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the-firebird69 · 8 months

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Watch "Genesis - Abacab (Official Music Video)" on YouTube

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So I opened up the abacus and it said to get rid of the morlock and it's an older order and it's by our mother and father and it's certified and approved by Olympus and it was issued and we're going to follow it now because you people suck there's another order right now the more locker at Venus right now and we are destroying their ships and we are destroying their ships when they're in route and we're destroying their ships on the ground and underground we are taking them out of ships and we're grabbing the clones too because they're just wasting all this hardware you're a waste of time and you're blocking up the stupid water again we can't stand you you don't get anything from it and you keep doing it all you're doing is provoking people and doing nothing about it and your whole force is dissolved into almost nothing both of you idiots and just keep doing it and you're threatening yourselves. We have John remillard in court today and Dan and bja and his kids all of them and Jason and you're going to be sued for a lot of stuff and we're going to tackle and bothering him tonight I'm going to tackle on the laws you made that are specifically for him and we're going to sue the living s*** out of you dumb losers until you're gone. Now we put up citadel and they are in the Midwest and the upper Midwest and there to take care of you and then the middle areas globally all over the world in Europe there's an area it's to the North West of Europe and it's on the ocean it's pretty big and that's where people thought we were and right now we have huge citadel there a giant one because you people are assholes and we can't stand you it stands at about 80 miles by 40 miles by 20 miles high and you say you don't care cuz you've seen bigger all day long and it's going to cure by the time you're done talking and by that time we'll have people in it didn't go in until it's hardened and that's what you're waiting for. You turned our son against you so you can sit there and threaten him and he's sitting there right in your face ordering you dead and you die that night and people don't care cuz they think they can use it on him and he's getting rid of tons of you and your massive idiots but will you see the situation you have to get rid of more of you than allow you to speak but we're going to court today it was suing the whole shitloads of you and you think if he does his laundry you have some sort of holder edge and you're beginning your attack shortly finally took forever for it to get organized. And throughout the ages we make fun of you constantly and call you fools and send you in to see your king yours are not and they kill you they kill Tommy f like 50 times a day he was so insulting and he was stupid for a long time he gets killed all the time now. And his men are dying in rapidly and that girl killed that guy thankfully and she buried him alive and you can hear him yelling and muttering stuff trying to get her to unburied she pretended she was digging it open and he was saying finally you love me and all the stuff that she patted it down and he's suffocated to death and rotted and he's gone no one knows where he she buried him he looked where she was and it wasn't where she was buried she says by the time you find him he's going to be rotted completely and we believe her and it's probably gone right now and a whole bunch of them are going there and they're dying pretty soon but really you're threatening the crap out of him and we're going to take care of it we're going to reverse the law to see who's in the way of it being reversed and we're going to start doing that tomorrow no that's today I'm putting it in. But really we're going to take these ships out what time are you slow pokes we don't want you down there try to watching you it's disgusting you're so dumb we don't have to watch you in dune will begin.

Thor Freya

When they find out what Jason took and what's out there they're going to all run out there so things like his firebird and his ring and her ring and thrones that they may have been sitting on in the past with characters stuff like that this stuff missing from Disney and missing from the castle that was Carol and Dave you have program that what's his name Trump is looking for and a whole bunch of you can by the way you can by the way ucav are missing and he's an Asian guy on the singing song show and he was saying he was a Tommy f and by the way we've got a lot of dirt on you Jason and he says we should dump it it's going so damn slow so we're going to dump it you've got munitions and ammo and armament from Florida and you empty it out once a month and that's where the ships are going and people couldn't figure it out you kept on encouraging these guys to ruin themselves because they're more like we're too big and it's manipulations and we're helping and you don't have that much power but we're helping it's an illusion and pretty soon you're going to be in Friday the 13th again and you're going to be an Independence Day the movie isn't going to wreck yourself are you going to turn into bugs and die I'm so sick of you saying that stupid s*** you're teeny you're this little baby like a foot high it's so easy to get rid of you just have Tommy have fall forwards you almost did a few times cuz people hate you. He said we see something the people have power and they don't like you in a sense says it again you're already in Egypt and you didn't even check you have all that stuff and you're not threatening for anything but to bother him you're such a turd we're going to hit you now

I'm filing suit against you people here and against Jason you find your own lawyers who get a team together and go after him and you have to cuz you'll see what he has out there

Bitol and Goddess Wife

Olympus

I miss you and hits on you Jason everyday so you can say that stupid full of s**** stuff everyday. I can't touch my money I can't access it but I have a shitload of it and I know where your stuff is and I can order hits on you and tell people where it is huge stockpiles of gold and white gold cuz you're a Jason and the Argonauts and you trade ships and you go and raid when they're not paying attention giant numbers of times we Trace you and I want some of that out and I want some of these white gold stuff out cuz he took it from here to use it against these people cuz they plan to against us on our own ships I'm ordering it now

Zues Hera

We're going ahead now and we're getting more power and it is time but it should have been done earlier and he was telling us to and it just keeps telling us and we're going to have to start falling voters and we're getting going to have to follow orders we need aggressive people like buster Duke nukem Blockbuster who specialize and just to hang on to it we need people to chase after artifacts and we need someone and he's hearing someone from Pakistan and he wants to start he wants people to know who he is so he can get teams together like Duke nukem Blockbuster does and it's a perfect area it's got a lot of history there and they have been quiet about it for many many years Steve and I see our son's artifacts tossed all over the place and held by this little idiot and they don't want it I'm ordering it now

Thor Freya

I had Jason play myself quite a bunch and I'm big of course Giant and I rival my grandson in size and half and he's amazed he never thought it would come from Pakistan is true we're skinny and wiry he's hot but no I'm pretty big and I had Jason have a character that is like that and I'm sick of him that little boy is fired it's way over the top and her son is a temperament everything because he is close to having huge problems everyday with everything there's no cushion there's no breaks and the threatening the crap out of them they're getting nothing they just keep doing it. We need our stuff out it's a good opportunity to get it because nobody seems to be following it or going after it and I'm going to start doing it now.

I've known by the name that he had as a big Iranian guy

God and goddess of Pakistan

We're the counterparts and we going to go after 2:00 we're like Frank Castle hardcastle but he's intense after artifacts and our son-in-law and daughter say we want it all in every single one of them and he has authority to hire all over the universe every race of ours and we're going to Grant it and send it to Olympus now and we will too but under their direction and we get that we love it it's perfect

More will come forward soon and they say it

Thor Freya

We all want our artifacts back but some people are very good at it and he is extremely good at it

Olympus

I think you all for listening and we're going to get to it now there's a lot happening and it's going on right now and we need to be attentive to it

God and goddess of Pakistan

And the other two counterparts also god and goddess of Pakistan

#Youtube

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broken-minded-love · 3 years

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@sad-sweet-cowboah Hope you don’t mind if I start a new post here, I don’t want to prolong the debate by doing this, but I still have some things to say and the other post is getting kind of ridiculous and is hard to reply to due to it’s length. I’ll quote a few things from the original thread to keep it linked in reply and physically here for posterity. [...I know it makes me seem suspicious but I have a habit of reading things without saving them, etc...] I appreciate that you wouldn’t keep track like that, who does? However, I can’t see any credit given to HOGO or her work on your blog/story before the original call out drama in 2019? Obviously you may have done that privately, but I know how fandoms work and there’s a lot of mutual backscratching in drama’s like this so it seems impossible to truly validate any of this independently, which is a shame. Perhaps it was my mistake, but when you said you’d been inspired by HOGO’s fics I assumed she’d written a full fic. I can’t find an actual chaptered fan fic following videogame Arthur in modern times from HOGO, and nothing of him in that setting by himself. It all seems to be involving the gang too, which is quite a different dynamic to what occurs in your series and Wish Upon. I can see how it would be difficult to keep track of HOGO’s posts, even if you were trying too, because I can see dozens of drabbles, but nothing as a titled fic you could keep track of. I can also see why those little scenes and dialogs may have inspired you, but as I said I can’t see any credit for the inspiration as you claimed? Besides which, it’s all kind of a moot point, because I think the bigger issue seems to be less about the initial inspiration and more about the timing and direct comparisons that can be drawn between your series and Wish Upon. [...I also included the-awkward-outlaw’s series as an example since you mentioned previously that it’s a “very niche” topic when it’s more popular than one would think. ...] Well, yes, it is now, but it wasn’t to begin with. Ever since the onset of this drama, I’ve only seen a tiny handful of attempts at covering Arthur in the modern world in a fic, which still makes it niche when you compare to the volume of repeated themes in Red Dead fics over all. It was a completely non existent plotline (at least on AO3/FFNET) in October ‘18 through Jan ‘19, and the game had been out for three months already when @miss-oscurita published Wish Upon. Yet no one had stepped up to bring us a story covering the concept of video game Arthur alive in 2018/9. The reason Wish Upon hooked me personally, was because it was completely different to the numerous “damsel in distress”, “highborn babe”, “tough outlaw chick” that were a dime a dozen. There was also several “modern reader goes back in time” stories too, but Wish Upon was the first incarnation of Arthur coming out of the game into the modern world, in an actual fic at least. No doubt the idea could have been circulating, but no one had actually taken the time to put it into an actual story to my knowledge. Does that mean Oscurita should hold a monopoly on the idea? Of course not, but it does explain why anything that followed Wish Upon’s publication, including TOA’s recent works, will be bound to draw comparisons simply because Wish Upon was first on the scene to cover the topic, and as a result is likely the most well known version of it. I think the real issue here isn’t who all’s covered Arthur living in modern times, it’s more the issue over the dynamic where the protag is familiar with him as a character, because the dynamic of the pairing and the story itself changes so much when it’s explored from that angle. The dynamic is also affected when the fic focuses only on the two main characters (as with the gang being in the modern world in HOGO’s concepts) especially when they are both aware he’s fictional that it’s really something that can only be done once, maybe twice at a push. And yes you’d have to be certifiable to believe ideas won’t overlap, I mean it’s going to be a really hollow story if you don’t cover things like Arthur using a microwave, or using a toothbrush and showering for the first time, or learning to drive, discovering movies and what not. However, from what I seen over the course of this matter, it seems the issue with it all lies in how and when these elements are explored in the story. I may be wrong, but I don’t think there’s ever been an issue raised with any other parts of your series beyond that of As We Meet, has there? And the issues raised over the original instalment and the rewritten piece seemed to be because it essentially follows the exact pattern of Wish Upon’s first few chapters, as we’ve already discussed.

