#i will probably make a post a week or so before i reopen so anybody who wants to can prepare !
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commissions are now closed! thank you to everybody who sent one in, and to those of you who didn't get a slot, right now i'm thinking i'll reopen them around late may-early june so keep an eye out for that!
#lbf.txt#sorry especially to those who expressed interest however i'm at my reasonable max for now :)#the slots filled up way faster than i expected!!#i will probably make a post a week or so before i reopen so anybody who wants to can prepare !
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Relationship Stahl ~ Charlie Conway x Adam Banks
A/N: Hi all, I'm on my Mighty Ducks bullshit, so sorry not sorry. This is just for fun. It's postcanon - could be canon with the show. I don't specifically go against anything. But yeah. Enjoy this fic for a movie that came out over 25 years ago. *Posts fic and runs away*
Summary: Charlie and Adam are idiots. And they finally figure that out thanks to Charlie's pen pal.
Characters/Pairings: Charlie Conway/Adam Banks, Charlie Conway, Adam Banks, Connie Moreau, Guy Germaine, Fulton Reed, Gunnar Stahl
Rating: T
Word Count: 2800
Warnings: Language ( I think that's it)
^True love if I ever saw it ;)
Charlie grinned at his laptop as he fired off his enthusiastic response to the latest email from his pen pal before flipping open his phone. Instead of scrolling through his contacts, he dialed the number he knew by heart.
“I literally just dropped you off,” his best friend laughed when he picked up on the third ring.
“And I couldn’t bear to be without you,” Charlie quipped back.
“What do you want, Charlie?”
Adam’s voice was undeniably fond and it made Charlie’s stomach flutter.
“How do you feel about going to the Wilds game on Saturday?”
“How’d you swing those tickets?”
Charlie shrugged even though Adam couldn’t see him. “I know a guy. So are you in? We can grab drinks with some of the ducks afterwards.”
He could practically hear Adam shaking his head and it made Charlie’s smile widen. He knew what his answer would be.
“Yeah, I’m in. Of course I’m in. I’ll pick you up at 5?”
“Sounds good.”
“Are the other ducks coming?
“I’m gonna see who’s around.”
“Alright. Can’t wait. I’ll talk to you tomorrow?”
Charlie smiled at the question in his voice.
“Of course. I’ll call you after work.”
“Good night, Charlie.”
“Night. Banksy. Text me when you get home, alright?”
“Will do.”
Adam was wearing a Minnesota Wilds Jersey and a pair of tight-fitting jeans, when he knocked on the door of Charlie’s house.
He checked his watch. He was early.
He was always early.
Charlie probably wouldn’t be ready for another half hour, so he was surprised when the door swung open – at least until he saw Casey Conway’s smiling face.
“Adam, honey, how are you?” she cooed as she pulled him inside and into a tight hug.
“I’m great, Mrs. Conway. You’re looking lovely this evening.”
She swatted at him, but he saw her genuine smile. “Always a charmer.”
“How are you? How’s the diner?”
“I’m great. The diner is doing well. Business has really increased since we reopened after the renovations. We still have our regulars, but we’re getting more of a younger crowd too.”
“That’s awesome. And so well deserved.”
Adam could still remember when Charlie had sprinted into their college dorm room talking a mile a minute. He’d gleaned that there was a long lost uncle who’d passed and left his mother a rather large inheritance, and she was going to use that to buy out the diner that she’d been helping run for years.
Charlie had been so excited he’d nearly fell over because he forgot to breathe. Adam had spent the summer helping to paint and decorate the newly renovated diner.
“It’s been way too long since you’ve come over for dinner. Are you free next week?”
“Would Tuesday work?”
“Perfect. That’s my early night. And I’ll make your favorite pot pie.”
Adam grinned at the ceiling as he rocked back on his heels.
“You’re the best, Mrs. C.”
“Well, I won’t hold you up. I’m afraid I’ve already made Charlie late. I’ll see you Tuesday.”
“See you then.”
She gave him another quick hug before scurrying out the door.
Adam sighed as he checked his watch.
“Hey, Spazaway. Hurry up or we’re gonna be late!” he yelled up the stairs.
“I’m coming! Relax, cake-eater!”
There were several thumps as Charlie hopped on one foot to get his shoe on and then a slam of his bedroom door, but by the time he made it downstairs he looked perfectly disheveled in a cool way instead of a sloppy way. Classic Charlie. It’d be irritating if it wasn’t so attractive.
“Hey, Banksy. See, 5:15 right on time.”
“I told you I’d pick you up at 5,” he pointed out.
“Yeah, but we both know that at this point you tell me you’ll pick me up 30 minutes before we actually have to leave. So technically, I’m 15 minutes early,” Charlie grinned and slung an arm around his shoulder.
Adam huffed but couldn’t argue. Charlie was right. He’d learned a long time ago never to trust Charlie to be punctual, so he had started telling him earlier times in the hope that they’d actually arrive places before the events were over.
“It’s gonna be a great night.”
“Are any of the others coming?”
“Connie, Guy, and Fulton. Everyone else was busy.”
“That’ll be fun,” Adam admitted as he climbed into the car.
Secretly, he’d kind of been hoping that it would just be him and Charlie, but he shoved that thought away. It would be good to go out with some of his oldest friends.
“Yeah. It will.”
The five ducks were happily chatting and catching up, laden down with food as they waited for the game to start.
Guy was the first to notice the name after the national anthem.
“Do you think Stahl is the same one we faced from Iceland?”
“I don’t know,” Adam shrugged. “How common of a name do you think it is?”
“Remember when you had that massive crush on Gunnar, Charlie?” Connie teased before taking a sip of her soda.
“I didn’t have a crush on Gunnar.”
“You so did,” Fulton laughed, nudging. “How many hours did you spend watching tapes of his signature shot?”
“That was research,” Charlie insisted, though his cheeks were slightly pink.
“Yeah, you definitely needed to spend all that time on just Gunnar Stahl and not the rest of Iceland,” Guy faux agreed with an exaggerated wink.
Adam remained quiet. He remembered Charlie’s “not a crush” all too well. He wasn’t proud to admit it, but he’d been jealous at the time.
At first it had been, look at this shot. Or look at this play.
And then after the games it was, he’s so nice and cool. He called me ‘Captain Duck’.
Charlie hadn’t shut up about him until they were on the plane home and he promptly knocked out on Adam’s shoulder. Number ninety-nine didn’t have it in him to be jealous when he got to have a sleeping Charlie Conway on top of him.
Tuning back into the conversation after his quick jaunt down memory lane, Adam realized they were still ribbing Charlie.
“Okay, fine. I might have had a little crush on him. I was young. I was still figuring myself out,” Charlie admitted.
“Figures your first crush would be on a hockey player,” Fulton pointed out.
“Who said he was my first crush?”
Adam swore Charlie’s gaze darted to him, and he felt his cheeks heat up.
“Well you literally never talked about anybody else like that before him,” Guy said.
“Except Banks,” Fulton added.
The three of them looked at Adam and he knew he was bright red. They all knew he’d had a crush on Charlie when they were kids. And that he still sort of had a crush on him. He could kick Fulton right now, and he would have if Charlie wasn’t sitting in between them.
“I still talk about Banksy all the time.”
“I’m right here,” Adam finally managed to grumble.
Charlie grinned and nudged him with his shoulder, before throwing an arm around him.
“Are we really gonna sit here and argue over who I did or did not have a crush on twenty something years ago?”
“Yes.” The other three nodded emphatically.
Charlie rolled his eyes.
“Alright fine. Yes, I had a crush on him. But laugh all you want. You have that crush to thank for these seats,” Charlie reminded them smugly.
“What do you mean?” Adam choked out as the others gasped.
Charlie looked at the four flabbergasted ducks in confusion.
“Gunnar got me the tickets. I thought you guys knew.”
“We didn’t know that,” Guy nearly shouted.
“You kept in touch with him all these years?” Connie asked softly.
Their captain shrugged.
“We were pen pals. And now we email every few weeks.”
Adam’s heart clenched in something that felt a lot like jealousy – a lot like when he was 14. He turned his attention to the game, Stahl was on the ice. Adam couldn’t help but track his movements. It had been years since he moved like that. Another squeeze.
It was going to be a long night.
Charlie noticed the instant Adam went rigid, but he couldn’t understand why. After all, he was the one being teased for a 20 year old crush that only lasted for a minute.
He tried to nudge his best friend and get a response, but Adam’s eyes were glued to the game. That wouldn’t have worried Charlie, but the tight set of his jaw was nothing like his usual relaxed joy at the games. That was one of the reason Charlie had made it a point to go to as many hockey games with Adam as he could. He loved to observe him while he watched the game. But right now, his expression was stony.
When Gunnar managed a hat trick early in the third, Adam abruptly excused himself, saying he needed to go to the bathroom.
“What’s up with Banks?” Fulton voiced Charlie’s question aloud.
Charlie shrugged. “No clue.”
Connie rolled her eyes.
“Boys. He’s jealous.”
“Of what?”
“God, Charlie, are you that oblivious?”
His brow furrowed and he stared at her.
“What are you talking about?”
She huffed and shook her head.
“Nope. If you can’t figure it out after 25 years, you’re on your own.”
Adam was less grumpy, but still pretty sedate when he returned with only a few minutes left to go.
“You alright?” Charlie asked in a low voice as he settled back into his seat.
“Yeah. All good. Long line for the bathroom.”
Charlie didn’t believe him, but shrugged it off as the Wilds managed a late game comeback and beat the Anaheim Mighty Ducks and they were all on their feet cheering.
The five of them waited outside the side exit where the players would come out for Gunnar. The former Iceland captain signed a few autographs before he caught sight of Charlie and waved, flashing him a big smile.
“Good to see you, Captain Duck!” he shouted as he pulled Charlie into a tight hug.
“Good to see you too, Gunnar. Nice playing tonight.”
“Thank you.” Gunnar turned his attention to the rest of the Ducks. “It’s good to see you all too.”
There were various murmurs of agreement, before an awkward silence fell.
“Drinks?” Charlie finally suggested.
“Definitely.”
Drinks helped. Everyone loosened up by the second round. Even Adam, though he was not that talkative. He could see why Charlie would have kept in touch with the Icelander. He really was quite charming.
That did not help.
When Charlie stepped away from the table to get another pitcher, Gunnar slid into his vacated seat. Adam panicked for a moment. Guy and Connie were deep in conversation and Fulton had gone to the bathroom, it was just the two of them.
“You know, Captain Duck still never shuts up about you.”
“Still?” Adam asked, fixated on the word.
“At the Goodwill Games, when we spoke for the first time at the closing ceremony, Charlie wouldn’t stop raving about you. How he’d been worried about you being hurt. He even glared at Sanderson. And in his letters, he always talked about you. In every single one. I think I knew more about how you were doing than I did about him.”
“Sorry?”
Adam had no idea how to respond. Gunnar chuckled and shook his head.
“It’s sweet. I’m glad the two of you have made it this far. You’re a good pair.”
Adam’s jaw dropped and he floundered for an answer.
“Thanks?”
“Thanks what?”
Of course Guy chose that moment to resurface from his conversation.
“For saying I played well back in ’94,” Adam lied unconvincingly.
Charlie’s return halted the conversation, and Adam couldn’t help but think about what Gunnar had said. Why would Charlie be talking about him? Did Gunnar think they were together? Why did Gunnar think they were together?
His head was spinning. And it definitely wasn’t the alcohol. Per usual, it was all Charlie Conway’s fault.
Charlie was playing with the edge of his jersey when Adam pulled up to his house.
“Do you want to come in for a bit?” he offered.
“Yeah, sure,” Adam agreed.
“Oh. Okay. Cool.”
Charlie had been expecting him to bail. That was what Adam did when things got tense between them, so his easy agreement caught him off guard.
He pulled two beers from the fridge and took a moment to steel himself before rejoining Adam in the living room.
“It was a great game.”
“Yeah. Ducks were smart when they got Gunnar.”
“Definitely.”
“So, why didn’t you tell any of us that you were still talking to him?”
The former captain tried to gauge Adam’s mood, but he was surprisingly nonchalant.
“I didn’t really think about it. When we were writing actual letters, I’d get one maybe three times a year. So it just never came up. And then we started emailing and it was just something I did. It never seemed like a big deal.”
“So it’s not because you’ve been carrying a torch for him all these years?” Adam asked shyly.
The laughter that bubbled out of Charlie was loud and somewhat alarming.
“Of course not, Banksy. I mean, yes, I had a crush on him. For what seems like five seconds at this point in our lives. He’s just someone I liked to keep in touch with. Another person to talk hockey with. Honestly, I thought we’d last like two letters and then never talk again.”
“Have you seen him before?”
“No. Tonight’s the first time I’ve seen him since we left the games. This isn’t some big torrid affair I’ve been hiding. It’s a pen pal. Who got us tickets to a Wilds game.”
“That was pretty cool.”
“Are we good?”
Adam nodded. “We’re good. Sorry, it was just unexpected.”
“That’s fair. I really thought I had told you guys at some point over the years. Sorry I sprang it on you… unintentionally.”
“No worries.”
It was comfortable for a bit. Charlie put on ESPN and they caught the highlights from the other games that had been played. Somehow he ended up leaning heavily into Adam’s side.
“Was he your first?” He asked as the commentators went over the same play for the third time.
“Was who my first what?” Charlie asked, letting his head loll to the side so he could look at Adam without pulling away.
“Was Gunnar your first crush?”
It came out in a sigh.
“No. He wasn’t.”
“Who was it?”
“Guess.”
“Charlie.”
“I’m serious. Guess. I’ll even give you 5 questions to try and figure it out.”
Charlie wasn’t going to admit it without a fight, and Adam knew it. Curiosity got the better of him.
“Fine. Was your first crush a hockey player?”
“Yes.”
“Someone on our team?”
Charlie nodded, sitting up so he could watch him more closely.
“Boy or girl?”
“Boy.”
“Peewees or Goodwill Games?”
“Met him in Peewees. Realized I had a crush on him during the Goodwill Games.”
“Did he go to Eden Hall?”
“Yes. I even roomed with him at one point. That’s five. Time to guess.”
He was certain he’d know now.
“Fulton?” Adam asked innocently.
Charlie hung his head.
“You cannot possibly be this obtuse, Banksy.”
“What? You met him in Peewees, he was with us at the games and at Eden hall and you roomed with him sophomore year.”
“Christ,” he huffed. “It’s you, Banksy. Not Fulton. God, definitely not Fulton. He’s like my brother. It’s you.”
“Me? You had a crush on me?”
“I mean, can you call it a crush if it lasts 25 years?”
Adam’s jaw hit the floor.
“You still have a crush on me?” His voice was small, so much like that 10 year old who’d been forced to leave the Hawks. But there was hope.
Charlie, momentarily panicked before resigning himself to his fate. It had to come out.
“No, Adam. I don’t have a crush on you now.”
His best friend deflated slightly.
“I’m in love with you now. I have been for as long as I can remember. Even if I didn’t realize it. And I know you probably don’t feel the same way –“
“I do. Feel the same way. God, Charlie. I’ve been in love with you for ages.”
“Seriously?”
Adam nodded once, resolutely before Charlie’s lips were on his.
The kiss was quick and hungry and it left them both wanting more.
“Why didn’t you say anything?” Charlie demanded in a whisper as he pulled back, touching their foreheads together.
“Why didn’t you?” Adam sniped back.
“Touche. God so much lost time.”
“We didn’t lose anything, Charlie. We were together. That’s never a loss.”
“I love you, Banksy.”
“I love you too, Charlie.”
A/N: Yeah so I love them. I hope you enjoyed this. I stand by my theory that Charlie had a brief infatuation with Gunnar Stahl. Thanks for reading!
#Charlie Conway x Adam Banks#Charlie Conway#Adam Banks#Chadam#Mighty Ducks#d2 the mighty ducks#d3 the mighty ducks#the mighty ducks
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Klaus Fanfic: “A Tether”
I wrote a self indulgent thing for the Klaus 2019 fandom. Klaus is a Christmas movie. I’m trying to be sensitive and not post too much Christmas stuff.
But, I really like this movie, and it was an Oscar nom. The art is phenomenal, and I really like the characters.
That being said, obvs you don’t have to read it.
This is sort of a self projection fic? I wrote about Alva reflecting on the Spanish Flu of 1918 in a teacher’s point of view because I am burnt the fuck out.
“I haven’t heard from Jimmy Krum in 2 weeks. I’m worried. He said in his last letter that his family wasn’t doing well. He was trying to help his son apply for some kind of boarding school program in the city that I recommended last year.” Alva ran a hand across her face as she spoke to herself pacing across the floor of the post office attic. “Although, I can’t remember if he said they might wait until he turned 11 next year or not to send him out.”
“And you probably won’t hear from him until I can safely get out there again. I won’t let you go out. You’ve only just recovered.” Jesper opened the hatch to the attic and stuck his head through. “Go rest.”
“Jesper you know I can’t. I’ve been cooped up for so ...” Alva bit back a cough. “And you’re one to talk!”
“Nice save. Really, you are so convincing. I’ve been fever and cough free for a week. You on the other hand ...” He sat next to her, pulled her close, and kissed her temple. “Need to stop worrying. Everyone is fine. You sent enough homework with me to them, before we all boarded up, for two years. I promise.”
Alva sighed, and she supposed he was right. But, it didn’t stop her worrying. Despite the phone being a relatively old invention, most families in Smeerensberg didn’t own one. She couldn’t call and check in on kids the way she’d like to. Sure, some of the more well to do families had a phone, and she made good use of theirs to call those she could call. Jesper had to remind her to slow down often, especially in those first months of the pandemic, when they were still debating boarding up.
The town eventually chose to shut down after Jesper could no longer deliver the mail. He’d only stopped his deliveries when his own children got sick. This had been in late October.
The kids had gotten the flu, somehow, despite all their precautions. Then, for Alva, it seemed that everything really was over. She and Jesper were up at all hours of the night comforting their children. Alva had never seen Jesper cry so hard as she did when he thought he was alone on the phone with his own father. Jesper’s father was lucky enough to be spared the worst of the illness, and he was in sound enough headspace to listen to his son’s terrified sobbing for nearly an hour before Alva finally stepped in. She had listened to him cry begging for the illness to take him instead of his children, and Alva simply cried with him. There wasn’t much else they could do besides try to nurse their children as best they could and cling to one another in desperation.
In about two weeks, the children had recovered enough that they felt safe sending them to live with Espen Krum. Epen’s son had just recovered from the illness and war wounds, and Espen was more than happy to take in two young children that would cheer his son up for sure. Alva remembered how the thought of the two kids living there for awhile made Jesper smile. They both recalled how Jesper mailed the love letters back and forth between young Broderick Krum, the first toy recipient, and Greta Ellingbow during his time in The Great War.
Alva couldn’t help but be thankful that they’d sent the children away before they had the opportunity to see their father in the worst throws of the illness. Alva knew the illness preyed on healthy people almost more than those who had reasons for complications. She shuddered at the images of Jesper’s thrashing as he cried for his father, for her, and for Klaus. He begged her forgiveness as he sat trapped in the memory of all those Christmas Eve’s ago. She stayed with him as he begged Klaus’ understanding, promised he’d changed, and pleaded with her to still love him despite it all. Gone was the loving goofiness of the man who tucked their children in with jokes about stamps and letters. In its place, her strong husband shook with terror, and his fears of abandonment were laid bare before her. It was two weeks of caring for Jesper, and reassuring their children, before Jesper finally recovered enough for her to be satisfied.
It was only then, when she felt certain of his recovery, that her body finally succumbed to the illness. She had little recollection of the two weeks she was tended to by her husband, but he’d assured her that she hadn’t said anything too damning, and on the whole, she was more compliant than when she was healthy. He’d called the children faithfully each night, and he remained by her side all the other moments of the day. He rested with her, and he kept her cool. She still remembered just days ago, in the very first days of December, when she finally woke up and saw his face.
His eyes had sparkled with tears as he looked at her and whispered, “I knew you could do it.”
“Alva? Yoo-hoo?” Jesper waved a hand in front of her face.
Alva blinked herself back to the present moment.
“Sorry. I was just thinking about Lydia and Willem. It’ll be good to have the kids back before the holiday.” Alva leaned into Jesper’s shoulder.
He hummed his agreement. “Yes. Oh! Speaking of which. I have a surprise.”
Jesper helped his wife to her feet and guided her down the ladder and into their living room.
“Surprise!” He placed his chin on her shoulder. “I decorated it while you were sleeping.”
Alva smiled. It was far simpler than most years. The four stockings were hanging on the fire place. The tree was wrapped in a small amount of garland and maybe half of their ornaments were put up. She noticed the cookie plate already waiting with two glasses set out for the annual appearance.
Alva turned and stared at Jesper. “I sometimes wish he was still here. I have so many questions.”
Jesper hummed and pulled her close.
“As do I,” he said in a soft voice.
The two of them stood and surveyed the scene in silence for a few moments. Jesper placed his hands on Alva’s shoulders when they tensed suddenly.
“What is it? If you’re worried about Lydia, I just got word from Espen Krum that she’s had no complications. And, Willem has slept through the night soundly without bothering anybody for the last week.” Jesper reassured. “They’re doing fine. Also, we still do have a phone. I’ll let you pick 3 people to call as a treat. It is St. Nick’s Day after all.”
She blinked at him before face planting into his chest.
“I feel so useless.” She sobbed into his chest.
“Now, why would you think that? You’ve done so much for me, for the kids, and for your students. All through October, you taught every damn day, and made all those stupid work packets to last them until we could go back safe. You gave them book lists. You told them to call you if they had phones and were stuck. You even answered most calls until our own kids got sick. Alva,” he lifted her chin and kissed her forehead. “What more can you do?”
“I-I ... I don’t know.” She sobbed as she fell further into his chest. “I don’t know. But, it’s so hard. I can’t let it go back to the way it was before when the kids here could barely speak and poor Jimmy Krum was 13 and couldn’t write his own name. I can’t let that happen. What if they forget everything?”
“It won’t. You know why?” He wrapped his arms around her waist and swayed her side to side. “Because, you’re the best damn teacher this place has ever seen. You took kids who could barely speak and taught them to be kind, to think for themselves, to report the misdeeds of their parents, and to stand up for themselves. So what, they forget how to write the letter “a?” Or so what, Heather’s daughter still mixes up 0 and 8 like her mom did on her return address most of the time she was a kid? Those are all things that can be retaught. But, you’ve got heart again, now. You’ll make it work.”
Alva felt a fresh wave of tears bring her to her knees. “I’m sorry. I don’t know what’s wrong with me. I just ... I want to stop worrying, but I can’t. I want it to be over, Jesper. I want it to be over. I’m so tired.”
“I know.” Jesper knelt next to her. “Do you want me to hold you or will that make it worse?”
“Hold me?” Alva reached out to him.
They sat there on the floor for a long time as Alva clung to Jesper and cried. Jesper just rubbed her back and told her it was going to be okay in the end, but he recognized that it sucked right now. He reminded her she had every right to be sad and stressed, and he let her cry. He told her that she’d carried the weight of their family and town for too long. She had laughed and said they both had, and they both cried. They cried because the house was empty of the two people they loved most apart from each other. They cried because they’d never had the chance to mourn the moment they each thought one almost lost the other.
For, they knew, they would fade into the dark abyss of depression without one acting as the rope to tether the other from being lost in the icy sea.
Eventually, they rose on creaking limbs to sit in their chairs by the window. The two of them cast long glances at the snow outside.
“Do you think he knows? Or will I have to tell him?” Jesper’s voice was quiet and somber, in ways it so rarely was. “I don’t want to tell him that I almost lost you.”
“I don’t know, Jesper. But, something tells me that, somehow, he knows.” Alva patted his hand.
He nodded. “I was thinking that next week I would send for the kids and reopen the post office. Mail for Klaus is likely pretty backed up.”
