grow darker. The downtown area was less busy than usual on account of the weather, but still brightly colored with neon lights that reflected off the shiny puddles on the pavement. Passersby were huddled under umbrellas or bundled up in colorless waterproof coats just like Ronny. The world looked as gloomy as Ronny felt inside.

Before long, the bright blinking red of Bucky’s neon sign came into view, mirrored in the road below. Ronny entered and shed his wet coat. The seating hostess flashed him a friendly smile, in spite of his serious demeanor. “Table or bar?”

“Bar,” Ronny growled. He would feel weird sitting at a table by himself. She led him over to the bar section where he sat down and ordered a beer. “Just keep ‘em coming,” he instructed the bartender.

Bucky’s was slow, on account of the rain, so Ronny was able to sip on his drinks in peace. After downing a few beers, he felt a pleasant buzz inside his skull and decided to placate his whining stomach and order some food. After perusing the menu, he requested a burger and a hearty plate of cheese fries, with a human entrée to accompany the fries.

“Hey, there’s a specific human I want in my dish. Her name’s Patty, if she’s available.” The Giant taking his order wrote down the name with a nod and walked away. For some reason, Ronny felt a touch of warm blush creep into his cheeks, and an excited electricity in his gut. He didn’t entirely understand these feelings. Perhaps it was just anticipation to feed his hunger with her exquisite taste. He licked his lips and swallowed the pool of drool forming in his mouth. Definitely hunger. Nothing more than that.

In the human tank, Patty was dismayed to find a giant hand grabbing her up to take her to the kitchen. She was handed off to Chef Gore, who stuffed a pill in her face, slapped her into a mound of fries with melted cheese, and loaded the plate up with toppings. Patty wasn’t restricted at all, but she knew running would be futile. She didn’t want to lose any more toes. She schemed every day to escape, but she was out of ideas for now. She needed to find some way to get the tracker off her wrist. The only way she could think of was cutting her hand off, hardly a desirable option. Bucky did not allow the humans any weapons, like saws or knives, so Patty’s morbid idea would likely not come to fruition. Besides, she doubted she’d be in any condition to run pouring out blood with a severed hand.

Patty sat listlessly in the mountain of fries, cheese, sour cream, bacon bits, and chives as a waitress stopped to pick up the massive plate. The human groaned inwardly when she saw she was heading for the bar. Her last experience at the bar involved being thrown up in a trash can by a drunk Giant, and she wasn’t eager to relive that incident. Her attitude changed, however, when she recognized the handsome Giant Ronny waiting for her. He was one of the few Giants she had met, other than Leon, who had actually been nice to her and treated her like a sentient person, even if he did still eat her in the end.

Ronny’s pulse quickened when he spotted the familiar face of the human in his meal. The waitress set the plate down in front of him and hustled off. Ronny fixated his gaze on the tiny woman buried in fries and cheese. She looked... cute. Adorable, even. And very tasty. He swallowed nervously, feeling a sudden onslaught of social awkwardness. He glanced up briefly to make sure the bartender wasn’t nearby before finally opening his mouth to speak.

“Um... hi,” he said. He leaned forward, casting a shadow over the plate, but Patty didn’t flinch this time at the Giant man towering over her. She met his gaze, and while it was hard to tell because she was so small, he almost believed he saw her face turn pink.

“H-h-hi,” she stammered quietly. Ronny stared at her, not sure what else to talk about. What was he supposed to say, to a human who was sold to him in a plate of food to be eaten? What could a Giant like him possibly have in common with her? She seemed to be struggling with the same affliction, because she looked away and started fiddling absently with a green chive next to her. She slipped it onto her arm like a bracelet and Ronny had to resist letting out a chuckle. Maybe it was just the beer influencing his judgement, but he thought she was precious, with how miniscule she was.

The waitress stopped by again to deliver Ronny the burger he ordered. He thanked her and started chomping down on it with great big bites, since he was hungry after all. He had yet to touch his fries, as if he were hesitant to disrupt the human in his food. Patty watched him curiously, and Ronny glanced back at her.

He swallowed his bite of food so his mouth wasn’t full. “Uh... if you’re hungry, you can have some of those fries,” he mumbled.

Patty raised her eyebrows with surprise. “Thanks,” she said timidly, barely above a whisper. She didn’t touch the fries, though, beyond sitting in them like she was before. She was too anxious to eat anything. She gulped and continued, “S-s-so... um... I see you don’t have a date tonight.”

Ronny scowled. “No. No I don’t.” He picked up his glass of beer and chugged a monumental gulp, polishing off the rest of the glass. Patty thought to herself that enough beer went down his huge throat to get all the humans in the tank drunk. Ronny slid his glass forward and tapped the table to get the attention of the bartender, so he could get another beer. “Fucking bitches,” he grumbled bitterly under his breath.

Patty was a bit frightened by his anger, but she supposed she could understand. “I’m sorry to hear that, Ronny,” she told him gently. He looked down at her and his expression softened.

“It is what it is,” he answered dismissively. He munched on a few fries and thought to himself it might be best to change the subject, so his temper wouldn’t flare up. “So, uh... how’s your day going?” The bartender slid him another beer, giving him an odd look as he noticed Ronny conversing with his dinner plate. Ronny glowered at him and the bartender shrugged and walked away.

Patty sighed. She wasn’t sure if it would be such a good idea to talk to a Giant about her troubles, but for some reason she felt comfortable confiding with Ronny. She didn’t really have anyone else to talk to, besides the other humans, who were sympathetic but also oftentimes quite melancholic and indifferent. “Not so great, to be honest. I’ve been eaten twice already today.” She let out another labored sigh, looking up at Ronny’s towering beer glass. “I could really use a beer right now.”

Ronny raised an eyebrow and gave her a mischievous, almost sadistic grin. Before Patty could interpret the meaning of his look, he pinched her between his fingers and lifted her out of the fries. She let out a startled yelp. With a single swift movement, he plunked her into his beer.

“Hey!” Patty cried. “That was mean!” Ronny guffawed and smirked at her. He lifted up the glass and swirled it around in his gigantic hand, stirring Patty in the beer.

“You did ask for a drink,” he remarked wryly. He brought the glass up to his lips and took a big swig.

“Yeah, but this isn’t what I meant!” Patty protested, exasperated. She collided with his upper lip and pushed against its squishy surface with her hands, suddenly fearful of the strong suction drawing her toward his mouth. Ronny finished his draught and lowered the glass, smiling roguishly. He was teasing her.

“Please don’t drink me up,” Patty pleaded. “I’m just… so tired of all this…” She tried not to cry with frustration. “Being eaten over and over again… it’s so awful and exhausting…”

Ronny was having too much fun to take her seriously. He ignored her, slipping back into his old ways, and raised the glass for another drink. This time, he tossed his head back and opened his mouth wide, wide enough to imbibe the miniature woman. She flowed into his mouth and he trapped her inside, gulping down his beer. He nearly swallowed her, but a hard, frantic kick to the roof of his mouth gave him pause. He realized she really, truly, absolutely did not want to be eaten. She was deathly serious, and he could sense her fearful desperation in that kick. He abruptly felt guilty as he recognized what a monster he must seem to her, devouring her even as she pleaded with him to stop. In that moment, he saw himself for the bully he was, saw himself through the eyes of the poor girl in his mouth and his human coworker that he had tormented so cruelly in the recent past. He drained the rest of his beer into his throat and gently released the woman, little more than a wet ball, into his hand. She was quivering with fear.

“Sorry,” he expressed lamely. “But I just don’t understand.”

“W-what?” Patty questioned, disoriented. She was expecting to be swallowed, but instead she found herself in Ronny’s soft, expansive palm. She brushed strands of hair, dripping with beer and spit, out of her face and gazed up at the Giant’s mountainous visage above her. His dark eyes focused on her, puzzled.

“You’re used to being eaten, aren’t you? I mean, it’s your job after all. It’s what you’re paid to do?” he inquired. “If you really hate your job that much, why don’t you just quit?”

Patty was so dumbfounded she stood up in his palm, gaping up at him. “You… you’re joking, right? You think I’m here by choice?!” Her voice jumped to a higher pitch. “Are you dense?!”

Ronny’s brow furrowed and his countenance twitched with irritation. Patty clapped her hands over her mouth in horror, realizing what she had done. She had just insulted and angered him. Here she was, standing helplessly in the palm of his massive hand, where he could easily close his fingers and crush her in a temperamental fit of rage. Luckily, his wrath seemed to pass over, like the shadow of a cloud on a windy day, and instead he cupped his hands protectively around her. His face was overtaken with concern as he drew in close to her, studying her intensely. His enormous, handsome face filled her vision. At this range, she could distinguish the black holes of his pupils from the dark irises encircling them.

“You’re… a prisoner here?” he asked, his voice soft. He was genuinely surprised, not expecting this development. He had assumed that the humans were workers at Bucky’s, just like the humans at Big Corp Inc.

“Yes,” Patty confirmed sadly. “All the humans here are. You really didn’t think we’d voluntarily file to our deaths if a customer chose us for fatal ingestion, did you?”

“I-I suppose not,” Ronny admitted. He hadn’t even considered fatal ingestion. He felt terrible, trying to envision what life must be like for Patty. He felt even worse when he recalled he had tormented her, like the brute he was, and she had no choice in the manner but to take it. “Why haven’t you tried to escape?”

Patty’s eyes blazed with frustration. “I HAVE tried.” She pointed to her foot with the missing toes. “Bucky caught me and punished me.” Ronny’s dark eyes moved down to her feet, examining the damage done to her. His face contorted, this time with righteous anger. Bucky was even more of a barbarian than he was. He remembered the last time he had patronized the restaurant, and how Patty had been all bandaged and bruised up. So, that had been the owner’s doing. Without thinking, Ronny curled his fingers around Patty’s back, as if to shield her from danger, and stroked her gently. Even though Patty was still fired up, the comforting gesture was not lost on her, and she subconsciously leaned into his tender touch.

“All of us humans are outfitted with trackers,” she explained, holding up her wrist to show Ronny. “It has an alarm on it, so if I leave the restaurant, everyone in the vicinity is alerted. I can’t take it off myself.”

Ronny contemplated the diminutive object on her wrist. “Let me see that,” he muttered. He clasped the tracker between his fingers with some difficulty, since it was so tiny on Patty’s thin wrist, and effortlessly popped it open with his Giant strength.

To the shock of both Patty and Ronny, the alarm on the tracker blared loudly and flashed with lights. The bartender rushed over, along with other restaurant employees, and the pair found themselves surrounded, all eyes on them. Bucky hustled over, breathing heavily, and shouldered his way through to confront Ronny.

“What are you doing?” he bellowed sharply. He snatched Patty out of Ronny’s startled hands, making her scream. Deftly, he snapped the tracker back on her wrist and silenced the device with the handheld remote he kept in his pocket.

“S-sorry! It was an accident!” Ronny shouted back, flustered. To bolster the lie, he hastily added, “I got carried away playing with my food.” Bucky narrowed his eyes with skepticism, but he dropped the frightened human back into Ronny’s open palms.

“Quit stalling and eat your food then,” he demanded, crossing his arms expectantly.

Ronny didn’t want to appear suspicious, so without asking Patty for permission he dunked her back into his beer. He didn’t want to think about the consequences for Patty if Bucky caught on to what he had been trying to do, especially after seeing how she had been mutilated. He gave her a subtle apologetic look before chugging his drink, swallowing Patty in a single gulp. He had to admit, even when he was under pressure and didn’t get the chance to appreciate her flavor, she still felt amazing running down his throat into his belly. He slammed the glass onto the bar counter with a satisfied sigh and smirked defiantly at Bucky.