[... I’m 99% positive the catalyst was a h-o-g-o oneshot of Arthur discovering lingerie...]

Funny that you should mention discovering lingerie when @miss-oscurita’s most recent update included Arthur discovering modern underwear for the first time. I don’t recall in which of your stories he did that?

Just in the interest of being informed, I searched HOGO’s blog and found a chapter mentioning lingerie (which I assume is the one that inspired you?) but that in itself is a classic example of how the same idea can be done by two different people and still be complete different.

Which I’m sorry to say really only further highlights why the similarities in your opening chapters are such a cause for concern.

Regardless of the inspiration, if we list the similarities we have from the original piece, and the rewrite the issues are pretty clear.

1) Young female gamer protag.

2) Modern day setting.

3) Both have adopted silver tabby cats.

4) Both have the backdrop of being alone on a stormy night.

5) Both involved with an event that brings Arthur out of the game.

6) Both aware of him as a fictional character before being a flesh and blood man.

4) Both immediately assume him to be an intruder.

5) Both think they are dreaming and pinch themselves.

6) Both use touch as a way to confirm he’s there in the flesh.

7) Both fics use the same name for animals.

8) Both fics almost immediately go on to explore Arthur showering, discovering cellphones, watching TV/movies, using a microwave, in almost the exact same order. 9) Both use some variation of the “my Arthur” device.

Then in the rewrite you make changes to also include:

10) Both use his horse to confirm he’s ripped straight from the game.

11) Both use extremely similar types of names for the horses.

12) Both work from home, for one reason or another. Seeing it written out like that I can more understand why people have red flagged it, as it goes a bit beyond simply exploring the same concept as the likes of HOGO/TAO may be doing. I mean it was bound to flare things up to include additional similar elements. What I don’t get is, knowing how toxic the fandom is, and that you’re under the microscope over this, why you didn’t take the rewrite as an opportunity to distance yourself from those similarities? And if I’m brutally frank with you here, it does come across as a bit of “drama farming” when you know the consequences of similarities all too well. And what I still don’t get is how you’ve not managed to move away from these controversies? I’m a lot of a loser, and have kept an eye on this drama since it began and I have to say when you interjected with the other drama around Wish Upon late last year, that came across to me as looking for drama, or at least being lead to it by someone else somewhere. I don’t know where you got the tip off for that, because the post wasn’t tagged and I only saw it due to following @miss-oscurita/you on my fandom account and the other writer in question was very new to the RDR fandom and likely didn’t have much of a following. Add that to the poor wording on the announcements of your rewrites and you know, I’m sure it’s innocent on your part, but I can see why it doesn’t look good to others. I mean I could easily believe you were trying to avoid making the stories similar and accidentally included the horse thing simply because your ideas and the ideas from Wish Upon merged, because unless you’re able to keep them firmly separate in your head it’s going to happen now you know of Wish Upon. If it was me, I’d be doing my best to not give anyone any more reason to throw shit at my house. Instead you’ve somehow managed to do the opposite. The rewrite was a missed opportunity to draw a line under all the past drama, and that’s disappointing to see as a reader and a writer too. I do hope you manage to sort this all out, and that there’s no further public bashing over it all but now the seal is broken on it all it’ll be very hard to prevent the sharks smelling the tiniest drop of blood in the water.

#writing #fan fic dramas #not going to tag this for fandom to avoid inflaming the situation further #sad-sweet-cowboah #miss-oscurita

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cruddyborderlandstheories · 3 years

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Also Nekrotefeyo was criminally underused for the legendary Eridian homeworld like I was expecting like a big abandoned city or a completely decimated apocalyptic place, not a dried up ocean bed (Are they maybe more crustaceans instead (?) of bugs???) with like 2 Eridian buildings on it and also Maliwan for... Some... Reason. Seriously. Dark Maliwan was so clearly cut content and I wanna know wtf that was all about. Also we got Promethea so it isn't like they weren't capable of making a big city area, like the restrictions of the engine wouldn't allow it, they just didn't... Feel like it? Maybe didn't have time to flesh it out given how late nekro is in the game? Seriously it feels empty as fuck, I love exploring the planets, but even as a certified lore lover I just can't bring myself to explore that place more than I have to for quests. It's really empty and boring

Also, I am bet that the big glowing thing we see coming out of the planet as it fragments is related either to the Machine and the souls sacrificed to make it work, or the Guardian soul main storage thingie. Mainly because ghosts and such are real in the bl universe and they're all that same glowing green sort of deal. It also reminds me of Krieg's mind planet projection thing which does add credence to that. That is potentially why Minos Prime 'hatched', it could have been a storage place for other, maybe reject(?) Guardian souls and that's where all the Eridian and Guardian stuff randomly came from that Tannis keeps goddamn repeating every time u play the takedown. FE Minos Prime was a testing site for prototype Guardians and the souls (I don't want to call them mind cores because the mind core we got from the Vault of the Destroyer was solid and not green and don't even get me STARTED on that whole situation because there was cut Overseer dialogue from when you take that thing out of the Vault and why WAS it even in the VAULT OF THE DESTROYER and Hhhhh) were stored in Minos Prime until whoops they got out. And I'm guessing they sacrificed the people of Minos Prime to the Machine (we literally left nobody guarding it sooo) bc Tannis says they just vanished without a trace. Which ALSO adds bonus points to my theory that the Eridians aren't dead and are just chilling elsewhere laughing at us right now.

I still think Lilith brought Elpis to the Eridian Rift on the map Typhon and Leda wrote all over and she's vibing there, too. Maybe it's a sort of stasis place where time doesn't pass so the people of Elpis don't die. Idk how Lilith would know about that but then again given the chest in her room I would honestly not bet against my whole 'Lilith had help from the Watcher and/or the Eridians during/before Bl3 and refused to tell us' which is why she just vanishes at the end of the game and takes Elpis with her.

And also why Sanctuary-III randomly exists when we have never heard of the company that made it before (seriously what is supamax mfg), it's somehow in good enough condition that Moxxi and Ellie could fix it up with their scarce resources, and they found it before any other people did (can probably chalk this one up to Tannis if there were cameras or it was hooked up to the ECHOnet of Pandora, but the other two points stand). I would've been okay with it if it were an Atlas ship Rhys sent over or smth, if it were an old Hyperion ship, if the branding of supamax mfg was Moxxi and Ellie's team effort of making a spaceship company in honor of Scooter- literally if any of these things were explained in-game, but they're NOT. So I am left to go 'what the hell where did this come from what is Supamax MFG' and like, a random company we've never heard of existing is totally fine, we're introduced to the Obsidian Black Block and Hephestus United as well, but it just feels weird that this random supply (?) ship just happened to go to Pandora for some reason and then also crash or was abandoned for some reason. If we could just get a scrap of info on Supamax MFG and why this ship was on Pandora I'd be happy. Their branding is Ships Made Quick so clearly they build ships which is fine.

Did Lilith contact them? If so, cool, could we get an ECHO log of that? Where did she get the money after Sanctuary-II blew tf up? Did she or Moxxi or Ellie have connections that allowed them to get the ship made for cheap or free? Why did they decide to make the ship out in the open when they knew about the rising CoV threat?? Was the ship stolen? Did the Crimson Raiders just kill a bunch of people to get their hands on it? I doubt it, but this shit isn't explained! So yeah when I write theories like 'Hm well maybe this ship was planted here by the Watcher' its not because I'm driven insane by the Eridians it is because we literally have no other reason to go 'maybe not' and with what little information we do get during the game, it could be fuckin possible!!!

Lilith apparently knew more than she was letting on, she was contacted personally by the Watcher during the end of TPS (brick specially had to ASK what the Watcher said to Lilith), so yeah fuck it the ship and everything that wasn't explicitly explained was given to Lilith by the Watcher to help her in her quest for whatever the Big One is in bl4. Bc you KNOW that Bl3 was just the lead up to get the Destroyer to slip out of its chains thru Tyreen's meddling (literally in nyriads log right before the final boss and its not like ty absorbed an entire planet sized monster and was the size of, like, a shortish tree so you know the Destroyer is still in there as it's further confirmed by Scourge when he says shit like you don't even know what you just did blah blah shut up loser- the only thing pointing to the Destroyer ACTUALLY being dead is that the Vault (????) of the Destroyer (???????????????) opened after Tyreen died but then we can make the Vault of the Architects argument that maybe it considered her part of the Destroyer and her dying confused the Vault into opened, iunno. I don't even know why that Vault was there in the first place wtf was its purpose I thought the Vault of the Destroyer was either the other Pandora one (emergency human feeding port to a monster that doesn't need sustenance) or literally Pandora itself in which case killing Tyreen should have destroyed the whole planet by opening it soooooo I guess that Vault exists to circumvent that extremely specific problem only the Eridians would have guessed could happen idk) and to set the Guardians up as villains cuz fuck them that's why (>:( please gearbox don't, make the Eridians the bad guys if someone has to be evil pretty please the Guardians aren't the bad guys they are literally gaining sentience right now give them a chance they gotta figure themselves out and the Eridians fit the whole 'corporations exploiting their workers' vibe with the Guardians being forced to work even after the Eridians are gone so don't let those parallels slip away with shortsighted storytelling) but then it hurts even worse cuz the story could've been so much simpler and just... Sweeter and better than what we got if that's all they had to do was set those two things up. Bro I hate how every time I go to ask questions abt the game it leads me back here. Because it's true!! And it hurts I just wanna sit down with the lore manager of the game and ask them all these questions because I'm genuinely curious, but I'm afraid of the answers or non-answers I'll get. Again, I get the whole 'things have to happen for plot, not everything should be questioned, give the writers some slack to write a story' argument but when EVERYTHING falls under that category and the story didn't even end up being that great, it gets really frustrating because HONESTLY? if we had gotten good lore and explanations to things and actual world building and details and all that? I wouldn't have minded the main story so much. But unfortunately we got neither good lore (I wanna tell Nyriad she was lied to very badly because it's either the Eridians are evil and liars about a lot, or nobody thought twice the implications of giving the Destroyer a feeding port that explicitly calls humans to it) nor good main story (you know.) and it just. Is annoying. That's all.