Alva hummed her acknowledgement. “I think that would be a wise idea. Thank you for waiting that long. I know it’s hard for you.”
“I just ... I’m nervous. But, not about being out there. I just ... I never want you out of my sight again.” He clasped her hand tightly. “I don’t want to lose you.”
“You won’t.” She kissed his cheek. “It takes a lot more than that to get rid of me.”
He laughed lightly despite everything. “Good thing I actually want you around then.”
He stood, and they held each other for a moment before sharing a chaste kiss.
The two of them walked to their room, and they nestled down together in each other’s embrace. Tomorrow would find them still snuggled together as the rays of dawn poked through the window.
*******************The End **************************
Some notes on my thoughts about the timeline of events leading up to this/other weird headcanons.
I kind of assumed the movie was set in late 1890ish (based on fashion and some of the tech people had - such as the type of boat, the lack of whaling, and the items on Father Johanssen’s desk - I thought I saw some kind of phone which would have put the film at at least 1876).
Also, women’s fraternities began forming in the late 1860s-1870s. Considering Alva is a graduate of a university of some sort, we can infer that she would have gone to school during a time in which it was at least somewhat more normal to see women being educated. My sorority was founded in 1870 and we’re one of the oldest.
I would assume Alva is about 23-25 during the film considering she probs would have graduated at like 20ish. I thought she said she’d been there for like 3 years or so. So, I kind of assumed she’d graduated in mid to late 1890s and took her job in 1895 (20) and 3 (23) years later wanted to head out.
I also head canon that Alva was a member of the Sami tribe and left on less than great terms to go to the city to be educated. This is why she took the job in Smeerensberg in the first place. The Sami are pretty isolated from the feud and don’t really seem to know about it (to our knowledge). So, it would make sense that she might want to come home and patch things up by teaching nearby. It would also help to explain why she speaks and is able to translate Sami.
The only thing that kills this theory is the lack of cars. I suppose, since, those were invented in 1886? But, cars didn’t fully replace horses until 1907. Also, I’m pretty sure Smeerensberg is exempt from the car rule anyway.
Based on my weird digging into accurate time frames for the movie, I assumed the first Christmas was around 1898. That being said this takes place approximately 20ish years after my thoughts on when the film took place. The fic is set during the height of the Spanish Flu of 1918.
Further timeline clarifications: Alva and Jesper dated for about 3 years. They were married in 1901 (26/29). They had their first child in 1905 (30/33), and they had their second in 1908 (32/35). Klaus died 1910 (34/37) (12 years after the first Christmas in 1898). The original children would be in their 20s-30s ish (I pegged most of them to be about 5 and the oldest at about 13). Therefore, some of the older ones have kids of their own. Jesper and Alva’s kids are 13 (Lydia) and 10(Willem). Alva is approx 43 and Jesper is 46.
#klaus 2019#spanish flu#artists of the pandemic#christmas mention#Jesper#Alva#klaus#christmas movies#my fan fic#pip writes things#pip rambles#pip does life#special interest
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In Case You Don’t Live Forever P.1
Pairing: Xavier Plympton x Reader
Word count: 2,541
Warnings: sad, you might cry, spoiler warnings if you are not currently caught up, language
p.s. my first ever tumblr fic post! this didn’t end like i expected, please let me know what you think! not entirely proof-read.
*title inspired by Ben Platt’s song*
part 2 part 3 part 4
It has been a year.
It has been a year since your life was flipped upside down when he was murdered.
Xavier wasn’t your boyfriend, per se. You had known him for years, meeting him in kindergarten when you were seated next to each other in art, sharing colored pencils and drawing flowers in vibrant colors.
“Let me show you something!” Xavier had told you, taking the brightest yellow pencil and shakily drawing a sun that wasn't in the corner of the paper but in the middle. Your mouth dropped open at the absurd action; was this kid crazy!? Xavier smiled brightly and leaned over the paint-stained desk, and you could remember his contagious smile with missing teeth like it was yesterday.
Ever since then, you two were inseparable. You had moved in with each other two years after graduation, you working and going to school while Xavier aspired to be an actor, being an aerobics instructor on the side.
You also remember the last time you saw him. He was supposed to be a counselor at that forsaken place, Camp Redwood. Xavier was excited about the job; he didn’t have any siblings, but he liked children, for the most part. He loved the sassy ones, and that a majority of kids were not afraid to speak their mind. Plus, it would be good for him to get away from the bustling city of Los Angeles. He had begged you to come along, but you had a job, you couldn’t possibly take time off at such short notice.
Now that it has been so long, you wished you would have just gone with him. You knew there was no way you could have talked him out of going because you had already tried that.
“Are you sure, Xavier?” you asked him for the millionth time, as the two of you sat on the rickety couch, attempting to watch the latest blockbuster movie that had just come out on VHS. “That place has such bad memories for so many people, it’s probably haunted!”
Xavier shook his head, his blond hair falling in front of his baby blue eyes as he finally looked at you, giving you his signature smirk. Whenever he smiled at you, no matter how cocky he seemed, you smiled back. This time you refrained; you wanted Xavier to know you were serious about this. You really didn’t want him to go. Not only did it give you a bad feeling in the pit of your stomach, you knew you would miss him terribly.
“It’s going to be fine! You know why?” Xavier asked, leaning closer to you. You lost your resolve, unable to keep from smiling. He liked being close to you.
“Why?” you asked.
“I don’t believe in ghosts, y/n,” he whispered. “Plus, it’s probably all made up, anyhow. I’d be more worried about staying here with the night-stalker on the loose,” Xavier said nonchalantly as if YOU weren’t about to be left alone for the next few weeks.
You glared at him.
“.. Sorry,” he mumbled, and that was it.
You laid on your bed the morning of the anniversary, staring blankly at the analog clock on your bedside. It was still early, the sun barely peeking up over the LA skyline. Xavier’s room was still across the hall, door locked, and almost untouched since it happened. His parents had come and collected some of his stuff, and you refused to find another roommate.
You refused to move anything out of there, all of the clothes and shoes were still where he left them. What pictures of you two that you didn’t have hanging around the place were in there. Some days you needed to see his face; others you couldn’t bear the thought of it.
You planned on visiting his grave today, but you had been there too many times in the past few weeks. Your mom was becoming worried about you, figuring you were falling into a deep depression, and maybe you were. Xavier was the closest and best friend you ever had, you loved him.
You were in love with him.
Not a day goes by that you regret not telling him the truth. You had loved him for a few years, even when he had a fling with some chick Montana, or he occasionally brought a girl home when you were working a night shift. Your first boyfriend actually left you because he knew how you felt for Xavier, and you lied to Xavier by explaining the both of you thought it was best to see “other people.“
Once the sun had finally risen, you climbed out of bed and got ready. The sun was already blistering hot, you could tell as the drapes to your windows gently moved in the slight breeze outside your apartment window. You wanted to get some flowers and bring them to Xavier, or at least, his spirit.
As you walked to the small market next door and grabbed the most beautiful bouquet of flowers they offered, you thought of doing something a little bit different. Go to Camp Redwood.
It seemed like a great idea, as you quickly headed back to your apartment for your car keys. When Xavier’s mother called you that morning and told you what happened, you had raced to their house and listened as the detectives told them where they found him. He was laying by the shooting range, a deep, long stab wound into his stomach, alone. His face was severely burnt, and they assumed he may have been tortured before death. His funeral was closed-casket.
You grabbed one of the maps Xavier had brought home the night before he left, highlighting the route for you, in case you changed your mind.
"OR, if my agent calls me for an audition, this is very important, y/n! I don’t even know if the camp will have working phone lines!”
As you got into your car and started heading the one-hundred-and sixty-six miles to the site, you began to cry. The camp was once again abandoned. Apparently, one of the counselors was stabbing another as the bus full of kids approached. Now the county forbade the reopening of the camp, and around here, many people bragged about going to explore and “making it out alive.” They also claimed everything was still in place, you’d find where Xavier died, and the thought scared the shit out of you the closer you got.
You were forced to park your car in front of the entrance, where the gate was now heavily locked. The red letters were still a vibrant red, showing the lost dream of the crazy bitch who decided to reopen it. You took the flowers and held them tightly, almost too tightly as you slowly climbed over the gate and took off towards the shelters.
Nature had already taken over, as many of the cabins were slowly becoming covered in vines and moss, while tiny animals scurried around. You low-key hoped a bear wouldn’t pop out at you as you tried to navigate yourself. Caution tape still remained in some spots, flapping in the wind, causing you to become distracted at the horrors that went on here that night. There was a wooden map of the camp still standing, but the paint wasn’t in the best shape. However, you were able to tell you were by the women’s cabins.
It took a little longer than you thought, this place was more open than you assumed it would be. Your legs were slightly aching from the trek, but you pressed on, knowing you wouldn’t be satisfied if you wimped out. You turned a corner, and then suddenly, you were staring at a small group of targets, some of them on their sides from the elements or large animals.
Your hands were shaking as you observed the ground, not truly knowing where he took his last breaths, but you didn’t care. You made it.
You went to the only one still standing and gasped in horror. A large, silver 'X' was sprayed onto the targets face, before a small arrow was drawn, pointing to the side. You felt anger and hurt bubble in your chest, not knowing what the intentions were of whoever did this.
Multiple news sources released names of all the second Redwood victims, and of course, someone would do this. You hadn’t seen any other markings of vandalism, surprisingly, but perhaps you weren’t paying much attention. You slowly kneeled down and placed the flowers in a random spot, before falling onto your butt and sitting there.
Tears were still falling down your cheeks as you sat in silence, listening to the bugs in the trees and the sound of leaves blowing in the wind. The sun was beating hot onto your back, but you didn’t care. You had driven almost two hours to be here! You were just thankful nobody else was here, or maybe the sickos would come at night to gawk at the whole place like innocent people hadn’t died here.
You found yourself talking before too long. You told Xavier about his family, what they had been up to, and you talked about yourself. You had recently been promoted at work, you were thinking of getting your Masters degree, there was so much he was missing out on. You always talked to him at the cemetery, but here, it seemed more personal.
“I miss you so much, Xavier,” you sniffled out, wiping your nose on your arm, not caring how disgusting your face felt. It felt good to finally cry, you didn’t do it much anymore. “I-I should have been here, m-maybe we could have survived together, maybe I could have saved you,"
Silence.
You knew he couldn’t answer, you knew it. Yet, you still found yourself angry. Furious at Xavier for coming, mad at yourself for letting him go, for not coming with him. PISSED that anybody let this place open back up. It was good that you set the flowers down because they would be crushed by your fists.
"I don’t know if I can do this without you,” you sniffed. “I thought it would get better in time, not seeing you every day, not being able to hug you or watch television and pig out in front of the couch before hating ourselves,” you smiled at the memories the two of you had gathered over the past seventeen or so years. “Time is supposed to heal us, right? Xavier, I’m lost without you, nothing is right anymore!”
Your sobs grew louder as everything you had been holding in poured out. This pain was something you hadn’t experienced in your entire life; this was you coming to terms with the fact that it’s over. Absolutely nothing can bring him back, and you were going to live the next seventy years of your life in a world without Xavier in it.
Hours had to have passed when you finally got the courage to stand up, your throat parched, and your stomach growling in hunger. Your head was pounding as you gave Xavier’s spot a final glance. You’d come next year.
As you walked back to your car (more like stumbled) from the headache and evident sunburn on your skin, you screamed in fright when a girl with blonde hair darted in front of you, grabbing you into a headlock. You scrambled on your feet, attempting to keep your balance, while simultaneously kicking your leg to knee her in the vagina.
The mystery girl screamed in pain, her hold on you releasing. Another voice suddenly appeared around you, it was male. This crazy bitch glared at you from the ground as you backed away, holding your hands up in surrender.
“MONTANA! STOP THIS!” a man flew in your direction, also holding his hands up. He was cute, dark-skinned, wearing a striped shirt. “Are you okay?” he asked you in a genuine voice.
“N-No! What the fuck is wrong with you!?” you demanded, directing your words at Montana, who stood up but thankfully didn’t come near you. Her name didn’t immediately register in your brain, neither of theirs would at first.
“My name is Ray, this is-”
“Montana, bitch,” she hissed at you.
“I caught it the first time!” you snapped back. Montana’s expression slightly faltered, not expecting that. Ray had lowered his hands, but you continued holding them up, figuring if one of them charged, you could probably protect yourself a little better.
“What are you doing out here?” Ray asked you, and you looked at him with red eyes, a little snot on your nose, but neither cared. Montana had wanted to kill you, but Ray wouldn’t allow it, and Montana knew that.
“My name is y/n, first of all, and second, why is that your business?"
Montana let out a sarcastic laugh, "I like you!”
“Well, I don’t like you! You fucking attacked me!” you wheezed, wishing you would have left earlier to avoid this. You were not in the right state of mind. Montana blew off the little insult, happy she didn’t have the chance to kill you right away.
“I’m sorry about her, she is a little on edge around here,” Ray said, figuring it was a good explanation, given the circumstance of them being ghosts. “We get a lot of tourists, thinking they can trash the place, it’s upsetting,”
“Or they’re nasty perverts who get off on the scent of death infesting this place, and you don’t seem like either of those,” Montana commented, and you finally turned to look at her.
“I-I’m not,”
“Then, why were you here?” Montana pressed.
“My friend was killed here, I.. I was visiting him,”
Ray and Montana both shared a glance, and that’s when it clicked for Montana. She hadn’t paid attention to you much before, but now that she sized you up and down, and you revealed the reason you decided to show up, she knew.
“Holy fuck,” she breathed out.
“What? What’s going on?” Ray asked.
“DID YOU FIND HER?"
The sound of running footsteps once again freaked you out, wondering if you were about to be ambushed by three people. Suddenly, as if in slow motion, his face appeared in front of you. Not just his face, but his entire body. Montana was still watching you with an open mouth, and Ray only looked confused as fuck.
You took a step back, your body now trembling as both you and Xavier realized what was happening. He looked shocked, overwhelmed, and so many other things, but you couldn’t stand to look at him. You screamed, turning and running in the same direction you came, running faster than you ever had in your entire life.
"Xavier,” Montana breathed out.
“Montana!” Ray said.
“y/n,” Xavier choked.
“WHAT THE FUCK IS HAPPENING?” Ray shouted at the two people, both still at a loss for words. y/n was still screaming at the top of her lungs, but her voice was fading by the minute.
“Y/N!” Xavier yelled, taking off after you. It was an instinct that Montana and Ray followed, both trying to keep up.
But the way Xavier was screaming your name would make the coldest of hearts break.
#xavier plympton x reader#cody fern#ahs 1984#ahs spoilers#first fic#xavier plympton#michael langdon#jim mason#duncan shepherd#michael langdon x reader#jim mason x reader#duncan shepherd x reader
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The Good and The Bad, 06.07.20 - 06.30.20
2020 continues to outdo itself.
:(
So much for flattening the curve. The country somehow managed to have more Covid-19 cases than ever before. Who would have thought?
I keep ordering shit from Instagram ads that never shows up. I need to stop doing that. It's never expensive items, but more like "seen on tv" shit that probably wouldn't be that great even if I got it.
Apparently baseball is coming back but with a universal DH so I don't care.
My car's AC is out and man is that annoying on 90º days. I have an appointment to get it looked at on Friday so I have my fingers crossed it's something relatively inexpensive.
Of course things have to get heavy as hell in these updates. It's 2020 after all. So, turns out I know the person who is wanted by police for the murder of Dominique Fells. I went to middle school with the guy and more recently hung out with him every once in a while as he was close with a good friend of mine. Shocked, saddened, and flat out mad doesn't begin to describe it. I really hope that this is somehow a case of mistaken identity but either way, justice for Dominique is what needs to happen.
!
I have no idea why everybody was acting like Covid-19 went away when it's actually been getting worse nationwide. At least some places are starting to roll back their reopening plans. I have a feeling PA is going back to a more locked down situation within the next two to three weeks. At the same time, I'm still worried that it's going to take the death of a family member or a huge A-list celebrity for most people to take it as seriously as they should.
I went to Green Line Cafe for the first time in months today. It's great! You order online and they leave your order on the table for pick up when it's ready. You don't have to come in contact with anybody. I need to find more places that work like that.
The Last of Us Part II was great. I wish there was some sort of online co-op because the combat/crafting Is a lot of fun. I don't even generally like stealth games but it works here the way it worked for me in MGS4. A horde mode would be a great addition.
Speaking of games, I also started playing Bloodstained: Ritual of the Night. It's a game I actually put money towards on Kickstarter and while I wholeheartedly regret that decision for a myriad of reasons, the game is pretty good so far. I do wish I had opted for something other than the Switch version tho; this game absolutely chugs at points like nothing I've seen in recent memory. I can't believe I originally wanted to get the Vita version they said they would make. I can't imagine how slow that would have been.
I finished my first roll of film in forever over the weekend. My lab is still open so I guess I'll take it sometime this week.
(Also, as a more generally note...these G&B posts are kinda like a diary of sorts. Of course since I'm positing them publicly, I appreciate anyone who reads em and leaves a comment or feedback but uh, maybe don't reblog em. Also also, if you've read this far, wear a damn mask that covers your mouth AND your nose.)
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I’m going to try to come back to tumblr. I left for a bit because it’s been rough with all the virus posts. I get that there are so many of those posts because it’s pretty much the main thing right now, but I can only take so much.
For now, I’m going to use Xkit to turn off reblogs.
There’s only so much I can handle right now. I’m two panic attacks in and while #2 wasn’t as bad because I knew what it was (the first time I literally thought I was going to drop dead before the ambulance got here, but on #2 I knew not to take medical resources away from someone who may need it more than I did after knowing that I wasn’t actually dying like I thought I was the first time). So while I want to be informed (most of you know I’m a news junkie, but I’m literally under doctor’s orders to limit my news intake), I have to try to limit things.
But I’ve missed you all more than you can possibly know.
I would appreciate any posts about the virus being tagged with either #coronavirus or #COVID-19 so I can limit my intake.
I’m not saying that I will not post about it myself, but I will tag my posts in the same way as I did before I needed to back away for a bit.
But you are my friends, and not having you in my life has made my life less enjoyable. So I need to try to be a part of your lives as well. I just...need to step lightly. If I see a post that may send me over the edge, I need to skip it if I realize what it is before I start losing it. But any warnings about it being about this thing would be VERY welcome. I know the coronavirus has kind of become the Voldemort of our time; some people don’t want to use the name when they talk about it. And I absolutely get that.
We are in unprecedented times. And I honestly don’t know how to handle it. My brain is all over the place right now and I don’t know whether I’ll be okay or not in the long run, mentally.
We’ve faced widespread viruses before (I thought the plural would be “virii” but a web search after the squiggly red line under the word I searched it and apparently it’s “viruses”), but it’s never been like this in my lifetime.
Some of you have reached out to me in messages, email, or on other sites, and I cannot tell you the amount of love I have for you. And, honestly, for those of you who are just tumblr friends who don’t know me elsewhere, I have love for you as well. Some of you who have reached out are practically strangers to me, but I follow you on here because your content is important to me as it fits my interests.
But I’m picky about who I follow. Tumblr, for me, is about relationships. I come here because I have friends here. And once in a while, I make a new friend. Some I get to know better than others. But I don’t just accept anyone into my circle. If we’re friends here, it’s because I genuinely like you.
So be gentle with me. I’m two panic attacks into this thing (the first landed me in the hospital because I had never had one before and genuinely thought I was dying within minutes). The second, while not good (and had me use one of my five pills meant to abate such a thing -- I still have four left), I at least understood what was happening and didn’t involve paramedics.
But...I do need to be careful. I don’t want another panic attack. I had never had one before last week, but...if you haven’t had one, I’ll just say they are SCARY AS HELL when you’re having one. Again, I spent hours in the hospital (and, under current circumstances, unable to even have family visit me), and I’m very fortunate that a panic attack was all that it was, but...if you haven’t had a full-blown panic attack, it’s SCARY AS HECK.
As in, I was once robbed at gunpoint and thought the guy was going to shoot me. This was scarier than that. I cannot overstate how much I thought I was about to die. I even told Facebook that I was probably done for. I could barely even move my hands (apparently that was from hyperventilation) but I have co-worker friends on Facebook and wanted them to know why I wasn’t at work whenever we are able to reopen. This is literally what I posted at the time:
I struggled before that to text my little sister to tell her that I loved her, after saying it to my mom in person. I literally thought it was my last chance to say it to both of them, and while I have more friends here than on Facebook, it was toe coworker thing that made me choose to post what I thought was my final goodbye there instead of here. I didn’t have the strength or the control of my hands to try to make a second post here. As I said, I thought I was going to drop dead before the ambulance got here.
Stepdad and Mom tried to get me to sit down, but I refused -- I honestly thought that if I let myself sit or lie down, I would never again stand up. Willing myself to stay upright, I thought at the time, was the only chance I had. I didn’t even want to get on the gurney for the ambulance ride for the same reason, but it’s not like one can stand up in an ambulance (and while it wasn’t a “lights and sirens” ride, the driver took curves and I almost fell off the gurney a couple times -- my legs were strapped in, but not my upper body, and I had to brace myself a few times to keep from falling off).
I was SO happy to be able to text my mom and my little sister to tell them that I was going to be okay and able to come home that day (last time I was at this hospital, it was for three days and two blood transfusions).
My sis had texted after my initial text to say that there was SO much that she wanted to say to me (which she has since said) but that she didn’t know whether I would have been able to reply (for the first bit, I would not have been physically able to -- it was all I could do at the time to send her the “I love you” message but I would rather die trying to tell her that than to leave it unsaid), or if I would be able to due to being in the hospital (and for the next couple hours, that WAS the case, even after my hands stopped seizing up and shaking uncontrollably).
I mean, I had an Evil Stepdad with a gun. I’ve been robbed at gunpoint. And yet this still stands out as the scariest moment of my life.
Maybe that makes me a wimp. Maybe it doesn’t.
But tumblr has been my go-to social media for at LEAST a decade (granted, I have switched accounts once or twice).
I cannot get through this alone. And while I have Twitter and Facebook, both are mostly Disney (and on Facebook, the addition of coworkers). But y’all, my tumblr friends, know me better than anybody else. So I appreciate your support during these times, which some of you have already shown.
As a favor, I ask that you tag relevant posts with #coronavirus and/or #COVID-19 so I can limit how much the current situation affects me. If you miss one here or there, I get that. But while I like to keep informed (most of you know that I’m an absolute news junkie under normal circumstances and that I’m usually on top of things), I’m literally under Doctor’s orders to try to avoid news right now, but I also want to know the basics.
I’ve lived through an abusive stepdad who once tried to kill my mom. I’ve lived through natural disasters. I’ve lived through a LOT. I could probably come up with better examples if I had the mental energy. But I’m at my breaking point, and I’ve crossed that breaking point twice now and it would be a shame if I put myself over that edge again when there are so many other things that can do so.
I’m tentatively back, because I miss all of you. But that could change, because I need to take care of my mental health and avoid going over that edge again. Twice is MORE than enough.
No matter how you take this post,,whether you still support me or think I’m being a wimp, please be kind to one another in general and STAY HOME when you can (and when you cannot, PLEASE practice social distancing -- it’s only by us taking this seriously and supporting each other that we get through this).
And I mean this with absolute sincerity: I thank each and every one of you for being a friend. If we are friends here, we are friends in real life as far as I’m concerned. And the reason I’m friends with you is because you make my life better by being a part of it.
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Patton
This is the story of the catalyst that sent Patton out into the world, where he found his new fam-ILY. It is long, unbeta’d, and angsty. Please note the warnings, as I am very worried at all times about upsetting people. I have never posted anything really before, so I don’t know what all might need to be tagged, so I’m going overboard. Let me know if you see something else you’d like a warning for.