“Delicious,” Ronny commented, smacking his lips for added effect. Bucky, pacified by the display, left Ronny alone, and the other employees went back to work as well. Ronny sat back into his chair slowly, consumed by guilt—not merely for eating Patty against her will, but for the intense pleasure he experienced having her inside his stomach. He rubbed his belly tenderly as he felt her shift around inside. His heartbeat slowed as he calmed down from the stressful incident.

“Sorry, Patty,” he apologized softly, hoping she could hear him from inside his body. To his surprise, he felt her stroke the lining of his gut from within. She had heard and forgiven him. He exhaled in relief and perceived a sort of comforting, tingling warmth through his body. As disgusted as he was with himself, he didn’t want to arouse concerns among the restaurant staff, so he took his time and finished eating his meal.

Bucky was still suspicious of the black-haired man at the bar, and kept darting furtive glances his way the whole time he was there. Later, he pulled the bartender aside and questioned him about the odd Giant’s behavior.

“That dude was strange,” the bartender expressed. “He was talking to his human entrée the whole time, treating her like a person. He even spat her out when she begged him not to ingest her. I think he’s a human sympathizer.”

“Did you catch his name?” Bucky asked.

“Yeah. She called him Ronny, like she knew him already.”

Bucky made a mental note of the mysterious Giant’s name and likeness, carving it into his memory. He had a feeling he’d be seeing that Giant again, and not under positive circumstances. He needed to find out who he was, whom he worked for, and where he lived, in case he caused any trouble. Bucky felt a strong need to protect his investments, at all costs. He would not tolerate any theft of his property.

Chapter 1

Chapter 18

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camellia-thea · 1 month

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What would Tamerlane's life had been like if Annabelle Lee had gotten to keep sole custody, do you think?

:eyes::eyes::eyes: long post so under a readmore

okay so. i indeed have thoughts about this. so, we know that without the deal point blank, roderick would've been a poet and frederick would've been a dentist (rip). not quite the same scenario as annabel lee keeping custody of course, but a good stepping stone.

another interesting thing i feel about tamerlane is that she is the only one who i think's Issues:tm: would continue without the deal/roderick and madeline/fortunato's influence. she'd still have severe ocd and identity issues and these would still colour her life experiences.

i think the key difference between tamerlane with annabel lee alive/having kept custody is that she wouldn't have lost her ability to see other people as people. it wouldn't have become (something i personally see as) a coping mechanism for fame and riches at a young age, and also a way to protect herself from the mental illness i interpret she has (mentioned above, though that's a discussion for another time). i think that annabel's presence also would've turned that coping mechanism into being a bit of a people-pleaser; she already cares so much about her image and how people see her, i think that there was a coin toss made (one side of the coin being madeline, the other being annabel lee) and it dictated which side she favored.

i actually think freddie would still end up with roderick, because, from what i gather from the conversation in the last episode, roderick asks them to move in with him, and they accept because he's been, essentially love bombing them with money. tammy saying no to this would be really interesting. but, it leads her to being happier in the long run. i don't think she ever stops wondering about what would've happened if she said yes, but i think after a point, i think she stops caring, even as the thought crosses her mind.

i think she probably, at least from my interpretation of her, would've taken a similar route, minus the business degree i assume she has; that is to say, studying nutrition and kinesiology, with a focus on wellness. i think that she'd probably have stepped into being a (less... predatory) life/fitness coach, with a primary focus on matching her client's abilities and needs to try and give them a little control over their health (as always, it's all about control). if we're playing around with tamerlane keeping the heart condition i hc her as having, it only makes the drive to help people more important, as she'd be aware of just how difficult it is for disabled people to find care that actually accounts for their conditions and illnesses. it's also a profession that would help her see people as people, i think, because you have to get to know your clients to do your job well (and she's a perfectionist, she doesn't believe in less than 110%).

the other route i see, which would still play into tamerlane's Issues:tm:, would be a nurse. specifically this would be interesting in comparison to victorine being the daughter of a nurse and going into medicine as well. this would be really interesting to examine if annabel lee died in tamerlane's early-mid twenties. roderick and madeline try to bring her back into the family and she ends up as almost half an usher. freddie trying to convince her to come back -- or maybe he tries to push her away, because she's a threat? i'm not sure -- and victorine absolutely feeling threatened by tamerlane's approach. tamerlane would feel like an imposter, in this situation, with victorine being "her but better" in a way that links the really awful systemic disrespect of nurses against other medical careers. i think those comparisons would push her to cut all contact.

i like to think she would've met bill anyway, and they'd have had a far healthier relationship, just because the touches of honestly we get from tamerlane about how she cares about him is important to me. she'd still be incredibly insecure in said relationship, don't get me wrong, but i think she'd be more ready to work with bill over it. i don't think they'd have kids together, but they'd have a dog (this features in my tamerlane wip), and a nice but small house. tamerlane would value privacy, i think, and so i doubt they'd live in a city. suburbia maybe?

the deal still taking place, verna would make her die in her sleep, quietly, knowing she was loved. her funeral is planned by bill, who doesn't let roderick and madeline sweep in.

i think overall, she'd still be tamerlane; capable of being really cruel when she's feeling defensive, but i think that she'd have the capacity to step back and admit that she was at fault.

#tamerlane usher #thank you for the ask. i love her. can you tell.#i have no clue how coherent this is because i am unwell!

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nyx-lyris · 7 months

Text

best laid plans h.f.

fighting your own heart is among the hardest battles in the world.

ruth erwin is a college student at nyu in pursuit of a degree in english literature. though a bit older and more experienced than most of her peers, she has no trouble settling into university life once again. she decides to take a class in coding to spice up her schedule a bit - only to find herself struggling more than she would like.

in search of assistance, she finds herself in the office of one harold wren, her gentle and mysterious professor. she finds herself drawn to him, wanting more from him, despite the forbidden nature of such a relationship.

harold, too, despite his better judgment, finds himself wanting more and more of this lovely student of his. he knows there are a hundred and one things that stand between them, but he can't help but feel drawn to her.

but, when her number comes up, the two are placed in an impossible predicament. with so many dangerous secrets standing between them and so many unforeseen variables tying them inextricably together, the way forward seems cloudier than ever. what, in the end, will prevail?

chapter three: a discovery

harold was at his desk, typing away at his computer as usual, when john walked into the library.

“i got your message, finch,” he said by way of greeting. “what are we dealing with here?”

harold glanced up at john, then rose from his chair, motioning to the glass board in front of them. taped to it was a picture of a young woman with long light brown hair, blue eyes framed by a pair of dark glasses, and a round face. she appeared innocent enough, but john knew very well that appearances could be deceiving.

“her name is ruth erwin,” harold began in his usual neutral tone. “she’s thirty-two years old, single, lives alone. she’s currently attending college with aims to become a professor of english literature.”

“she have any friends or family?” john asked, approaching the board. he had to admit, there was something familiar about the girl’s face, although he couldn’t say exactly what.

“her family lives out of state,” harold answered. “she has a few friends in her apartment complex, and she keeps in touch with a few out-of-state friends, but that’s about it.”

“you said she’s single,” john continued. “was she ever in a relationship? maybe an ex-boyfriend came back to haunt her?”

“as far as i can tell, she’s had very few romantic attachments,” harold continued. “it’s unlikely that’s the source of the threat.”

“you manage to dig up anything else about her?”

“yes. she previously graduated college with a bachelor’s degree in mechanical engineering. she worked for a small firm that designs hvac systems for commercial buildings.”

“any threats there?” john asked, turning to face harold. “not that i can tell. the company went under a few years after ‘09. they had some financial trouble, but it’s doubtful anyone would go after miss erwin on that account.”

john turned back to the glass board, examining her photo once more. why did she seem so familiar?

“so we have no idea where the threat is coming from,” he murmured.

when harold didn’t respond, john looked back. harold was focused intently on whatever was on his screen, but there was something slightly off about his posture.

“finch?” john asked. harold looked up, eyes guarded. “everything alright?”

harold opened his mouth to answer, then shut it again.

“miss erwin,” he said after a moment. “is not entirely unfamiliar to me.”

john watched harold’s face, patiently waiting for him to continue.

“she’s one of my students.”

john returned his gaze to the board. he had seen her before. several weeks ago, he’d gone to visit harold at work to inform him the threat to their number at the time had been neutralized. just as he was about to enter his office, a young woman with a backpack over her shoulder opened the door. now he had a name to put to the face.

john gently traced her image on the board, his brow furrowing. he remembered something else about that day as well. harold had seemed different - lighter, brighter, as if a weight had been lifted from his shoulders, if only momentarily. john’s gaze returned to his partner. his fingers had frozen on the keys and he, too, was staring at the photo on the board. he hadn’t seemed to notice that john was watching him. there was something strange in his eyes, something john couldn’t place.

“finch?” john finally asked, tentatively breaking the silence. harold seemed to return to reality, gaze falling on john as if remembering that he was still there. john arched a brow. “are you sure you’re alright?”

harold’s eyes were more guarded than john had ever seen them.

“i’m fine,” he answered.

no, you’re not, john thought in response. but he knew better than to push harold - he would talk when he was ready, and right now he wasn’t.

“i’ll send you her address,” harold continued after a moment. “you can get into her apartment, see what you can find out. i’ll stay here and dig up more clues.”

john nodded and began walking toward the staircase, sparing one last glance back at his partner, before making his way out of the library.

john picked the lock and slipped into ruth’s apartment with ease. he was still for a moment, listening to ensure she wasn’t at home, before stepping inside. the apartment itself was small but lived in. there was a living room just to john’s left; along the left wall was a coat closet and sliding glass door that led to a balcony overlooking the city; straight ahead of him was a door that he assumed led to ruth’s bedroom; and to his right was a conjoined kitchen and laundry room, and a small dining area.

immediately what stood out to him was how bright the place looked. there wasn’t much in the way of a coherent theme. splashes of turquoise and pink stood out against the whites and greys of most of the apartment. she had several plants - a couple of larger, tree-like plants, as well as several orchids and bamboo plants scattered throughout. pictures of her family and friends and a couple of well-done paintings - which, from the signatures at the bottom, john surmised were painted by a family member - filled the walls.

john slipped into her bedroom, sticking a flash drive into the usb port on her laptop. in the meantime he began poking through her things. there was a file cabinet beside her desk that contained primarily financial, educational, and work records. from what he could surmise at a glance, nothing seemed particularly out of the ordinary.

the rest of her room proved to be just as unhelpful in determining a threat. her desk drawers were filled mostly with journals filled with old diary entries and jotted-down ideas for what appeared to be characters and stories. the bookshelf to the right of her bed proved useless as well - though john learned that she appeared to be fond of a variety of subjects. she had several keepsake boxes underneath her bed, filled with old drawings and paintings, school projects, and old photographs, some from when she was just a kid.

he heard a beep from her laptop, indicating that the upload to the flash drive was complete. john sighed, rising to retrieve it, hoping that perhaps the contents of her computer would be more illuminating. but, as he pulled the flash drive from the computer, something caught his eye - a small box, tucked away in the corner of her desk. he wasn’t sure why, but something told him to open it.

john hesitated a moment, the rational part of his mind telling him it was probably just more of the same. then he shrugged, placing the flash drive in his pocket and picking up the box - it was the last box and he might as well cover all the bases.

it was a square-shaped cardboard box, the lid tied on with a string of twine. her initials were written on the bottom right corner, but other than that it was fairly nondescript. carefully, he untied the twine and removed the lid, placing them on the desk. what he saw made his eyebrows fly up. a collection of what appeared to be letters and poetry filled the box, all addressed to one person - professor wren. for a moment, john let his curiosity get the better of him, and he began to read a few of the most recent additions to the box.

they were well-written and rather touching, telling him all about her life and her interests. the poems were surprisingly lovely as well, and john found himself smiling. the woman clearly cared about harold. for a moment, john contemplated telling harold but quickly decided against it. these were her feelings to divulge, not his. instead, he took pictures of each of the pages, to read later.

his mission completed, john slipped back out the front door and through the back entrance of the apartment building, unnoticed as usual. as he walked down the streets of new york back towards the library, he made a mental note to watch harold’s behavior more closely. perhaps there was more to harold’s relationship with this number than met the eye.

prev chapter - next chapter

a/n: hello everyone! i apologize for posting a day late - there was a lot distracting me over the weekend... anyway, i hope you enjoy this latest installment of best laid plans and thank you so much for reading!

ao3 link to best laid plans

#person of interest #harold finch #john reese #michael emerson #harold finch x reader #harold finch x oc #fanfiction

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duskwoodgirl4life · 1 year

Text

Chapter 8

MC had been staying with Jake for a few weeks now, she was slowly starting to get back to her old self again. Jake really loved having her stay. She made little touches to the apartment that made it feel more homely which Jake loved.