#Hm. This post derailed real quick #Nekrotefeyo -> supamax mfg speed run #borderlands #bl3 #borderlands 3

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duhragonball · 3 years

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Cult Classic

I had a really exhausting week, so I’m going to try to chill out by writing this thing about cults that’s been bouncing around in my head since... oh, like January 6th? For some reason? But it’s also about my insanely long OC fanfic slash vanity project slash concept album. Join me, won’t you?

Okay, so back in... geez 2018? Has it been that long? Around October 2018 I started working out the details for the big climax of the “1000 years ago” section of my fanfic. From the start I had this idea that the Legendary Super Saiyan would be locked into a death struggle with pretty much the entire Saiyan population, led by a Saiyan King who just can’t handle being upstaged. But I had to figure out a lot of details to make that actually work. What I finally ended up with was the Jindan Cult.

Why a cult? Because I wanted my King character to be the main villain, but also be physically weaker, but also he needed to be powerful enough to challenge the heroine. I came up with all these different ways to beef up his power level without making him a Super Saiyan himself, but ultimately I wanted him to have an army of Siayans at his back. That led me to consider some sort of magic elixir that would make them all stronger, but especially the king, since he’s ultimately in this for himself. At first, I considered having him mind-control all of his goons, but I spent the mind control nickel in earlier arcs, and I’ll have to use it again later, because Towa and Demigra use it. Then I thought of drug addiction, which is sort of like mind control but not literal brainwashing or anything like that. And that led me to the cult concept.

One major inspiration for me was the real-life cult called “NXIVM”, which made the news back in 2018 when their leaders started getting arrested, including “Smallville” star Allison Mack. Every time I read about it, it felt like something from a movie, but it was real. I guess the celebrity angle made it more bizarre to me, because it’s sort of like “Hey, this isn’t just some group of randos; someone you’ve heard of is in this thing.” Not that I ever paid much attention to “Smallville”, but you get the idea. She didn’t just join NXIVM, she eventually became one of the top recruiters. Some of the character arcs in my fic were my own attempt to understand how a person goes from Point A to Point B.

The big plot hole, though, in my mind, was that I came up with this whole master plan for the bad guys, but it involved sending wave after wave of Saiyan cultists to die in pointless, unwinnable battles against Luffa. I couldn’t have them win much, because if they beat her, they’d just kill her, and the story would be over. It struck me as fishy that these Saiyans would sign up for a war where the casualty rate is 100%, but I tried to lampshade it as best I could. “Yeah, all those other chumps couldn’t beat Luffa, but I’ll pull it off because I’m special!” It still seemed a bit unlikely.

But then 2020 happened, and I guess the main thing I learned from that year was that people will accept almost anything in order to believe a comfortable lie. The joke I’ve seen on the internet is that we need to retire the expression “avoid it like the plague”, because it turns out a lot of people don’t actually avoid plagues very well at all. The horrifying thing about COVID-19 is how easily people will accept the climbing death tolls. “Oh, well this person was already in bad health, so they would have died eventually anyway.” I don’t want to get too political here, but I’m pretty sure a lot of the anti-mask, coronavirus-is-a-hoax crowd are the same people who made up tall tales about “death panels” in Obamacare. “They’re gonna euthanize your grandma!” they would say, but now they say your grandma is acceptable losses if it means reopening bars and restaurants.

Actually, I do mean to get political, because holy fuck, Qanon stormed the Capitol Building. Look, if you don’t believe Joe Biden won the election, I don’t know what to tell you, except please get far away from me, right now. If you’re not familiar with Qanon, a few years ago some guy on an image board posted a bunch of cryptic messages and claimed to be an important government figure who would know about important things. People started “deciphering” his “clues” and when he stopped posting new ones they started inventing their own “clues” and interpreting them any way that suited them. This led to an overarching narrative that Donald Trump was actually part of this massive sting operation to arrest hundreds, maybe thousands of left-wing politicians, celebrities, and whoever else. Any day now, he was supposed to have Hilary Clinton arrested, and also JFK Junior would somehow show up and help him, even though he’s been dead for 22 years. Every day, these Qanon guys would add on more bizarre lore to their “theories”, and every day none of their predictions would come true. Then Trump lost the election, which put them in a bind, because their whole mythology is based on the idea of him saving the world as POTUS, and now he wasn’t even going to be POTUS for much longer.

I’m pretty sure this had a lot to do with the lies about election fraud. Trump himself refused to accept defeat, and his supporters didn’t want to accept it either, so they all told each other that it wasn’t real, and they believed each other so much that they dug in their heels. But then they’d take this stuff to court and the judge would be like “Uh, what evidence do you have of mass voter fraud?” and they would just be like “lol nvm!” I mean, if there was proof for any of this, why would they not want a judge to see it? But for Qanon, it was more than just being sore losers. They needed all their whackamaroo predictions to come true, and Trump losing re-election would upset the applecart.

So then they started telling themselves that they could win this thing through the boring certification process. I think it was like, December 14 when all the states had to certify their results. So they held out hope that nothing was over until then. Then they pinned their hopes on the Electoral College, and that there would be enough faithless electors to hand Trump the victory, in spite of the voters. I found this one amusing, since I used to see tumblr suggesting the same thing back in 2016, when they were still trying to come up with ways for Bernie Sanders to win.

Then they decided Mike Pence could fix everything, because on Jan 6, Congress would officially count the Electoral Votes and formally declare the winner, and Mike Pence would step in and overrule the whole thing, because the Vice-President oversees that process. Except he just oversees it, he can’t legally change the outcome, especially on a whim. And then the riot at the Capitol happened, and I’m pretty sure all these Qanon types thought it would mark the beginning of a nationwide uprising, with all seventy-odd million Trump voters going apeshit, but it... didn’t work out that way.

Then they convinced themselves that everything was building to January 20, because the innauguration was actually a clever trap, and once Joe Biden took the oath of office, he could then be arrested for treason, so you see, they had to make it look like Trump lost the election, because it was the only way to fool Joe Biden into incriminating himself... or... something. But Jan 20 came and went, so the latest fallback position I heard was that there’s a double-secret REAL inauguration day, and it’s in March, and the January 20 one isn’t legitimate, even though Trump was inaugurated on January 20, 2016, but whatever. That, or the guy we see in the White House now is actually Trump disguised as Joe Biden, or a Joe Biden android or something.

I think I sort of understood that Qanon is a cult, but I didn’t really put the pieces together until the events of January unfolded. Pre-November, it just seemed like a conspiracy theory, without any real timetables or prophecies, like Flat Earth. But once the end of the Trump Administration was in sight, it really started to look like all the doomsday cults I’ve heard about over the years. The predicted events wind up failing to come true, and they invent new predictions to explain away the old ones. It’s not about the veracity of the claims as much as the claims themselves. People want to believe there’s this whole elaborate explanation for everything. They wanted to believe that Trump was this hypercompetent superheroic messiah, because the alternative is to face the uncertain reality: that he had no idea what he was doing, and real people were going to suffer for it.

I think I sort of worked that idea into my fictional cult, but I backed into it. NXIVM was a sex cult, not a doomsday cult, or an elaborate conspiracy theory, so I was mostly fixated on all the depraved things the cult could do to its members. But they all share the same lure: a belief system that promises to make everything fit. I’m not sure what the hook was for NXIVM, but Allison Mack didn’t go in thinking about how much fun sex trafficking would be. That came later, after she was convinced that NXIVM had all the answers, and one of those answers involved sex crimes, apparently. In the same vein, Qanon attempted to explain mass arrests and executions by claiming that Hilary Clinton eats babies or something. “Well, I don’t want babies to get eaten, so I guess breaking into the Capitol building seems like a reasonable course of action.”

Weighed against real life, a bunch of Saiyans accepting a 100% casualty rate doesn’t seem so outrageous. It also helps that sometimes the leaders of these groups can buy into their own hype, and think they’re infallible when they’re really not. This week, I started reading the Darth Plagueis novel again, and I’ve seen the Sith from Star Wars referred to as a cult, but I never gave it a lot of thought until I noticed that Plagueis buys into the whole Dark Side of the Force thing a little too hard. At times, he’ll wax philosophical about how the Jedi are the real bad guys when you think about it, and he’s not just saying that to be manipulative. He honestly believes that the Sith can save the galaxy from decline, which is stupid and hypocritical, because they’re the ones causing all the decline. I always got the impression that Darth Sidious understood that it was all about accumulating power as an end unto itself, and any high-minded talk of necessary evil was just to keep the rubes in line. Rise of Skywalker plays into that idea nicely. He somehow survived Episode VI, but he let the Empire collapse, because if he can’t rule it, he doesn’t want it to exist at all. But he’s still playing himself, because he thinks he can win by following the same failed ideology that got all the previous Sith Lords killed.

That’s pretty much all I have to say about it right now. I need to move on to other topics, because Towa’s not doing a cult thing, so my fic is moving in a different direction. But I feel better for getting this out of my head.

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tessatechaitea · 5 years

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Scarab #5

Scarab just learned how to use "whomst'd" correctly.

Maybe the sudden need for drugs was due to this character with my name trying to kill himself.