Content warnings, onscreen: frequent mentions of blood, non-graphic mentions a ‘friend’ being an asshole, hints at depression and negative thinking
Offscreen: suicide, arson, people being treated very poorly in a prison-esque place
Words: 6758
Patton skipped through the streets, grinning at anyone he happened to make eye contact with. The time he’d spent in Lliira’s temple, his home away from home, before his shopping trip hadn’t been enough to make this bearable.
Ordinarily, he would make more of an effort to greet everyone and catch up when he went out for supplies, but today he was looking forward to getting home. Today, he skipped home a little more stiffly, his purchases clutched to his chest, determined not to seem bothered. His smile was tight, and didn’t quite reach his eyes, but he had no intention of loitering long enough for anyone to notice.
He usually looked forward to the small talk. He took pleasure in the simplicity of the mindless how’ve-you-been, how’s-the-family, how-about-the-weather chatter. It was a bit more… Silent, at home; and while he understood it was what Mitchell needed, it was very far from what Patton preferred.
When they’d lived with the others, there was always background noise. There was always someone a few homes away singing, or praying, or hollering for the family to come in for dinner, or playing games.
After they’d moved to the other side of the valley, he’d taken to talking to himself under his breath. Sometimes he just danced to Lliira, on the tips of his toes to avoid being too noisy.
The small talk with the others was routine. Pleasant. He knew exactly what they were going to say, and took an odd sort of pride in seeming open and friendly with his answers without giving too much away.
Yes, they were doing fine- no thanks to that weather last week; have you ever seen such a storm at this time of year! Yes, Mitchell was as stubborn as ever about outings- had he mentioned, they probably won’t make it to dinner Saturday night, but thanks very much for asking! No, they didn’t need any help right now, but he would certainly reach out if anything changed.
Patton knew they were only trying to help, to rebuild the connections that used to be there, but Mitchell certainly didn’t want their help, and today he wasn’t sure if he could handle it. He honestly did not know if he could be interested in whatever they were doing day-to-day, to listen intently to someone’s account of doing their laundry.
In particular, he really was not in the mood to overhear the elders gossip about what a pity it was that they’d moved, that he didn’t have a family- nevermind how often he told them that he did, that Mitchell was his family, that they were all they needed.
They meant well. Their gossip stemmed from a legitimate worry that he and Mitchell were secluding themselves- which they were- out of grief for their parents- which they were not.
He was proud of his parents, and would never regret their willingness to risk their lives to help others. Mitchell just… needed space from other people. It was only the bonding they’d done over their parents that allowed Patton to come with him.
Now well past the market, Patton allowed himself to drop the pretense of Happy Pappy Patton. Following the Goddess of Joy did not make him as permanently happy as people seemed to assume.
He gave himself a moment to sigh, slouching slightly as he abandoned his normally perky posture. Setting his groceries down at his feet briefly, he rubbed his eyes harshly, blinking away the stars after. He reached down for his bags-
And froze. He had stopped moving before he even registered why; instinct beating out his rationalization. Footsteps, moving through leaves. Too big to be a halfling, but irregular, as if dragging something behind them. Nothing ever came out this way, so it wasn’t from here. And whatever it was, it was coming towards him.
Patton reached nervously for his staff, ready to defend himself, but it wasn’t there. He had left it at home, had never needed it on this trip before, had wanted his hands free for more groceries.
He took a step forward, towards the noise, and held his hands up in weak fists. Maybe if he looked ready to fight, they would leave? Anything that much larger than him and injured would likely lash out without warning.
He hated conflict of any kind, and Lliira was against violence, so he had never bothered to learn any offensive spells- not that that mattered, not with his staff at home, useless. Combat had been right out. Whatever was coming towards him maybe didn’t need to know that, though.
A Dragonborn burst through the trees ahead of him, stumbling to a stop when they realized they were no longer alone. They were breathing heavily, and Patton would normally attribute that to their having traveled for a while, if they weren’t also clutching their side, blood soaking their shirt.
The irregularity in their footsteps was also answered. The leg on the same side was turned out awkwardly, as though it had been twisted in the wrong direction and left there.
Patton’s fists immediately unfurled into placating hands, raising them up further.
“Hey there, kiddo,” he said, switching to Common. He spoke softly, hoping not to scare it. The Dragonborn was well over two times his height, and much more broad, but any creature that injured was likely to be wary of a stranger.
“My name is Patton. I’m an acolyte of Lliira, goddess of Joy, and you don’t look very joyful right now, pal. You look hurt; do you need help?”
The Dragonborn didn’t react. Maybe they weren’t familiar with Common? That would make helping them kind of difficult. Their scales were dull, and their face was deathly pale. They may not understand what he was saying, but they were running out of time to get medical attention before they were liable to lose consciousness, and there was no way Patton could carry them back home.
“Okay, bud; I know this is scary, but I need you to come home with me so I can help you, okay? I can heal you, but you have to come with me so I can use my staff. Without it, I don’t think I’ll be able to do enough to really help you.”
When they still didn’t acknowledge him, he took a breath, and reached out one of his hands very slowly, beckoning them forward.
“Please let me help you,” he begged. “I promise I won’t hurt you, and neither will anybody else. You’ll be safe. Please?”
The Dragonborn regarded him closely for a long moment, the sudden intensity of their gaze the only indication they’d heard him. They closed their eyes for a moment. Then, reopening them, they motioned slightly with the arm not holding their side, a small ‘after you’ gesture. Patton grinned in relief, and clapped his hands together.
“Oh, thank you!! Don’t you worry; we’ll get you fixed right up! You just follow me, okay?” Patton gathered up his groceries and led the way, his new friend shuffling along awkwardly behind him.
---
He was midway through a bit of a ramble about Lliira and how wonderful she was when they made it home. Patton went to usher them in, and abruptly stopped. Their ceiling was only just four feet tall. It was plenty of room for a halfling, but not nearly enough for a Dragonborn, even crawling. He turned to face them sheepishly.
“Sorry; the ceiling’s kinda low. I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but halflings run kinda small! We’ve never had anyone as tall as you visit, so I didn’t even think about it! Just... wait right here; I need to get everything sorted first. Do you need anything in the meantime? Water, a blanket, a snack?”
The Dragonborn shook his head ever so slightly, eyes closed. They looked like they were focused on just staying upright. Patton raced inside, throwing his bags and cloak onto the kitchen counter. Mitchell didn’t seem to be home; there was no light coming from under his door.
Hesitating slightly, Patton decided to go with his gut and bring out some water and a loaf of bread. He wasn’t sure what the diet of a Dragonborn looked like, but surely anything would be helpful after bleeding out for gosh knows how long. His staff was just inside the door, so he grabbed it on the way back out.
His friend was leaning heavily against a tree, favoring their injured leg, and didn’t react to Patton’s return. Setting down the bread and water, he lifted his staff and quickly cast Mold Earth, shaping the dirt in front of his house into a sort of low bed, large enough for the Dragonborn to lay down, and still have room next to them for Patton to work.
Patton stepped forward carefully, one hand still holding his staff, the other reaching out to them.
“Hey, bud. I made you a bed, you see? Time to lay down now so I can work. Then we’ll get you fixed right up, okay?”
He waited for a response, but none came. If it weren’t for the shallow rise and fall of their chest, he’d fear the worst. He took a chance and moved closer, keeping his voice low.
“I'm right here, pal. I’m going to touch you, okay? I just need to get you lying down; I don’t want you to fall and hurt yourself more while I’m working. I’m not going to hurt you. I just need you to move over here, alright?”
Nothing. Praying that they wouldn’t fall on him, Patton gingerly reached out and grabbed their hand. He tugged slightly, testing. After a long, tense moment, they pushed themself away from the tree weakly, eyes still shut tight. Patton grinned.
“There you go, kiddo! Are you sure you’re not a follower of Lliira too? Because we’re called Joy-bringers, and you sure are bringing me joy right now! Just a little further. I made you a nice little dirt bed- gosh, that sounds ominous, doesn’t it? Like the set-up to a dirt nap. None of those, please!
“I hope it’s comfy enough; I’ve never made a bed before. I’ve made a few little tables before, if I needed to set something down, but that’s about it as far as furniture. I do make bridges sometimes, if I’m trying to get over something big.” He paused. "Well, big compared to me."
Patton helped them stagger to the makeshift bed, and eased them onto it. Once they were settled, he took a deep breath, and lifted their shirt. Oh, dear. That was… not wonderful.
The severity of it had been hidden by fabric. He’d only really healed the occasional scrape and bump before. Every so often, he got called in to heal a fractured limb of some kind, but there were rarely visible effects, and nothing this gruesome. Wincing in sympathy, he squeezed his eyes shut and cast Cure Wounds.
Slowly but surely, the wound began to stitch itself back together. The blood stains remained, but at least it wasn’t actively bleeding anymore. It wasn’t perfect, and still looked a little raw, so he also threw in a Heal Wounds.
Thankfully, it didn’t look like there was any lasting damage, as far as Patton could tell. He let out a shaky breath, shook his head to clear it, and used another Cure Wounds on their leg.
“Well, that’s as much as I can do for you, kiddo. How do you feel? Better?”
The Dragonborn nodded ever so slightly, still out of it from the blood-loss and whatever else they’d been through. Patton patted their head gently, and brought them the bread and water.
“Now there’s something to be joyful about. Here’s a little something to settle your stomach. Let me know if you need anything else. I don’t know if you really like bread and water, but anything is better than nothing! You take small sips; I’ll be right back.”
Patton stepped back inside, taking a moment to rest his forehead on the doorway to the kitchen. That was a lot of magic, and a lot of stress, in a short period of time. He was going to need a nap after this. A long one.
Squaring his shoulders, he busied himself with collecting some rags and a bit more water to clean up the blood. Patton skipped back outside, carrying everything bundled in his arms. The water and bread still sat, untouched, on the bed next to the Dragonborn. Moving them to the side, he took a seat next to their hip.
“Now, I know you’re all fixed up, but you still look a little messy, so I’m going to get you all cleaned up, okay? I bet you’ll feel a lot better once you’re all clean. I’m going to take off your shirt, okay? Can you sit up a little for me?”
Without opening their eyes, they sat up slightly, yanking their shirt off roughly, before laying back down. They dropped it on the ground beside Patton, and rested their arm over their eyes. Even that much seemed to have winded them.
“Thanks, bud; but don’t overexert yourself, okay? You need to get your strength back. You really should have some water, at least, but for now you could probably use a long rest, huh?
“I’m still going to try and clean you up. Let me know if I’m hurting you any, okay? I’m not too used to cleaning scales, but I don’t want any blood getting stuck between them, you know?”
Patton waited for a refusal of some kind, but when it didn’t come, he set to work. Wetting one of the rags, he wiped gently over the worst areas. Hopefully, he could get most of it out of the way, and then go back to do the little crevices.
“It might distract you if you talked some. I wonder, can you tell me what happened? I know it’s none of my business, but you seem awfully far from home, and I’ve got to say that I am curious as to how you ended up so hurt. It’s okay if you can’t tell me, or if talking is too much right now; I just figured it’d be a good starting place.
“Besides, talking about bad things helps them feel less big, in my experience, and I’m a really good listener! You could start with your name if you wanted. Otherwise, I can just keep calling you my kiddo. Again, if you want to, that is. No pressure, sport. As you can probably tell, I’m more than capable of talking enough for the both of us!”
There was a long pause where Patton worked in silence. That was fine; he knew not everyone liked talking, especially to strangers. He’d give them another minute or two to decide if they wanted to talk, and if not, he’d find something to talk about.
Most of the newer blood was gone by now, leaving only the uncomfortable dried bits, when the Dragonborn spoke. Their voice was low and quiet, rumbling in their chest like thunder.
“My name is Camxakasendalor Ellionn. You may call me Ellionn.”
Patton squealed in excitement, alarming Ellionn so much that they lifted their arm up and stared at him in concern. He blushed.
“Sorry kiddo; I didn’t mean to scare you. I was just excited. I really like your name! It makes me really happy you were comfortable telling me!!”
“It is the least I could do, given your kindness. As for the source of my injuries...”
“Aw, shucks, Ellionn! You don’t owe me anything; I’m just happy to help! I just figured I’d ask, if you wanted to tell me.”
“I disagree, but I appreciate the sentiment. My injuries are the result of a decades-old decision."
"Decades? That looked awfully fresh for something that old, kiddo."
"You misunderstand me, although I do understand your confusion."
Ellionn paused to shift uncomfortably. They were, ostensibly, healed, but the area was likely still tender.
"I used to work as a sort of prison guard, for someone I had never met. I answered to an elf, who took joy in being rude and cruel. I kept watch over those that my employer deemed dangerous, or guilty, and the elf kept watch over me. I was told these were people who had committed a legitimate crime. I was happy to stand guard until they were set to stand trial."
Patton sat down next to their bed, sensing that this might be a long story. Ellionn had seemed hesitant to start, but now the words were pouring out.
"I found out after having worked there for ten years that, while some were legitimate criminals, many of those I had kept captive were merely people who my employer held a grudge against, or wished to get rid of quietly. None of his personal enemies ever stood trial. They stayed in their cells for years, decades, before being dragged away.
"When I discovered what I had been apart of, I demanded to see my employer, to know what right he had to condemn those he disliked. I was told that, if I had such strong feelings about it, I could see him personally- as one of his prisoners. I knew it would do no good if I were also imprisoned, so I held my tongue.
“A few weeks later, a high-priority group came in. They were under very high supervision, at all times, despite being too small to pose a physical threat. They were fed rarely, and treated worse than the prisoners who had committed actual crimes.
“I got myself transferred to their guard, and slowly earned their trust. I warned the prisoners to begin saving some of the few food scraps they were given, and get used to sleeping during the day. They were there for years; four of them, packed into a small cell.
The other guard fell asleep at his post one day. I took the opportunity. I let them escape. I waited until they were far enough away, then sounded the alarm. They were never found. I knew those in charge were suspicious of me, so I had to play the part a while longer. I stayed for another year, biding my time, then left. They took my departure as proof of my guilt. Powerful men like that do not forget slights, so I have been on the run since.
“They found me today. I lost them about an hour before you found me.”
Ellion let out a deep sigh and laid his head back, out of breath from his story. Patton could feel his mouth hanging open slightly, but he couldn’t find it in him to care. Goodness, how brave they must be! How strong! He ought to thank Lliira for his new friend; someone so kind must bring a lot of joy. He took a breath to say as much, but Ellionn beat him to it.
“Forgive me, but I feel a bit tired. I think it would benefit me if I slept for awhile.”
“Oh, of course!” Patton scrambled to his feet, gathering everything up, including their rather mangled shirt. He left behind the water and bread, in case they needed it.
“Just holler if you need anything, bud! I’ll be just in here. I still have to put away my groceries, after all! Sweet dreams!”
Patton made his way inside, careful to leave the door open in case Ellionn tried to call for him. He leaned his staff against the wall again. Rolling up his sleeves, he set to work cleaning everything up, including himself.
Apparently, it was hard to clean up a significant amount of blood without also getting covered in blood.
When everything was clean and put away again, he snuck a peek at Ellionn. Out like a light. Their being shirtless gave Patton an idea. Another glance at their old shirt, stiff with blood and torn right through, solidified it.
He grabbed an old blanket they didn’t use anymore, along with a needle and thread. Nothing of Patton’s or Mitchell’s would ever fit a Dragonborn, but maybe he could put together a new shirt for his new friend. At least they wouldn’t be covered in dried blood anymore. Nothing brings more joy than finally feeling clean after feeling icky for a while!
He sketched out a rough shape, making it a little bigger than he thought necessary, just in case. He cut out the pieces carefully, and sewed them together.
It was a bit rough, since he didn’t know Ellionn’s measurements, but anything had to be better than nothing. In the midst of looking for some prettier thread, to do a design on the front, he heard a shout from outside. Abandoning his search, he rushed outside, grabbing his staff just in case. Mitchell was home- and he had a dagger to Ellionn’s throat.
“Mitchell; no!! He’s a friend!! I’m helping him!”
Patton ran over and tried to insert himself between them, staff held in front of him defensively. Ellionn made no attempt to move. They seemed eerily calm for the situation; their eyes leveled on Mitchell’s face.
One hand was still resting on their stomach, but the other was wrapped around the water pitcher Patton had given them. It looked as though they’d had some water, which was good, although being held at knifepoint probably didn’t help them feel any better.
Mitchell, to his credit, pulled back slightly, but his dagger remained at the ready.
“Your friend? Patton, if you’ve known this thing for more than an hour, I’ll eat my own shirt,” he scoffed.
Patton shuffled uncomfortably. “They’re not a thing, kiddo. And just because we haven’t known each other long doesn’t mean we’re not friends. They were hurt, they needed help, and I helped them. That means we’re friends now. Right?”
He turned, looking earnestly at the Dragonborn. Their eyes, previously locked onto Mitchell’s dagger, flickered over to meet Patton’s. After a moment, they nodded, before looking quickly back to the knife. Patton beamed, turning back to Mitchell.
“You see? We’re friends; and I promised my friend they’d be safe with us! I would have brought them inside to be comfier, but I didn’t figure they’d fit all that well. We should look into getting a taller house, so we can have taller friends visit!”
Mitchell rolled his eyes, making no move to put away his dagger.
“Congratulations. You’re officially the most naive person I’ve ever met. You know this thing could just be tricking you, right? As soon as it’s better, it could kill us and steal all our crap.”
Patton frowned. “Mitchell, that’s not a very nice thing to say about someone you just met. In fact, you still haven’t met, because you’re too busy being mean! Introduce yourself properly, at least.”
“Why should I introduce myself to every random thing you bring home?”
“Because you are being extremely rude and judgmental, you’re still threatening them, and you’re calling a clearly sentient creature a ‘thing,’ which goes against the definition. Don’t you know that?”
Mitchell scowled, caught. If there was anything that would stop Mitchell in his tracks, it was questioning his knowledge. Patton continued, ignoring his sour expression.
“Ellionn, this is Mitchell. I told you about him on they way over, remember? Mitchell, this is Ellion Cam-xa-kas-en-dalor.” He sounded the name out slowly.
“That’s it, right?” Ellionn nodded, amused.
“Sorry; I just only heard it once, so I wasn’t sure. Since we’re doing introductions, my name is Patton Hugbringer, follower of Lliira, goddess of joy, happiness, dance, festivals, freedom, and all sorts of nice things, really! You already knew the Patton part, but I like my full name. Plus, I’m always happy to talk about Lliira. Nice to meet you, Ellionn!”
Patton grasped their hand gently and shook. Ellionn smiled at him faintly, then their face dropped.
“You.. your family name is Hugbringer?”
“Well, yeah! I think it fits; don’t you? Hugs sure do bring people a lot of joy!”
Ellionn seemed to be deep in thought, so Patton turned back to Mitchell, preparing to scold him further, when they spoke up again.
“Have you two parents, a male and a female?”
Patton froze, then forced himself to turn away for a moment. He could feel two sets of eyes burning into the back of his head- one concerned, one angry- but he refused to face them just yet.
Cleaning up would give him something to do, something that didn’t involve thinking about this. The pitcher. They’d already had some of the water. Surely, he could refill it by now.
“I did,” he answered finally. He laid his staff along the side of the bed and gathered up the pitcher, and the bread as well, as an afterthought. He hoped that would be the end of it, but of course not.
“Forgive me for intruding on a… clearly delicate subject, but… did your parents perhaps have friends who were called ‘Bookgatherer’?”
The water pitcher Patton had just picked up fell to the ground, splashing all over his feet. The bread bounced slightly, rolling away. He didn’t notice. He didn’t hear Mitchell yell, didn’t hear him immediately drill Ellionn for more information about their parents, didn’t hear Ellionn’s gentle concern for his sudden lack of response.
There was a sort of ringing in his ears. Did Ellionn know what had happened to their parents? Were they alive? Did he know why they left?
Slowly, he tuned back in, Mitchell’s increasingly frantic voice becoming more and more clear. He became aware of a hand on his arm- Ellionn’s, who was watching him carefully, and entirely ignoring Mitchell’s raving.
Silently, he raised one hand to Mitchell, signalling him to pause in his interrogation. He seemed ready to object, but an uncharacteristically sharp look from Patton silenced him.
“Bookgatherer is Mitchell’s family name. Did you… know our parents?”
Ellion’s face was stoney. “Do you recall the group of prisoners that I befriended, and let escape? The group of four who were too small to pose a threat?”
Patton pressed his hands against the dirt bed, needing some help to support himself. They were locked up in a cell? For that long? Who could they have upset so badly to be treated like that? Who was cruel enough to treat their parents like that?
Mitchell seemed ready to burst from frustration, so Patton quickly gave him a simplified version of Ellionn’s story.
“Okay, fine; so you’re a great person. Congratulations. Now where are our parents?”
“I don’t know,” said Ellionn, regretfully, “but I imagine that the same people who were looking for me are still looking for them, as well.”
“Do you know what they did? Why they were in there? Anything even remotely useful?”
“I am sorry, but I didn’t think to ask. I knew they didn’t deserve to be trapped there, so I was focused on getting them out. I do not know where they went after they left.” Ellionn looked as remorseful as they sounded.
Even as lost as he was, Patton couldn’t stand them being so upset. “No, it’s not your fault!! It’s not like you ever could have known this would happen! You already did a wonderful thing by letting them escape; there is no need for you to feel bad!”
“We’ll have to agree to disagree,” Mitchell sneered. Patton was worried about him. Sure, Mitchell had never been particularly… nice, or overly friendly. He didn’t always care as much as Patton did about other peoples’ feelings. But this? Being downright nasty to someone he’d never met before? This was new. And Patton didn’t like it. Before he could bring it up, though, Mitchell was speaking again.
“You said the people who were after you are also after them?”
“That is correct. By letting them go, I angered the same people they seem to have upset.”
“So, if I give you to these people, they’ll be able to bring me to whoever they work for?” Mitchell was pointedly not looking at Patton at this point.
Patton felt his blood run cold. “Mitchell. Kiddo, no; think about this for a second. Clearly, whoever these people are, they’re not nice. They locked our parents in a cell for years!! They would have killed them if Ellionn hadn’t let them out. What makes you think they won’t do the same to you?”
Mitchell rounded on him, clearly anticipating his argument.
“Just because you don’t care why our parents left us doesn’t mean I don’t. Your pal here broke a law. You’re just too stupid and naive to consider that maybe your family is more important than some felon. I think it’s perfectly reasonable to trade this thing for some information.” Patton recoiled, angry tears pricking at his eyes.
“There’s no way of knowing if they’ll even tell you the truth! What if they take you and Ellionn, and you still don’t learn anything? I can’t…” Patton trailed off, tears streaming. He wiped his eyes harshly, and started again.
“I won’t let you do this, kiddo.”
“For the millionth time, I’m older than you! You’re not a dad! And you’re too weak to even try to do anything to stop me. Keep it here while I go find whoever is searching for it.” With that, Mitchell turned and ran off, presumably to try and find the people who’d injured Ellionn.
Ellionn remained still, watching for Patton’s reaction. They seemed resigned, as if they were dreading his next move. Patton took a shaky breath, and picked up the items he’d dropped, seemingly unaware that he was still crying. When he did speak, it was low, emotionless.
“Can you run?”
Ellionn seemed startled. Whatever they had expected, this wasn’t it.
“Your friend seems determined to give me up. You intend to fight him on this? I was under the impression that you did not tend to disagree with him. Is he not your clan- your family?”
Patton screwed up his face against the fresh onslaught of tears. Ellionn waited patiently. When the feeling had passed, for the most part, he relaxed his face again. Still, though, he spoke in a quiet monotone.
“He is. He’s all I have left. But I can’t support this, and he knows that. He just doesn’t think I’ll do anything about it.”
“And what is it you intend to do?”
“Can you run,” Patton repeated, more urgently this time. There was no telling how long it would take Mitchell to find these people, but it was damn near certain he would find them. He was extremely adept at tracking, and a large, bleeding Dragonborn would have left a lot of traces to follow back. Ellionn searched his face for a moment. Whatever they found, it must have been enough. They nodded.