The court case was due to start in the next couple of days, MC had been a bit on edge that week but Jake was helping her prepare for taking the stand. They went over the questions that she would get asked, answering the best she could.

The day of the court case was here MC was more nervous than ever, after trying on several different outfits MC finally decided on a pair of skinny black jeans and a dark purple shirt. There was a soft knock at the door MC turned round and went to open the door. Jake was standing there in his navy blue suit with a cup of coffee in his hand.

MC stood there with a soft smile on her face taking the coffee from his hand, she went to sit on the bed looking down at the floor with a worried look on her face.

Jake: everything is going to be okay I promise

MC: it's bringing it all back again, everything that I have fought so hard to move past.

Jake: lucky you are first up and after that you won't even have to be in the courtroom if you don't want to

MC: no, I need to see this through I need to see them getting sent down it's now or never

They both got up from the bed and headed out, the case was due to begin at 9:00am they both arrived at the court with a few minutes to spare. Sitting down on the hard cold bench waiting to be called a minion thoughts ran through MCs head. Jake wasn't there with her as he had to go talk with his boss it felt like forever before he returned.

By the time Jake had returned it was time for everyone to make their way into the courtroom. Jake took MCs hand, giving it a light squeeze as they walked into the courtroom. Everyone stood for the judge as he entered, then the jury was next to enter again everyone stood then everyone was seated.

Next there were just 3 people coming in the door opened with a squeak, 3 officers led them in, each handcuffed to the officers MCs face turned white as they sat down. MC was first to be called to the stand. She tried her best to avoid eye contact with Richy, Hannah and Amy but when she looked up her eyes locked onto them.

MCs hands started to shake as she raised her right hand she was unable to control the shaking. MC took a couple of deep breaths and read out the card she looked over at Jake and he gave her a reassuring smile.

MC had a tough time on the stand but she got through it. Once her part was over she went outside to get some fresh air. Sat on the steps outside she felt a hand on her shoulder as she looked up and saw Jake sitting down next to her.

Jake: you did really well up their I'm proud of you

MC: thanks, it didn't seem like it was going well

Jake: your part it over now, come on let's get back inside

MC: okay, I guess we should

They both got up and made their way back into the courtroom, next on the stand was Samuel followed by Jake and other officers then it was time for Hannah to take the stand. She sat there trying to look sad doing her best to win over the jury. After Hannah had finished it was time to break for lunch everyone stood as the judge left the courtroom.

MC rushed out of the room wanting to get away from everything and everyone, Jake rushed to her side holding on to her as her breathing started to quicken.

Jake: Hey, it's okay I'm here now

MC: I'm sorry Jake, I keep falling apart like this I need to be stronger

Jake: never apologise for being upset you are stronger than you think

MC: that's kind of you to say

Jake: it's the truth, come on let's go get something to eat your sister and brother are waiting for us

They both got up and went to meet Samuel and Jennifer, they all met up and went to eat at a little cafa across the road from the court house. After they had eaten they all went back to court next to take the stand for Jennifer. She gave her account of what had happened and why. After Jennifer had finished they called Hannah's sister Lilly it came as a shock to MC as she didn't know she was going to be there. Lilly took to the stand and gave her account of what had happened. She told the jury that MC had twisted everything and that Hannah was a good person.

Last to take the stand was Amy. She stood there with no emotions whatsoever; it was like she had already given up. She gave her sick twisted version of events after she had finished she was led back to the dock.

Both solicitors gave their case to the jury in such detail, after they had finished the judge addressed the jury and explained to them that they had a week to deliberate on a verdict. They left the room and went to deliberate and come up with a verdict.

It took the jury a couple of days to come back with a verdict, everyone was called back to court MC sat holding on to Jake's hand.

The judge: members of the jury have you got a verdict?

Jury member 5: yes we have

The judge: do you find the defendants guilty or not guilty?

Jury member 5: we find all 3 defendants guilty

The judge: thank you jury members, a verdict of guilty has been found. I pass a sentence for all 3 of you to spend a minimum of 20 years in prison with no chance of parole.

Hannah and Amy started to scream and shout trying to resist being sent back down to their cells. Richy didn't say anything, he just allowed the officer to move him back down to his cell.

MC sat with tears of joy running down her face. She quickly wrapped her arms around Jake kissing him on the lips.

MC: Thank you, thank you so much Jake and Samuel for everything you have both done for me. Jennifer I can't thank you enough for all the support you have given me. It all means so much to me I will never forget it.

Jennifer: no thanks is needed we are family and that's what family does we stand by each other

MC: I feel like I can properly move on now and there is two things I would like to say to you Jake

Jake: that's that MC

MC: one I love you so much you are my world and two will you move in with me?

Jake: I love you so much MC you are the most amazing woman ever and yes I will move it with you

MC: just one request, can we find a new apartment

Jake: for you anything my angel

They both shared a kiss and went off hand in hand ready to start a new chapter of their lives.

Thank you everyone for all your support likes and comments on this story. I hope you all like it let me know what you think in the comments :⁠-⁠)

#duskwood #everbyte game #duskwood jake #duskwood hacker #iamjake #duskwood jake x mc #i love you jake #jake x mc #he loves me #i love you #pine glade festival #10th anniversary #accident #duskwood hannah #duskwood amy #duskwood richy

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thatmexisaurusrex · 2 years

Text

My Entire SamBucky AU Week 2022 Fic Collection

I wanted to accrue my entire collection of fics for @sambuckyauweek, so here they are! 🥰

1) Time After Time (Post)

| Rated: M for Part One, E for Part Two | WC: 3K Total |

Summary: Sam Wilson, born with innate magic abilities, becomes Sorcerer Supreme and goes back in time to save the man of his dreams.

Excerpt:

Bucky closed his eyes, waiting for his back to break once it hit the icy Danube River below. He wondered if it would be a quick death. Would the broken back kill him first? Or drowning? Bucky felt… arms under him? He felt a change in the angle that he was falling, though, was he falling? Bucky opened one curious eye, wondering if he was losing his mind in the last few moments of his life because above him… was a man. He was a fucking dreamboat.

2) Heart On My Sleeve (Post)

| Rated: T | WC: 1.3K |

Summary: Sam finally meets Steve's other best friend, Bucky. While he's shirtless and looking over Steve's accounting books.

Excerpt:

“Sorry. You’re just really, really handsome. My brain doesn’t know how to function with you in the room. Shirtless. Oh god, I’m the worst. I’m so sorry.” “No, you’re fine,” said Sam, laughing, “I’d put on a shirt, but I accidentally wore a tight shirt and Steve did some touch-ups on my tattoo earlier. He said he was going to get a sweatshirt out of his car. After. He got some coffee…” Bucky immediately took off his own shirt and oh god, he had abs on abs on abs. “Now we’re even. Or. Shirtless solidarity?” said Bucky, looking confused by his own actions, “I – I don’t know why I did that.” “No. Keep it off,” said Sam quickly as Bucky almost put his shirt back on, “Um. I mean. If. You want. If that’s. Cool. With. You.” “Cool! Very cool. Cool, cool, cool,” said Bucky as his face turned redder and redder.

3) The Song of Seven Winds Himself (Post)

| Rated: M | WC: 1.6 K |

Summary: At the beginning of the wedding celebrations for King James "Rhodey" Rhodes the Just and the Beautiful Fisherwoman Sarah Wilson, the Knight Bucky Barnes stumbles upon the famous bard, Sam Wilson.

Excerpt:

The Falcon. The Bard with Wings. The Song of Seven Winds himself. Sam Wilson. Why had this castle brought Bucky Barnes to the most requested bard in all the lands? Maybe the sands truly did hate Bucky. Fate at least hated Bucky as several of the buttons on Bucky’s formal attire popped off, revealing an open chest. Swallow Bucky now, Wandering Sands. Let Bucky become part of the Infinite Gulf rather than embarrass himself any longer in front of Sam Wilson. Sam… raised a curious eyebrow, his gap-toothed smile growing even larger. “I told my prince that the suit was too small,” mumbled Bucky, knowing full well his blush was creeping down to his chest, “I couldn’t keep up my breath control in your presence. I apologize for my… appearance.” “Do not apologize,” said Sam as he patted Bucky’s naked chest, “It would be a shame to let this sight be unseen. Though. You might want to change before being in the presence of the king.”

4) I Don't Fuck With You (Post)

| Rated: M | WC: 2.2K |

Summary: Sam might be having a little bit of a bi crisis as he and his sort of more than a roommate Bucky help Sarah film her slasher short film for an upcoming festival on their campus.

Excerpt:

Sam… looked around. It felt safe. No one was paying attention to them. Sam leaned in as Bucky gave him a soft kiss. “I can’t believe you agreed to help with my sister’s short film,” said Sam, smiling shyly, “Thank you for this. Seriously. I know there are a lot of things you could be doing now that aren’t hanging out at a cabin in the middle of the woods all weekend and I appreciate that… and you.” Bucky glanced around. He pulled Sam in for another quick kiss. “Of course I was going to help your sister out,” said Bucky with a smile, “Plus, I never get the opportunity to make fake blood.” “Come for helping my sister, stay for the fake blood. I see how it is,” said Sam as Bucky laughed. “You could always see right through me,” said Bucky as their fingers barely touched on the table, “Who wouldn’t want to make buckets of blood?”

5) Catch A Falling Sam And Put Him In Your Pocket (Post)

| Rating: M | WC: 3K |

Summary: A tiny fae Sam blooms in Bucky’s garden.

Excerpt:

“He has clothes. This tiny man… has tiny leaf clothes.” Sam’s vision focused as he turned his gaze to the low rumble of that voice. He was… a bit scruffy. He kind of looked like he needed a shower. He needed to at least do some maintenance with that fuzz on his face so that it didn’t look too uneven. One sleeve of his shirt was sewn short and closed. He was wearing what had to be a “baby’s first garden” outfit, because it was the most stereotypical farmer outfit, down to the straw hat. But he seemed cute. And he was holding Sam so gingerly. And he looked at Sam worriedly as if he was hoping he didn’t hurt Sam. Sam almost laughed at that. The idea a human would think they could know how to physically hurt Sam, even in this tiny form. It was adorable. “I guess you’ll do,” said Sam, and he smiled at how confused and a little offended the guy holding him looked.