I hadn't actually gotten to the part where the guy notes he's on drugs or that he's surrounded by poppies so I think I just have to give credit to John Smith's writing for setting up a real "I'm fucking overdosing on pain killers" tone. Now I'm also jealous of a fictional nobody. If only I had too many painkillers right now, um, well, I'd probably never hit publish on this blog post and all five of my readers would be wondering, "When the fuck is Grunion Guy (or Tess (or Jeff (or whoever the fuck this asshole is))) ever going to finish reading Scarab?" According to my Non-Certified Sister-in-law, nutritionists have to report people for suicidal ideation. She told this to me because she's a nutritionist and I said to her one night at karaoke that my current retirement plan was to do whatever the fuck I wanted until my bank account was dry and then kill myself. But she never reported me so I guess she doesn't realize that's actually my retirement plan. Speaking of karaoke, I knocked another song off of my karaoke bucket list this week: "Like China" by Phil Collins. I fucked that song so hard on stage, some woman high-fived me and some other guy came up to me and thanked me for reminding him that the song exists. He was super drunk. Super drunk guys love me at karaoke. One time this guy whose name I believe was Creepy Kevin asked me, after I'd just sung "Everybody Knows," if I was doing it in the style of Leonard Cohen or Concrete Blonde. I said Concrete Blonde and he said, "Your voice really suits it." Which is when I stabbed him in the throat and tossed him in the dumpster out back with the leftover spring rolls from the night before because how dare he insult Johnette Napolitano! She has the voice of an angel and I have the voice of the person the angel walks on so that they don't have to get their feet dirty at the angel orgy. I know nobody is reading this and thinking, "What the fuck are you talking about?! What has happened to Scarab this issue?! Has Eleanor found her way home?!" How many people even remember that this comic book ever existed?! I just read four issues of it a week and a half ago and I almost forgot it existed! This issue is called "Paradise Defiled" which I just read although maybe my subconscious read it earlier (due to the comic being opened to that page and just sitting there on the scanner) which is why I was thinking about angel orgies. This guy Jeff is somebody Louis knows. An old woman — maybe his mother? — phones Louis to ask if he's seen him. So that's how Scarab gets involved with Jeff's suicidal problem. Meanwhile, Eleanor is sprouting ecotoplasmic rivulets. It's super gross. But this issue isn't about Scarab and Eleanor! At least I don't think it is. It's about Jeff waking up from his pleasant and relaxing overdose to find himself in an afterlife torture garden sex party. He totally hates it and I understand why. The place is first described as "a literal incarnation of a littoral world" and I have to stop myself from Googling "home lobotomy." The first tortured sex victim he meets is a guy strapped to a wheel with a bunch of knives in him spouting "Vertigo phrases." I explained "Vertigo phrases" in a previous commentary (or all of my previous Vertigo commentaries maybe?) but for those who somehow just stumbled upon this commentary because "every blog post is somebody's first" (although why Scarab #5 would be somebody's first is beyond comprehension), here's a nice example of "Vertigo phrasing."

It doesn't have to mean anything. It just needs to sound weirdly profound while making the reader feel like a real fucking smarty pants.

Jeff is taken to some Herod-like angel named Lord Colouris. He's also a bit like a cross between John Lennon and Jabba the Hutt. Did I just describe David Crosby? Lord Colouris declares he's going to make a new man out of Jeff and I don't think he means it figuratively. In the middle of the Garden stands the Tree of the Knowledge of Good and Evil. It bears the fruit of truth and whispers as skulls pile up beneath it from those feeding on its devastating pronouncements. Also, I sort of agree with what it's saying here:

Ninety-eight percent of this blog is me screaming from the anguish of losing the bliss of nonexistence.

Not that I think I'm evil. Nor do I believe in souls. But that whole anguish over the loss of nonexistence? That hits me fucking hard, bro. Look, it even made me call you bro. I'm hurting here, dude. See? I said dude too! The rest of what the tree says is meaningless gobbledygook. Something about sex tearing the flanks of God and a snake jerking it into a pot of clay like my junior high school classmate Chris Huff beating off in a breadbox. Maybe it makes sense to guilt-ridden Catholics but it's all wasted on me. I'm just wondering if I should do a Google search on a snake ejaculating. I've done it before for bats and let me tell you: there's a great video of a bat at a zoo sucking itself off in front of some kids! Truly a work of art. So privileged to live in this modern age and able to experience such wonders of this world! Lord Colouris turns Jeff into a monstrosity because he's trying to reform the lost souls that wind up in the Garden of Pain into his image before he fell from Heaven. But he can't do it because everybody who enters the Garden is tainted by their boring and uncreative lives. To finally make a work of art equal to his previous state of being, Lord Colouris releases all of his Frankenstein monsters into the world to hunt down a truly innocent and beautiful person who can provide the raw material for Lord Colouris's sculpture. Jeff is now one of them. Being uncreative morons, the monsters raid nurseries all over New York. Idiots. How many babies does it take to create an angel? Probably like millions! Some of the monsters seek out Eleanor because her leaking bodily fluids smell succulent and, I guess, virginal? I don't know. Like I said, she's gross. I hope they take her. Instead of Eleanor, the monsters accidentally take Scarab back to the Garden where he's quickly defeated by Colouris with a tree grown up through his guts. Then Scarab, like a true super hero, remembers that he can't be defeated if he just summons one last burst of strength and hope to overcome his enemy! Which he totally does by biting Lord Colouris's tongue off (because Lord Colouris was doing naughty things to Scarab. So naughty that I was embarrassed to discuss them). Then he punches Colouris in the throat and he barfs up the keys to all of his monsters' souls. Plus the key to his own soul which Monster Jeff helps Scarab find. Scarab recognizes him and thinks, "Fuck. Okay, I guess I'll just have to tell Jeff's mother he's dead." Then Scarab sticks the key in Colouris's head and the Garden dissolves into an empty room with a ticking metronome. That probably makes really smart people go, "Holy fuck! That's fucking brilliant! What a great reference or theory or idea or intelligent bit of philosophical scat!" And, um, that's totally what I said too. I'm not one of those morons who don't understand Vertigo comic books. Pshaw! Can you even believe uncool losers like that exist?! Scarab #5 Rating: You know how many things I had to look up on the Internet while reading this comic book? At least two! Maybe more but even two is a lot! Remember, I first read this in 1993 when most people didn't have Internet (and those that did were spending their time in AOL and Prodigy chat rooms with names like "Horoscope Lovers" and "Remember The A-Team?!"). So that's two things I definitely didn't understand when I read it the first time because you can believe that I was too lazy to pick up a dictionary in the middle of reading a comic book. And that's even assuming that I'm the type of person to own a dictionary! Man, stop embarrassing yourself with your lousy assumptions!

#Scarab #Vertigo #DC Comics #DC #Scot Eaton #John Smith

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tossertozier · 6 years

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He Really Knew Well Enough - a corrected meta

so when I came into this fandom, it was so gung-ho on this one line. I made it my blog title. I write an entire fic based off this one line. This one line is the Entire reason I am invested in a romantic relationship for reddie. And no one was talking about it, so I was like alright everybody lemme school you.

now it’s a certified ThingTM and lemme tell ya a bitch is a little bit proud. but let me tell you Why it should be such a thing. (& finally correct myself for the other meta with too many notes to be wrong.)

(for those who have no context for this question: in the book, after eddie dies, richie cries. upon the realization he has to leave him where he is to ensure the safety of everyone else, he kisses him on the cheek, promptly grows absolutely enraged and attacks the door that the Very dead pennywise is on the other side of. when everyone is like …wtf, bev asks why he did that. he verbally replies “i don’t know” and the narration tells us ‘but he knew well enough.’)

I want to paint a picture out of that, for a second, though. We’ve got five characters in this scene. We’re in a dark, upsetting sewer. One person is Eddie, who is dead. Then we have Ben, who just freshly smashed some eggs and he’s... tired. Then there’s Bev, whom, moments before, was nearly as distraught as Richie. And then there’s Bill, who says next to nothing for this entire scene.

Bev / Richie / Eddie is such an interesting dynamic in this book. The boys love Bev, and she loves them. And Bev was sobbing in the moments before, because her friend, whom she loved dearly, died.

And Richie loves both of them. In fact, when Richie re-meets IT as an adult, he’s taunted by IT about both of them, and just the two of them:

He says something akin to “we’ll have a party. Bev can come and bring her wedding ring, and Eddie can come and wear saddle shoes.”

Which. That wedding ring comment I think is just another knock at Richie, who, I believe, never knew as empathically as Ben and bill whether or not he liked Bev, but it was always at the back of his mind. The saddle shoe comment is interesting, because in the fifties they were commonly worn by everyone (thanks to Elvis) but before that and then after they were really just seen as women’s shoes (they’re the shoes sandy and the pink ladies wore in grease.)

What I think IT is really getting at here, if he were a sneering childhood bully and not an all knowing space monster is that: “you can bring your girlfriend who doesn’t actually like you, or you can bring your other girlfriend because you like him like that, too, don’t you?”

so. Eddie is dead, bev is crying, all of this leads to upset Richie: and he freaks out and kicks a door.

But here’s the thing about IT: these people are not what most adults would consider to be true friends. They haven’t, as far as we know, seen each other, in upwards of 25 years. They are not impactful in each other’s every day lives.

For Bev to even ask why he would (react so emotionally, when she herself is crying), means that Richie must have been absolutely fucking ballistic.

the thing about it is: richie is stated, over and over again, by 6/7 members of the losers club, as confusing. As “not quite getting him,” or “not knowing what he was all about.” Richie thus far has had difficulty expressing his emotions. he hides a Lot under characters. the only exception to this rule, is bill. bill thinks that Richie A MAN HE HASNT SEEN IN 27 YEARS knows him/understands him better than ANYONE ELSE IN HIS LIFE. And he feels the same way in the opposite, too.

I Truly Hate Stephen King, bc in a very believable way, he isolates the reader from richie, the way richie isolates the other characters. richie, as a man especially, is set up to the reader as not a liar, but a half-truth teller. he does this with his boss at the beginning, he does it to the woman he’s with. he doesn’t lie to them, he just doesn’t necessarily disclose the entire truth.

it’s stated over and over again: what Richie is really scared of is who he really is.

it’s in his narrative as a child. When he watches the werewolf movie, he fears seeing himself that way:

“The Teenage Werewolf was somehow scarier, though... perhaps because he also seemed a little sad. What had happened wasn’t his own fault. There was this hynpotist who had fucked him up, but the only reason he’d been able to was because the kid who turned into the werewolf was full of anger and bad feelings. Richie found himself wondering if there were many people in the world hiding bad feelings like that. Henry Bowers was just overflowing with bad feelings, but he sure didn’t bother hiding them.”

“Stitched on the bloody left breast of the Werewolf’s jacket, stained but readable, were the words RICHIE TOZIER”

Richie Tozier is scared of his own emotions, and he’s scared of who he really is, and he time and time again shoves that under some voice or another.