“I can run well enough. Your healing was extremely thorough.”
“Stand up then.” Patton grabbed his staff, and waited for Ellionn follow his instructions. Once they were standing, he dropped his Mold Earth, and let the dirt bed fall back to the ground.
“Wait here.” Patton headed into the house, and grabbed a handful of supplies. Water, some dried fruits, some bread. The shirt he’d made, although it looked like there wasn’t going to be time to make it pretty. The sharpened stick they used to cook sometimes. A blanket, in case it got cold. He bundled as much as he could in the blanket, and carried it out to Ellionn.
They’re still waiting for him outside, hovering uncomfortably. Patton handed them the shirt first, and waited for them to put it on before handing them the rest.
“Take these. I still don’t know what you eat, but anything is better than nothing. Water is always good. And I know you’re a grown boy, but even a sharp stick might keep them from getting too close, you know? Or if you need to get more food.
“Lay on the blanket at night, not under it. You’ll feel warmer if you’re not on the cold ground. Go in a straight line for a bit, to get some distance, but after that shake it up a little. It’ll make you harder to find.”
Ellionn patiently endured Patton’s fussing for a while longer, then stepped away gently.
“I should go. Your friend may be back soon, and I would like to be gone by then.”
“Yeah, you’re right. I just feel awful for putting you in this position, and Mitchell is so mad…”
Patton rushed forward and squeezed them in a short, fierce hug. Before he could pull away, he felt Ellionn wrap their arms around him carefully, returning the hug. When he did step back, he was moments from crying again.
“Okay, kiddo. Take care. Be safe, make good choices... I’m proud of you.”
Ellionn gave a small wave, then quickly made their way into the trees, heading in the opposite direction Mitchell had. They were out of sight a minute later, but Patton remained outside, staring after them, for much longer.
Eventually, he shook himself out of it, and headed inside to get rid of their old, bloodied shirt. There could be no evidence that Ellionn had even existed.
---
When Mitchell got back, Patton was sitting inside, staring at the wall, and showed no sign of having moved in quite a while.
“Where did it go,” he yelled, barging in. “You had one job, you idiot! I know you’ve got an issue with violence or whatever, but you can literally control dirt! You could have just buried it for a while until I got back!”
“They’re not an it. They’re a living person, who did nothing to you, and risked their life to help our parents. I told you I wouldn’t let you turn them in,” Patton said, monotonously. He made no effort to face Mitchell, but continued staring straight ahead.
“Wait. Did you actually let them leave?”
“I didn’t let them leave. I helped them leave. What you’re trying to do is wrong; I don’t care what your reason is. It’s cruel and unnecessary. I told you I wouldn’t let you do it. Even if it wasn’t cruel, I am a child of Lliira. She’s the goddess of joy, yes, but she’s also the goddess of freedom and liberty. I help people. I do not leave them to be thrown in jail for helping other people.”
Mitchell picked up the closest thing to him, the empty water pitcher, and threw it against the wall. It shattered easily, shards covering the floor.
“Are you fucking kidding me? We’ve been wondering for fucking decades where our parents were, why they left, what they were doing, and when we finally get a chance, you get rid of our one bargaining chip?? And are you forgetting your stupid friend is a wanted felon?? They ran away from their job! They let wanted criminals go! It is our legal duty to turn them in!”
Patton finally stood, eyes blazing.
“Those ‘wanted criminals’ were our parents! Do you care so much about finding out what they’re doing that you don’t care if it’s ‘rotting away?’ Are you so determined to find out where they are you’re willing for the answer to be a cell? Is that what your supposed ‘legal duty’ is worth to you?”
He’d never raised his voice before, and never to Mitchell, but he was screaming now.
“Yes, I let them go. I begged them to go. As a Joybringer and a kind person, I would rather let a hundred people go free than do something horrible just because it’s the law.”
Mitchell’s eyes went wide in shock, then narrowed.
“Are you so determined to do the ‘right thing’ that you’re willing to give up our only family?”
“You’re my family,” Patton cried, “at least you’re supposed to be! The least you could do is act like it! Why can’t you just accept that our parents did what they thought was right? They were willing to do something against the law to do the right thing, and you won’t even consider that maybe they had a point? What if they’re felons too? What if you find out they broke a thousand laws, just to do the right thing? Would you turn them in too? Even if it meant ruining their happiness? Their freedom?”
Mitchell stood and glared at him.
“You’re being idiotic; these things aren’t comparable. You’re so determined to be a good Joybringer for your little pacifist god? I’ll show you what I think of your ridiculous Lliira.”
He turned on his heel and stormed out, slamming the door behind him. Patton, eyes blurry with tears for what felt like the hundredth time that night, shuffled his way to his room.
He collapsed onto his bed and sobbed- for Ellionn, for their parents, for Mitchell, for Lliira, for himself.
Tomorrow, he would get up, collect and dispose of the pieces of the now-broken pitcher Mitchell had thrown. Tomorrow, he would find Mitchell and make him see reason. They’d never seen eye-to-eye on anything that put goodness against the law before, but that hadn’t stopped them from being family, and Patton was sure they could reach an understanding.
Tomorrow, he’d deal with the aftermath. Tonight, though; tonight he cried.
---
When Patton went out to find Mitchell the next morning, he expected him to be at the temples. He did not expect to find him at Lliira’s temple.
He did not expect the temple to be nearly ashes, for it to have burned down overnight. The kindling and empty bottles of absinthe surrounding the entrance ruled out the possibility of an accident, but the abandoned bucket of water outside hinted at remorse.
He did not expect to find Mitchell within those ashes. What was left of him.
Mitchell, who he’d grown up with, and considered his only remaining family. Mitchell, who valued knowledge above all else. Mitchell, who, in a fit of rage, set fire to a place of worship and learning. Who, it appeared, upon being unable to undo the mistake, had decided to go down with the ship.
---
The elders gossiped for ages. How tragic, they said. What horrible thing could have lead him to make such a choice? What would lead him to leave his only supporter behind? They mourned, but they did not grieve. How could they? Patton had been their only link to Mitchell; he’d never interacted with them willingly.
Those they’d grown up with came by every day, at first, then less often, then gave up altogether, as they realized Patton was not going to answer. The pile of food and sympathy gifts outside remained untouched, the windows dark, the doors locked.
After a week, whispers started. They questioned whether Patton was alright. If he was still in the house. If he had followed Mitchell’s lead, as he always had. If they ought to go check, before it perhaps became so obvious that they’d never get the smell out of the house.
A small group went down together. The door was open, but the only things that had touched the food and presents were the animals. A quick look inside told them that the house had been abandoned, along with everything in it. Wherever he’d gone, he’d taken only his staff, the clothes on his back, and his mother’s necklace.
---
Ten years passed. Very little changed. Patton kept to the woods in that time, usually, only coming into the outskirts of town to get supplies. He sometimes casted Speak With Animals to make friends with whatever creatures he came across, if he was feeling particularly lonely.
He forced himself not to think of Mitchell, or Lliira. He no longer danced to her, or prayed. Even acknowledging her was a painful reminder. It got easier as the years went on, but there were nights when he couldn’t escape them.
One night, when his thoughts threatened to overwhelm him, he gave in and followed a loud, thumping bass to a nearby town. It didn’t seem to be very populated. There were a few stragglers loitering outside the bar, including an older man leaning against a tree who winked at him knowingly as he passed, but it looked like most everyone was inside having a nice, if chaotic, time.
He headed inside and made himself at home at one of the tables, making small talk. He’d probably leave soon and head back to the forest, but for now, he took advantage of the blaring music drowning out any negative thoughts.
#patton hugbringer#patton sanders#ts fic#dnd fic#fun fact for people who read the tags:#'mitchell' is named after the unseen#asshole bf of Elliot in cartoon therapy!#ellion Camxakasendalor is like 'elliot' from ct#and 'cam' from the cam-cam#but made into a dragonborn-esque name lol#eVErYtHiNG hAs A MeANiNg
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After sheltering at home for nearly two months, tens of thousands of autoworkers have started streaming back into car and truck plants across the South and Midwest, a critical step toward bringing the nation’s largest manufacturing industry back to life.
In April, automakers, which were closing plants at various times, produced just 4,840 cars, pickup trucks and sport utility vehicles in North America, according to Automotive News, down from 1.4 million a year earlier. Sales of new vehicles in April fell by about 50 percent, according to Cox Automotive, a market researcher.
“The auto industry is America’s economic engine,” Ford Motor’s chief operating officer, Jim Farley, said during a recent conference call on the company’s reopening plans. “Restarting the entire auto ecosystem is how we restart the economy.”
Ford, General Motors, and Fiat Chrysler plan to restart production on Monday, after Toyota, Honda and Tesla began reopening plants last week. Hyundai restarted a plant in Alabama on May 4.
But production will not bounce back quickly. The revival will unfold over a week or more as dozens of auto plants and hundreds of factories owned by parts suppliers gear up and start making and shipping products. The speed with which companies can move will depend in part on how quickly national, state and local governments loosen stay-at-home orders in the United States, Canada and Mexico, because the industry’s supply chains are closely intertwined across North America.
Some automakers have already run into complications.
Tesla, for example, and its chief executive, Elon Musk, were so eager to resume production last week at the company’s factory in Fremont, Calif., that they defied local officials and sued the county.
Mercedes-Benz restarted an S.U.V. plant in Alabama on April 27, but stopped production on Friday after running short of parts. Volkswagen was scheduled to start making cars at a plant in Chattanooga, Tenn., on Sunday — two weeks after it had originally hoped to bring workers back, because many of its suppliers needed more time to get up and running.
The automakers announced in mid-March that they would shut down their plants as the coronavirus spread and cases started surging in the Northeast, Louisiana and the Detroit area, where the three biggest U.S. automakers are based. The risk of infection is considered high for assembly-line workers because they often spend long hours working alongside one another.
While many of the automakers’ white-collar employees have been able to work from home, the shutdowns idled nearly 400,000 automotive production workers in April, according to the Bureau of Labor Statistics. The industry accounts for about 4 percent of the nation’s economy.
There is little precedent for such an across-the-board shutdown, said Erik Gordon, a business professor at the University of Michigan. Of course, strikes have forced individual car companies to shut down periodically; one last fall idled G.M. plants for 40 days. But Mr. Gordon, who has long tracked the industry, couldn’t think of a time when the three big companies, their suppliers and many dealers had to shut down at the same time.
During World War II, the industry stopped making cars, but its plants were retooled to make armaments and kept millions of people employed, Mr. Gordon noted. “There’s really nothing we can compare this to because it’s the entire industry, and its supply chain, that has closed down completely,” he said.
Now, the industry faces another daunting task that it has never faced: restarting production during a pandemic.
Automakers have made numerous changes to reduce the risk of infection, including slowing down the rate at which they churn out cars. Most manufacturers plan to shorten shifts, with more down time in between for cleaning. Employees will also be required to stagger their arrival and departure to reduce contact with others during shift changes.
Ford, G.M. and Fiat Chrysler will ask workers to fill out questionnaires and have their temperatures taken before reporting for work. The goal is to identify anybody who may have symptoms or has been in contact with somebody who is or has been ill. Workers will be required to wear masks, gloves and eye protection while on the job.
Fiat Chrysler has installed thermal-imaging cameras in some hallways and entryways to check workers for fevers. On its assembly lines, the company has set up transparent curtains to prevent transmission between people who work next to each other. At some stations where two workers install under-the-hood components at the same time, the company has developed screens that can be placed on engines.
Ford has placed portable sinks and hand-sanitizer dispensers throughout its plants and installed no-touch faucets and soap dispensers in restrooms.
Under guidelines worked out with the United Automobile Workers union, employees will have to get tested for the virus if they show symptoms. G.M., Ford and Fiat Chrysler, however, are not planning to test workers daily or weekly even though the U.A.W. has pushed for it. On Saturday, Ford said it had secured contracts with health care providers in southeastern Michigan; Louisville, Ky.; Kansas City, Mo.; and Chicago to test symptomatic employees and provide results within 24 hours.
“We continue to advocate for as much testing as possible at the current time and eventually full testing when available,” the union’s president, Rory Gamble, said in a statement.
In Louisville, the home of two Ford plants that make trucks and large S.U.V.s, many workers are looking forward to getting steady paychecks again but also a little worried, said Todd Dunn, president of U.A.W. Local 862.
“Everybody is burning cash,” he said. “And the company needs to produce, or we won’t have a company to go back to.”
Still, the risk of sickness and the complexities of a new safety policies are weighing on workers.
“A lot of members have parents or in-laws at home,” Mr. Dunn said. “So you wonder, ‘Should I take off my clothes in the garage and take a shower?’ A lot of members have issues with child care.”
It will probably take many months before the industry is producing as many cars as it was before plants shut down. The delicate restart of production will probably unfold slowly over at least a week or more as dozens of auto plants and hundreds of others owned by parts suppliers resume manufacturing and shipping operations dependent on the loosening of stay-at-home orders in the United States, Canada and Mexico.
G.M., which had been running two or three shifts in its North American plants, will start most plants on a single shift per day, something automakers try to avoid. The company said it was not yet sure if it would be able to restart its three plants in Mexico on Monday.
Toyota’s North American plants restarted last week, operating on one or two shifts a day. Honda reopened its plants but isn’t seeking to increase production quickly, to give crews time to become accustomed to new safety procedures and working conditions.
For now, there is no great urgency for automakers to ramp up manufacturing, because auto sales are not expected to recover fully anytime soon.
AutoNation, the country’s largest dealership chain, reported last week that sales of new and used cars at the end of April were down about 20 percent from a year earlier, after falling 50 percent in the first 10 days of the month. Some people were buying cars because they were avoiding public transit and shared transportation services, the company’s chief executive, Mike Jackson, said.
“I think this will be a very difficult restart and they need to get on with it,” Mr. Jackson said about the automakers. “But I can see where if plants don’t restart, in a month or two there’s going to be some inventory issues.”
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http://sansaartimes.blogspot.com/2020/05/autoworkers-are-returning-as-carmakers.html
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Congratulations, CHARLIE! You’ve been accepted for the role of GONERIL. Admin Jen: You have no idea how happy we are that you’ll be bringing us Verona’s favorite firebrand, Charlie! Like you pointed out, it’s easy to write Grace off as just that -- a whirlwind of chaos and spite with nothing more to her other than that, but you’ve definitely succeeded in bringing her out of the shadow of that impression and exploring everything else that makes her shine. There is so much more to her than meets the eye, and your diligence and care when it comes to portraying that left us completely thrilled to have her flourish in your hands. We’re so glad to have you back, and we can’t wait to see what more you have in store for Grace! Please read over the checklist and send in your blog within 24 hours.
WELCOME TO THE MOB.
Out of Character
Alias | Charlie
Age | 22
Preferred Pronouns | she/her
Activity Level | 5-6/10. I’m a law student and working 20 hours per week. So it’s safe to say that my rl can be pretty stressful. In addition, I like to take my time with my replies so that I can actually be satisfied with how they turned out. I’ve found in the past that it’s the easiest and most efficient for me to do replies as inspiration strikes and queue them to post every 2-3 days which I plan to do as well. However, I’m available every day almost all day long on Tumblr and Discord to chat and plot.
Timezone | CET
How did you find the rp? | Originally, through Jen, but this time because I’ve been a part of the group before.
Current/Past RP Accounts | may I introduce you to https://ofbellos.tumblr.com/ and https://ofdupont.tumblr.com/
IN CHARACTER
Character | Grace Daly aka Goneril.
What drew you to this character? | Goneril is a character I’ve been intrigued by ever since I first stumbled across the rp. Back then, she was still a taken character so I’ve never really bothered thinking about whether I’d apply for her or not and when she was reopened, I had my fair share of characters that were keeping me busy.
Somehow this fascination I have with her has never fully gone away, though. There’s something about her, her passion, her fierceness, how unwilling she is to be anybody but herself (and to hell with everybody who has a problem with that, quite literally, you'll probably end up dead if you insult her) that just really intrigues me. I feel like it’s easy to assume that Grace is downright crazy or doesn’t think at all about the consequences her actions might have, that she might not even have the mental capability of doing so. But while she’s definitely lead by her emotions and doesn’t fully know how to control her temper (and mostly doesn’t even want to), she doesn’t act without thinking about the consequences beforehand, very often, she acts a certain way despite having thought about it before. The ‘problem’ is that, in most cases, she simply doesn’t give a damn. She lives to provoke, to toy with the line of right and wrong and to run right through the wall that exists on that line for most people simply because she enjoys it. A part of her is eager to see just how far she can go simply because the search excites her. It’s most of the time not really about the other person (except for the times somebody managed to piss her off, which, admittedly, is not the hardest thing to do) but mostly about herself and what she wants to do. Everything else is secondary. And quite frankly, there’s nothing that she hates more than being bored. She lives for the thrill, be it the thrill caused by a good old bar fight, killing somebody with your bare hands, a steaming hot fuck or a simple argument. And the power of winning the things listed before. In some way, everything’s a fight for her and the big thrill of life is in that fight and winning it. After all, Grace Daly is nothing if not a winner. Losing isn’t an option. However, despite what you might think at the first (or even second) glance, she’s not just all fun and games. There’s this blazing hot desire burning inside her to conquer and rule her own kingdom. I’m gonna stop right here because I’m gonna be exploring this aspect further in the future plot section. However, I definitely see these various facets Grace has to offer that are so unique to her in my eyes and I really want to explore those in greater detail. Grace is bold, loud, unapologetic, reckless and untamable all wrapped up in one fiery ball of chaos and she’s definitely a force to be reckoned with, not just despite but because of how unpredictable she is. It might have not gotten her where she wants to go so far, but that certainly doesn’t mean that there isn’t a certain kind of power in it.
She’s so unlike any other character I’ve ever truly played before and that’s one of the many reasons why I actually thought long and hard about whether to apply for her or not. She’ll be quite the challenge for me, I’m not ashamed to admit that, but part of the reason why I’m still so into rping after all these years is the desire to challenge myself and hopefully become a better writer in the end. Grace Daly will without a hint of a doubt be a challenge for me, but I’m so ready for that. Also, her uniqueness compared to other characters I’ve played - even characters I’ve already written here in DV - makes it possible for me to explore other plots, connections, and interactions I haven’t gotten to explore before which really excited me as well.
What is a future plot idea you have in mind for the character? |
I’ve added some future plot points that are more ideas than already thought out plots which I’ve called ‘ideas’ instead of ‘plots’. For a better understanding and cohesiveness, I’ve mixed them together so that they fit contentwise, I hope it isn’t too confusing. If it is, I want to apologize in advance.
PLOT 01
The Daly Sisters own a huge space of my heart when it comes to this rp. There dynamic is so unlike any other in the rp and, quite frankly, I cannot wait to sink my claws into that. I’d really love a family face-off, especially between Regina and Grace. After all, one of the reasons why Grace joined the Montagues in the first place - even if she’d never admit it out loud - is the fact that little, boring Regina got promoted to Captain by Cosimo after spending only a blink of an eye with the Capulets. She never earned her name the way Grace did, she did nothing to deserve it. And you can be dead sure that once word got out that Regina has been promoted to the position of a hitman - and sooner or later Grace would have found out, nothing stays secret in Verona forever -, she’d have been fuming. It’s just another promotion she doesn’t deserve. And here Grace is working her ass off - Grace Daly style, obviously - and has nothing to see for it. Actually, fuming would be a nice word. So yeah, I feel like a sisterly confrontation is overdue in Grace’s eyes. If you can’t ignore an annoying bug, you have to squash it to finally get rid of it. And Regina Daly is a bug Grace has been dying to step on for quite some while now. She tried to ignore her when she was younger, forget all about her existence in the first place, but apparently, that’s not an option anymore. So yes, I can totally see a sisterly face-off happen in the near future because sneaky scheming and planning to get rid of somebody isn’t really Grace’s style. She tends to rely on sheer brutality and cruelty and wouldn’t it be quite poetic to have one last fight to finally set an end to this argument (idk if you can even call it that cause I’m pretty sure Regina doesn’t give a damn about Grace)? Grace at least would love the poetry of it.
IDEA 01
This idea is related to the first plot in some way. It’s pretty established in her bio that Grace has never been willing to give her two younger sisters the time of day and would like to forget that she’s ever shared a home, not to mention blood ties with them. However, I want to explore just how deep this disinterest goes. I know for a fact that she wouldn’t shy away from killing Regina in cold blood. However, what about Catherine? Is there some small inkling in the dark hole that is her heart that does care for her? I’m not sure, but I want to find out. At the same time, I also want to explore if there’s actually a person (apart from herself) that she cares for or rather cares enough about enough to sacrifice? I don’t know if there’s a positive answer to that question, even though Grace is only human, after all, and it’s in the human nature to want to be connected to other people, but I just want to explore this question further.
IDEA 02
If I cannot bend Heaven, I’ll raise Hell. Even though you wouldn’t necessarily suspect it, Grace is ambitious as they come. Blame it on her parents for always treasuring her like grace from God, telling her she can everything she sets her dark eyes on, but she’s always known that she’ll be a queen an empress one day. And she won’t stop at anything to get her way. So far, she’s had very little success, though. After all, despite having been involved with the mob for years now, she’s still nothing more than a soldier, a little pawn in the game of others. While I’m not sure if she’d make a good ruler (in fact, I know the opposite is the case), she’s definitely a conqueror. Or has the potential to be once she figures out how to make the best use of the anger, passion, and fire that runs through her veins. She’s smart enough to figure it out. After all, as it’s already said in her bio “Every move she made was calculated, every strike meticulously aimed”. She definitely has the mental capacities for it. I think her biggest problem is that she needs to learn how to control her emotions and not have them influence her moves and the goal of her plans as they do now. However, learning is hard (read: almost impossible) when you’re as self-conceited as Grace is. I want to explore that struggle further, this dissonance of ambition & desire and her temper & boisterousness.
PLOT 02 a
This plot is related to the second idea.
If you can’t learn how to balance out your own strengths, you either need to accept that you might never reach your goal or team up with somebody who can provide what you’re lacking. The first one is clearly no option and the second one is not exactly the first thing that comes to your mind considering we’re talking about Grace either. After all, Grace isn’t really much of a team player either for she’s too selfish for that, not to mention too unpredictable, unreliable and many other things. However, I want her to seak out a partnership nonetheless. This is not to say that she’ll suddenly turn into a team-player or people person all of a sudden - hell no. No, it’d be a play really. It’d mostly be an idea born out of an alcoholic haze, nothing that serious at first. It’d be with somebody, who’s about just as desperate as she is to get to the top, and a partnership that is already doomed for a start because she plans to get rid of them as soon as the situation improves for her. She sure as hell doesn’t plan for one second to share the spotlight, they’ll just be a tool in some way. Not because she’d be manipulating them into thinking that she sees it as a real partnership, she’s no schemer, after all. No, they’d get into this with both eyes open and be ambitious enough to do it nonetheless, probably even thinking to cut her loose the first chance they get as well.
PLOT 02 b
As it’s kind of a second part of the second plot, I wanted to split those up.
I could totally see the previously mentioned partnership turn into something of a cat and mouse kinda game. It’d actually be quite intriguing to see somebody to challenge her directly and on a personal level for a change because while the whole thing would still be somewhat mob-related, it’d be more focused on the power they’ve gathered together and that both of them wants the biggest piece of. Or rather the only piece without having to share it with the other person. It’d need to be somebody who’d be her equal, who could handle themselves around her, but then again, if they couldn’t, this partnership would have never seen the light of day in the first place. I want Grace to face a challenge/challenger she can’t get rid of that easily. I want her having to face them again and again, simply because they’re both too stubborn to die and to give up what they’ve earned.
PLOT 03
This plot goes a little hand in hand with the previous plot, but I felt it still deserved a plot point on it’s own as it’s related to her connection with Ivan Rahal in particular.