6) That’s Not A Goose! (Post)

| Rated: M | WC: 2.4K |

Summary: Redwing the Second Chance Falcon matches Sam and the second love of Sam’s life… in the middle of Sam’s steering wheel getting stolen by said second soulmate.

Excerpt:

A goose had matched Sam with Riley while they were both jogging. A talking falcon was currently matching Sam with an infamous murderer right after the man stole Sam’s steering wheel while he was still driving the car. “Dearly beloveds, it is time for you to join as a pair!” Sam heard before he saw a falcon with the height of one and a half Subway sandwiches and the wingspan of a small child fucking wreck the Winter Soldier. Just. Brutally dig his claws into the Soldier’s shoulder as he stabbed the Soldier in the forehead with his beak hard enough to draw blood. The Soldier, understandably surprised, lost his balance and took the steering wheel with him as he fell back onto the street. “Wrong way, good sir!” cawed the intense falcon as Sam felt the Winter Soldier’s body like a speed bump under the car, “Your mate is up here!” Then the falcon turned to Sam. “Nope,” said Sam, shaking his head furiously, “No, no, no. Do not come near me. Take Steve or Nat. No thank you.”

7) The Two Strangers (Post 1, Post 2)

| Rated: M for Part One, E for Part Two | WC: 5.6K Total |

Summary: A post-apocalyptic western tale about Sam and Bucky fighting evil on a distant planet in a far flung future. The first fic is a mission fic. The second is a staycation they take after the mission.

Excerpt:

“I heard I could come to you,” called the young man, stepping out into plain sight, “When you need someone to fight like Kilkenny cats on your behalf. When you need to get shed of a group of high binders squeezing your town out of everything they’re worth. When a bad egg is causing the ruination of your home. You come to the Captain and his Winter Soldier. Acreocracy dies at the hands of the bettermost sharpshooter in all of Hades and his assistant. Big bugs quake in their boots when they hear of you coming to their town. When someone needs avenging, Sam Wilson and his strange one-armed partner’s the people who you find.”

READ THEM ALL ON AO3!

#sambuckyauweek2022 #sambucky #sambucky fic #sam wilson #bucky barnes #my fic

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ladydarkey · 2 years

Text

Can I go forward when my heart is here?

My first try of a longfic. You can read it on AO3 too. (finally have an account there)

When i began to write this story, i was kinda depressed. So this story, of Bheem missing Ram and going through several memories, came into my mind. Since i don't have the time to write everyday AND it turned out to be more than 2000+ words, i decided to devide it in chapters.

Chapter 1: Did my heart love till now?

*****

They sat in silence on the bus. The only sound was the clatter of the vehicle, rocking back

and forth on the bumpy road. Bheem sat beside Malli on the bench in the back, facing Jangu

and Peddanna, while Lachhu and the chauffeur sat in the front. It's been a few hours since

Ram and Bheem had said their goodbyes. Bheem's heart ached at the thought of leaving

Ram. He clutched his chest, right where the heart sits, hoping it would ease the pain.

"It was a goodbye, but not a farewell," Bheem tried to cheer himself up. A sad smile crosses

his face.

He had kept his promise and brought Ram alive to his fiancée.

It resembled a ceremony as Bheem placed Ram's hand into Sita's. Even though he was

happy for the two of them, the sight of the pair hurt him. Envy overcame him. No, it wasn't

envy, it was something much stronger and deeper than that - it was jealousy. A feeling that

Bheem had never felt before.

Yet at that moment, when Sita looked deeply into her fiancé's eyes, so full of love, and Ram

looking back at her, he was jealous. Still, he managed to not show his emotions. He just

faked a smile. From now on Sita was allowed to enjoy the presence of her fiancé and spend

the rest of her life with him.

The grip on his chest tightened.

With his other arm he held the last gift he had received from Ram tightly to his stomach.

"Parting is such sweet sorrow." Those were Ram's last words when he gave the book

"Romeo and Juliet" to Bheem. Realising that Ram used a quote as a goodbye, tears started

to pool in the corners of Bheem’s eyes and he hugged Ram in one last tight embrace, pouring all of his emotions into it. He wanted the moment to last forever but he knew that they had to part eventually.

—--

It was a hot evening in Delhi, only the fan cooled down the air a bit. As usual, Bheem was

sitting on the floor in the middle of Ram’s room which was cluttered with stacks of books.

For weeks now he was coming to Ram's house to enjoy his leisure time after work. Yet it

was not only to relax and have a nice chat with the other man but also to learn English.

Ram was sitting on his wooden chair and was reading the english book “Romeo and Juliet”

to him. First he slowly read the english phrase, then he proceeded with translating it to

Bheem -

word for word.

“You want to impress her really badly, huh Akthar?” Ram glanced mischievously at Bheem.

The sound of his pseudonym made Bheem flinch slightly. How often had he felt the need to

tell Ram the truth? It was still not the right time for it.

“Impress? Hm yes, kind of. I really just want to be able to talk to her”. Bheem said it with a

fake innocent smile, trying to keep the image h̶i̶g̶h̶ that he was in love with Jenny.

Even if it was the truth, it felt like a lie. He just wanted to learn the foreign language so he

had the opportunity to get near Malli more often. Sadly, the easiest way to do so was to

charm Jenny.

He had to make sure that Malli, kept as a hostage, was alright. On top of that he was able to

observe how t̶h̶e̶ security was handled in Scotts Mansion.

At some point Ram stopped with the translation and it was Bheem's turn to try and read it

himself. For that, Ram would sit directly next to Bheem on the floor and together they

hunched over the book, reading it together at the same time. At first, he struggled a lot but

Ram had plenty of patience with him. The reason why Bheem had such a difficult time

wasn’t just because he didn’t know the right words but also because Ram's knee slightly

touching his own made the student nervous. While Ram pointed at a word, explaining the

meaning, his face was just a few inches away from Bheem's. The student stared at the soft,

chai colored cheek of his teacher. He had the urge to touch it, to explore every inch of it. He

could smell Ram's usual light scent of bloomy flowers and for a short moment Bheem was

fogged by the fragrance of freesia.

A strand of hair hung in the face of his teacher, who wiped it away with an elegant catlike

movement.

“Did my heart love till now?” Ram said in a honeyed voice.

“Wh- What?” Bheem was taken by surprise, his heart jumped and his face turned red as a

tomato. He felt busted. Did Ram just declare his love to him? He gulped hard.

“The protagonist wonders if he ever loved before” Ram explained to Bheem without taking

his eyes off the letters. He didn't notice the other's reaction. The student suddenly felt a bit

disappointed, yet didn't even know why. It wasn't like he is in love with the other man, was it?

Ram is simply his best friend.

“Uh. Ah! Now I understand it. Thanks. Please keep going.”, Bheem cleared his throat and

tried to calm his rapidly beating heart.

“Everything okay? Do you need a break?” Ram leaned back so he could look Bheem in the

eyes.

"Ehm, yes. Yes! Sorry, I just need some water.” Bheem declared and faked a slight cough.

“The air is dry and so is my throat. Haha. Do you need something too?” He stood up to go to

the kitchen.

“Some water is a good idea! Now that you mentioned it I feel a bit dehydrated” Ram nodded

thoughtfully.

The evening went on without any other embarrassing events for Bheem.

This was what most of their evenings were like, for months. Bheem kept learning English

with the help of “Romeo and Juliet” and his patient teacher Ram.

—---

“What is this?” Malli’s question brought Bheem back to reality.

“A treasure.” He simply answered with an eager smile.

“Doesn’t look like a treasure for my take.” Malli frowned while looking at the

so-called treasure in Bheem’s arm.

“A treasure is not always gold or jewels, Malli. It is something very valuable to you. And this

book is really important to me.” He felt his eyes getting watery. Bheem shook his head and

pushed his feelings aside. His heart seemed as heavy as a rock.

"Ah, I see. So is the bracelet you gave me through Jenny. It is my treasure now.” She said

understandingly and seemed lost in her own thoughts again.

The busride continued for hours. The dusk set slowly in as they arrived in the next bigger city

closest to their village. From here on, they would have to do the remaining journey by foot.

“It is already too dark to start walking now, we should find a place to sleep here in the city”,

Lacchu considered to the other four travellers. “Yes, I agree with you”, Jangu nodded while

looking at the setting sun, “I know a place where we can rest.”

They followed Jangu to a friend's house, who greeted them happily even though it was already late.

The sudden host provided them with food (and water?) while his wife covered the floor with

mats for the travellers to rest on.

However, Malli preferred to share a mat with Bheem since she felt safer lying directly next to

the protector. He put an arm around her, like they had been doing for the past few months,

and tried to catch up on some sleep.

The night was rather short as they wanted to continue their journey at dawn.

After a very nutritious breakfast, they thanked their hosts and set off.

First they had to go back to their bus to get the containers with weapons which were

taken from Scotts barracks. Peddanna spoke to a dealer to rent a mule and a wagon.

Together the four men loaded the wooden containers from the bus onto the wagon while

Malli was off to buy some provisions.

It only took them half an hour to get everything done, the sun was still not fully risen. The

little girl came back with a bag full of naan, fruits and dried meat.

And so the last part of the journey started.

#rambheem #rrr fandom #rrr movie #rrr film #Bheem misses Ram #long fic #writing #wip #fluff #memories

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kariachi · 1 year

Text

Fic! Finally! Some more from that au with Mike under house arrest at Kevin’s place.

Sunshine and buttercups this arrangement is not.

While better than prison time, there were still issues that could come with house arrest. Social isolation could be an issue, though in the current situation, to everyone’s at least mild annoyance, it was not. Cabin fever was always a potential issue, especially when combined with the sort of cleithrophobia one may develop after, say, being trapped in a small space for an extended period of time with two other assholes and a kidnapper with complete power over the situation. That was the sort of thing that was solved by making sure an individual got court-mandated therapy and the right to get it in person so one could get out of the house for about an hour and a half every week. Enough time to get therapy and some Starbucks, but not enough time to solve one of the more seemingly minor issues of shopping.

Everyone needed shit, even if it was just a refill on toilet paper, and one couldn’t exactly make an emergency run to Walgreens. This could be mitigated by having somebody else living in the home who can run off and shop, and by the presence of online shopping, which was surely a godsend in these situations. The problem then being that you either need to go to a secondary party every time you need something, or you need to have your own money.

Mike had been a valuable lesson for the team that just because you came from money, doesn’t mean you have it. It would be a few years before he got access to his trusts, and his personal accounts had long run dry. His mom had been more than willing to take the ‘oh, my son has vanished, whatever shall I do’ situation as an excuse to stop sending over his allowance. The Tennysons and Rook had nodded sagely upon learning this, talking about how they wouldn’t want to fund somebody pulling the shit he had either, but he, Kevin, and Cooper had all shared That Look over it. The one where, while the severity differed, you had all been in similar family situations, and knew damn well that wasn’t it. After all, they hadn’t even bothered to bring up to the others, what were even the odds the Plumbers had gotten in touch with his family when he was arrested versus her having found out what had been going on when the shit he’d been pulling at Friedkin came to light.

So, nagging his housemate every time he needed something it was. And when you came into the situation with nothing but the clothes on your back and a bad attitude? That got tiring real quick. Which was certainly one way to get an allowance again. It wasn’t like Kevin couldn’t spare a hundred or so a week to not have to field every damn ‘I want this book’ or ‘run out and grab me a pizza or something, I’m starving’. (He knew the magic word, he’d heard him use it, he just refused to say it to him, the bastard.) The extra expense was well worth that little bit extra peace.