But he knew well enough is not the the first time richie does something of this nature. It’s very similarly stated when he’s a kid:

“I don’t get you dad,” but he was afraid he did.

And he does the same concept without the wording, not disclosing what he was truly thinking/feeling, constantly.

And if his answer were authentically “my friends just got eaten by a spider” it would have been easy enough to say that. But Richie knows it’s not.

“I don’t know.” But he knew well enough. fucking DESTROYS me because it discloses to the reader 1. that he lied to bev 2. that he knows why he’s upset. 3. but not why he’s upset.

IT’S SUCH A FUCKING RICHIE TOZIER MOVE. it kills me. fyi. he’s upset because he loves eddie. it’s crashing over him how much he loves eddie. & he died saving richie’s life. he loves him, he’s gone, and there’s nothing he can do about it.

And bill says nothing. Probably because bill knows. Bill just doesn’t have to ask.

and non-reddie people can take it as any kind of love they wanna take it as -i have my own reasons for thinking it’s romantic,-, but this is really what i get out of it:

“why did you do that?” “i don’t know.” Because he loved him.  “why did you do that” “i love him.”

which richie would never just out-right say - probably not even in his own mind which is another fucking ted talk this is not well written i’m so sorry. put but he knew well enough on my fucking gravestone.

Oh, and if you’re thinking: “but what, how can one line make u ship a whole ass couple.”

I respond with: “Richie Tozier Knew Well enough and so should you.”

#reddie #richie tozier #eddie kaspbrak

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elastigirl72 · 5 years

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Day 21: Shkoder>Lizbahd

620km to go...I’m finally in the mountains!

7 May: Shkoder 07:27am

Given I am a certified and ex practicing sports and rehab massage therapist who still actively promotes stretching and regular massage for active people, lying in my €35 spa having the massage of my life, I was alarmed to fail to recall without some effort my last similar session. It was well over a year ago. Also apparent was my failure on good, regular stretching. I’d been on a cycling yoga week last year, trying to will myself into better self-care with the lovely Sinead, cycling yoga star in Ireland. I am proud to have kept a few of hers, which should only be done in the confines of privacy as they could be taken as some sort of lap dance in the wrong setting. I have my own MASH stretch which I have to say is pretty damn awesome 😊. This young lady, who combined this job with school was one of the best therapists I’ve stumbled across, including myofascial release as part of her treatment. Weirdly, even knowing I was a cyclist, time ran out before she got to my quads. I paid her extra and she spent a good 15 minutes on each, each stroke reminding me how much abuse my legs had taken, largely over the last few weeks. I didn’t train hard for my adventure, and this was by design. Looking at my training log, you could be forgiven in thinking that I might have retired completely from cycling in November, only seeing an ember burning almost undetectable in January. Then, one dark, wet, typical Forest Saturday morning, making Kalamata olive ciabatta toast, I wondered “Where exactly is Kalamata?”. About an hour later, I not only knew where, I’d booked a return flight, and figured out a 2,200 mile route there in April, how long I’d ride each day, and about 1000 permutations of getting there. This was it. It was set. Only it wasn’t. Work threw in the possibility of a work event a day after I was due to fly back...and 3 days before setting off, it was confirmed as Istanbul.

Flying home from Kalamata on 11 May and back to Istanbul a day later would have meant a minimum of 16 hours travel doors to doors. The options I considered were to fly home, cycle to Istanbul, charter a yacht (yes, seriously, I did look into this!), get a bus from Athens to Istanbul (no pre-booking possible for the bike). After much deliberation, cogitation and planning, Athens won, with my bike case and work clothes being shipped to a hotel I booked on hotel rewords points. It seemed fitting too, as I’d never made it to the Athens Olympics as an athlete, but I got close, and next to qualifying, this trip is the biggest sporting conquest I’d attempted. It would be great to finish my ride at the Acropolis, but let’s see...thinking about how close I got to being an Olympian still is a bittersweet memory. Less than two minutes, a toilet stop in fact, and just a little bit faster and I’d have been there. But what I take from trying is that even though I ran my first marathon when I was 18, and didn’t think I was any good at running (this left it in the past until the months after my mum died in 1998, and from that event and to this day, sport has been my Lynch pin in coping with and celebrating life’s rollercoaster), I qualified as a mum o two young children, who to this day, probably still don’t see what hard work went in, and may well believe if you dream it, you can do it. It’s not a bad philosophy to have! That and blessed with good genes 😊.

And yet all so laughable! Here I sit, waiting for breakfast, the barista chuckling at my need for a third cappuccino (they’re tiny really, but delicious, and I giggle too, explaining I’m very tired 😆). I need it, it’s a big day today.

I’ve decided to cycle into the mountains, towards Pogradec, a village or town by a mountain lake. To check the route, I’ve planted in Athens a billion times and plotted by car (avoiding motorways, ferries and tolls) and by foot, put a pin in what looks like a country lane or a busy road to check the road conditions, and loosely made a plan: get past Tirana and head South East. It looks like I’ll spend another two nights before hitting Greece. Dare I say it, but the weather forecast and maps look fairly decent, but for now, the gear stays stuck on my back...

May 9: Librazhd - 05:19

Well, so much to digest from the last 40 or so hours in Albania. There’s still around 120km here to cover, and if my bike and body survive, we will make Greece today and my bed in Kastoria in around 100 miles...another big day - in the mountains.

In just 120 miles in this country, I have seen so much. The good, the bad, and yes, the ugly. Hearing that this is one country my pioneering explorer dad has not visited (I think this is a lifetime first between his coverage of the globe and mine) because its borders were closed when he ran is Overlander business, and learning from a Roman Empire history documentation that whilst the Roman Empire ruled all of the Mediterranean, except Albania, leads me to believe this country has an incredible past, and I need to investigate.

I learnt that Albanians have an industry built on roadside trade, most notably, car washes, petrol stations and attached to every petrol station, a hotel. Most of the people visible in daylight appear to be men; I barely saw a woman, either in the villages or city, and as a woman, this felt quite overwhelming, for no other reason than the imbalance. It meant that whilst the multitude of coffee shops were on offer, I didn’t want to stop. Already looking like an alien dropped from space, putting myself directly amongst gangs of rugged men who seemed to have nowhere to go and nothing to do was too much. That’s just me! But cycling past the many who stood at the side of the road and had stopped doing whatever they were doing, if in fact they were doing anything at all, they stood frozen, eyes and mouth agape. In no other country have I passed through have I had so many positive shouts and I guess, encouraging comments (for all I know they could have been shouting “loser!”). The contrast between those that have and have not was huge.

The road surfaces were very curious. In most places I’d visited, as you entered a town or city, the roads in Europe would be pothole free and markings better than the surrounding country roads. But in Albania, any town or city, the roads dissolved. A network of potholes you could disappear into and a patchwork of concrete “plasters”, and for no apparent reason, countless and pointless road jumps, unmarked, without any warning, which all cars, bling or ancient, rolled over so slowly, as if dampners and suspension were extinct and they had to maintain what they had.

Tirana, Albania’s capital, brought all my observations to a massive climax. Any Highway Code had not been introduced, and for a long time I decided they needed traffic lights at the very least (they did eventually appear). I saw the most insane driving I’ve ever seen in my life, making the film Ronin look like a police training video on how to drive safely around a city. At no other point during this trip had I felt as petrified for my safety as here. Checking my options at the worst point, I stopped at an intersection where coaches pulled up and double parked, a large verge, covered in mud, waste and men, sitting between and on it, police standing close, travellers trying to wheel suitcases over uneven verges, and me needing to make a decision on how the hell to get it out with my life. Google suggested what looked like the motorway, which started at this same junction. I confirmed with the police standing close by and they confirmed I could ride my bike on this road, and stopped the traffic to let me go. It was Russian roulette, but as soon as I hit the ring road’s massive hard shoulder, I felt my life had been saved and escape was nigh.

7km later, and I had reached the mountain road, SH3, the old Elbasan Road, replaced by the recently completed A3 that ran parallel. Order restored, the road started to climb. Given this was recently a major thoroughfare to the mountains, I wondered what would happen to the many restaurants and hotels that flowed with the road, through villages up towards the sky. It was quite haunting, and the stray dogs began to reveal themselves again. Children waved and one even raced me up a section, whilst another shouted “Hallo! Have an enjoyable day!” The climb was amazing, good road, and it felt like I owned it. I saw three cyclists in all, all heavily laden with panniers. I past cheerily one octogenarian going up and two coming the other way going down. It’s easy to see why they built a tunnel to take cars through the mountain, but it was their loss and my gain.

Here, in the land where I have seen more people walking their cow than their dogs, who in turn, run free , civic pride does not exist for what I have seen of Albania so far. It contrasts the most breathtaking landscapes, and shows diversity to the rest of Europe, yet fly-tipping is common, expected even, and mounds of wrecked cars are all to frequent. There are many ruined buildings and near Lehze, I passed what can only be described as a ghost town and factory, which was really sinister. Is this down to a poor state and government? Clearly there are people here who have wealth but the overriding feeling is this country is poor. It wants to be western but can’t quite bridge the gap. I feel very keen to explore its history.

Approaching the top of the mountain, which seemed like the top of the world, I happened upon the most cunning canine skullduggery I’ve ever witnessed. The mountaintop restaurant invited guests to it for 6km, and it was a real possibility that I might drop in. But as it appeared, there appeared to be a dead dog lying in the road directly in front of it, with two more dogs lying in wait to the side. Feeling both sad, but also danger, I pedalled slowly and quietly, not wanting to alarm the dogs to my side, and hoping to pass the dead dog without seeing too much gore. Then, just as I ran parallel, BOOM! he was up, his mates joining him in charging for me, up the remaining mountain! Luckily, I’d anticipated this ambush, and put down the biggest power of my life, as if being chased by a bear. I escaped, but my god! How brilliant of these stray masters of terror? Please, no more like this!

The climb was the day’s highlight, and telling myself that whatever hotel arrived at 100 miles, that’s where I was staying. As if my magic, a petrol station and a Swiss chalet looking hotel.