Whereas Grace is chaos come to live and craves power above all, Ivan is a master chess player who craves chaos and destruction above all. It’s an unlike combination and yet one, that causes fear and terror among Verona’s citizens unlike any other for their united in their darkness and their thirst for blood. I feel like there’s so much Grace could learn from him and his talent for strategy. She wouldn’t ever ask for help nor would she want to change, after all, she’s perfect the way she is. Nonetheless, I want her to observe Ivan more closely, to study the way he thinks and does things, to get a feel for how he operates. I highly doubt she’d be able to employ these tactics for her own goals simply because she’s disciplined enough for that, but I feel like it’d be a valuable lesson for her nonetheless?
PLOT 04
I feel like it’s only a question until her treacherous past truly catches up to her. After all, so far, she’s gotten away with turning her back on the Capulets to join the enemy’s ranks pretty easily. I mean she’s still alive and relatively unharmed which is more than most people could say in the same situation. Of course, she’s under the Montagues’ protection, but even that doesn’t have the same weight in every part of Verona. Knowing Grace’s recklessness and her tendency to live dangerously, she doesn’t shy away from Capulet territory. Probably even provokes them when she feels like it simply because she can (and because it makes her feel powerful). So it’s only a question of time until she gets into a situation where she has to pay for what she’s done. Unlike Grace, I’m not narcissistic enough to assume that she’s the Capulets’ main agenda, however, especially in combination with the connection with Vivianne provided in her bio (so I could def see Vivianne playing a role in that one way or another, maybe even assigning somebody to take care of her? Maybe even Regina which would kind of fit together nicely with Plot 01), I do think that this is still a topic worth exploring. After all, the Capulets won’t just forgive and forget.
Are you comfortable with killing off your character? | Yes. With her recklessness and ability to piss off the people around her, I feel like it’s only a question of time until Grace is killed, not a question of if.
IN DEPTH.
mentions of graphic violence tw
Carelessly she flicks the cigarette against her chair, her lips curled up into an amused smirk and her long legs draped on the table in front of her. Grace Daly has never been one to give a damn about the rules of properness and she sure as isn’t going to start now just because everybody around her does it. Just because, apparently, there some things you simply “have” to do, especially when being in a lion’s den. Idioti. No, following the rules is something reserved for sheep, people who aren’t bold enough to make decisions for themselves. And Grace Daly is most certainly not a sheep nor is she scared of anything or anybody. Fear? She laughs in the face of fear. It’s not like she’s stupid. Even though it doesn’t look like it, she’s perfectly aware of how dangerous this situation can be for her. How she might not make it out of here alive. The sheer thrill of it causes the adrenalin to rush through her veins, the smirk on her lips to grow just a little more intense. Other people might sit on the edge of their seats, all fidgety and nervous. Not just because of the fact that she’s currently meeting who’s supposed to enemy nr. one, but also because this meeting alone is enough to paint her as a traitor in the eyes of some people. But not Grace. Oh hell no. No, it takes more to get under her skin. Besides, it’s not like she asked for this meeting. No, Damiano Montague reached out to her, invited her. And well, who was she to refuse, even if meeting with him for any other reason to put a bullet between his eyes might be enough reason to some to try put a bullet between her eyes? Turning down the invitation would have been plain stupid. However, not for the reason most people might believe. No, it wasn’t fear that made her accept the invitation, It was sheer ambition. Fuck rules of decency and properness, fuck the rules of the mob if they’re getting in the way of what she wants. After all, when has she ever not taken what she wanted the instant she wanted it, no matter what it takes? Her teeth and ambitions are bared now more than ever, after having her potential ignored in favor of her younger, colorless sister. If it takes a swim to the other side, to change that situation, it’d be stupid to turn down the opportunity.
Her head slightly tilted to the right, her dark eyes are focused on the man in front of her, eying him attentively. It’s quite ironic really how he looks nothing like Cosimo Capulet and exactly like him at the same time. There’s this air of confidence - arrogance really - surrounding him, the charisma of somebody who’s used to getting what he wants, who’s demanding it really. It takes only one look at him to know he doesn’t take well to being turned down. Not that she gives a damn. If he doesn’t offer her a deal she’s interested tonight, Grace won’t feel obligated in any way. Hell, if things don’t go the way she wants (and quite frankly, expects) them to, she might just try to ram or throw the knife she always has with her, hidden in her left boot, into his trachea. If she returns to the other side of the Adige with Damiano Montague’s blood on her hands - literally -, they just have to promote her to Captain at least. Better even, kiss her ass for quite some while. The smirk already gracing her lips grows just a little bit bigger at the thought of his face slowly losing all its color, the desperate death rattle of a dying man, maybe even some pleas for mercy. Somehow this turn of events would be almost just as nice as what she actually came here to do. So whatever is going to happen next, she knows she’ll come out of this little meeting with one sort of advantage in her hands. So much for Grace Daly being incapable of having a plan b.
Without taking her eyes of the mob boss in front of her - direct eye contact is important, after all, to assert dominance and to show that she isn’t the slightest bit afraid of him-, she stubs the cigarette on the wooden table, not giving a damn whether it’d leave a burn mark or not. After all, it’s not her table, is it? “Va bene, vecchio mio, how about you go ahead and make your offer?”, she says, her lips curled into a wolfish grin, “I don’t have all day, after all. Got some disloyal couriers I need to care of.” Oh, the irony talking about disloyalty and treachery while she’s currently committing treason herself. It’s not wasted on her, that’s for sure, quite the opposite, really, it’s highly appreciated. The thought that the Capulets have no idea what might be coming for them, made this little meeting all so sweeter. Would serve them right for ignoring her potential.
___
murder tw
Leaning against the door frame, her arms crossed before her chest, she just stands there for a moment, her eyes focused on Ivan, the corners of her mouth curled up into a lazy half-smirk. “Looks like you have the luck of having the best partner possible today”, she says as she pushes herself away from the frame and heads towards him. From everybody else, these words would have been meant as a joke and yet, even though there’s a slightly amused, teasing intonation to them, she’s dead honest. She might not have been a part of the Capulets for as long as other members, but Grace still knows she’s better than a lot of them. At his slightly amused “and I assume that special one is supposed to be you”, she gives him a little smirk and shrugs her shoulders just slightly. “What can I say? It’s not arrogant if it’s true.” Not that she’d care either way. Caring about what other people think of you is something reserved for pathetic people who aren’t sure of themselves. And she most certainly doesn’t belong in that category. “Sei pronto?” The little smirk still present on her lips, she puts the hand on the gun on her left hip. As a little extra backup, there’s a knife safely stored in the right back pocket of her jeans, hidden by her leather jacket. “Sí.” She’s ready in every possible meaning, eager to, hopefully, get her hands on some real action. Sure, this mission isn’t supposed to turn violent. It’s only planned as some sort of check-up meets interrogation to find out if the rumors are true and they’ve really gone behind their back and are dealing with the enemy. But then again, you could never know how they’d react to this checkup, right? And a girl could still hope, after all.
Slowly but self-assured they head straight towards the building that, their silhouettes one with the shadows of the containers. Every now and signal horns of approaching container ships disturb the silence, but apart from that, there’s complete silence. It’s quite peaceful, actually, she can’t help but notice and at the irony, the hint of a smile sneaks onto her lips. It’s so peaceful that nobody would expect the attack that is going to happen within a few minutes. Which, frankly, makes it even more fun. There’s nothing quite like taking something wholesome and peaceful and turning it upside down. Judging from the information they got, it’s gonna be a relatively easy job from the information they got. Three people top, most likely only lightly armed. They aren’t expecting an interrogation not to mention an attack any time soon, it’ll be like taking candy from a child.
After exchanging another glance with Ivan, she kicks the door open. “Ciao, stronzi.”Charming as ever, she flashes a wolfish grin at them. If they wanted somebody who’s all polite and diplomatic, they wouldn’t have paired Ivan up with her and so she sees no need to be anybody but her usual, charming self. However, for now, she lets Ivan take charge of the conversation. It’s more his style anyway. She prefers to stand there leaning against the door - these fuckers better don’t assume they could get past her - and casually playing with her knife as not that subtle thread while she attentively observes the interaction, ready to jump into action at any howsoever small, wrong movement.
It doesn’t take long, only a few questions to realize that their source was right, these bastardi are trying to cheat them out of their profit. They realize almost as quickly that their cover has blown as Ivan and she do and pull their guns. Too bad it’s only almost. Without thinking about twice, Grace throws her knife, aiming right at the left guy’s forehead. Ivan reacts just as quickly, taking out the other guy with one unerring shot. Everything happened so quickly, that it takes her a moment to fully process what just happened. Completely collected on the outside, she stares at the dead body in front of her with some morbid curiosity. Even though she’s already seen her fair share of dead bodies ever since having joined the Capulets, it’s the first time she’s responsible for one. It’s an intriguing feeling, really. A part of her is well aware of she should feel at least some sort of regret or guilt. And yet, there’s nothing of that crap on her mind. The only thing she feels is excitement and satisfaction. It felt good to bury that knife between his eyes before he could even fully realize what was about to happen, it still does, to be honest. Slowly she steps closer to the corpse and pulls the knife out of it without flinching. She’s never been afraid of blood and she most certainly isn’t going to start that now. If anything there’s something quite satisfying about seeing your work in all its unholy glory. Is this what it feels like to be God? This rush of power of having just ended one life simply because you chose to do so? For a moment longer, her eyes are focused on the body, eying it almost thoughtfully, before she turns back around to Ivan. “Well, this didn’t exactly turn out as planned”, she says, the hint of a smile in the corners of her mouth betraying her words. “Too bad we didn’t get to question them further before blowing their brains out, though. The info whether they decided to cheat on us all of a sudden on their own or were instigated by somebody else wouldn’t have been the worst to have.” It’s not like she particularly cares about the answer, what this answer could have gotten her recognition wise is the much more interesting question. Ah well, what’s done is done. She shrugs slightly as she wipes the blood of the knife on her jeans before putting it back into the back pocket. “Let’s go check out if we can find some more information on what these idiots were up to. Maybe they were stupid enough to store some important documents here that give us a better idea of how far this whole little boycott goes and if other business partners of us are involved.” Eliminating two traitors might be useful and a nice accomplishment, but it’s not enough for her. No, she seeks something more impressive to bring back to the headquarters. After all ‘nice’ accomplishments, didn’t exactly allow you to climb higher on the mob’s hierarchy, won’t get her the recognition she deserves and craves.
___
Everett Craven - Emissary. Easton Craven - Captain. And darling Regina promoted as well. Even hours later, her fingers grab the glass of Scotch in her hands more firmly, the knuckles from the pressure she exerts, the rest of her body just as tense. Honestly, if this was one big fucking joke it wasn’t remotely funny. And despite her rather unique, wicked sense of humor she could usually see a joke for what it is. Although it had to be one - it’d be the only explanation that made some sort of sense -, she knows it’s not. It’s the fucking reality that everybody, who so much as breaths, gets a fucking promotion. Hell, even on the Montague side, promotions are a dime a dozen and everybody gets one. A dry, sarcastic laugh dies in her throat before she can get it out. Everybody but her that is. It seems like no matter what she does, it’s just not good enough. Like she’s nothing but a slightly tamed but rabid dog you can’t fully control but the perfect tool for threatening and intimidating your enemies. The one you send out to do all the dirty, bloody, disgusting work nobody else is willing to get their hands dirty on. She takes a sip of her drink, the burning sensation of the liquor running down her throat is a welcome distraction and yet, it isn’t nearly enough to burn away the frustration. And she does what they want like the good dog she, apparently, is. Does jobs nobody else would want to do if they don’t have a choice, just to prove her worth. Follows orders, even though somebody like Henry Zhang - the thought of her Captain is enough to roll her eyes - really couldn’t handle her under any other circumstances. Plays nice with men like Faron Vasilev just to get in his good graces and have him speak out for her. Even now she can still smell his cologne, the air of arrogance and entitlement surrounding men like him. It tastes sour in the back of her mouth, her. Maybe she should have tried sleeping with him while she still had the chance, seemed to have worked out perfectly for that puta Calina, after all. She even plasters a (more or less) friendly smile she plasters on her face every time Damiano walks past her and keeps her mouth shut, even when they talk bullshit. Her stomach twists and turns. They could drop dead this instant for all she cares and yet, she still plays nice.
And for what? A small part of her mind that is still capable of thinking straight knows that she might just haven’t been a part of the Montagues long enough to earn the position of Captain. Castora has been a Montague for longer than her, it’s true. But Damiano wanted her. With one loud, shrieking noise, a glass breaks into a million shards as Grace throws it against the wall, not giving a damn if its ember content ruins the wall. He invited her personally into the fold and she deigned to accept that invitation. And yet, she’s still left with nothing. Maybe she really should have slit his throat right there during that meeting that promised to be a turning point. Frowning just slightly, her lips curled up into a sneer, the drops of liquor on the wall turning into crimson red bloodstains in her mind. She could have painted the walls red with mighty Damiano’s blood. She should have. That at least ought to have earned her a promotion with the Capulets. And yet, she’d resisted, had believed the stronzo’s golden lies of how they could achieve something great together, of how he could offer her more than Cosimo ever could. She’d known that he couldn’t make her Captain right away, that wasn’t how things worked. Anybody, who’d promoted somebody who’d only just been accepted into the fold (not to mention from the opposing side) was plain stupid, Grace understood that. But hasn’t she waited long enough now? Isn’t it time for her patience and hard work to finally be rewarded? And instead, she simply gets overlooked again.
It’s not the first time she’s been overlooked, she should be used to it by now. She used to be the center of their parents’ universe, until her younger sisters - it’s an insult really, not a term of endearment -, took it away from her. After all, ever since darling Cat came into the world with her blonde locks and angelic nature, their father would choose the younger over her, dote on her instead of always on her like he used to. Memories of a little Cat, innocence come to life, run through her mind and she scowls. Her sweetness tastes like acid on her tongue, always has. And Regina took away the recognition and respect of the Capulets. The thought of her passionless, disinterested attitude alone is enough for her body to tense up and yearn for something else to punch bloody. How can somebody be so bland and yet so successful? Grace has always been fire and action and still, no matter how intense and destructive her fire, Regina’s hollowness seems to swallow it whole. If she ever felt a small flicker of sisterly love it’s long gone, she should have killed both long ago. Should have drowned them both like you did with unwanted puppies and kittens. Being overlooked is certainly nothing new so she really should be used to it by now. And yet, it hurts all the same, the sting of rejection, of not being good enough or enough, really. Whatever she does, she always gets overlooked for somebody else. For somebody who doesn’t want it nearly as much as she does. Who wouldn’t be as a great fit for the position as she would. She knows she can do better than all of them, why won’t anybody see it? Why won’t anybody see her for the potential that she has to offer?
For a time, it seemed like Damiano Montague saw it, saw her. That he would value her like the Capulets never did. And now she knows how wrong she’s been. Red painted lips twist into a sneer as she forgoes the thought of getting another glass and grabs the bottle instead. One sip, then another. She could empty the whole bottle, drink herself into oblivion and the liquor still couldn’t wash away the all-consuming feeling of humiliation cutting through her intestines like a hot burning iron. How utterly stupid she’d been. If she’s completely honest, it hurts almost just as much as the disappointment and rejection that she’s partially to blame for her misery. She should have been smart enough to see through Damiano’s empty promises. Eyes focused on the wall in front of her, she glares a hole. One rapid breath, another, her body tensing with every single one - then she punches it, only barely noticing the dull pain quickly spreading from the via the arm to her shoulder or the sting of the bloody, torn open knuckles. She should have at least thought in greater detail about how her chances at a promotion, at validation, are, if she stayed with the Capulets. After all, if colorless, hollow Regina managed to get two promotions, it should be out of the question that she would have made it to Captain during that time. She needs to believe she would have. Her stomach slumps at the mere prospect of not having made the cut either way. No, everything else is unacceptable. And yet, despite priding herself on her cleverness, she allowed herself to be blinded her own and ambition. It’d felt so good to be seen, to have your potential and talent acknowledged, to be recognized for what difference you could make if you changed the teams, that she’d gladly taken the opportunity offered to her on a silver platter. The Capulets never valued her, so why should she burden herself with them if somebody else could offer her the opportunity to finally rise to the station she knows she deserves? Her eyes fixed on the mess she just created - the shards, her bleeding knuckles, the ruined wall - she can’t hold back cynical laughter any longer. It’s too much of a representation of the rest of her life. After all, as it now turns out, neither do the Montagues really see and value her. She desperately wants to say that it’s their loss, that it’ll be their own ruin. And it probably will be. But if she’s completely honest, right now, it is her loss. She’s the one who has to deal with the humiliation of having switched sides for nothing. To have made a traitor of herself for nothing. To have started again from scratch basically for absolutely nothing.
Extras:
A Mockblog can be found here. Pls ignore the ugliness, I couldn’t be bothered to make it fancy as I’d only use it to reblog stuff from if I should get accepted anyway.
You can find a pinterest board here.
MB Type: ESTP-A - The Entrepreneur
Eneagram Type: Type 8 - The Challenger (81%)
Type 3 - The Achiever (61%)
Moral Alignment: Chaotic Evil
The Four Temperaments: Choleric
Archetypes: Rebel (56%) - The Wild Woman, The Criminal & The Rebel
Explorer (22%) - The Adventurer & The Explorer
Royal (22%) - The Excecutive, The Bully & The Greenvy
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Love Will Find a Way, Well, Eventually : 2. In Between
“Where are you going?”
If it was inside Cartoon Network’s universe, everyone must be able to see the smoke fuming from both his nostrils and ears. Jinki looks beyond distressed when he’s lifting his ass from the chair. No one on the table was his partner, but Minho decided to throw some ridiculous question then played dumb as if he didn’t just ask one.
“Should I have number one here?”
He started getting irked, but that doesn’t stay long until Kibum casually munched his breadstick while spluttering his witty comments as usual, “Surely Taemin would be delightful.”
Taemin who didn’t do anything almost chocked himself with a piece of tomato and kicked Kibum’s shin under the table, eventually.
“Promise me you won’t run away?”
Dumbfounded, Jinki emptied his pocket and almost smashed the table with his belonging.
“Are you my husband? Here’s my wallet. And my phone!” and with that, he left the other three men finishing their meal.
“Is he always in this temper?”
Lee Taemin gave him another look, pleading him not to embarrass them further, but Kibum just shrugged and muttered ‘I’m just asking’ under his nose.
“He was mad with me since this afternoon. Plus, he has lots of stuffs to think about these days. But don’t worry, he never really got mad unless you disturb his nap.”
“What is he? A bear?”
“Yaa! Kim Kibum!”
Minho couldn’t help but laugh to the scene happened before his eyes. Taemin is famous for being friendly and very expressive only if you know him, even if he’s talkative. To penetrate his bubble is very hard at first, but this man sitting across him, he seems like he’s already inside that bubble since the very beginning. He really is someone closed to him. Kibum looks mesmerizing, even in his grumbling nature. The oversize sweater wrapped his lithe build perfectly.
A phone call arrived to Kibum's phone, he picked it up frantically and excused himself to take it outside.
"What do you think?"
“Eh?” Minho doesn’t even realized he got his eyes entailed Kibum’s silhouette until it disappear by the entrance door.
“You seemed in trance. I know Kibum is beautiful but I didn’t expect you’ll be this amazed with my friend,” Taemin’s sipping his wine, a smirk is very apparent in his devious face.
“I guess it’s safe to say that you’re not a liar.”
Minho reopened his mouth few minutes after he’s assured that Kibum’s not going back any soon. Taemin is not ecstatic, sometimes he wondered if Minho has a decent sense of humor of a friend.
“For your information, I’m not and never been. I’m the most honest person you’ve ever encountered in your life.”
“Everyone in this room knows that’s not true.”
“Whatever. I might know my ways deceiving people, but I never lie to my friend.”
“Did you just admit that you’re lying here and there, Lee Taemin?”
Taemin rolls his eyes, again, probably for the nth times already this evening. Without Jinki around, he can be more relaxed on throwing his tantrum on Minho.
“Choi Minho, people lies at some certain points of their life. Get over it.”
He gulped down the rest of his wine, Taemin then called a waiter near them to bring him another one.
“Kibum seems nice. He sounds smart.”
“Sounds? Did you even listen to yourself? No writer is not smart, Choi. Moreover, someone who’s been writing the past decade!”
“I only know him for one night. Who knows he’s just acting?”
“Dude, not everyone is an asshole like you.”
“An asshole wouldn’t agree to bring his best friend along in front of a psychopath like you.”
Taemin snorted and Minho’s smirk reappeared on his face.
“That is literally what a psycho would do, selling their friend for their own benefits.”
Minho wiped his mouth before washed down the dinner with cold water, “And that’s exactly what Jinki accused me for. You two shared a brain or what?”
“Any sane people would say the same, Honey,” this time Taemin’s smirk that made the other scoffed, “By the way, what’s the deal with Jinki? He looks like he’s been sitting on thorny cushion the whole dinner!”
Minho knows Taemin would ask such question eventually. However, he couldn’t say that Jinki hates the whole dinner date plan, it’s impossible. Besides that, knowing him for years, Jinki really is an angel in disguise, well, at least when he’s in the mood.
“People have different, what should I say, defense mechanism? And that’s how he is. What kind of person who talked nonstop during their first meeting, anyway?”
“Oh, I don’t know, me?”
“That’s why you’re a freak.”
“A freak who introduced you to your potentially next boyfriend.”
“Ha. Point taken,” Minho raised his hand to ask for the dessert, “Jinki is just not the type of person who will talk a lot and open up in a second. But I guarantee you, he’s a good person. Sometimes a little bit care too much for other at certain time so probably being brazen is his forte.”
“That reminds me of someone.”
Taemin and Kibum spent their high school days together. Separated for some years due to works and educations, their relationship’s all well maintained. They understand each other, including Kibum’s nature to always put others before him at any given situation.
“Appearance wise, though, what do you think about Jinki?”
“Choi Minho, I’m not a teenager anymore. Judging people around by its cover is no longer my habit.”
“But a designer like you must love a beautiful package, don’t they?”
“Well, to be honest, his lips and eyes itself could get me floored in one glance.”
“I knew it.”
“You’re a famous photographer for a reason.”
***
Cold wind slapped Kibum’s cheeks lightly when he pushed the door and parched to the corner near the valet post.
“Okay, now you can speak. Sorry, I don’t know why the reception wasn’t good enough inside.”
“Then I’ll be frankly here. There’s a possibility for making the special edition for the short story collection. But then, we’re still short of two stories at the moment.”
“Wait, wait, but we already have nine! I finished writing nine! Why should I add another two?”
“The publisher agreed to the preposition for at least twelve stories. You should be grateful I could pitch one less story!”
Kibum looks like he’s about to punch anyone passed within radius one meter around him, but nothing in reach besides a huge pot of short palm tree and concrete wall. And he needs his hand to finish his books still.
“But, Amber. Page wise, those are more than enough to make two new books. Are they out of their mind?”
There’s a loud groan banging on his ear drum came from the other line, “Dude, I almost flipped the table when I was at the meeting you have no idea. The board has new man and that guy is a pain in the ass.”
“Would it change the circumstance if I talked to them by myself?”
“Since when do they have time to talk to the writer directly? We’re head to head with bunch of snobs here, did you forget?”
“I should had not agree to let them touched my writings. Now we’re about to face dead end.”
It was a dream to work along this publisher. It was Kibum’s dream since he started writing when he took gap year after graduated high school. And as if it’s a fate, it was the only publisher agreed with his graphic novel concept five years he climbed his career professionally.
“Listen, Kibum. When I met you years ago, I promised I’ll work my ass hard to help you publishing your books. Not because I knew you, it’s because you’re good. You’re amazing writer and I’m not giving up easily. And neither you. Not when anybody can tell that you’re a gem.”
“I haven’t written any book since last year, Amber. I’m in a slump. Writer’s block is not even describing my bad luck at the moment.”