Most of the time.

“Michael,” Kevin called from the kitchen, “why do I give you money?”

“So that I can buy my own make-up and extra meals without having to nag you about it,” came the response from where Mike was curled up on the couch with a book. He gave no indication he’d even noticed the tightness in Kevin’s tone.

“Yes, exactly, So, second question, where’s my fucking forks!?”

“Going to somebody with similarly bad taste, I’m sure.” With a scowl on his face Kevin stormed to the kitchen entry, a fork in hand that had very much not been in the drawer at breakfast.

“There was nothing wrong with my silverware!”

“If you live in a rundown shack in the Appalachians, maybe.” Mike pointedly turned a page. “I’m not living like that, Levin.”

“The fucking gall-”

“Just be glad I don’t have the savings yet to get the bathroom redone.” There was a long silence as Kevin visibly grappled with the desire to plunge the new silver into Mike’s skull.

“Why,” he eventually growled instead, “am I keeping you here.”

“Something something, fuck the Plumbers, something something, basic decency, something something, how dare Gwendolyn try to keep Charmcaster in your apartment.” Kevin heaved a long, heavy sigh through his nose.

“Your money,” he said, “goes to your shit. Leave my crap out of it.” Then turned and stormed back inside. Mike just hummed nonchalantly.

“Mm-hm. The flatware will be here on Friday.”

#fanfic #yes kevin does do and get his silverware back #and he does manage to save the flateware he likes #they eventually find a middle ground between kevin's 'grew up blue collar' sensibilities and mike's 'grew up upper crust' ones #but it's hard going in the time between #eventually there'll be trouble around mike's therapy too but that might be another fic so...#he does behave it's just people don't trust him to

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kehwie · 2 years

Text

New Daniel/Vala story I’m working on

“Ms. Mal Doran, General Landry would like to see you in his office.”

Vala looked up. “Did the good general happen to give any indication as to why?”

“No, ma’am. Sorry. He just asked me to tell you he’d like to see you.”

“Well, I’ll assume it’s not terribly urgent then. I’m kind of in the middle of something here…”

“Go ahead, Vala,” Bill Lee said. “You’ve been a big help, but I can take it from here. I don’t want you to keep the general waiting on my account.”

Vala shrugged. “All right then. Hopefully it will be something quick and easy, and I can return soon.” She followed the airman out of Bill’s office.

Perhaps it was a bit more urgent than the airman had realized, for General Landry was definitely waiting for her. Walter was with him. “Is there a problem, General?”

“We hope not. But we realize we perhaps did not handle the situation with your father very well several years ago. We will make every effort not to revisit that mistake. But we have received an off-world communication.”

“Jacek’s been in touch?” Vala’s heart sank. At this point, he’d only contact her if he were truly desperate. And as much as she hated herself for it, she didn’t think she could turn him away if that were the case.

“No, not Jacek. A woman named Adria. Says she’s your stepmother.” The general gave a humorless chuckle. “Gave us quite the start at first, just introducing herself as Adria. I almost retired on the spot, just so I didn’t have to deal with a return of the Orici. But this does appear to be an older lady, and she talked at length about her, ah…disappointing marriage to your father.”

“That sounds like Adria,” Vala said dully. “She’s quite eloquent at logging Jacek’s shortcomings.”

The general leaned toward her. “I know we all kind of shoved Jacek on you last time, urged you to give him a chance against your own better judgment. I won’t do that here, Ms. Mal Doran. You tell me…do you want to see her or not?”

“Where is she now?”

“At the Alpha site. She says she understands if you don’t wish to see her, and she will abide by your decision regardless of what it is.” General Landry met her gaze steadily. “As will we.”

Vala swallowed hard. “Is she…safe there? Do I have time to think about it? Discuss it with Daniel?”

“She’s quite safe. Take all the time you need.”

“Thank you. Am I free to go?”

“Yes. Just let me know when you decide.”

“I will.” She fled.

**********

Hours later, Daniel found her, sitting curled up in a grassy area outside the complex. He’d known as soon as Walter filled him in exactly where she’d be. He sank to the ground beside her. “Hey. You okay?”

“Yes.” Her voice was muffled, since her head was buried in her arms.

He began to rub her back methodically. He didn’t believe her, but she’d talk in her own time. That was one thing he’d finally learned—not to push her before she was ready.

Sure enough, she lifted her head a few minutes later. “Did General Landry tell you?”

“Walter did. I think he’s worried about you.”

“What should I do?”

“What do you want to do?”

“I don’t know. I really don’t.” She looked miserable.

He scooted a bit closer so he could wrap his arm around her. She curled up against his side and rested her head on his shoulder. He kissed the top of her head. “You want to tell me about her? You never really have.”

“I know. And…no. I don’t.”

“Okay.” They sat in silence again.

A long while later, Vala asked, “If I…if I go to the Alpha site…if I see her…would you come with me?”

Did she even have to ask? “Of course. Whatever you need.”

There was another long pause before she spoke again. “Do you think Cameron would come? I know Samantha can’t…”

“He one hundred percent will be there. Sam would if she could at all work it. Teal’c will be there if you want him to.”

She nodded and lapsed once more into silence. Finally she said haltingly, “I think…I think I should see her.”

“Okay. Then we’ll see her.”

**********

Vala was pretty sure Daniel had gotten Jack to pull strings. Because suddenly Samantha had some urgent thing to do at the Alpha site and would be there within a couple of days…right about the time Vala planned to try to reconnect with her long-lost stepmother.

They’d had one short conversation, making tentative plans for Vala to come see her in person at the Alpha site before any final decisions were made. Vala hadn’t seen her in so long that it was a bit startling how much older Adria looked now. And she looked tired and hard; life had not been kind to her. But then, being married to Jacek couldn’t have been kind to anyone.

Vala thought wistfully of her mother. How she wished it could be Nalini Mal Doran waiting for her at the Alpha site. But alas, just like when she was a child, she was stuck with Adria instead. Always Adria.

Somehow Vala had never learned how to navigate a relationship with either Adria.

She still wasn’t fully convinced she wanted to start learning now. But Adria the Original was here and was willing to talk. Maybe Vala would have better luck than she’d had with Adria’s namesake.

It surely couldn’t go much worse, right?

#fanfiction #fanfic #daniel/vala #daniel x vala #stargate #stargate sg1 #otp: you're a fruitcake #vala mal doran #vala x daniel #will eventually go to ao3 but haven't started posting yet #mostly gauging interest #give feedback if you like

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thebitchkingofangmar · 28 days

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ASKING ABOUT “O, Audacious Hearts”!!! DRAGON AGE??!!!! 🙌

DRAGON AGE. I LOVE THIS ONE SO MUCH ITS SO DAMN LONG

Just like And The Lovers, AOH is set in the same universe as The Song of Dirthalath, just far into the future, and its my canon divergent stand-in for my Hawke, Rowan.

I really love this one because its written in one of my favourite techniques: mixed media. I love how intertwining narration with epistolaries, codexes, diary entries and other kind of recorded accounts not only pays homage to the game but allows me to play with the nuances of the narrative more.

I'm the main writer but this is a collaborative effort with @atypicalacademic, my bestie, my comrade, the other half of my creative soul. There's just so many bits of this one that own my entire heart, but I'll try to keep it short:

It features a brief Arviraven cameo.

Everyone's miserable in the thaig but there is this one moment, of Fenris almost touching Rowan in the red-blue light of the lyrium in the caves that drives me insane.

The title comes from a independence/resistance song the Hawkes grew up with that I made up for world-building purposes. The full stanza is O, audacious heart, guard us from darker skies / Make your steady beating courageous men of us / O, audacious heart, be the marrow in me / Don't let us forget we're free.

There's an entire subplot of Fenris trying to propose and being interrupted by several people.

This "codex" entry:

Oh my, aren’t the Hawkes hard to kill. Leandra’s tragedy is proof enough that you need a psychopath of that calibre to be done with them. Yes, Leandra was still the Leandra Amell we knew, but she became something different too, Maker rest her soul. She became as much of a Hawke as she was an Amell.

Of her children, she remained only with Rowan, one of the Champions. Her youngest died in the blight and her second is a Mage. I believe she is involved in one of the non-violent factions of the Mage Rebellion, and by what I’ve heard of Bethany, I would not be surprised if she became whatever the equivalent of a First Enchanter will be when all of this is over, if she is not trialled in case the Mage Rebellion becomes the failure many of us suspect it might.

As for the Champion, I am told she is the spitting image of her father: she has all the charm of a roguish Noble Prince and deadlier than should be advisable to be in polite company. Like her father she is a radical, who advocated not for Mages or Templars, despite her very obvious support of late First Enchanter Orsino. Her adamant opposition to the Knight-Commander was on the grounds of what she called ‘the Liberty and self-determination of the peoples of Kirkwall, and all Thedas if it came to it’. Apparently she believes in some sort of cooperative form of politics that I will not pretend to understand.

She is impressive but she makes little sense to me. Considering she was publicly engaged to an elf with strange markings and Tevene accent, you can do the maths on your own. I ignore if they married, though I’ve heard that they did. She was candid, irreverent, and extremely direct. I hear that dwarf Tethras might become the new Viscount of Kirkwall, and if he does, I would not be surprised to see her back in town.

I know nothing of her grandmother that you speak of, however, just of the Amells and little of her father. I can ask if you want, but I doubt I will get anywhere with it.

#other #asks & other demons #ty razz!!

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russburlingame · 7 months

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B is for Blockbuster

Okay, so this story isn’t about Blockbuster, but it’s about video stores. And for a generation of people – my generation – video stores and Blockbuster Video are inextricably bound together.

This is a fictionalized account -- or at least, the bit about my relationship with "Erin" (not her real name) is. What’s true, what’s not? Doesn’t really matter. The stuff that matters is true, and you get to decide what about this story matters.

I was 21 years old when my heart was broken for the first time.

I had been dating Erin – a friend from high school who turned into more – for a little over a year, and I was sure – absolutely sure – that I was going to marry her. When she got accepted to the University of New Hampshire – a several-hour-drive away – I bought my first car (hers) just so I could go see her on the weekends.

On her birthday, I was waiting for Erin to get back from dinner and call me, to let me know she had gotten home okay. She was on a trip with her sailing club – yeah, apparently that’s a thing at some colleges – and I just wanted to touch base before going to sleep. No, this isn’t a tragic story of somebody lost at sea. She just got drunk and made out with somebody.

Either way, she didn’t call me that night, or until well into the next day. This was 2001, and it wasn’t especially common for people to be in constant contact via text, so sometimes, you just…didn’t know what was up with people you loved. Crazy, I know.

Erin finally called me, tearfully confessed, and I forgave her. I was scared for her safety and glad to find out that she was fine.

We talked for hours that day, but a week later, she called again: she didn’t think she could keep up the distance thing. She needed more than a weekend boyfriend.

I was crushed, and I begged her to hold off on making a decision until we had seen each other again. The summer was coming up, and we were both really excited about seeing Jay & Silent Bob Strike Back, so I figured it was worth having one last day out, and a long talk face to face.

It didn’t really work out that way. She agreed to the idea, but didn’t call me again for the rest of the semester, and it was pretty obvious things were doomed. When she got home from school, she asked if I wanted to come over for an afternoon, and I did – although this was about a month and change early for Kevin Smith.

We hung out, played Scrabble, fooled around, and got into a playful wrestling match. She managed to pin me to the ground, and instead of taking advantage of my helplessness, she kissed me on the cheek and got back up.

Oof.