There’s not much to say about this place, except a stark contrast from the same priced oasis I had stayed at near Shkoder. Here, the food was bland and sparse, and the staff didn’t care as much as my last hotel. At Launi-A, seeing how much food I had put away the night before, at breakfast, they just kept bringing basket after basket of food! That hotel and its staff will keep me going for many years to come as the nicest surprise, and a great introduction to Albania.

And now, breakfast. A lovely Albanian who speaks good English and has lit the fire me and I have amazing coffee. It will be a good day! Ξεκίνα 😃 Even here, this far south, there’s snow on the mountains ahead! Titanium by David Gueta and Sia playing on the empty restaurant speakers...bring on the day 🌈

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halfabreath · 6 years

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17 for holsom please? 💖

NOICE. Thanks for the opportunity to whip out an au i’ve been wanting to explore for a while - aka, Ransom and Holster live up to their nicknames in the wild west. cw for just one instance of (fairly mild) old-timey slang for gay men, violence, and blood.

17. Needing to kiss to hide from bad guys

The rusted hills, dotted with scraggly patches of green and the occasional cluster of buildings thrown together in some semblance of civilization, speed past in a winding, sepia-toned blur. Ransom stares out the dirty window, counting mountains and valleys as the train trudges through the desert in an attempt to distract himself. He spins his hat in his hands, fingertips tracing over the brim as he slides it through his fingers over and over again. Anxiety is bubbling deep in his chest, white water churning between his lungs that’s quickly rising to his throat and he’s having a hard enough time breathing already that he thinks it just might kill him this time.

He tears his gaze away from the western wilderness, turning his head to take in his partner’s relaxed form. Holster’s asleep, arms crossed over his chest as it gently rises and falls with his deep breathing. His hat - identical to Ransom’s - is pulled low over his eyes and his feet are propped up on the empty seat across from them. The train car is mostly empty, the only other passengers all the way on the other end. Still, they’re witnesses, and their wanted posters might not be the most anatomically accurate (the sketch artist doesn’t seem to realize that not all black folks look alike so Ransom’s doesn’t contain any individual characteristics and Holster’s still features the beard he’d sported last winter) but they’re still wanted, dead or alive, and having so many people around makes Ransom even more uneasy than usual. It’s bad enough that they’re traveling by train but they hadn’t had much of a choice after their horses disappeared during the night (stolen, no doubt, by the sore losers in the poker game Ransom had played last night while Holster had entertained himself on the saloon’s piano). They’re too exposed like this, it’s too dangerous, Ransom has to get them out of here right fucking now -

“Shut up,” Holster says suddenly, voice low. Maybe he wasn’t asleep, after all. It’s difficult to tell, even when they’re curled together for heat next to a dying campfire on a cold desert night. He hasn’t moved at all but his mouth is turned down in a deep frown. Ransom scoffs and idly knocks their shoulders together.

“I didn’t say anything.” He shoots back, reaching over to flick the brim of Holster’s hat so it slips back and reveals more of his partner’s face.

Holster’s frown deepens. “Shut your brain up, then.” He orders, uncrossing his arms just long enough to pull his hat back down into place. Ransom lets him settle back into his comfortable position before he snatches the hat off Holster’s head.

“They’re gonna hang us.” Ransom whispers harshly, holding Holster’s hat up as a flimsy barrier between them and the rest of the passengers in the car. Holster finally opens his eyes and levels a flat glare at Ransom, blue eyes flashing in the late afternoon light. He’d be terrifying if Ransom didn’t know him so damn well; what most folks see as a dangerous, unpredictable outlaw Ransom knows to be a certified grump with a soft spot for anyone or anything he considers small, which is to say, almost everything.

“They are not.” Holster says, voice matching his unimpressed expression. He’s unnervingly calm for a man on the run but one of them has to be and the white water that’s churning in Ransom’s gut isn’t easing up anytime soon so it falls on Holster to be the rational one today.

Still, Ransom rolls his eyes. “Oh, right, they might opt for a firing squad instead.” He hits Holster’s arm with his own hat, throwing it into his partner’s lap with a huff.

“Why do you always assume we’re gonna die?” Holster asks, finally uncrossing his legs to push himself back up into a sitting position instead of the slouched lounge he’s been in for most of the train ride. He smooths his hands over his hat, pressing the fabric back into position with smooth, easy motions before setting it aside when he has the brim and crown positioned just right.

“We tend to do things that get people killed.” Ransom reminds him. They’d met fighting in a war, for God’s sake, and when their time as soldiers came to an end they promptly chose an equally dangerous profession in an equally dangerous place.

“Fair.” Holster’s lips curl into a languid grin; he’s probably the only person on earth who can look amused while confronting that very fact. Ransom scrubs his hands over his face, trying to force some of the bubbling anxiety out of his system. It doesn’t help, but the gentle pressure on his arm does. He looks up in time to see Holster’s concerned expression. “Hey, look at me.” Holster murmurs, slipping into the empty seat across from Ransom as he takes both of his partner’s hands. His thumbs circle over Ransom’s knuckles in a soothing pattern. Ransom stares down at their hands, the way their fingers and palms fit together, how their skin tones compliment each other, fixating on the scars that dance over Holster’s knuckles when he moves, lightning bolts shifting over his skin. Holster squeezes Ransom’s hands before he speaks again, drawing his gaze up to his face. “We have a plan. Get to the next town, find horses, and make our way back to Samwell. We know it’s close by and Lardo’s the sheriff. She’ll keep people off our backs until Shitty can help us build our case and get the charges dropped. Bing, bang, boom, we’re humble bounty hunters again, back on the right side of the law.”

“Bing, bang, boom,” Ransom echoes, holding Holster’s big sky gaze. He suddenly wonders what Holster sees in his eyes and promptly hammers the stray thought into submission, deep in the back corner of his mind where it belongs. They have enough troubles without adding Ransom’s inclinations to the mix.

“That’s what I said.” Holster nods firmly, and when he squeezes Ransom’s hands again he’s smiling.

God, Ransom loves him, and Holster has no idea.

Ransom opens his mouth with absolutely no idea what’s going to come out but before he can say anything the train screeches to a halt. Ransom’s thrown forward, directly into Holster’s lap, but before he can even process the fact that his hands are braced against his partner’s very broad and very strong chest and his forehead is pressed against Holster’s neck with his lips touching his bare skin just like Ransom’s imagined a thousand times over the train jolts again and they’re thrown back into Ransom’s seat. Holster ends up with his torso in Ransom’s lap and his legs under the seats, arms splayed on either side of Ransom’s hips, and before Ransom can even begin to deal with that he sees a cluster of men on horseback through the dirty train window.

“Holtzy,” He murmurs, voice low as the other passengers in the car begin to squawk and shout in indignation. Holster follows his gaze immediately, pushing himself up so he’s pressed against Ransom’s side. The posse thunders past their car in a cloud of dust, close enough for Ransom to count the gaps in one man’s teeth and the drops of sweat on another’s brow. He knows them all too well; he and Holster collected the bounty on five of the eight men in the group. The remaining three broke them out of jail before the execution, and Ransom doubts any of the men will be happy to see either of them again.

“It’s the Chads. The fucking Chads.” Holster grumbles, already pushing himself up to grab their knapsacks from the luggage rail over their heads. Ransom gathers their hats, plopping one on Holster’s head before placing the other on his own. “Out of all the fuckers we’ve turned in, it had to be the Chads.”

“We gotta go.” Ransom spins Holster by his shoulders and pushes him down the aisle of the train car in the opposite direction as the Chads. “They’ll sweep the whole damn train for valuables and they can’t know we’re here.” Gunshots echo outside the train as they sprint past the other passengers and jump onto the next car.

They make their way through the rest of the passenger cars with ease and when they hit the cargo cars Ransom thinks they just might make it. They’re climbing over crates, trudging through coal, and weaving through baggage, almost in the clear.

The door slams open suddenly, silhouetted figures filling the white-bright doorway. Ransom freezes, the white water rising up in a sudden, vicious wave to choke him in his throat, but Holster reacts instantly. He spins around, pressing Ransom against the wall of stacked crates they’d just climbed over, and seals their lips together in a sudden kiss. His hands frame Ransom’s face, broad palms spread over Ransom’s jaw and neck, and his body his holding Ransom firmly in place but his lips are so, so gentle. Ransom opens up with a shaky gasp, hands curling around the fabric of Holster’s shirt, and when Holster turns his head just so to deepen the kiss Ransom pulls him closer, tugging him down until Holster has to brace a hand against the wooden crates to keep them both from toppling over.

Ransom vaguely registers the door slamming shut, the Chad’s disgusted shouts. It’s just a coupla Marys, one says, and the group agrees to double back and check the car when they’re finished with the rest of the train. There’s a sharp crate corner pressing into his thigh and splinters digging into the exposed strip of skin on his lower back where Holster’s rucked his shirt up. They’re running out of time and completely out of options.

Ransom doesn’t give a fuck about any of that.

Holster pulls away all too soon, turning his head with a furrowed brow and deep frown and he looks wrecked. When he gaze flickers up to meet Ransom’s he looks fucking distraught, raw and flushed and utterly gorgeous.

“I’m sorry,” Holster whispers, voice trembling, and Ransom shakes his head and pulls him back down for another kiss because he shouldn’t ever apologize for this. The kiss starts deeper this time as they push and pull against each other with shaking hands and pounding hearts. Ransom breaks this kiss, reaching up to frame Holster’s face in his hands.

“You couldn’t have done that before our lives were in grave danger?” Ransom asks, still breathless, and Holster’s laugh is more of a gasped huff but he’s smiling when he ducks his head forward to press his face against Ransom’s shoulder.

“Can I do it again when we’re not in grave danger?” Holster replies, and the words might sound like a joke but Ransom knows his partner well enough to see the question for what it is. He cups Holster’s cheek, tugging him back up, and presses a soft kiss to his lips. It’s barely a kiss; a tender brush of lips that still somehow manages to make Ransom’s heart stutter in his chest. Holster leans in close, pressing his forehead against Ransom’s temple, and Ransom’s not sure how long they stand there, breathing each other in, before Holster sways back.