“Honey, you haven’t written any because you’re currently waiting two books released. And if I could do my magic, another one in, let’s say, six months.”
“If I could make up some words into another story within two weeks. If you could convince them to give me mercy.”
“Did you just know me yesterday?”
Kibum’s tired giving sane response, “What do you mean?”
“I’m waiting their secretary to call me in ten minutes. We’re going to discuss some new deals and I’ll make sure one of them is going to be your new nine stories book.”
“I actually have no idea if I don’t have you as my editor slash manager slash friend slash personal ranting partner slash whatever you want to be.”
“Rockstar. That would be cool.”
“You’re going to be a kick ass one to be honest.”
“I bet. Anyway, expect another call from me in the next couple hours. I’m sorry, but tonight we might need video call to resolve some issues.”
“I hate you for confiscating my time but you’re the best.”
“As always, ain’t I?”
The phone call ends already, but he still forlornly looking at his phone’s screen. With that, Kibum remembers all the works he needs to catch up for tonight. With that, he can put aside all the unnecessary anxiety and tension of tonight’s stupid match making session.
He took a glance of his watch and could only sighed, he better hurried inside to his dessert. The faster he finished, the sooner he can hit home and face the real deal. His deadlines.
Two steps away from the entrance however, he caught a familiar face sitting by themselves, staring to the busy street in front of the restaurant.
“Jinki?” he carefully calling the man, “Lee Jinki, right?”
The later tilted his head to the right and gave Kibum a simple smile, didn’t realize it dropped Kibum’s heart by the bottom of his gut.
“Aren’t you cold?”
Everyone would agree this winter is even harsher than last year’s. Jinki just lifted his left hand to make sure Kibum saw a cigarette slipped between his fingers, “Can I sit here?”
Jinki chuckles, “Aren’t you cold?”
Listening to the same question he threw a minute ago, he just rolled his eyes and took a place next to the other man.
“I’m waiting a phone call.”
“Important?”
“Kinda.”
Jinki blew some smoke out, “Hmm, I guess so. You sounded pretty upset over there.”
“Did I scream that loud?!”
“In my opinion? No. but a girl flinched and buzzed off rather hastily, so, you tell me.”
When he saw Kibum’s gaping like a fish in frantic expression, Jinki has no choices beside laughed again, surprising Kibum who’s quite convinced with his aloof personalities.
“I didn’t know you have so many jokes in store.”
“You learn something new every day.”
“Your face doesn’t show.”
“What about my face?”
“It’s handsome but with that attitude inside, seems like you’re the type who woke up at the wrong side of the bed every single morning and could kill someone annoys you at any time.”
“Well, to be fair, I did wake up in the wrong side of my bed this morning. But it’s because a certain dog occupied half of my blanket so I couldn’t disturb her.”
“You have a dog?!”
Kibum’s face lit up thousand times as if he just won some lottery. Strangely, it warms Jinki’s heart. No, scratch that, it would warm any heart, Jinki tried to generalize the situation.
“I don’t, unfortunately. She belongs to my friend. I’m taking care of her while he’s travelling abroad. Her father will pick her up this weekend.”
“Ah, too bad. We could have play date with my boys.”
“I’ll make sure to give you a call when I decided to adopt one later.”
“Do you think my invitation hasn’t expired yet by that time?”
“A man can only dream, can’t he?”
Kibum’s laughter is muffled by his own palm covering his mouth.
“Let’s go inside, you must be shivering.”
“But your cigarette?”
Kibum’s half stuttered caught red handed, Jinki already pressed the half-done cigarette on the sand bowl on his left, “I can always have another one at home. Besides, I doubt you would go inside without me dragging you along.”
Kibum thanked the universe that the place is not well lit, so he could hide the blush creeping his cheeks. Unfortunately, Jinki has a very good eye sight.
***
“Is my baby being a good girl when daddy’s away?”
Jinki scoffed when the man just entered his living room just literally threw his suitcase aside and scooped the little dachshund running toward his embrace. He gathered the suitcase and poor leather bag on the floor and placed it neatly near the saffron color couch.
The man later dropped himself next to Jinki who’s lounged himself there, checking his phone halfheartedly.
“Minho texted me the other day.”
“Why did he keep texting you?”
The man with dark grey hair didn’t catch the frown hanging on Jinki’s face and buried his face to the dog’s belly, making him groaned again. He lightly pushed the dog further and toppled his head on the other man’s laps.
The dog owner realized something’s happened when he’s not around. He put the dog on the ground and tapped her butt to send her back to her small bed near the pantry.
“Minho has my number and I have his name in my contact list. He can text me whenever he wants. Still jealous?”
Jinki closed his eyes when he started playing with his hair, “He’s still one of the reasons we broke up.”
“Baby, the only reason we broke up is because neither of us didn’t want to succumb into marriage. Minho was just a handsome face happened on the wrong time.”
“I have no idea why I still befriend him when it’s clear he wanted to shove his face to yours, all the damn time.”
“And I have no idea that you’re this type who holds the grudge for a long time. We were already out of relationship back then.”
“Still, a friend wouldn’t openly chase after their friend’s ex.”
“A friend wouldn’t, but a best friend would.”
“Whatever.”
He almost lost his control and slapped Jinki’s head of him, “Oh, come on. What’s bothering you this time?”
“Nothing.”
“Bullshit. It’s written all over your face the second I saw you behind the door. And I’m pretty sure it’s not because my daughter misbehaved while I’m on my annual pediatric conference.”
Jinki sighed, nothing he could really hide it from the other man. Since they were in their almost five years relationship, since they became best friends around three years prior.
“Minho invited me for a dinner night.”
“Wow, fancy,” actually Minho already texted him about the dinner a bit, how he wanted to introduce Jinki to some acquaintance he has, “He gave up on me so he went for the only option?”
“For the record, your mom agreed that I’m way much sexier than you.”
“Three years ago, before your cheek bones buried under those mount of fluffy fat.”
“Said a man who came to me and straight ahead told me I looked cute after leaving a piece of paper with their number on my table.”
“I will put aside the fact that I love how romantic you’re for still remembering our first meeting but let’s back to the right path here because I don’t like the upset you. It’s fucking annoying.”
“He introduced me to someone, Jonghyun.”
He let out inaudible gasp and thanked the universe Jinki’s still closing his eyes. Otherwise, he would stop at once and avoided any discussion of the main reason which distressed his ex-boyfriend. Knowing the scenario before hands didn’t prevent him with the sheer pain graze him when it came from Jinki’s mouth himself.
“So? Isn’t that great? Do you think it’s about time?”
“I was about to argue that two years are still not enough to get over you but I guess you’re not in the same page with me so I’d say that I’m not interested into some relationship whatsoever at this point.”
Jonghyun wanted to cry listening to such words. His heart clenched, he inhaled – a very long one – before he continued caressing Jinki’s forehead.
“I am flattered, but I know you’re just teasing me.”
“Ha, you know me so well.”
“I’m not gonna fall on the same hole, Lee.”
“You won’t. You’re too smart to repeat the torture on the loop.”
“It wasn’t a torture, Jinki. I love you as much as you do. Or maybe just slightly more.”
“Not a chance. I love you more.”
“Stop it or I will kiss you.”
“I dare you.”
“I told you I’m not gonna fall on the same hole.”
“Smart, very smart,” Jinki opened his eyes only to find Jonghyun sticking his tongue out, “Okay, so at first, I don’t like the idea already. You know I hate any type of match making method. Even the online one. But being there, I realized that my current focus doesn’t involved other party besides me, my business, and—“
“And your grandfather?”
Jinki looks annoyed, “Remind me to add ‘always-cutting-people-sentence’ on the list of reasons why I broke up with you when I’m writing my journal tonight.”
“It’s true. I think he was also the cock blocker during our relationship back then.”
“Dude, we’re talking about my gramps. And to put him on the same category with Minho is beyond weird.”
“We already broke up when Minho made his move, for Pete’s sake!”
“Okay, okay! No need to raise your voice, you’re so scary when you’re angry.”
“Then don’t make me! Now, now, can you please be a normal human being so we can talk like adults for once?”
Jinki pulled himself from the couch to the pantry, snatching a pack of cigarette on the tea table before slipped one on the corner of his mouth.
“Can you not smoking inside?”
He snorted and padded to the direction of his balcony. It’s in the middle of winter but he doesn’t care a bit to the wind ready to slaughter his bones. If tomorrow the cold prevented him to leave the bed, then let it be. For once, he just wants to free his mind from the business.
“You need to remember that I can only treat patient on certain age,” Jonghyun followed few minutes after with a blanket he spread as wide as possible to cover both of them without feeling suffocated for standing too close.
“The American Academy of Pediatrics recommends people be under pediatric care up to the age of 21, though.”
“Did you just quote Wikipedia? And we’re not in fucking States! Above and beyond, shame on your wrinkles!”
“Rude.”
“You’re the rude one to your lungs!”
“Then tell me how to ease my mind without nicotine! Tell me how to forget all those troubled night and just sleep! Do you think it’s easy taking care of worrisome business and messy family without distraction?! Stop talking non sense if you do know how to save my days!”
Any word seems taboo once Jinki exploded. Both man just staring into the dark evening below Jinki’s unit. People paraded as quickly as possible on the street to fight the harsh weather. It’s not that late, but only few cars passed by. The dim light of the street lamp’s soothing the tense atmosphere in a way.
Jonghyun leaned closer to Jinki’s arm and rested his head on his shoulder.
“I’m sorry I couldn’t help you with that.”
“I’m sorry I yelled at you.”
“You know that you can always talk to me right?”
“I’m tired bothering you. You already have a lot in your hands.”
“Besides my patients and Roo, there’s nothing really confiscated my time.”
Having someone like Jonghyun who would stand next to him, scold him then hug him right after, no matter how awful he behaved and treated the other man, Jinki every so often thinking what kind of good deeds he did in his previous life.
Jinki cocked his head, inhaling the trace of scent of Jonghyun’s favorite shampoo. Initially, he was about to kiss the top of his head, like he used to do when the other man leaned on him for whatever reason it was. He remember, though, the earlier period after their broke up – after settling their feelings for few months of course – the shorter man told him not to do that anymore because it was the doctor’s Achilles heel. So instead, he rubs his cheek over the thick hair, silently telling Jonghyun he’s sorry.
Some nights – especially right after that dinner date – he had thought, maybe one of the reason he reprimands Minho’s idea is just because he still has tiny hope that Jonghyun and him might had another chance in the future.
“From time to time, I was thinking that the more day passed, we’re closer to the image of friends with benefit.”
“Friends with benefit? Tsk,” Jonghyun slapped his forearm, “The only benefit I got from you is you’re the only perfect nanny for Roo when I’m away.”
“Those cups of coffee every single time you stopped by my shop?”
“Pfft. How stingy. I’m leaving.”
“Heartless.”
Jonghyun didn’t say anything more and returned inside to gather his things and called Roo. He desperately needs some hot shower. Somewhere inside him, he was expecting Jinki offering him to stay the night knowing how caring the man and the fact Jinki knows he bolted to the other’s apartment right away after landed.
When Jinki handed him the leash, that hope vanished in second.
“What if later I really considered this person? Or any other person collided with me on the future?”
Jonghyun smiled, he looks tired, but very sincere, “Then good.”
“Because I’m not gonna bother you anymore?”
“No. Because you’ll have someone to share the happiness with.”
***
cross-posted in my AFF
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Notre Dame new beginnings as NCAA football recruiting dead period ends
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Notre Dame new beginnings as NCAA football recruiting dead period ends
Drayk Bowen, for one, was appreciative that Notre Dame skipped the gimmickry of a football recruiting midnight madness earlier this week and drenched the start of potentially the most pivotal — and frazzled — recruiting month of the Brian Kelly Era in normalcy.
After a pandemic-induced, 15-month NCAA recruiting dead period of no (hosted) in-person campus visits and an overdose of Zooms, the largely universal knee-jerk template put in place at many college football programs across the country for Tuesday’s reopening was a mixture of pomp and chaos.
Notre Dame chose instead to be calculating and evolutionary.
Bowen, an elite linebacker prospect from St. John, Ind., and Chandavian Bradley, an ascending defensive end prospect from Missouri, along with their parents were the only invitees on Day 1. Bowen tagged along with new Irish defensive coordinator and linebackers coach Marcus Freeman, while Bradley got one-on-one time with defensive line coach and recruiting coordinator Mike Elston.
The structure of the visits themselves was right out of the pre-pandemic playbook. Who was taking those visits is what was different and significant.
Both visitors are 2023 recruits, players who will be high school juniors in the fall. Bradley, unranked in the Rivals top 100 and No. 90 nationally in 247Sports’ early playoff rankings, has the traits. productivity and the frame (6-5) to grow into a five-star prospect, even if he’s only 205 pounds at the moment.
Bowen, No. 16 in the Rivals Top 100, is already on that five-star trajectory, with a work ethic that will make that difficult to dislodge.
Before getting in the car with his parents to come to South Bend Tuesday, the 6-2, 215-pound Bowen performed his daily 5:30 a.m. ritual or speed work and lifting before making the 30-minute drive to Andrean High School in Merrillville, to take final exams.
“Drive is something I saw in my parents,” Bowen said. “My dad built a business pretty much from scratch and built it into a multi-million dollar business. My mom worked a couple of different jobs to provide for us. So I got it from them.
“Obviously, I want to be the best — the best player I can be, the best teammate, the best person, so wanting to be the best kind of drives me a lot too.”
► Related:Inside Recruiting: How Notre Dame will finish at WR and CB, and looking ahead to 2023
► More:Chat Transcript: Talking Notre Dame recruiting ramping up and portal possibilities
Twelfth-year Irish head coach Brian Kelly, meanwhile, is driven by the incessant questions pushed at him of how he’ll close the gap with College Football Playoff bullies Alabama, Ohio State and Clemson, as well as his own self-imposed directive of Notre Dame starting to produce top five national recruiting classes on a regular basis.
June thus becomes an important and overt benchmark toward turning rhetoric into results, though the momentum has been building behind the scenes for months since Alabama’s 31-14 dismissal of the Irish in a Jan. 1 playoff semifinal.
The Irish currently stand fourth nationally in both the Rivals and 247Sports team recruiting rankings after finishing ninth in both in the 2021 cycle.
“There have been two major changes with Notre Dame recruiting that are paying big dividends,” CBS Sports recruiting analyst Tom Lemming said. “They’re swinging for the fences in terms of who they’re going after.
“Marcus Freeman came in, and he’s not afraid of anybody or anything. That’s rubbed off on the rest of the staff. And Mike Elston, as recruiting coordinator, enhances that approach with impressive organization and creativity.
“Also key is Notre Dame is now evaluating and offering kids earlier than ever before. In the past, they were always about a year behind Alabama, Ohio State, Clemson, Georgia and LSU — and they couldn’t catch up. Those schools had already established strong relationships before ND ever got involved.
“Now they’re on top of the 2023 kids and getting them on campus. They’ve even offered some 2024 kids the past few weeks. When was the last time Notre Dame offered a freshman? Never. Kelly lit a fire under these guys. And you’re going to see that pay off with the 2022 class.
“But you know what — 2023’s going to be even better.”
That would be an indication, if it came to pass, that Kelly coaxed a sustainable recruiting shift and not a one-cycle bump from its playoff appearance.
What that will look like this month is a blend of camps, official visits, unofficial visits, rolling out Notre Dame’s name-image-likeness potential in the imminent new amateur sports model, and blending the transfer portal into all of that.
Two potential 2021 starters — Tulsa cornerback Akayleb Evans and Marshall All-America offensive guard Cain Madden — visited this week as grad transfers.
Madden became the first verbal commitment of June on Friday when he selected the Irish over ND’s season-opening opponent, Florida State.
On Sunday ND resurrects its Irish Invasion Camp, a key evaluative and exposure tool that will draw 90-100 prospects from the 2023 and ‘24 classes. There’s quality to go with that quantity, though many of the campers are prospects that are ascending or underexposed to this point.
Still between the Irish Invasion and regular visits, like the ones Bowen and Bradley took, 16 Rivals top 100 prospects and counting from that class will get a taste of Notre Dame in June.
“That’s a Notre Dame trump card, to be able to be holding these visits in June,” Lemming said, “when the campus is as beautiful as any in the country.”
The Irish recruiting staff opted to wait until the weekend of June 11-13, when its players returned to campus for summer school and workouts, to introduce the 2022 prospects into the equation.
‘Last piece of the puzzle’
The NCAA didn’t alter the existing recruiting calendar when it truncated the dead period, meaning schools had just four weekends before the fall to shoehorn in all their official visitors. The Irish will do it in three, along with some midweek visits.
“The competition to get 2022 kids on your campus was fierce, given the limited number of weekends,” Lemming said. “Notre Dame was pretty much able to get every kid on their wish list to commit to an official visit, which is huge.”
That includes 13 players ranked in the top 100 of Rivals, 247Sports or both. Notre Dame begins the month with 13 players already committed in a class that’s likely to number 26 or 27 when the December signing period rolls around.
“I think you’re going to see a lot of these 2022s commit quickly,” Lemming said. “They’re antsy. They’re tired of talking to the coaches on Zoom. The visit is the last piece of the puzzle. Even some of the sophomores may be quick to commit.”
Bowen won’t likely be one of them. He’s got a full summer of travel baseball and unofficial football visits to take. He followed up his ND visit with a tour of Michigan on Wednesday. Clemson, which offered the morning Bowen visited ND, will get a visit next week as will Tennessee, Ole Miss and perhaps Ohio State.
Then after more baseball commitments, he’ll take an Alabama-Auburn-LSU swing at the end of June.
“The way I was looking at it, I wanted to visit colleges, get to meet people, see the campuses,” Bowen said. “Probably start narrowing down after that. So that was kind of my timeline.
“Then maybe mid-junior year — the end of football and the beginning of baseball — is kind of when I wanted to almost be done with it, be able to be done and just enjoy senior year.”
To land Bowen, Notre Dame will have to theoretically beat out at least five of the six schools that comprised 247Sports’ top six classes last season.
An unexpected bounce in favor of the Irish is the surge of the Notre Dame baseball team under second-year coach Link Jarrett. Notre Dame is the overall No. 10 seed in the NCAA Tournament, and hosting a regional this weekend for the first time in 17 years.
► More:Notre Dame feeling good going into NCAA baseball regional in South Bend, ready to see fans
Bowen is familiar with the careers or two-sports Notre Dame stars Jeff Samardzija and Cole Kmet, and the shortstop/third baseman wants to try it himself.
“It wouldn’t be a deal breaker, but I do want to do both,” he said after touring the Irish baseball facilities and meeting its staff during his football visit Tuesday.
Whether he sticks to that notion, those who have studied Bowen’s game believe his best football is ahead of him.
“He’s going to be a Butkus Award favorite in 2022, and he plays like one now,” Lemming said.
“I think when you watch him, it becomes very obvious that he’s just relentless on defense,” Andrean coach Chris Skinner added. “On any given play, he’s going to find his way to the ball regardless of what side it goes to, where he’s at.
“You take obviously a high-end physical skill set and match it up with this relentless enthusiasm for the game. And then you talk to him and you find out that he’s a straight-A student and works harder than the average high school student (4.17 on a 4.0 scale).
“He really does study the game of kind of understanding the pass concepts of the opposing team and what windows do they want to be in? When you throw it all together, it’s pretty cool to think about.”
The same might be said of Notre Dame recruiting by month’s end.
“There’s a lot coming at the coaching staff and the recruiting support staff this month,” Lemming said. “But it seems they have a plan for everything, including how to personalize visits when the sheer number of kids visiting would seem to make that impossible.
“Notre Dame was never going to be great in recruiting unless they changed their ways, and now they did. I’m excited about the way they’re going about it now. I’m excited about what that can turn into down the road for them.”
Follow ND Insider Eric Hansen on Twitter: @ehansenNDI
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Bino Rideaux Talks New Album "Outside" & Being Apart Of Nipsey Hussle's Legacy
The duality of Los Angeles has been explored in pop culture through many lenses. Someone like Post Malone, for example, released an album called Hollywood's Bleeding. An album that chronicles Post's complicated relationship with Los Angeles prior to making the move to Utah, out of all places. Even with the flashing lights and camera, dolled up models and Hidden Hills mansions, there's a dark side to Hollywood that seemingly pops out when things get comfy. But even so, not everyone is privileged enough to get up and get out when shit goes left.
Los Angeles is far more than a breeding ground of false hope for aspiring actors, models, and musicians. A half an hour drive from Hollywood on the I-110 South will take you to South Los Angeles where things are certainly more real than Hollywood has ever been. Stories from this area have made their way onto the big screen through the authentic voices of Ava Duvernay and John Singleton but the unadulterated raw and unfiltered reality has always been captured by revered wordsmiths like Ice Cube, Ice-T, ScHoolboy Q, and of course, Nipsey Hussle.
Image provided by the label. Photo: Benny Billions
Bino Rideaux is the latest star to emerge from South Central Los Angeles. Initially introduced on No Pressure, a collaborative album with Nipsey Hussle, today marks the release of his major-label debut, Outside which comes out via Def Jam. It comes at a tumultuous time, though. It's been over a year since the passing of Nipsey Hussle, and a few months since Los Angeles lost Kobe Bryant. Currently, residents of Los Angeles are facing the grave impact of coronavirus, even as the city begins to reopen its economy.
"[I'm] Just a neighborhood n***a out of South Central here to bring you good vibes," Bino described himself over the phone with HNHH. "[I'm trying to] Make you feel something, whether you going through something or you had a good ass day. Shit, we gonna bring the vibe out in the music."
Outside is surely an ironic title for a project released in the coronavirus era, especially for a debut album. Performance options have been limited to live streams. Press runs are now held on Zoom conference calls. The very idea of even being physically present around fans became obsolete in the past two months. Bino, though, is a man of the people, regardless of what's actually going on outside. "The music could be really helpful to people right now. That’s what they need right now," he explained days before the project's release.
We recently caught up with Bino Rideaux over the phone to discuss his new album, helping carry Nipsey's legacy and how fatherhood shaped his hustle.
This interview has been lightly edited for clarity.
HNHH: What’s good? It’s Aron from HotNewHipHop. How you doing, bro?
Bino Rideaux: What’s going on, buddy?
Chilling. How you doing right now?
Man, coolin', trying to stay out the way.
I feel you. You’re in LA right now?
Yeah, I’m in the city, I’m at home.
You’ve just been quarantined this whole time, I guess?
Yeah, I’ve been laid up in my apartment, but just last week I started stepping outside a little bit.
Honestly, it’s probably healthy just to get some fresh air and what not.
Yeah, like I was going crazy getting stuck in here.
I feel you. You been watching anything on Netflix? You been keeping up with the Last Dance?
Man, I done watched all this shit, that’s the problem. We been locked in so long, I done watched everything in like a week. You catch me on 2K. I’m probably on 2K every day.
Ah, so the video games been keeping your spirits up?
Yeah man, keeps me alive, man.
A lot of people are starting to really take notice of you after you’ve been bubbling in the underground for so long. For anybody who’s unfamiliar with you, who is Bino Rideaux?
Bino Rideaux. Just a neighborhood n***a out of South Central here to bring you good vibes, you know what I’m saying? Make you feel something, whether you going through something or you had a good ass day. Shit, we gonna bring the vibe out in the music.
As somebody from South Central Los Angeles, there’s a real strong lineage of hip hop out there. So who were some of your musical influences growing up?
Aw shit, man. Everybody. I had a broad ear. Like I listened to all types of shit. Of course Nip and Dom [Kennedy], you know what I’m saying? They was like the given. Then you got Kendrick [Lamar]. Everybody that put on for the city, you know. So I came up on Westside Connection and Dogg Pound, Eastsidaz, all that shit. But, I listen to Nas. I listen to Jay-Z. I listen to other genres. I listen to all types of shit bro. I’m just here for the sounds.