With a few hours left before her parents came home, we decided on watching a movie.

What movie?

No ideas came. Erin suggested a trip to the video store.

Now, you young’uns don’t understand that the video store was a great place to hang out in the days before the modern internet. I could kill hours there. So, hell yeah, let’s go to the video store. Erin drove, and we headed east out onto the big boulevard where all the stores are. To my surprise, we passed right by Blockbuster. Where were we going?

The local Blockbuster, which was about a half-mile from Erin’s house, was the only video store I knew of on this side of town. To go anywhere else I knew about, it was at least an extra ten to fifteen minutes of driving. Chimney’s, the great video store that had been another mile or so down the road, had recently folded, much to everyone’s collective chagrin.

Erin turned toward Chimney’s, and I figured maybe she was just confused.

“Chimney’s is closed,” I said, bemused.

“Yeah, I know. I’m going to a place my dad likes,” she answered. Another mile, a turn, and…well, damn. There’s another video store.

Emerald City Video was a store with a narrow storefront, but inside, it was cavernous. The store was probably 20 feet wide by 60 feet deep, with a great selection and an adult room hidden in the back corner. Movie props hung from some of the walls – high enough up that you couldn’t take them down and mess with them – including a shield from Spartacus, a costume used in Killer Klowns From Outer Space, and high-end replicas of props from The Mummy and the James Bond franchise.

This. Was. Heaven.

I was so immediately taken with the place, that I barely noticed when the guy behind the register greeted us. I wandered to the “special interest” section – where they had cult classics, documentaries, and anything LGBT-themed – and looked it up and down. A middle-aged woman with short hair and glasses saw me staring, and asked if I needed help.

“Oh – no, I was just checking things out. I’ve never been here,” I admitted. “This is a great store.”

Erin had gone to a more mainstream section of the store to find a movie we could watch while cuddling. It would be the last time, and by this point both of us knew it, so she looked for something sweet and timeless and sentimental. She really went all in on giving this relationship a proper sendoff.

Me? I was sitting in the Special Interest section, talking with…umm…

“I’m Russ,” I said, offering my hand. The woman took it.

“I’m Rita,” she said. “I’m one of the owners.”

I don’t remember what movie Erin and I watched. I don’t remember what Rita and I talked about. What I do remember, is that by the end of the conversation, Rita suggested I should apply for a job at the store.

I had just, days before, started a job at Barnes & Noble. Like basically everyone else, I applied to be a bookseller, and got immediately hired to sling coffees for B&N/Starbucks. I take black coffee, and am very – very – bad at making sweet, frothy coffee drinks. I knew my days were numbered. I took the application. It’s been more than 20 years since I walked into that store for the first time, and as far as I know, there are no extant photos of “Store 1” – the location where I first encountered Emerald City Video. But I can still see it when I close my eyes. It was – ironic, given its name – a magical place.

I would work at Emerald City Video – mostly at Store 2 – on and off for the next 7 years, before moving to New York City to chase down my dreams of being an entertainment writer.

Where was Store 2? Well, we manage to get hold of the store formerly known as Chimney’s. For years, it had been our town’s home entertainment Mecca, and now, ECV was going to restore it to its former glory.

Of course, now it’s split up between a cardio kickboxing place and a laser hair removal center. But still.

I still love Erin. Dating her was good for my personal development, good for my soul. She’s a good person, and the once-in-a-blue-moon when we get to chat, I always enjoy it. And on top of everything else, Erin gets to claim credit for introducing to the place that would change my life.

When I was 24, I first met my (now) wife Cali…at Emerald City Video.

Cali was a customer, and she had a crush on me. I was in another relationship, and entirely oblivious to her interest. My obliviousness was taken as disinterest, and nothing happened for a handful of years, before we finally bumped into each other while single. But it’s funny to think about how the first girl to really, truly break my heart, was the one who brought me to Emerald City Video. She put me in the right place, at the right time, to meet the person who still makes that heart swell every day.

In 2021, I fulfilled a life-long dream and published my first book. For a variety of reasons, I went the self-publishing route. The name of my publisher? ECV Analog. The logo: a modified version of the old Emerald City Video logo. Rita and her husband Jim, the owners of Emerald City, joined me at a movie theater nearby to celebrate the book launch.

#video store #physical media #vhs #dvd #home video #early 2000s #heartbreak #alphabet superset #struthless

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babybluesquid · 7 months

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Session 18, The Valgernard Affair

Our Players this Week:

Hog 112, they/them, Weapon Thaumaturge, skirmisher warforged, the leader of the inquisitives agency and founding member, tends toward practicality and following a command structure.

Vestige, they/them, Bones Oracle, warforged placed into a human body, a healer and the agency’s fleshborn face, remains on the periphery with an individualistic streak.

Strategy, it/its, Empiricist Investigator, officer warforged, an old model who’s seen much action and uses the tactics they learned back during the war now under Sharn.

Samanta, she/they, Swashbuckler Fencer, skirmisher warforged, a spotter during the war who turned to spying for one of Sharn’s criminal families before joining the inquisitives agency.

——————

Hog stares at the load of psicrystals, feeling off balance as if the wood cords in their legs have been severed. They collect themselves, remarking, “there’s no way Hendrick is gonna do something good with these things.” Strategy, having found its way to Hog’s side, nods in agreement, “maybe the Boromars will use them for mind control.” “I don’t think we can do this job,” Hog adds, overwhelmed, “it’s too much. We oughta dump these in the lava pits and pretend we never intervened.”

“Hendrick will know.” Strategy says, “It’s only a matter of time before news of this attack spreads. Besides, this is our best shot at the bodyguard.” “And I suppose if we don’t go to Hendrick, he’ll put in a bad word with his buddy Malrut.” “Agreed. Getting on his bad side is a very bad move. I think instead Jack-in-Irons should be our only target. The attacks are only getting worse.” Calmed by Strategy’s cool analysis, Hog replies: “I think you may be right. I regret getting us into this situation in the first place, but it seems handing them over to Hendrick is the quickest way to get this over and done with.” “We could hold some crystals back,” Strategy offers, “I do not think Hendrick knows how much there is.” “But if he does, he has great reason to think we stole them. Let’s turn them over and face the consequences. If we become known as Boromar allies, well, I suppose there are worse reputations to have.”

With the agreement made, Strategy sets to repairing the cart’s damage. Then it’s off to Smoky Towers in Middle Menthis, the prescribed drop-off point. The building in question looks as shady as could be expected of a Boromar den. Outside, a khoravar woman with a mace and daggers waits. Recognizing her as Hendrick’s contact, Hog lets her approach the cart and check the goods. At her confirmation that it’s all there, the rest of the Boromar goons come and unload. One hands Hog a large ruby, calling it a tip and a token of friendship from their employer. As Hog stares at it, they mutter, “Our employer, huh? I’m gonna have to have a talk with Hendrick.”

The trek back to Deathsgate is haunted by anxiety. However, it is otherwise uneventful. Presently, Hog finds themselves back at the gator’s clubhouse. It’s damn near empty, but Hendrick’s right where he said he’d be. The man smiles, bit cruelly, at Hog’s approach. “So, you’re back. And I’ve got word on the wind that we got our stuff. I assume you’d want to schedule a meeting right away with Malrut.” “You’d be right,” Hog replies. “Well, circumstances are in your favor. Malrut is heading down to the Bazaar on behalf of his master tomorrow. You’ll be along when I meet him. I think you’ll find his account of events,” Hendrick pauses, “illuminating.” “That’s what we’re hoping for.” “It’s been real great doing business with you,” the man continues, “I’d like to keep in contact. And besides, I still owe ya a favor.” He scribbles something out on a page, then hands it over to Hog. “This is the mailing address for my crew.”

Remembering something, Hog asks, “Hey, what about your employer? That elusive wizard?” Hendrick takes on a disinterested affect, “He’s out right now, but I’ll see if I can get you in touch.” “So we can’t talk right now?” “No.” “Can we at least know his name?” At that, Hendrick flips to serious, “I’ve been told not to, and I intend to keep my word. Farewell inquisitives. I wish you Olladra’s own luck on your case.” “Thanks,” Hog states flatly. “Appreciate it,” Strategy adds to be more diplomatic. Hendrick shoos them off.

On the way back to the agency, Shadowblack splits off to search for his few remaining friends among the Blades. Samanta travels to the Bazaar to purchase some poisons. The rest of the sleuths rest and repair at the HF&A. Cloak is there when they return and delivers their report on the new Blades hideout. It’s a major operation, with many forged coming and going. Some of them are arriving with no possessions and strange accents. It looks like a base and an armory for these new arrivals, and the Blades’ supply of weapons seems nearly bottomless. There’s even an artificer installing armblades. Hog asks Cloak if they feel safe staking out the hideout. “No,” the goblin replies, and then shrugs, “Pay’s good.” With that, they disappear again into the streets of the cogs.

While Vestige and Strategy catch up on casework, Hog heads down to the Red Hammer to gather intelligence. It’s normally Samanta’s domain, but somebody has to keep a finger on the pulse. It’s the middle of a factory shift and the place is almost empty, except for two old faces: Dandy and Shot are standing at the bar. The names of Cyran cities and artists drift across the silent space. Hog quietly approaches, and Shot nods and greets them. “Ho, Shot, how goes your investigation?” “I seem to have hit a dead end,” the archer replies, “It’s been difficult since the arsonists moved out of the lower city.” “Have you heard of the Valgernard case?” Hog asks. “Yes, but I haven’t got any leads.” “Neither have we,” says Hog, “but if we do find something, can I find you here?” “I’m normally in Highwalls,” Shot admits, “but I came down here for the company.” “Okay. If we find anything, I’ll look for you there.” Shot nods in reply. “Say,” Hog continues, “if you find anything, stop by the agency.” “I will,” says Shot.

Next, they ask the pair if either has heard anything new about Hook. Dandy explains that nobody has seen him in a few days - the Fists have been spending more time training in the abandoned tunnels, and sending out representatives to buy weapons. Returning to the agency, Hog mentions this to Strategy. “I think that after meeting with Malrut, we should check on the Fists,” it advises. “Assuming we don’t immediately face Jack-in-Irons,” Hog responds.

The next day, the sleuths take the long walk across town to Dura, to meet Malrut in the Bazaar. The bodyguard is sitting with Hendrick in a crowded beergarden, in a lonely patch of sun on the edge of the district. He stands out among the common people of Sharn, with dark red skin, a huge stature, and a pair of curled goat horns. His origin is written all over him - this one was born of Khyber.

Hog cautiously introduces the group. “I hope you’re ready to get down to business,” Malrut replies, “without the pleasantries.” They sit down, and Hog gets started. “We’re aware of the recent fire at your employer’s residence and we were hoping to be allowed to investigate the scene.” “I would have to ask my employer, but I think you want to hear what I saw on the day of the fire. When the fire started, I ran to the workshop and caught the arsonist in the act. This being ran away with a bag of my master’s possessions. I was unable to catch up with it.” “Being, it…” Strategy observes, “You believe the culprit was not a person?” “No, it was not,” says Malrut, “It only had the appearance of a man, but anyone who sees it move would know differently. It had a third, long arm which it hid beneath its cloak, and its legs bent in two places. I lost it when it leapt from a bridge, and crawled down the side of a tower like a spider.” “Was it flesh?” Hog asks, hesitating, “Or did it look like a forged?” “Flesh, to be sure, though its hand glittered like steel. You ought to crush the legs of that creeping thing… That is all I remember of the creature.” Hog looks at Strategy, who asks Malrut, “Did you find any pieces of obsidian at the scene?” “Yes, one,” says Malrut, “We gave it to the Blackened Book.” “The Blackened Book… who else has been investigating?” Hog asks. “Medani,” replies Malrut, leaning forwards, “and I must warn you, I do not think my master will allow you to investigate, unless you can offer something Medani and the watch cannot.”