“Let’s get out of here.” He reaches out to brush his knuckles against Ransom’s cheek, callused hands so gentle. They draw their guns and make their way to the door, and after a quick look in every direction they make a break for the cluster of horses gathered by the pilot car. There’s just one Chad on watch, easily disposed of with a firm blow to the back of his head, and it takes them just a few minutes to cut the rest of the horses free after selecting two for themselves. Ransom mounts as Holster sends the horses running in all directions with firm slaps to their rears, and he’s oriented by the time Holster swings into the saddle of the only remaining horse.

Shouts ring out behind them as the Chads finally take notice, and Ransom has just enough time to match Holster’s blinding, brilliant grin before their horses begin to gallop away. Shots are fired but Ransom pays them no mind once Holster yells at him to keep going, and he doesn’t look back as long as he can hear the steady pounding of Holster’s horse behind him.

It’s almost too easy. They ride until the sun drops almost to the horizon, pushing the horses to their limits, until they crest a ridge. Ransom finally pulls his horse to a stop, using the elevation to search for any Chads behind them or any water before them. The coast is clear for miles back and he spots a small homestead ahead them but not much else. His horse knickers, idly circling, and Ransom gently steers her back in the right direction as Holster pulls up beside him.

“We’re close to Samwell.” Ransom says, more focused on getting his horse to calm the hell down than anything else. Holster grunts in response; he must not recognize where they are. “See that butte? The town should be on the other side of it, maybe a day’s ride.” He twists around, trying to indicate where Holster should look without taking his hands off the reins. Finally, his horse calms, taking the few steps to stand beside Holster’s. Ransom peers down the ridge, analyzing in the small homestead. There’s smoke coming from the chimney and they’re certain to have water and feed for the horses if they can barter for it. He glances back at Holster, trying to gauge their options. “What do you think? Worth a - Jesus Christ, Adam.”

Holster is hunched over, face pale and pinched. His clothes are stained red, blood streaming from his left side and right shoulder. Ransom can see the holes in his jacket and shirt where the bullets tore through, and when he reaches out Holster sways in his saddle.

“Hey, no, stay with me.” Ransom commands, clutching the fabric of Holster’s shirt to keep him from falling. “Adam Jeremiah Birkholtz, you’re not allowed to die. Not ever, but especially not today.” Holster huffs out a ragged laugh, the sound tapering off into a groan as Ransom slips off his horse and guides Holster forward.

“Fuckin’ typical.” Holster pants, wrapping his arms around his horses’ neck so he doesn’t topple to the ground. “‘Course I die on the same day I, fuck me, I finally get to kiss you.” He sucks in a gasping breath that ends in a cough. Ransom pulls himself into the saddle behind him, murmuring apologies when he jostles Holster in the process.

“Didn’t you hear what I said? No dying, you hear me?” Ransom wraps his arms tightly around his partner, holding him in place as he holds the reins and the horse takes off. They gallop towards the homestead, Holster cursing with every hoof beat, Ransom trying not to think about Holster’s blood seeping into his clothes.

It’s dark by the time they reach the small cabin. Ransom doesn’t know what awaits them but he doesn’t have the time to go through every possible scenario before choosing the proper course of action. Nothing matters but getting Holster inside, finding someone who can help Holster, staying by Holster’s side through whatever comes next, healing Holster, fixing Holster, making Holster as he was.

The cabin door opens before Ransom’s feet hit the ground, two figures rushing outside into the night. Holster’s pale and sticky with sweat; Ransom sacrifices a split second to brush his knuckles over his partner’s cheek, mirroring Holster’s tweet touch from the train car. Holster opens his eyes but his gaze is unfocused, roaming over Ransom’s face as if he can’t find a single point to focus on.

“No dying,” Holster whispers, the anchors of his lips drifting up in a crooked smile.

Ransom presses his forehead against Holster’s temple. “No dying,” he murmurs, tightens his grip, and pulls Holster off his horse. They fall to the ground in a graceless pile, Holster shouting in pain, and all Ransom can do is hold him until two pairs of hands pull them both up. He can hear two stranger’s voices and feel their hands on him but getting his feet under him is all Ransom can focus on. The white water that was in his throat is now roaring in his ears and encroaching on the edges of his vision; one of the strangers (the taller one, Ransom knows one is tall and one is short and one is blonde and one is not and he knows they both have accents but for the life of him he can’t figure out where from) hauls Holster up and together they carry him towards the light streaming out of the cabin threshold where the shorter stranger is waiting.

The cabin feels further and further away with every step, but after what feels like thousands of years they finally make their way through the door. The shorter stranger clears off the table and together they lay Holster down on the rough hewn surface.

The strangers spring into action, circling around each other in the small space. Ransom stands there, frozen, drowning in helplessness as the two men gather supplies. He feels absolutely useless, rooted to the ground and unable to move a muscle. He’s not even breathing, he realizes absently, and when his vision clears just enough to take in Holster’s prone form stretched out the a stranger’s kitchen table, his inability to force air in and out of his lungs doesn’t even register as an issue.

Holster’s eyes fly open; Ransom takes a ragged breath.

He flies forward, leaning over the table to cup Holster’s cheek in his palm. “Hey,” Ransom whispers, ducking down so Holster’s wild gaze can finally settle on him. “I’m gonna fix you up,” he promises as he smooths his palm over Holster’s pale skin. Holster takes a shaky breath and grins that sweet, crooked grin.

“I’m gonna fuckin’ haunt you if you let a Chad kill me.” Holster mumbles, his words slurring together. Ransom laughs, too relieved by the sound of his voice to remind him, for the thousandth time, that ghosts aren’t real. He ducks down and presses his lips to Holster’s clammy forehead.

When he looks up, the two strangers are standing still. The tall one is holding a basin of steaming water while the short one has a stack of clean bandages, and they’re both staring directly at Ransom - or, more accurately, the way he’s protectively curled over another man, the way he’s gently holding another man, the way he’s kissing another man - but they don’t look disgusted the way the Chads had.

They look -

Well, they look exactly like Jack Zimmermann, son of Bad Bob Zimmermann, the sheriff who single handedly cleaned up the northeastern territories and Eric Bittle, a criminal wanted for seven counts of armed robbery.

They look exactly like Jack Zimmermann and Eric Bittle, and they’re inexplicably both here, together, at a homestead in the middle of nowhere, staring at him and his partner, who’s still bleeding out on their kitchen table.

“I need hot water, a needle and thread, and booze. Highest proof you’ve got.” Ransom orders, because he can only deal with one unimaginable scenario right now and he’ll choose Holster over whatever clusterfuck he’s found himself in any day of the week.

Jack Zimmermann blinks at him. Eric Bittle glances at Jack and sets the bandages down, wordlessly handing Ransom a bottle of whiskey.

“This is gonna hurt, isn’t it?” Holster grumbles, hand outstretched as he fruitless reaches for the bottle. Ransom holds it out of his reach as Jack and Eric finally begin moving again and gives his partner a nod; there’s no use in lying to him. “Bing, bang, boom, motherfuckers.” Holster’s head thuds against the table, gaze focused on the ceiling, and Ransom gets to work.

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theonceoverthinker · 6 years

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OUAT 2X12 - In the Name of the Brother

Brother (Or sister, or any other sibling, real or metaphorical), can you spare the time...to read my latest review?

Great! Head below the cut!

Press Release Dr. Whale is tasked with mending Hook’s wounds and performing surgery on the stranger whose car crashed upon entering Storybrooke. But some of the townspeople fear that the stranger may have seen magic – which could expose their true identities to the world – and think that leaving him to die would be the best solution. Meanwhile, as Mr. Gold tries to reunite with a despondent Belle, Cora attempts to reunite with daughter Regina; and in the land that was, Victor desperately wants to prove to his disapproving father that he can, indeed, bring back the dead. General Thoughts - Characters/Stories/Themes and Their Effectiveness Past This is one of the most visually appealing segments in the entire series. The World of Black and White is such a crazy concept, but it absolutely rocks. The style and the use of color make it so hard to forget and it really makes for a world that feels like none other, something that the other realms aren’t always able to do. And when Rumple appears, it’s such a contrast. Like, had this not been done so carefully, the mix of a technicolor Rumple in a world like this would’ve looked sloppy, but instead, it’s as every bit as magical as one could imagine or want it to be. I also like how the acknowledgment of this distinction is never too much of a distraction for the characters. Rumple (And his gold) definitely pops out from the rest of the crowd, but they never stop to think about that in terms of the schematics of their world. I’m glad about this because it doesn’t invite a feeling of distraction away from the story. Finally, let’s talk about music because the music here definitely delivers on the dark gothic atmosphere of the world, and it starts to blend with our world as Rumple shows up. As for the story itself, it’s pretty basic -- good, but basic. It’s essentially a darker “Aladdin” and a gentler Frankenstein story mixed in to one. And it’s cool! Really, it is! The unique take on Frankenstein is cool and having Rumple be what amounts to a jerk genie in it gives a fun spin. However, there’s not that much that’s worth touching upon apart from the style. Present So, the present segment finds itself pretty divided among our main cast and as mixed as the plotlines get, so are my impressions of them.

Emma and co don’t really have much of a story, per se, but act as passive reactants to everything else at play, and to be fair, that’s the most that could be expected of them in this scenario. I found that the debate over whether to let Greg live or not compelling enough, but thankfully not made to be such a big deal, especially when the main players generally don’t harm innocents. Still, it was nice to have Grumpy and Gold to list off the problems that Greg’s existence could present as something to think about (And to be fair, I guess it was something to do before the crazed Plot Hole Police arrived to badger A&E over for years, if they hadn’t already at this point).

Watching Regina and Cora interact is the most uncomfortable thing in the world, and I mean that in the best way possible. Cora, whether true in her love for Regina or not, still manages to squirm her way into Regina’s heart where she knows she’s unwelcome. It’s honestly sinister seeing her apologize for things that we know she doesn’t mean (Making Regina marry Leopold and framing her for Archie’s “death”), but eventually convince Regina regardless. And to Regina’s credit, Cora only gets him by plucking the nerve of her most recent dilemma: Earning Henry’s trust back. Seeing Regina cradling in Cora’s neck is so awful, like seeing a spider ensnare her prey.