What type of music was being played in the house when you were growing up?
Oldies, you know what I’m saying. You’d probably hear some Mary J. Go to my uncle’s room, you’ll probably hear some 'Pac, some Cube. Uh, great grandparents probably listen to some Sly And The Family Stone, some old crazy shit. Just all types of shit in my household. I grew up in a Louisiana household in Los Angeles though.
With the new project, Outside, talk to me about the significance of that title especially with the strange times that we’re in.
We had a whole other title for the project we were running with, but as the shit kept getting longer and longer -- we in the house, we in quarantine -- it just fit. And it fit with all of our brand and the vibe of the music. The way the project flows. It’s like outside of my city, you can kind of feel my energy. There’s a few of us out here that make noise. You can feel the energy outside. Or If you go to a party. We kind of the voice in the whole essence of the hood in my city. So, Outside, it really just -- I don’t know. It made sense from top to bottom.
Obviously with touring and performance opportunities put on hold for the time being, why did it kind of make it sense to release it at this point rather than wait until you can go the traditional route?
I mean, we thought about it. But we started going back and forth on that subject. We just decided to go through with it, you know what I’m saying? The music could be really helpful to people right now. That’s what they need right now. So rather than punishing them because of the shit that’s going on, just give them the music, and I’m gonna give them a whole ‘nother album later anyway.
So you’ve just dropped the tracklist for the project. What song are you most excited for people to hear?
Um, probably “Mismatch.” A lot of people heard the song. I did a Triller on it and you know what I’m saying people leak shit all the time. That’s the song I made right after I left Def Jam so I was in my bag. Like I was in New York. I just met the labels. And you know, I was just feeling like that n***a. I was in my vibe, so we went straight to the studio. I made that so “Mismatch” is on the project.
You have collaborations with Ty Dolla $ign and Mozzy who’s one of my personal favorites right now. Tell me about those collaborations with those artists and why you chose them for this project.
You know, I got a lot of features or whatever and a lot of them not on this project. I wanted this project to be more intimate if that makes sense. I want this project to be more people who I got a certain type of relationship or certain level of mutual respect, you feel me? So that’s why I really chose these artists, you know what I’m saying? Me and Fredo, we on the same label. I met him when I first went to the label in New York. It was good energy, he’s a good dude. Ty, you know what I’m saying, that’s big bro. He’s been tapped in and kind of you know what I’m saying playing a mentor role. It’s just all people I value to a certain extent, I put them in this project.
No, definitely. Especially since they say your debut is your life’s work up until that point.
Facts.
Personally, I began taking notice after the No Pressure project with Nipsey Hussle dropped. In retrospect, how does it feel to be part of his musical legacy and what does it mean for him to be part of yours?
Man, you can’t really put it into words. I’m honored to play a role in his story, you feel me? And I wouldn’t have it any other way that he’s the foundation for mine, you feel me? I appreciate it, bro. I embrace it. Because it’s like it’s a heavy title, you know what I’m saying? Also, I’m built for it.
Do you feel like there’s additional pressure on your debut album? Or generally, coming out of the West and under Nipsey’s wing.
Oh, hell yeah. It’s pressure, but it’s bittersweet. It’s the pressure of not disrespecting his legacy, you know what I’m saying? Making the right moves, you know what I’m saying? Everybody’s expecting you to go a certain way now so you gotta carry that chip on your shoulder and kind of, maintain your own sanity, you know what I’m saying? And move forward. But at that same time, Nip is big bro. A lot of people didn’t get to experience and I’m appreciative that I was able to, you feel me?
I remember hearing Roddy Rich talk about being around Nipsey. He explained that the best game and knowledge he got from Nipsey was from watching how he moves and approached the game. What type of game did you learn from him? What do you think the most valuable lesson you got out of your time with him was?
Nipsey just taught me how to be rock solid, you feel me? How to not fold. How to stay consistent and resilient. I learned that from him. Independent, and really going for the gusto. There were no shortcuts, like it was straight up. Yeah, that’s true. He’s not really teaching you. You’re just kind of soaking up natural game. It came off so naturally. So, yeah I learned a lot from bro.
For someone like yourself just getting deeper into the rap game, how do you stay so solid when there are so many snakes moving in the industry around you?
The game gonna test you, you know? That’s something Nipsey taught me early, so I was kind of prepared. When you’re just starting out in this industry, it’s crazy. It’s chaos. Things come from left field. You just gotta kind of stand your ground and that’s the resilience, you know what I’m sayin’? Shit gets ugly way before it gets cute, you know what I’m saying? Shit ain’t just easy. Like a lot of people think it’s gonna be easy, but you just gotta be willing. I feel like if you’re willing, you’re built for it -- it’s no pressure. That’s why we really put the No Pressure project out ‘cause of that.
I was skimming through your Instagram page and I know you just had a daughter last year, I believe, so congratulations. I know her name is Victory which I suspect is in homage to Nipsey. How does fatherhood not only change your creative process but your hustle as well?
I feel like when I found out I was finna have a kid, I tapped in, like, I was on a different level, I really locked in. I was already grinding. Shit turned into something else. Like I’m grinding for somebody else now. I don’t know it kind of woke something up inside me, and now I’m here, you feel me? I kind of give her that respect, my daughter. I give my daughter that respect like, I wouldn’t be right here without you.
Definitely. Obviously she’s not even one year old yet, and you’re just about to drop your debut album. When she turns 15 or 16, what do you hope she will take from your music at the end of the day?
It’s funny, she turns one tomorrow. Tomorrow’s her first birthday.
Oh, shit. congratulations!
Thank you. When she’s fifteen -- hopefully, by that time, I did my share of shit for the community and I’m where I want to be as far as outside of music, you know what I’m saying? Publicly and in and throughout the community. So I want to teach her just the same shit I learned. As far as we all we got and being solid and being strong. ‘Cause it’s still hell out here, you know what I’m saying? Even if we rich as shit, we still minorities. We still black people. So I want her to really carry the weight of my name, respectfully, and be her own individual at the same time.
You get a lot of people in the West Coast for how you're representing your hood. How do you feel about the state of West Coast rap right now?
I feel like right now, we’re amongst a wave of artists that’s about to hit us, you know what I’m saying? It’s a lot of new young faces, as far as West Coast music goes. I feel like it’s such good music. It’s a lot of talent over there so I don’t know. The West might be on top for a few years, honestly. The way I shit going, and the shit I’m hearing, it’s looking real good for the West Coast.
Who are some of your favorite artists coming out right now like new West Coast artists?
New West Coast artists I’m fucking with. BlueBucksClan, for sure. OneTake still doing his shit. Even Rucci making noise and we from two different sides of the city. Of course, Roddy going crazy. Like, it’s a lot of music out here. Shoreline. A lot of good music. A lot of good individuals. I’m fucking with it. Might be like the 90s again.
No, for sure. One person I know you have songs with is Drakeo the Ruler. He has a really terrifying legal situation he’s dealing with right now and it’s stirring up concern just because of how the government can easily target a rapper just for lyrics. So just with that in mind, do you ever feel concerned about the things you say in your music and if they might have any implications on you down the line?
I ain’t incriminating myself, you know what I’m saying? I ain’t saying nothing in my music that’s gonna have me fucked up or jammed up. They watch my shit. They play my shit all the time in the county. Whenever I shoot a music video in the hood, they come crash the shoot and break it up, you know what I’m saying? But we ain’t too worried about that we keep it clean, you know what I’m saying? (laughs) We not criminals no more.
Do you think often times the LAPD and local authorities, in general, overlook all the stuff you do for the community?
Yeah. I ain’t heard no praise or nothing. Like the “Bet” video, we tried to do the “Bet” video. I just released the video for “Bet”. We shot that on Slauson and Crenshaw. Kids came out. Fans came out. I brought Tommy The Clown out. That’s a staple in Los Angeles. He brought dancers out. Clowns is dancing, it’s like a carnival in the corner. They came and crashed that. They broke that up. I don’t know -- I stay in my line when it comes to that. Just cause I seen so much Nip dealing with that but we know what it is, you know?
Last question, what’s on your bucket list, and what are your goals? Where do you see yourself going in the next five, ten, fifteen, twenty years?
Man, I wanna be like one of them rare cases when n***s go diamond. I wanna go diamond, that’s a bar.
No, definitely. Do you have any last thoughts you want to send the fans?
Man, just stream Outside. that’s it.
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Readying to Reopen the "Y"
Week 2 began earlier today across the Mountain State, part of Gov. Jim Justice’s phased reopening of West Virginia businesses and facilities. Normal is returning, folks, just in small increments—baby steps.
Small business with 10 or fewer employees, grooming services, and small-numbered religious and funeral services may be held again. Restaurants can now serve outdoor dining in addition to curbside and pick-up services.
As more folks get back to work, it will increase the need for dependable, and safe, childcare for area youth.
The YMCA is ready to do its part as the Chambers facility in the Elm Grove will be offering childcare first before other services.
Executive Director Adam Shinsky said he and his staff have been working diligently with the county and state health departments to get approval to reopen as a youth care facility.
“Last week, our childcare staff and anyone in the building got tested for COVID-19,” Shinsky said. “We all got our results back so now we’re waiting for everything to get approved. Anyone that closed down in March had to reapply to open back up. Approval takes about a week, so our target date is May 11. We’re not sure yet how many kids we’ll be able to accommodate.”
Shinsky noted that according to a YMCA press releases recently circulated, Camp-Y Adventures style care was slated to begin Tuesday, May 26. However, given the slow, rolling reopening of all types of businesses and attractions, he’s not envisioning a normal summer that kids are used to experiencing at the Y. Fun will still be held, just, it will take place primarily at the facility as opposed to planned trips and excursions.
“It will probably be like that all summer,” Shinsky admitted. “We will have summer childcare, but not even sure if we’re going to have traditional summer camp.
Shinsky added he knows the importance of summer childcare, noting, “Once the governor gave the time frame for things to open back up, we started receiving a ton of calls. I’d say 95 percent of them were about childcare.”
Executive Director Adam Shinsky noted the earliest the facility will be open to fitness classes would potentially be May 11, but it will likely take some time before the YMCA can offer its full array of classes and fitness opportunities, without restriction.
Fitness Revival
Job-going adults seeking care for their children aren’t the only inquiries being made of the YMCA. Members are looking forward to getting back inside to continue their fitness regimens. Gyms are supposed to start reopening during the Week 3 portion of the phases.
That too could take place as early as Monday, May 11. But in what capacity and what all fitness-wise will be available at first?
“The governor said he would announce a week beforehand about when Week 3 would begin,” Shinsky said. “So that gives us a target date of May 11, 18, or 25. We’re not sure what the restrictions will be to start. YMCA USA has done a pretty good job of telling us what’s happening in other states, but those states have been hit harder than West Virginia.”
Shinsky is envisioning things like not all cardio machines available at once, limiting the number of people who can use free weights and limiting the numbers participating in the fitness classes themselves. The staff will continue to keep extra sanitary supplies on hand and will ensure things are wiped down, cleaned and sanitized, as the staff did prior to the closing. The good news is the gym and outside the facility will be available for classes.
“Once we know the guidelines, we can get a better idea of what we can offer. But when the weather is nice, we can go outside and utilize all that space to spread out,” Shinsky said.
During the stay at home orders, YMCA staff and others have shifted gears in offering personalized classes and training, opting to record or live stream online. Vids are available both on the YMCA's Facebook page, as well as its YouTube channel
Training Online
The YMCA training staff didn’t want to leave their members hanging without fitness guidance during these unprecedented times. So they’ve been not only making pre-taped workout videos and uploading them to the Y’s YouTube Channel as well as live workouts on its Facebook page.
“We have several options now for digital workouts and training session,” Shinsky said. “This way, people can catch a class at their convenience, either on Facebook or YouTube, or when there is a live workout. Last week we had a dumbbell free weight class, we’ve had a kettlebell class, and once a week, Jeremy Hays goes live for a workout for basketball players.”
Hays, owner and lead trainer at Fadeaway Fitness, has offered up his services to get the Y’s youth basketball players working on skills and drills at home, in addition to his #BeatheTrainer challenge videos he posts to Twitter and Facebook.
“At one point, we had 230 people tuned into a basketball workout,” Shinsky said. “These were uncharted waters for the Y, but we are a service organization, and that’s what we’re doing. A lot of gyms have held private workouts that they limited to members, but we have opened up ours to the community. Anybody can view and participate.”
Shinsky said he can see the online offerings expanded as the slow crawl to normalcy continues, but potentially, continuing on into the future, adding “There will be a need for the foreseeable future. Some people are staying at home and wanting to stay healthy as they aren’t comfortable coming out and we’ll provide that option.”
What About Summer Basketball?
The Wheeling Recreation Department’s summer basketball leagues are a Wheeling institution; a much looked forward to sense of competition for middle school and high school athletes each summer. When the YMCA began partnering with the rec department a few years ago, it only improved the popular program.
That too may be in jeopardy, though no final decision has been made yet.
“We spoke briefly a couple of weeks ago,” Shinsky said. “We weren’t sure we’ll be able to do it, and, if I had to give my opinion, I don’t think it’ll happen this summer. I can’t see any sports program happening—that’s my personal belief. I hope I’m wrong.”
Shinsky noted the Y is partnering and hosting the inaugural Boogie Johnson Football and Cheering Camp for later summer. He thinks that may be the first event actually held, followed by flag football and so on as the calendar turns to fall.
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Okay, so there is something to be said for not eating cheese before falling asleep in the mid-afternoon sun, because as fun as it sounds, it can mean for some seriously weird dreams. I am 1000% blaming @shanastoryteller for this, because right before I dozed off, I read this post here that she wrote and it hit a wall, turned 90 degrees east and ran off into the sunset of hell half-frozen over.
So. First let me tell you this, I am not writing this as a fic. Just no. It’s bad enough as it is. Also, while I’m somewhat known for genderbending, I am not really a fan of Fem!Ed. Kind like how I can’t handle Fem!Yuuri from YOI. It’s just… these precious babies are perfect just the way they are and I cannot bear to change them. But, I am down with reading Fem!Ed if there is a reason – like… gender reassignment. (See the aforementioned post). Or maybe Truth just likes to fuck with Ed. Idek.
So. On with the insanity:
So. For some reason, poor Edward Elric is a girl born in a boy’s body. Or maybe he’s just a boy who is more at home in the female shape. I don’t know okay. I’ve always been comfortable exactly as I am, and I’m not going to insult anybody by pretending that I know everything. The point is - Edward is not comfortable in his own skin. Edward knows that his body is somehow wrong. And he’s smart, and brilliant, and a goddamn whiz with Alchemy. And so is Al, who just wants Ed to be happy, no matter what.
So, crazy brilliant brightsparks that they are – with a supernova burning in place of a soul, and the universe in their eyes – they draw up a circle, and Ed goes before Truth.
Truth, of course, isn’t too happy at being faced with a tiny scowling boy who insists that he is a girl; but Truth does understand that sometimes bodies can be uncomfortable at best, and soul-destroying at the worst of times, and this insanely brilliant child is going to be the source of a shit-ton of entertainment for years to come.
So Truth helps.
For shits and giggles, because why not.
...
Trisha is… understandably puzzled. She went to bed the night before, a mother of two sons, and then woke up with a son and a daughter.
Um, what?
They are grounded. Of course they are. Origami cranes are one thing, but this? What were you thinking? You could have been rendered braindead, you could have blown up the house. Or the universe. You could have died!
It should be noted that Trisha ranks her kids’ lives above that of the universe continuing to turn, and reality not peeling apart at the seams.
As any mother rightly should.
...
Time passes, as it is wont to do, and Edward grows into a lovely young woman with a talent for mass destruction and reconstruction.
(although, it must be said that when puberty came rolling around, there were more than a few curses, and Ed had to be physically stopped from reopening the Gate in order to yell at Truth. Because Fuck you asshole!)
Officially, her name is Elizabeth on all the paperwork, but here’s the thing: Ed might be a girl now, but she never stopped being Ed. You can change your shape, but you can’t change who you are. And hell, Ed loves confusing the fuck out of people when she introduces herself as Edward.
[Teacher didn’t discourage this. If anything, she encouraged it.]
It becomes a joke – wherever she goes (and Al is with her, because in what universe would he not be? Don’t answer that. Because that probably means Al is dead in that universe and you can all go to hell before you hurt my little cinnamon roll), leaving chaos and destruction and generally uprooting tyrants for fun; leaving only the whispers of a red coat, long blonde hair and the names Edward and Alphonse Elric: Alchemist Extraordinaires’.
...
[Somewhere in the East, Roy Mustang is tearing his hair out trying to track down a pair of genius brothers. Here’s a hint: It’s not going so well.]
...
Now this? This is not love story for Roy and Ed, oh no. My weird ass dream is twisted, and somehow, I love it. Even though I don’t ship this…
So. It’s summer, and it’s bright, and Edward is now… what? Seventeen? Eighteen? Who cares? The point is, there’s a massive inter-village party going on, and alcohol is involved. She dances the night away, laughing madly the whole time and winds up going for a roll in the hay with a charming chap from two villages over who’s on leave from the military. Not her usual choice, but hey – he’s funny and he pulled out her chair for her, and calls her “ma’am”, and he made her laugh. He also turns out to be brilliant in the sack, so hey – Ed reckons she made a good choice of partner for the night.
She wakes up to a lazy grin, and work-roughened fingers gently teasing straw and dried grass out of her tangled mess of hair – because I’m not joking about the phrase ‘roll in a hay’. It’s round about then that she realizes she forgot to introduce herself, and so she holds out her hand, “Elizabeth,” She tells him. Because hey, he did good last night. He did more than good. She can play nice.
“Havoc,” He replies, shaking her hand, “Jean Havoc.”
Ed fucking laughs at him.
“What?” She asks, “You gonna tell me that you’ve got three brothers called Mischief, Chaos and Trouble?”
He laughs as well, and they’re both still laughing when they tumble over each other and go straight for round two.
...
On and off, the whole summer, these two wind up together. In bed, at dinner, just generally wandering about causing trouble. And then Havoc has to go back to work.
And dammit, Ed finds that she’s missing him. What the hell? Ed doesn’t do pining. She does quick flings, and moves the fuck on. But apparently not anymore.
Al figures it out before she does.
And then when she does, he sits her down and listens while she rants and raves, and curses Havoc out because she did not plan on falling in love. I mean, yeah, she’s got plans to be a Housewife someday, because Teacher was ah-mazing and all that – but no. She had not planned on marrying a military guy. Why would she? The military is E-vil. (And wow, Ed has no idea just how right she is there).
So Ed hmms over it for weeks and then she gets that stubborn look in her eyes, packs her bags, and scoots off down to East City because dammit, she’s getting married. Whether he likes it or not.
Al and Winry are cheering her on, and Trisha isn’t really sure what’s going on anymore.
(Yes, Trisha got ill and shit, but Ed got even more stubborn and kinda maybe might have been more interested in Alchemy and it’s healing properties in this ‘verse, and yeah, she paid a bit more attention when she met Truth. She doesn’t know it yet, but she gave something in trade to the Gate. There’s a reason she doesn’t have Daddy Issues here – she doesn’t even remember him. There’s nothing left to hate.)
...
Ed shows up in a hurricane of energy and barges her way back into Havoc’s life without so much as a by-your-leave. He’s not really complaining. Not even when she storms up to him in a bar when he’s out for a night with the boys, yanks him down by his collar, and tells him that they’re getting married.
“Um… Don’t I get a say in this?” He asks, blinking down at her. Her hair is a mess, and she’s breathing heavily from beating the tar out of a guy outside because he tried to put his hands where they weren’t welcome – but goddamn, she’s still the most beautiful thing Havoc’s ever seen, and in all honesty, his question isn’t so much a “no,” as a bemused “oh really now?”.
Ed straight up growls at him, and he laughs, scooping her up and tossing her over his shoulder.
“Oi! Breda!” He shouts down the bar, “Get your coat, I’m getting married.”
Breda chokes on his drink, and then he starts to laugh. “This I gotta see.”
...
So they get married in an office, with a half-sober Breda and some random person they grabbed off the street as witnesses.
Havoc’s collar is unbuttoned, he smells of beer and cigarette smoke. Ed is wearing jeans and a tank top, her hair is a tangled mess of gold and there’s dirt smeared on her left shoulder.
They don’t have any family members there, and Ed makes their rings out of her earrings and Havoc’s watch. But that’s okay. Trisha and Elaine can yell at their kids for eloping at a later date. And then ask about grandchildren in the next breath. Al will laugh himself sick, and Winry will demand to be Godmother when they get around to it.
Not that they plan to – I mean, practicing making the future babies is fun and all, but neither of them want kids just yet.
...
More time passes, and you know what? It works for them.
Ed is a freaking genius who sometimes gets so into her work that she forgets to eat or do the dishes, but that’s just fine because Havoc grew up on a farm where folk did whatever needed doing. So he cooks, and coaxes food into her. He washes dishes, and folds laundry, and he’s even brave enough to pull her away from her books for long enough to get her to sleep.
And then once she’s done with her bender, Ed spends days making it up to him. Because she’s a hundred percent the kind of person who gives stuff her all.
Havoc doesn’t understand one whit of what she’s doing, but hey, it makes her happy. He doesn’t need to know anything more than that.
…
The first time he accidentally catches sight of her notes over her shoulder, he thinks she’s going to kill him, because Alchemists are nothing if insanely secretive of their work.
But hey, no, not Ed. Not with her husband.
She smiles at him, and then yanks him down onto the floor next to her.
And then she starts explaining the basics to him.
…
Because here’s the truth. Ed’s been worrying over Havoc’s complete obliviousness to alchemic circles for a while now, especially seeing as he’s almost always on the team chasing the crazy (in a bad way) alchemists – and dammit, she wants him in one piece. So come hell or high water, she’s going to make sure he knows what is safe and what means he should be hightailing it out of there.
…
The next time he’s closing up a case with the team – a crazy wannabe alchemist had been messing with the structural integrity of a building, and was also apparently a complete and utter moron, because even he knows better than to use those two particular equations in conjunction together.
He says as much, and is treated to looks of utter amazement and disbelief from his teammates.
“What?” He asks, “I know stuff.”
Breda is sniggering behind his back, because unlike the others, he was there when Havoc married the crazy alchemist lady. Come to think of it… Breda might be the only one on the team who even knows that he’s married. Oops.
He really hopes that Hawkeye doesn’t shoot him for this.
…
So yeah, things go fine. Mostly.
Havoc learns when to run away from the crazies, and Ed wanders off with Al to save the world, or sometimes just turns entire cities on their heads by sticking her nose where she shouldn’t – see Youswell, Liore, ect…
And all the while, Mustang rages over the antics of the famous Elric Brothers.
…
It’s actually rather pathetic, and it takes Havoc a long time to put the pieces together.
He’s more than a little bit embarrassed to be honest.
Mustang is halfway through a rant on how Liore has descended into chaos – two raging factions; and Havoc’s eyeing the pin-board, feeling strung out and an odd sense of de ja vu.
Penny in the air?
Huh. Wasn’t Ed in Liore the week before last?
Penny drops.
Oh. Havoc thinks. Oh, shit.
He’s so used to her going by her legal name in public – because while Edward Elric writes alchemical papers and rescues kittens from trees, it’s Elizabeth Havoc who fails epically at knitting, burns scones and actually has a bank account – that he forgot (and wow, is she going to laugh herself sick tonight) that when she’s off gallivanting across the country with Al, she uses her birth name.
Son of a –
He’s been trying to track down his wife and brother-in-law the whole time.
The wife who sleeps in his bed, and the brother-in-law who camps out on their couch.
How is this even his life?
…
Ed does indeed laugh herself sick that night.
Mean.
…
He reckons that he should probably tell Mustang, if only to save Eastern Command from being set on fire the next time the Colonel loses his temper, but hey – Havoc likes living.
So he sleeps on it.