Hog thinks for a second before replying, “Your master’s stolen property, does he want it back?” Malrut softens. “Yes. His devices took years to make and are not replicable. The telepathic engine, he calls it.” The guard becomes dreamy as he carries on, as if he were staring through the towers at the Ring of Siberys above. “It will transmit messages using the mind-magic of Sarlona. He says it will change the world…” “We were hoping you would put in a good word for us-” Strategy begins. “Of course!” Malrut interrupts, “What message shall I relay?” Hog takes a business card out of their bag and hands it to the tiefling. “Tell Mister Valgernard that we’re interested in helping him with his missing materials. If he’s dubious of us, tell him we were in the papers. There was an incident with a werewolf in Middle Dura that you may have heard of.” “I have. Few Southerners can boast of such a thing. I will tell my master.”

Hendrick grunts. “Alright, if you don’t have any other questions, I’d like to get back to having a day with my friend before plunging myself and my team into mortal danger from which we will only narrowly escape.” “How can you be sure it won’t be an easy escape?” Samanta jokes. “Seems to be the way of things,” Hendrick replies. Strategy speaks to Malrut: “How long will it take your master to respond?” “Not long. He has canceled his engagements since the arson.” The sleuths rise and make tense goodbyes, before heading back to Blackbones.

At the door to the office, Hog is blocked by Gentle. They look up at the larger forged, who immediately begins speaking their mind. “I’d prefer if we’re not bringing people back here and killing them. Khyberlurk was as wicked as they come, but it still saddens me to see them snuffed out like that.” Hog sighs, tapping their arm, “Gentle. You’re not seeing this right. If I’d let Khyberlurk go they could’ve targeted someone else. They could’ve targeted you.” For a moment, Gentle mulls it over, “true. I am worried this agency is becoming a platoon against Aggregate. I’d thought I left the war behind.”

“Well,” Hog replies, “that was up to Aggregate. Believe me, I want to return to normal detective work as much as you.” “True enough. I guess we just have to see this through to the end.” “I like that,” Hog remarks, “to the end.” Gentle suddenly moves in to embrace Hog in a full hug. Surprised, they stand rigidly still until their employee releases them sheepishly. Hog just nods at Gentle as they step aside and let them enter their office.

Vestige is already there, awaiting Hog’s arrival. “What do you make of the new Blades in the city?” They ask. “You mean the ones Cloak told us about?” “Yeah, those ones. Fresh from the Mournland.” “It sounds dangerous,” Hog replies, “it sounds like an invasion.” “Or perhaps an opportunity,” Vestige suggests. “For what?” “Well, Aggregate’s been here for some time and I’m think that new Blades wouldn’t exactly be loyal to him. We might be able to convince some to come over to our side, especially once they’re told what Aggregate’s been up to here.”

Confused, Hog asks: “Didn’t Aggregate come from the Mournland?” “Yes.” “I just, I think we’d have more luck with good Brelish forged. You know, the sort of folk who want what’s best for their country and they joined the Blades because they saw what the foundry owners and the incompetence of the Watch has done to this place.” “That may be,” Vestige admits, “but I dunno. I’m thinking- I’m hoping that the Blades from the Mournland hold the ideals of our Lord. You know?”

“Our Lord…” Hog mutters, “who is this Lord anyways?” “The Lord of Blades.” “Sure, but who is he?” “I suppose you didn’t hear during the latter days of the war.” “No,” Hog admits, “nobody ever spoke to me about the Blades.” “I never met the Lord, of course, but when I was traveling around Cyre I heard the Machine Manifesto from some of the forged on the front.” “Is he the one who wrote the manifesto?” “Yeah.” “Sounds like you have a lot of respect for this Lord.” “I do,” Vestige says, “he’s the one who’s demanding better treatment for our people. That’s why I’m so angry with Aggregate for corrupting his message and turning it into an invasion of Sharn.” Vestige ponders, and then speaks again: “We need to get in contact with these new arrivals. If we can tell them the truth, they’ll turn on Aggregate.” “What makes you think that? If they’re really foreigners, what could they be here for other than an invasion?” “Recruitment, perhaps.” “Who do you think these foreign Blades are?” Hog asks. “I think that they’re probably Cyran forged.” “And they’ve been living in the Mournland since the Day.” “Yes,” Vestige replies, “I would’ve stayed in the Mournland had my circumstances been different.” “Yes. Hm. Well, if you think you can turn some of them back to the light, I’m not going to stop you.”

The thought hangs in the still air before Vestige says, “I think I could try, but given my situation they might not be inclined to listen to me.” “You never know,” Hog offers, “you are a true forged like the rest of them, and Shadowblack is your friend. That counts for something. Do you think you and Shadowblack are of one mind on this?” “I believe so. Shadowblack wishes to return to the Mournland and inform the Lord of what Aggregate’s been doing.” “What makes you think the Lord will intervene? Was it not the Lord who sent Aggregate to this city?” Vestige’s reply has a hard edge. “We don’t know whether that’s the case, actually. I told Shadowblack it was too risky to go and give such a report now.” “Why do you think so?” “If Aggregate has indeed taken over a group of the Blades,” Vestige explains, “it’s likely that he has friends on the way back to the Mournland.” “And if Shadowblack gets intercepted…” Hog offers. “Then he’ll be killed.” “And then we haven’t got a chance at fixing the Blades in Sharn.”

“Yep. For now it seems that we’re on our own, until we can deal with Aggregate.” “Indeed, but you heard what Cloak said. There were dozens of warforged in that warehouse, and that was just one base. I wonder, if we wanna take down Aggregate, we’ll need to start turning some of the Blades first. Maybe it can even be done without any bloodshed. Things like that have happened before, like in Thrane.” “I think if we could appeal to their ideals, we’d be able to turn them,” Vestige says, “our disadvantage right now is that Aggregate controls the flow of information to the Blades. I don’t know what Shadowblack’s friends have been doing, exactly, but it seems they’ve been staying quiet.” “Aggregate’s control is too tight for them to speak up?” “Seems so.” “But you think we can crack it?”

“I think if we can show them that Shadowblack is no traitor, then they would realize that Aggregate is the villain here.” “How do we show them that?” Hog asks, then answers their own question, “we make him into a hero, I s’pose. You know, if he was the one who killed Jack-in-Irons, that’d certainly make him a hero.” “And if he returned the bodies-” “That would be even better.” “We should try to facilitate this,” Vestige says, “I think that we can outmaneuver Aggregate. He may be smart but there’s only one of him, and if he’s relying on deception, well, we just have to expose the lies.” “You’re right. Just have to expose the lies… that’s easier said than done, but perhaps we should look a little more into this crime ring they’ve been running. We still haven’t got any hard proof.”

“I have that hat now, perhaps I could do a little digging on the Daask side of things,” Vestige suggests. “It sounds like a risky operation, but maybe it’s less of a risk than getting into another head to head with Daask.” “I think I’ll be able to handle myself out there, and I could bring Samanta along for backup.”

The conversation is interrupted by a weak knock at the agency’s front door.

Vestige opens the door to discover a short, middle aged human man, well-dressed with glamourweave and fancy Aundarian shoes. Coughing in the Cogs air. He collects himself, “hello, fine inquisitives. Upon seeing the message that my loyal companion relayed to me, I was moved and resolves to visit you myself but-” he pauses to cough some more- “the sulfuric condition of the air in the Cogs has seemed to upset me. May I come inside?”

Hog welcomes the guy in, noting that the air inside is much the same as outside. “Master Valgernard, thank you for coming.” “Uh, Lord,” Eliot ir’Valgernard corrects, then immediately gets to business, speaking about the missing research that he would like the sleuths to recover for him. See, he is missing a prototype Telepathic Engine, near complete, and rambles on concerning its difficult construction and the overwhelming loss of the stolen components and device.

Strategy immediately asks if the arsonist could construct the device using the stolen pieces, and ir’Valgernard dismisses the notion out of hand. Strategy presses, “we know Jack-in-Irons is a skilled artificer. They might have supernatural inspiration to draw from.” “Truly this is an abominable villain then, and they can only be up to wickedness with the components they have seized from me.” “Jack-in-Irons uses magics from the Daelkyr, and their followers are Daelkyr cultists. I believe they want to use this research into psicrystals to achieve some devastating effect here in Sharn. Would your device be able to broadcast distressing psionic messages?” Eliot confirms that it could, with some more power and recalibration.

What follows is additional questioning from Hog, trying to determine how dangerous this thing it. They don’t like it, that ir’Valgernard created such a thing that could be used this way. Vestige listens in silence, having much a similar judgment.

The man does reveal that a docent to control the device has been located in Xen’drik, but it will be some time. Strategy asks, “would it be possible to use something else in place of the docent? Something less ethical and conventional?” “Well,” ir’Valgernard replies slowly, “if one were to take an animate warforged and bond them physically to the device with magic flowing directly to their mind it would be functional. However it would be a horrible crime, it would destroy them utterly with thoughts that are not their own flowing through them, driving them to insanity.”

“How do you know this?!” Vestige demands angrily. “I have been in the study of how the warforged came to think and their connection to the docents. The basic components and how they create the ability to think in these devices are the same. That’s why the docents interface so well with the warforged,” ir’Valgernard explains. As he does, Vestige becomes even angrier, coldly remarking back, “warforged. Are not. Devices.” He’s surprised, backtracking a bit, “w-why of course, they’re alive with livewood and capable of things no artificers understand.”

Strategy moves the conversation back to the question of the device, and Eliot is eager to move back to discussing logistical matters. He even offers his aid in the form of money and connections so he can recover his priceless device.

More logistical discussion follows, mainly that a broadcasting would require massive amounts of energy and be wildly expensive under conventional means. Strategy reveals that the Daelkyr is of fire and madness, revealing the charged obsidian stone and asking if they could be used to power the device. All Eliot can do is speculate, he doesn’t understand the magics of the Lords of Madness, but it may be possible. Considering the danger, ir’Valgernard offers his loyal guard, Malrut, to assist the sleuths in retrieving the device. Strategy asks to examine the scene of the arson and theft, and Eliot ir’Valgernard grants it readily.

Lastly, Eliot grants Strategy a device like a crystal lens with dragonshards studding it, “I have created this as a measuring device of the Telepathic Engine’s operation. It allows you to have a visual representation of the power and property of the magical and psionic energies that the device emits. It is a compound lens of psicrystal and siberys dragonshard. Although it does greatly reduce the normal functions of the eye, as the background magical emissions of Sharn are massive. Though it can be tuned to focus on one specific device such as the one I have created. It will require some work to retune it to the expected output of the larger device.” Hog questions what will happen if the magic of the device is altered, and Eliot replies that then the focuser would not be able to pick it out from the rest of Sharn’s magic. Without tuning, it would be possible, but hard to pick it out.

Strategy theorizes that either the cultists will cover the entirety of Sharn, or they will do maximal damage in a small area to cripple the city. Eliot suggests that perhaps the psionic power of the warp step could be used to broadcast the signal to anywhere, from anywhere. Hog asks what that even means, and ir’Valgernard briefly explains how it can be used to transport the mind and body through space using Dal Quor, which cannot actually be reached. Hog says that for practical reasons, they can’t consider it as a possibility. An adversary that can broadcast to anywhere from anywhere would be impossible to find. Eliot says that the villains would be unlikely to figure out the warp step in any case.

So, the first theory is accepted. The cultists are likely going to broadcast over the whole of the city from Middle Menthis. Further, their base is likely far from the center of their criminal activity, just like their base in Fallen.

Finally, Hog asks for ir’Valgernard’s account of the attack. He says, “I was unable to see much. When I heard my workshop was on fire, I flew into a panic and hurried to try to save my work. When I entered the room, I came into contact with the fire and was thrown into a strange vision… a bright white flash filled my eyes for quite some time and I saw a vast titan, crowned in a material I cannot begin to describe. All aflame, this vision overtook me. I glanced the figure of a being of pilfering my components, another arm extending from his shoulder.” “Thank you for your time, Lord Valgernard. We’ll come up to your residence as soon as possible,” Hog offers.

——————

Notables:

Hendrick, he/him, a mercenary adventurer. Skilled at getting his crew out of trouble, and other people into it.

Malrut, he/him, a warrior from the Carrion Tribes. He tried to escape Khyber and wound up in Sharn instead.

Eliot ir’Valgernard, he/him, an Aundairian noble with a penchant for psionics and dreams of a bright future.

#pf2e #pathfinder campaign #pathfinder story #my post #my writing #hf&a llc #eberron #ttrpg story #ttrpg recap #session 18 #dnd campaign #vestige #hog 112 #strategy #samanta #warforged

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the-firebird69 · 2 years

Text

Was sitting here listening to the a****** he says he sits there and watches him day and night and he doesn't start threatening him and we start threatening him back and say we always fall through and he doesn't care and doesn't listen and doesn't know we tell him how and he ignores it who say look it we have to have you stop doing what you doing and we're chasing you down and once your arm is gone you'll be dead if you don't understand you're being put down our people need you dead you did a little time stupid.

I'm going to follow our son's recommendations and soon for every single transgression against him starting from stow Massachusetts and we're requesting it bitoll and got his wife present the cases now. There's a huge number of cases it has to do with this money and has to do his schooling and single thing that he touched in their son's life he messed something up we didn't want him working with his hands all the time and took a lot of time out that he could have learned things he said though he learned a valuable lesson and it's kind of by accident and the valuable lesson was you have to be near your people and with your people or life is terrible but you can still make it even if you're not super valuable by being a confident worker and people notice it and the other thing is he learned that working with your hands sucks and it's very difficult and you have to be extremely careful and you learned how to control his body using his body and a little bit of his mind but really his concentrating I gave him a lot of strength he said just like Jesus Christ had it's a big mistake and Donald Trump did it on purpose and can't see it's a mistake and gets messed up by all the time he is a little girl falls our son around tries to ding him all the time if you can you just keeps on following him, DC is addicted and won't let it go cuz I keep on trying to make our son's life miserable and son says DC is like the last place I would go why the f*** are you doing that they still can't get that at all Trump is messing it up up there that's what he's doing it all screwed up in the head because of what he's doing so we're going to sue him because he's the major problem for our son I'm going to assume for everything it's a real old-fashioned lawsuit Trump he wants to go after your businesses with gusto cuz you don't seem to care enough about anything that he does to you

I have a list of Banks and businesses so far three out of the four are hours you don't even come close to only Wells Fargo or b of A in any way but we are going to freeze your accounts well I'm going to ask Mac to. I was going to start taking other businesses of yours that you have left and it's small there's several good size ones that we didn't get to I'm going to clean it up make sure that you don't have any power I'm going after your military stuff all the time now and one of the things we cleaned up with your elicit parts business you tried messing with us a few times and you got stung really badly he just kept doing it and now you're small out there after today you're probably all be gone out there completely dead in the upper Midwest you're going to be gone by the end of the night that's how you end up dying because Tommy f so pouring over the place is where you are and soon others will have to fill in cuz y'all be gone you're not calling people to go there so you don't have a reason to you might because Obama's 5 m is from there and Michelle Obama so you know yeah Chicago and her son called the other one Detroit they're both tough people and we're gang members and shot a lot of you he was Malcolm x and she was the other one the black guy black guy... Their shooters they shot a lot of your people and they have a lot of robotic people up there now shooting your people tons of them and they hate you yeah they're black people more or less listen just sits here and you abusing because you're a f**** you're a p**** and a coward

Thor Freya

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threelionsgirl · 2 years

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Hahah i sent a request to your other account without realising that you don’t use it anymore🥲 anyways I have a request for chilly. You and Ben leave the FIFA cup after party together and hookup for the first time (you don’t know each other, but you’re in the industry). Ben wakes up the next morning, super hungover, and is a bit concerned about the press and social media since he almost never has been seen with a girl. BUT one thing he can’t stop doing is watching her sleep. He’s battling between waking her up (idk with nftw shit or sumn) or just admiring her. Eventually you roll over to him in your sleep and he can’t help it so he kisses you. Make it fluffy but spicy. Aahhh I’ve had this idea in my head for a while but I’m not as good as you when it comes to writing. You’re so talented!!💓

pillow talk | ben chilwell

warnings: it is fluff, but has a slight smut (idk?), I can't explain, but as in the request, there is something spicy!

word count: 1445

notes: I LOVED WRITING THIS I don't have many requests with chilly so thank u!!! I wrote it pretty fast, but I had some personal problems, so it took a while, sorry for that, I hope you like it!

masterlist

The light coming in from the window was bothering Benjamin Chilwell that morning. The white curtains were not doing their job of blocking out the sunlight, and he would be able to rate that hotel one star less just because of that. He didn't want to wake up, but the pain and nausea of the hangover was forcing him. He scratched his eyes and ran his hand through his hair, recognizing the hotel room he was in.

He had to rewind his brain all last night when he heard the sound of heavy breathing from his side. Y/N. Sleeping like an angel.

"Shit." He spoke quietly, to himself.

A movie flashed through his head and he began to recall last night. The FIFA Club World Cup title and the party that came right after. The Chelsea team had rented the hall of the hotel where they were staying just for that. Even though he was injured, Ben could not avoid going to the United Arab Emirates to support the team he loved so much.

When he started thinking about the party he couldn't remember much, just a few glimpses of the night, but he knew he had drunk a lot, otherwise he wouldn't be suffering from that fucked up hangover. He remembers drinking heavily with Y/N and spending a lot of time sitting and talking to her, since because of his knee injury he couldn't dance or make very sudden movements. He remembers flirting with her constantly and her responding to his flirtations. Ben could not resist Y/N, she was a famous model and was in the media, as was he and at the time he did not care much that they might be caught in the act.

He cared even less when they kissed in the elevator and walked up to his room. When she was naked, it was only her body that he could concentrate on. It was very likely that someone had seen them kissing and going up together. You couldn't have much insight after winning an unprecedented cup and drinking several gallons of alcohol. But now, the next day, after his liver worked hard to keep the alcohol out, he began to care. About the press and about everything that might be being talked about the two of them.

Ben looked down at Y/N in her deep, serene sleep. Her hair dotted the white sheets and her arms were under her pillow, serving as a support for her head. The sheet covered only half of her body, leaving her bare back showing, and his hand almost itched to touch her soft back, feeling her torso rise and fall as she breathed. She was so beautiful, and he couldn't stop looking at her, but he also couldn't stop thinking that he had fucked a girl he barely knew. That they slept together in his hotel room. And that he liked it. So much.

He had never been seen with a girl before, not in such an exposed way, and he was worried. He hated gossip magazines and all the absurdities that people could invent. It was a party, they were both drinking, people with no character could take biased stories and accuse him of the most absurd things possible. Ben was thinking that he could leave, leave while she is still sleeping and pretend nothing happened. Chelsea's flight back to London was not scheduled until later, he could wait in the room of some of his mates until then, but he couldn't do that. It would be rude and also because he didn't want to.

The good smell of Y/N was intoxicating his nostrils, and Ben couldn't stop looking at her. It seemed as if he was bewitched. His brain was struggling between waking her up and letting her sleep, so he could continue to look at her and admire her beauty. Y/N moved a little, raising her arms a little more, causing the sheet to come down a little, and this brought Ben's eyes to her waist. He bit his lip as he noticed the curve her boob made as her body pressed her breasts into the mattress. He began to remember the peaks from last night, all the places on her body that he kissed and ran his hand over, and damn, he wanted that so badly again.

Ben didn't have much time to process when Y/N moved again, still sleepy, and rested her body on top of him. Her face stayed very close to his, and she put one leg on top of his body. Those legs that hugged his body so tightly as he fucked her. Ben took a deep breath and his hand began to stroke her hair, tossing it back and tucking it behind her ear. His other arm was under her body, and he used his hand to smooth her back in a delicate attempt to wake her. Her lips were parted, and he wanted to kiss and bite them again.

Her hand was on his chest, and Y/N squirmed, moving her body even more on top of his. Y/N lifted her head and when she opened her eyes, Ben couldn't resist and pulled her head into a kiss. His tongue flicked across her lips and she let him kiss her as she tried to get her thoughts in place. She held his face as the kiss intensified, Ben stroked her hair before running his hands down her shoulders, smoothing her arms and squeezing her waist under the sheet.

Y/N tightened her legs around him and let out a small moan when Ben squeezed her hips and marked her lips with his teeth. Ben continued pressing his lips to hers, swallowing her sighs and curling his tongue around hers.

"Morning!" He said as she pulled away, looking for air. Y/N blinked a few times trying to get used to the bright light.

"Ben, I don't remember much of last night. I think we had too much to drink." Y/N spoke, getting up, she sat on the bed facing him, holding the sheet at bust height covering her body. She was taking his concern upon herself.

"We didn't do anything." He said, and Y/N raised an eyebrow at him. They were both naked on that bed. Something had happened, for sure. "Well we had amazing sex, is that a problem for you?" he laughed giving a cheeky grin and Y/N felt his cheeks heat up. Ben leaned over, running his hand along her arm, giving her goosebumps. "And I wouldn't mind if we did it again."

"No, that's not a problem." She said with certainty, despite the memory lapses, the evening had passed had been incredible. "It's just that..."

"Hey, it's okay. Come here." Ben tried to calm her down and encouraged her to move back close to him again. She moved and rested her head on his chest as he stroked her hair with one hand.

"It's because of the press. I'm not usually this careless." Y/N laughed humorlessly, thinking of the same things Ben was thinking earlier. Ben turned his body, getting on top of her and making her legs hug his waist.

"Don't worry about it, Y/N." He ran his hand over her face from top to bottom, leaving gentle kisses on her cheeks and forehead. "Just enjoy the moment."

"But Ben, the press will be talking about the two of us." She said, trying to resist the kisses he splashed on her neck. "They know how to be cruel and invasive."

"Let them talk. We're not doing anything wrong."

"All right then." She finally agreed. Ben lifted his head to look at her. Y/N threw back his hair and stared into his blue eyes. As soon as she saw those crystal blue irises last night, she knew she was lost.

Once in Ben Chilwell's bed, she didn't know if she would be able to get out anymore, so she felt a relief when he asked:

"Can I have your number?"

"Of course you can." She smiled, leaving a kiss on his mouth. His eyes sparkled, thinking that this could be the start of something good.

"Do you have to leave now?"

"I can go later." She spoke, still playing with his hair.

"Cool, me too." Ben kissed her collarbone, lingering with his lips on hers. He grabbed her lower lip with his teeth and slowly released. The movement sending an electrifying shiver through Y/N's body. "I was wondering, do you want coffee, or the second round?"

She held his hair and kissed him, making it clear that it was the second option.

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