And he sleeps on it.
And he sleeps on it.
Eventually, Friday rolls around, and Ed is giving him that look – the kind that says ‘man up, or I’m buggering off to cause mass chaos and destruction without you,’ and so Havoc swallows his pride.
That day at work, he waits until Mustang is once again ranting on about the Elric Brothers, and then, carefully, warily, pipes up with: “So, um, Chief? I might have a lead.”
Mustang freezes, and then pivots.
Ack. He looks like he might breathe fire at any moment.
“What?”
Havoc gulps. And then he starts to fidget.
“Well, actually,” he admits, “it’s my wife that you’d be wanting to talk to, sir.”
Mustang looks at him like’s gone mental.
“You’re… married?”
“Yes?”
“She’s way too good for him,” Breda snickers, leaning back in his chair.
Mustang blinks, frowns, blinks some more, and then moves his mouth soundlessly for a few moments, clearly furious.
Then, finally, he grinds out a short command of “Call her.”
“Yes sir!” Havoc yelps, diving for the phone line and praying that Ed is at home.
She is.
And she’s more than happy to come down to Command and set the record straight.
She’ll even bring Al with her.
Havoc sort of wants to curl up into a ball and cry.
...
Ed glides into the office, all grace and charm, looking exactly as people would expect an innocent modern-day country housewife to appear. Her blonde hair is carefully braided up into a milkmaid’s style, and there’s a touch of flour dusting the hem of her peasant’s blouse.
Havoc feels like he’s in the twilight zone, because she’s even wearing makeup. Since when does his wild dustdevil of a wife wear makeup?
Al catches his eye and winks – he himself is dressed in neatly pressed clothes and sporting a pair of glasses (why? He doesn’t even need them for fucks sake?) and looks the textbook image of a wet-behind-the-ears scholar who probably couldn’t even find his way out of a paper bag.
“Mrs. Havoc,” Mustang smiles, offering her a seat, with his charm turned up to eleven.
“Hello,” Ed smiles, and there’s a devilsh look in her deceptively innocent topaz eyes, “Edward Elric, at your service.”
She sweeps into a genteel bow, and then gestures to Al.
“Alphonse Elric,” Al grins. “Nice to meet you.”
Havoc sorely wishes he’d called in sick that morning.
…
So… Okay. He’s probably going to die.
Mustang practically has a fit, and Hawkeye’s hand is on her gun, which means Havoc has to try really hard not to flinch.
Once he’s done making a series of choking noises that sound like a dying weasel, Mustang straightens his back, puts on his ‘the military wants you!’ face, and says: “Enlist.”
To her credit, Ed only blinks twice, before her mouth curls into a mischievous grin to anybody who knows her, and a dangerous snarl to the uninformed.
Al grins.
Havoc cringes.
“I,” Havoc’s wonderful Valkyrie of a wife thunders in a flawless imitation of her Teacher, “am a Housewife!”
Oh god. The look on Mustang’s face is priceless. He can’t help it.
Havoc starts to laugh.
BONUS:
Wondering why Father never managed to take over the world?
Funny story actually, Ed kinda might have just happened to be wandering by Briggs when Kimblee (the fucker) conned the Drachmans into attacking the fort, and hey, she kinda likes Amestris you know, being Amestris and not Drachma 2.0
So she drops a mountains worth of snow on them.
Funnily enough – carving a blood crest does not fucking work if all your victims die of air deprivation, or being crushed under several tons of ice and snow. Because, y’know, not enough blood being spilled and all.
Basically? The bad guys ran out of time – and it was all Ed’s fault, because no matter what they tried, she kept fucking up their plans by accident.
And then Honoheim owned their asses.
The End.
#fma#shanastoryteller#ramble fic#rambles#ed is a girl#I am going to hell#I wish I could say I am sorry#but i don't think i am#roy#alphonse#edward#roy mustang#edward elric#alphonse elric#mine#but also... sort of not mine?#what even the fuck is this?#riza hawkeye#jean havoc#riza#breda#havoc
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Some iwaoi fics. All are found on AO3. I admit that this list is also mostly for my own reference. Some I’ve read a while back, some I’ve read more recently. Check the tags/warnings put up on AO3 in case there’s stuff you’re not comfortable with. Leave some comments/kudos on the fics and show the authors some love!
Storm Season by Kenjiandco
A glider pilot in service to the Air Temples, all Oikawa really wants to do is fly. But you gotta pay the bills, and sometimes that means being a glorified taxi service for some useless Earth Nation noble named Iwaizumi Hajime…but he’s not turning out to be what Oikawa expected.
(Extremely handsome was not one of the things he expected)
Iwaizumi’s got a few secrets of his own. He’s not sure he really wants to study at the Air Temples. He’s terrified of flying in a glider. He’s got a secret career as an underground wrestler that his protective mother doesn’t know about.
But everyone has to take a few risks during Storm Season.
Super Spy Husbands by leauraxe (this is a series, go read it aaall.)
Oikawa and Iwaizumi are like every other ordinary husbands - They live together in a comfortable home, have dinner together every night, fight over who has to do the dishes, it’s all very mundane
The only difference is they also happen to be super spies who embark on A-level dangerous missions in extreme conditions and encounter some of the most notorious villains to exist.
Super spy husband AU! because we all love a BAMF Iwaizumi and Oikawa
I’ve Been Missing You For A Long Time by CutesyMe
“I bet you can’t go a week without touching Iwaizumi,“ Matsukawa challenges with a grin.
Iwaizumi sighs inwardly and is about to speak up when Oikawa suddenly says determined. “Of course I can.“
Iwaizumi stares at him dumbfounded, noticing the scrunch on Oikawa‘s nose and the slight pout of his lips. It’s too late now.
Menace by ArturoSavinni
When Oikawa is in the midst of an argument with Iwaizumi, he finds himself suddenly having to take care of his much younger friend. Thankfully the team is there to help him. But as the days tick by a pressing concern rises over whether Iwaizumi will turn back.
reopened; by pharadoxly
That one night, Tooru ended up killing a boy.
No one tells him who; he doesn’t wish to know, either. It’s easier to forgive himself.
Just a Millisecond of Forever by FindingSchmomo
Iwaizumi Hajime wakes up to find out that he’s been brought into existence to be Oikawa Tooru’s Guardian Angel. So why does everything hurt so much?
The Best I Ever Had by FindingSchmomo
A story of separation and time lost. Oikawa and Iwaizumi lose contact, and life goes on. Now, a decade later and back in Japan, Oikawa wonders if he can pick the pieces back together, despite knowing Iwaizumi has moved on. A story of their past, present and future, pieced together by shaky hands.
The Finest Feline by FindingSchmomo
Iwaizumi kind of wants kids. Oikawa kind of hates kids. They get a cat.
Night Disturber by yu_gin
“Iwaizumi Hajime is a very patient person. He really is. In fact, he didn’t go yelling and kicking his neighbour’s ass two nights before, even though he really deserved it.
He was happy for him and his adventurous sex life. Good for him. He was much less happy to hear him and his partner for three nights in a row. Seriously, he needed some sleep, for God’s sake!”
Iwaizumi is the very unfortunate Oikawa’s neighbour
**read more inserted here**
you’ll never wait so long by newamsterdam
Matsukawa hums thoughtfully. “You know, I’m probably not the best person to give advice about relationships, but I’m sure your man’s going to be just fine. Scary-looking as you are, Iwaizumi, I get the feeling that you’re a pretty good husband.”
Iwaizumi isn’t sure what that’s supposed to mean, but it sounds like a compliment. “Um. Thanks?”
Matsukawa’s lips stretch into a thin, but not insincere smile. “You’re welcome. Look, you trust this guy of yours, right?”
The answer comes easily. “I trust him with my life.”
“See? There you go—”
But Iwaizumi isn’t done, and he continues, talking over Matsukawa. “Just not with his own.”
_____
Doctor Iwaizumi Hajime’s life has been going so well, it only makes sense that there’d be complications to follow. If only his husband would tell him what those complications are, he’d be able to fix things.
Time After Time by Crollalanza (this is my favorite fic out of the Philos Series. the entire thing is so good, please read it.)
“You about to tell me I’ve blossomed, Assikawa? That because Princess Tooru kissed me, I’ve stopped being a frog?”
“I’m about to hit you if you don’t listen to me!”
Part 6 of Iwaoi - Philos Series
when it starts to rain, they go inside by sadaf
“Where?” starts Iwaizumi.
“My parent’s old lakehouse, silly, didn’t you hear me the first time?”
OR:
Oikawa takes Iwaizumi to his lakehouse for two weeks, post-graduation.
Cuddles for the Lonely by DreadfulMind
Iwaizumi moved to a new city for college and he’s been far away from friends and family for too long. He wants some sort of intimacy and one day he finds an ad on the newspaper for a professional cuddler.
It’s Not Love, Probably by starlitcities
“No, I mean we really weren’t doing anything,” Oikawa whips around, “I haven’t even kissed her yet.”
Iwaizumi pushes the locker shut and looks down at his t-shirt, picking at a loose string dangling from the hem. If he tugs too hard, it’ll just ruin the stitching, so he decides to leave it alone. Right now he might rip the damn thing off.
“And I said it doesn’t matter. Why are you talkative all of the sudden?”
“Someone sounds annoyed,” Oikawa mumbles.
“No, I just…” Iwaizumi bites the inside of his cheek. Why is he annoyed? That Oikawa is talking about his girlfriend? That he saw them under the stairwell looking both guilty and flustered? That he might not know everything about his childhood best friend?
He can’t say yes to any of those questions. He can’t quite say no, either.
Always, My Pillar of Strength by starlitcities
“Oikawa,” Matsukawa mutters, surprised more than anything. “It’s two in the morning, what are you—?”
“What’s wrong with me, Mattsun?” Oikawa pulls at the hem of his shirt, the sopping fabric clinging to his skin and leaking water onto the doormat. “Anybody, everybody I know would kill to have me. And the only one I want to feel that way won’t even look at me.”
Lithophyte by listenforthelove
“Great, now I’m yelling at a bunch of leaves.”
Hajime knows he’s screwed when ‘Oikawa has somehow changed into a plant overnight’ is the least concerning explanation.
Flashpoint by pickledplumes
“I’m tired.” he continues and he sees in Oikawa’s eyes the exact moment his heart breaks. “I’m just so fucking tired, Tooru.”
things change, times change by pickledplumes
People got to change with them
Iwaizumi across three lifetimes, and how he continues to love and lose the same man.
Part 2 of C(4,2) = 6
Everything With You by Ellessey
‘Hajime still loves Oikawa, but he understands now. Oikawa can’t look at him and see someone he could potentially date.
And that makes it easier to not focus on the little things that used to drive him crazy—Oikawa’s long legs, the way he’s always hanging off of Hajime, how his whole face changes when he gets ready for a jump serve, and he looks like he could take on the entire world and win.
This new arrangement though, this living together situation, is presenting a new set of variables that must be adjusted to, and the nakedness is one of them.’
–
For years, being Oikawa’s best friend has worked out fine. Hajime is hopelessly in love with him, but it’s enough. Then Oikawa—who, by all accounts, has never been anything but determinedly, assuredly straight—gets a boyfriend. Or a boy friend-with-benefits. Hajime doesn’t know, and he doesn’t give a shit about the definition.
What he knows is that remaining best friends is starting to seem a bit too painful (way too painful) to be considered a solid option.
Undercut by Ellessey
‘There is so much Hajime wants to say about Oikawa’s hair, but Oikawa has his scary face on and, while Hajime is certainly not intimidated, he will be crafty about this at least.
“Alright, stop,” Hajime says, in English.
“What, Iwa?” Oikawa asks, voice heavy with exasperation.
“Collaborate and listen.”’
–
Oikawa gets a new haircut, and Hajime is a bit of an idiot before he gets around to being a good boyfriend.
Huascaran by EclecticInkling
He knew, better than anyone— better than even Tooru himself— that Tooru always looked his best whenever he stood at the top of the world. And Hajime was deeply, terribly, irrevocably in love with him.
get ripped, get laid by orphan_account
“I’m not buying you a drink if you do an exercise properly.”
Oikawa frowns, and Iwaizumi is once again reminded of a chastised puppy.
“Why not? Isn’t that what you’re supposed to do, incentivise me?”
“Having the body of your dreams isn’t incentive enough?”
“Iwa-chan,” Oikawa tuts as he shoots Iwaizumi a look that seems to suggest he thinks he is very simple, “I already have the body of my dreams. And maybe even your dreams.”
–
iwaizumi should’ve known accepting oikawa as his newest client would only end in one giant headache
ad astra by tothemoon (this is a series. also this author’s works in general is breathtaking.)
(“through hardships to the stars”)
exploring the surreal, the interdimensional, and transcending whatever the cosmos wants to throw their way.
the river runs by tothemoon
At the start of the new year, and one whole year since their breakup, Oikawa Tooru starts a list of daily reminders, tips, and tricks called HOW TO FORGET ABOUT IWAIZUMI HAJIME, and he’s determined to make it stick.
—
This is a firsthand account of how to deal (and rather spectacularly, at that).
mint by tothemoon
It’s the December after Iwaizumi’s last year in university when Tokyo welcomes him with a new ad campaign for Bright Days toothpaste, and Oikawa Tooru—fresh off a run at the 2016 Summer Olympics—has decided to grace the city with his signature grin, a flip of his wayfarer sunglasses, and the most irrepressible tag line for the signboard above.
‘Are you in love with me?’ it reads, Oikawa taunts, and Iwaizumi can only find the whole thing a pointless exercise in the usual flirtations.
(Because i would never fall for you in a million years, he types out in reply, before deciding against it.)
Timeless (We Have 30 Days) by glass_owl
The silence hangs between them before Oikawa sighs. He pulls off the blanket and starts to take off his shirt. Iwaizumi balks. “Why are you stripping?”
He struggles with Oikawa for a second, trying to stop his friend from becoming half naked right there and then but Oikawa accidentally connects the heel of his palm with Iwaizumi’s left eye and he flinches backwards, giving Oikawa ample time to pull off the piece of fabric.
“I’ve been numbered,” Oikawa says simply once the shirt is off and Iwaizumi feels his chest stopper.
-
Or AU where you’re branded 50 days before you die. But Oikawa doesn’t tell anyone so now there’s only 30 days left.
Something in Our Pockets (Maybe Paper Planes) by glass_owl
“Wow,” Matsukawa grins. He drapes his coat over the back of the chair, cracking a few knuckles before booting up the computer. He wiggles his fingers in Iwaizumi’s face. “Boyfriend privileges already?”
“How offending,” Hanamaki supplies. He wags a finger in Iwaizumi’s face.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
Iwaizumi picks up his coffee, nursing it between his hands, solemnly wondering what had just happened to his quiet, peaceful morning.
“Well two can play at that game,” Hanamaki says with arid confidence. He smirks knowingly at Iwaizumi and Iwaizumi knows something terrible is going to fall from his friend’s stupid mouth. “From now on, only your boyfriend can call me ‘Makki’.”
-
Or that poor journalist Iwa and air steward Oikawa AU.
Fix me by Frenchibi
“Who… who are you?”
Silence fills the room as all faces turn towards Oikawa - and then everyone is talking at once.
or: The one where Oikawa loses his memory and it breaks Iwaizumi’s heart
Only Fools Fall by oseltamivir_phosphate
Oikawa had always wanted to be an alpha like Iwaizumi. He hated being a beta – the lesser status, but not entirely the least. That was until he experienced his first heat during his second year in university. And he wonders if it’s too late to turn back into a beta.
Lithophyte by listenforthelove
“Great, now I’m yelling at a bunch of leaves.”
Hajime knows he’s screwed when ‘Oikawa has somehow changed into a plant overnight’ is the least concerning explanation.
15 Minutes by rightofpostponement
All Iwaizumi Hajime wanted to do was sleep on the 15 hour plane ride home (and maybe figure out how he really feels about his best friend). Unfortunately, his plane was hijacked by America’s favorite family, the stars of “Goin’ for one more!” the family famous for having 23 children, seven of which were under the age of 5 (is that even possible?). Doing what any rational person would do, Iwaizumi sucked it up (scowled maliciously) and bought ear plugs (while glaring), expecting the plane ride to be a special type of hell.
What he didn’t expect was for his face to be captured by a stray camera and explode overnight (on Twitter, of course). Becoming an internet sensation/meme isn’t easy (remember Alex from Target?), especially when random people start to take snapchats of him at volleyball practice (who is he, Oikawa?).
or,
Iwa-chan gets the 15 minutes of internet fame his face deserves.
Just Hear Me Out by loveclouds
To stimulate Japan’s low birthrates and take most of the guesswork out of dating, a beeper system was biologically developed in people’s wrists, an audible confirmation to show romantic compatibility.
Iwaizumi’s beeper has been going off for Oikawa since they’ve been kids. Oikawa’s has only ever been silent.
Drunk off his ass he forgets everything by coffeeless
Oikawa just stares, his hands clenching and unclenching in his lap. Tooru then bites his lips nervously, hiccuping, and asks,” Are you single?”
Iwaizumi laughs and leans closer to him. “No, I’m sorry. I’m dating a very drunk dork.” He says, and before that can register in Oikawa’s very drunk mind, Hanamaki pipes up.
“He’s actually dating you, Oikawa.” He says, and Tooru looks over at him slowly, frowning slightly.
“Wha?”
or,
Makki and Mattsun get Oikawa so drunk that he doesn’t recognize anyone, not even his own boyfriend. Iwaizumi decides to play along for the fun of it.
Ink and Lace by kylar
Oikawa gives Iwaizumi a birthday present- two presents- that he’ll never forget.
#iwaoi#haikyuu!!#iwaizumi hajime#oikawa tooru#fic rec#my fic rec#my post#these are some of my favorites
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Autoworkers Are Returning as Carmakers Gradually Crank Up Factories
After sheltering at home for nearly two months, tens of thousands of autoworkers have started streaming back into car and truck plants across the South and Midwest, a critical step toward bringing the nation’s largest manufacturing industry back to life.
In April, automakers, which were closing plants at various times, produced just 4,840 cars, pickup trucks and sport utility vehicles in North America, according to Automotive News, down from 1.4 million a year earlier. Sales of new vehicles in April fell by about 50 percent, according to Cox Automotive, a market researcher.
“The auto industry is America’s economic engine,” Ford Motor’s chief operating officer, Jim Farley, said during a recent conference call on the company’s reopening plans. “Restarting the entire auto ecosystem is how we restart the economy.”
Ford, General Motors, and Fiat Chrysler plan to restart production on Monday, after Toyota, Honda and Tesla began reopening plants last week. Hyundai restarted a plant in Alabama on May 4.
But production will not bounce back quickly. The revival will unfold over a week or more as dozens of auto plants and hundreds of factories owned by parts suppliers gear up and start making and shipping products. The speed with which companies can move will depend in part on how quickly national, state and local governments loosen stay-at-home orders in the United States, Canada and Mexico, because the industry’s supply chains are closely intertwined across North America.
Some automakers have already run into complications.
Tesla, for example, and its chief executive, Elon Musk, were so eager to resume production last week at the company’s factory in Fremont, Calif., that they defied local officials and sued the county.
Mercedes-Benz restarted an S.U.V. plant in Alabama on April 27, but stopped production on Friday after running short of parts. Volkswagen was scheduled to start making cars at a plant in Chattanooga, Tenn., on Sunday — two weeks after it had originally hoped to bring workers back, because many of its suppliers needed more time to get up and running.
The automakers announced in mid-March that they would shut down their plants as the coronavirus spread and cases started surging in the Northeast, Louisiana and the Detroit area, where the three biggest U.S. automakers are based. The risk of infection is considered high for assembly-line workers because they often spend long hours working alongside one another.
While many of the automakers’ white-collar employees have been able to work from home, the shutdowns idled nearly 400,000 automotive production workers in April, according to the Bureau of Labor Statistics. The industry accounts for about 4 percent of the nation’s economy.
There is little precedent for such an across-the-board shutdown, said Erik Gordon, a business professor at the University of Michigan. Of course, strikes have forced individual car companies to shut down periodically; one last fall idled G.M. plants for 40 days. But Mr. Gordon, who has long tracked the industry, couldn’t think of a time when the three big companies, their suppliers and many dealers had to shut down at the same time.
During World War II, the industry stopped making cars, but its plants were retooled to make armaments and kept millions of people employed, Mr. Gordon noted. “There’s really nothing we can compare this to because it’s the entire industry, and its supply chain, that has closed down completely,” he said.
Now, the industry faces another daunting task that it has never faced: restarting production during a pandemic.
Automakers have made numerous changes to reduce the risk of infection, including slowing down the rate at which they churn out cars. Most manufacturers plan to shorten shifts, with more down time in between for cleaning. Employees will also be required to stagger their arrival and departure to reduce contact with others during shift changes.
Ford, G.M. and Fiat Chrysler will ask workers to fill out questionnaires and have their temperatures taken before reporting for work. The goal is to identify anybody who may have symptoms or has been in contact with somebody who is or has been ill. Workers will be required to wear masks, gloves and eye protection while on the job.
Fiat Chrysler has installed thermal-imaging cameras in some hallways and entryways to check workers for fevers. On its assembly lines, the company has set up transparent curtains to prevent transmission between people who work next to each other. At some stations where two workers install under-the-hood components at the same time, the company has developed screens that can be placed on engines.
Ford has placed portable sinks and hand-sanitizer dispensers throughout its plants and installed no-touch faucets and soap dispensers in restrooms.
Under guidelines worked out with the United Automobile Workers union, employees will have to get tested for the virus if they show symptoms. G.M., Ford and Fiat Chrysler, however, are not planning to test workers daily or weekly even though the U.A.W. has pushed for it. On Saturday, Ford said it had secured contracts with health care providers in southeastern Michigan; Louisville, Ky.; Kansas City, Mo.; and Chicago to test symptomatic employees and provide results within 24 hours.
“We continue to advocate for as much testing as possible at the current time and eventually full testing when available,” the union’s president, Rory Gamble, said in a statement.
In Louisville, the home of two Ford plants that make trucks and large S.U.V.s, many workers are looking forward to getting steady paychecks again but also a little worried, said Todd Dunn, president of U.A.W. Local 862.
“Everybody is burning cash,” he said. “And the company needs to produce, or we won’t have a company to go back to.”
Still, the risk of sickness and the complexities of a new safety policies are weighing on workers.
“A lot of members have parents or in-laws at home,” Mr. Dunn said. “So you wonder, ‘Should I take off my clothes in the garage and take a shower?’ A lot of members have issues with child care.”
It will probably take many months before the industry is producing as many cars as it was before plants shut down. The delicate restart of production will probably unfold slowly over at least a week or more as dozens of auto plants and hundreds of others owned by parts suppliers resume manufacturing and shipping operations dependent on the loosening of stay-at-home orders in the United States, Canada and Mexico.
G.M., which had been running two or three shifts in its North American plants, will start most plants on a single shift per day, something automakers try to avoid. The company said it was not yet sure if it would be able to restart its three plants in Mexico on Monday.
Toyota’s North American plants restarted last week, operating on one or two shifts a day. Honda reopened its plants but isn’t seeking to increase production quickly, to give crews time to become accustomed to new safety procedures and working conditions.
For now, there is no great urgency for automakers to ramp up manufacturing, because auto sales are not expected to recover fully anytime soon.
AutoNation, the country’s largest dealership chain, reported last week that sales of new and used cars at the end of April were down about 20 percent from a year earlier, after falling 50 percent in the first 10 days of the month. Some people were buying cars because they were avoiding public transit and shared transportation services, the company’s chief executive, Mike Jackson, said.
“I think this will be a very difficult restart and they need to get on with it,” Mr. Jackson said about the automakers. “But I can see where if plants don’t restart, in a month or two there’s going to be some inventory issues.”
The post Autoworkers Are Returning as Carmakers Gradually Crank Up Factories appeared first on Sansaar Times.
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