Finally, what the hell brought on Whale’s bout into depression? I guess it was seeing the watch which reminded him of his brother, but he was clearly drinking before he got the watch, so what gives? Was is because he couldn’t get sent back to his realms a few episodes ago because that wasn’t even in the “Previously On” section? Like, I’m sorry, but we see Whale on the verge of committing suicide. That’s a serious topic to show, especially for the very real way that Whale attempts it. There needs to either be more of a focus on Whale’s present situation to get to that point. I will say, there is a redemption here by Ruby because her speech at least connects more to the past segment in how Whale can’t change the past, but can change the future. Insights - Stream of Consciousness -As a victim of a car crash, seeing that again wasn’t traumatic at all! *nervous shudder* -Killian, this is the exact worst time to be an instigator! What the hell?! -This is also the filming spot for my OTHER favorite blooper. I’ll give you a hint: Anyone down for some crushed nuts? -Credit to Emma and David for knowing exactly how to tame Rumple! Small moments like these give a nice amount of payoff for the respective dynamics! -”From the outside?” I feel like if this had happened during the last episode, I probably would’ve put that Peter Griffin meme here about matching the titles in the dialogue. -I love the opening title card here! I normally love them all, but the distinction of color is just magnificent here! -Whale, don’t drink on the job! -”That’s your cross to bear, I suppose.” Victor, making puns is my schtick! -”He’ll cool off.” Gerhardt, your dad wasn’t even mad. I’d say Victor was madder. -Emma’s coming into Killian’s hospital room all confident and I am so here for this! And looks like Killian agrees! -Killian sees he’s chained. “You’re really into this, aren’t you?” Killian is just getting the best lines here and I am also here for this! XD -”If I had to pick dead guy of the year? I’d pick you.” Give it a couple more seasons, Emma. -I love how Ruby knew there were 10,000 combos right off the top of her head! She’s so smart! -”A LinkedIn account.” Not only is this dude a loser, BUT he’s now spamming the few people that can stand him with invitations to certify that he knows PowerPoint! He’s a MONSTER, I tell you! -”And he tweets pictures of his food.” Greg, torturing Regina aside (Which is also pretty fucking horrendous), you are just the WORST person! -Leroy’s apparently a movie buff. Who knew? -”We need to tell Regina’s she’s been framed.” Yesss! Thank you, Snow! I’m not mad at anyone for not immediately thinking of her given the crisis, but I am happy that someone did (Actually, some two because of Snow and Ruby!). Also, it enriches their dynamics going forward! Also, credit to her for understanding the internal danger Cora poses to Regina! I’m seriously loving Snow this season! -”You better hope he dies.” I like the strength of the writing in this line. It’s the driving force for the morality that Emma and co are tasked with thinking about, however inactively, throughout the segment. -”It’s not murder if we let him succumb to his injuries.” “I’m pretty sure it is.” It totally is! Look, for all the moral conflict of this episode, it’s totally murder and I’m glad that the character framed as the one closer to the audience is the one aware of that. -Gee, did Disney buy Star Wars at around this time? I’ve no idea! -”Rumple Von Stiltskin.” Imagine if that’s actually how his name was structured! XD -”Are you a philanthropist?” “Well, I’ve been called worse.” Rumple’s also gotten great quips! -*Rumple sees box* ...August? “Hello, Rumple.” Ah! Cora! What a fakeout! -”The Crocodile snaps at the little bird.” I guess Killian’s vernacular grew on Cora throughout their time together. Now though, I want to know what animal Killian is. What animal is everyone?! -A moment of silence for the deleted Jello scene that never made it to air. A-woman. -Cora, do not smell Regina’s clothes! That is fucking creepy! -Disguising yourself as Henry? Cora, that is a new low! And your former low already bonked Hades’ blue head! -Cora, go away! You’ve been in Regina’s sights for all of a quarter of a second and you’ve already given Regina a panic attack! -I feel like the only reason Rumple held up that magnifying glass was so that the effects team could show off just how well they did his eyes. -Regina’s hiding spot is so beautiful! She has a gorgeous albino apple tree, christmas lights, jewels all around, and gorgeous wallpaper! Fuck the monarchy! Go into interior design! -”Determination.” Cora, shut up, you are not an Undertale character. ...Actually, you totally could pass as Chara. -”Emma and Henry and the two idiots.” I love how small, but still funny that line was. -Okay, so I totally want Ruby to just run on her own in my “Wacky Races” dream fic because holy shit! She’s fast! -I’m not sure if Gerhardt beating the crap out of his father for verbally assaulting Victor is the most disturbing thing I’ve ever seen or the most heartwarming. -”It seems that science does too [have a price].” Bro, do you even physics?! -I’m not going to write down Ruby’s entire speech, but I do like the concept of looking at bright sides to Regina’s curse. It’s definitely not an admission that it was a good deed nor should it be, but in this isolated incident, it’s interesting to see Ruby and Whale commiserate over things. -Also, serious props to Ruby for cutting Whale’s self-hate monologue to get to the situation at hand. XD -”These carriages are strange.” I wonder if Cora was actually serious when she says this! XD I mean, cars are probably intimidating to those not familiar with them. -”It’s one of my most treasured possessions.” Awww! -It’s so freaky seeing Gerhardt moving around in his undead state. He’s like a gorilla in the way he moves his arms and legs and the way he cowers and sits. What a cool take on Frankenstein’s monster! Like that, more than anything would make me interested in a follow-up Frankenstein flashback. -I feel so bad for Snow as she’s being let down about not going into Greg’s room, but I can’t help but laugh. Like Snow, the fuck, bro? -”It’s a cup.” Am I the only one getting a sense of deja vu from “A Bug’s Life” here? XD -Greg, you sly dog! You, Killian, and Cora could bag Best Acting Awards until you die! -”I was texting.” ...While not my exact situation, this was too fucking real… -I love that globe and wish we saw more of it! On topic, everyone in Storybrooke should keep a private sampling of blood just for safekeeping at this point for identity purposes. -Awww! Poor Emma! Henry, just let her sleep! And then Gold comes in! The poor woman! -”If any harm comes to Belle while I’m gone, I’m killing all of you.” ...Was anyone in that room trying to hurt Belle? For the wham line it was supposed to be, it doesn’t come back in a meaningful way and it’s so oddly aimed. I guess this was written before Colin got hurt and maybe Killian was supposed to go after her again? Arcs - How are These Storylines Progressing? Rumple’s Redemption - As much as my inner sense of empathy is judging Rumple, his decision to essentially say “fuck off” to the request to help Greg is pretty in-character. Not only is he dealing with the anger over losing Belle and essentially letting Killian get away with it without killing him (Which is in itself a pretty great stride that holds through from his decision in the previous episode), but yeah, for as much as I like Rumple and think that the writing does an excellent job of painting him as not a complete fucking monster, I put the word ‘complete’ in there for a reason. Rumple still has a long way to go until he reaches a point where he can care for someone whose outside of his tiny circle of love, and for whatever can be said about his relations to Emma and David, they’re not at a point where they’re strong enough where he’d give them that much concern. Regina’s Redemption - “I have to let you know. I had nothing to do with Archie.” I almost feel like I can leave it there, but nah. You deserve more! So, just as much as Regina wants Henry to be by her side regardless as for as much as her attempted redemption had hurt her thus far, Regina’s still committed to doing right by Henry, and that’s amazing! Furthermore, Regina shows that even if she didn’t accept her treatment when the accusations came around over Archie’s death, she does accept that given the circumstances, it was a reasonable assumption to make. Honestly, the entirity of Regina’s scenes with Cora speak of how far she’s come, as she stands against Cora’s points over why she framed Regina. Obviously, part of what made Regina go as evil as she did was Cora’s influence, and seeing her work so hard to not let Cora control her again was just so impressive! Hell, even gives Cora an understanding of what she wants if she’s to trust Cora again. Greg Mendell - We get our first (Okay, second) piece of Greg in this episode. Definitely a good actor and I like how there was this subversion of expectations in this episode (until the ending, of course) while still raising all of the needed points about him and his existence here for later in the season where they would apply. Favorite Dynamic Rumple and Cora - I like how we get to see that Cora’s menace doesn’t just stretch to Regina, but how exactly it stretches to Rumple. Rumple and Cora are on equal footing in a way that Rumple and Regina only came to be during the final two seasons of the show, and that comes across so clearly in just how he acts around her in their one scene together. She’s able to push him a bit and even prompts a deal where he has to hesitantly accept it, and that’s so rarely done, especially by an enemy. Just look at the worry in Rumple’s eye and that bit of trepidation, but he still manages to keep most of his cool. That is how Rumple responds to a real threat. It’s almost karmic retribution for not bothering with Greg (Or trying so hard to keep Cora out of Stroybrooke that she’d let Emma and Snow die), but I don’t know if I would go so far as to say that for certain. Still, their one scene both establishes so much of their dynamic and sets up the board for later. Writer Jane Espenson is back, and she did a decent job here. I like how she balanced the screentime of so much of our main and supporting cast. No one ever feels like they got the shaft and what they were given to do fits their story so well. In addition, I feel like the writing is done very well, particularly with Regina and Cora. The way Regina speaks is a great reflection of the work she’s done as she deflects Cora’s points hit by hit and only succumbs to a situation that was well set up. Jane is really good when it comes to writing Regina, as “We Are Both” was also hers and the depictions of both her past and present character were marvelous! Also, as a side note, she wrote Emma and Killian much better here. There’s clearly animosity, but a level of concern and even flirting off of Emma’s side that is actually allowed to show up for a hot second. Rating 8/10. Style is the name of the game here. I’d be lying if I didn’t say that the aesthetics weren’t impressive enough to bring the whole episode up a level. As for the other segments, they ranged in quality, but were more good than bad, though since Whale was the main segment, the shortcomings of that story stood out more. But thankfully, it wasn’t the only portion between the interesting broad strokes of the OUAT rendition of Frankenstein, the true horror story of seeing Cora take over Regina’s life again, and the small inner workings of Emma and co in the background as they react to all of this. Flip My Ship - Home of All Things “Shippy Goodness” Rumbelle - I noticed that just as the episode started, Rumple was calling Belle “Beautiful Belle” as the authorities were coming for her. That’s small, but pretty cute! And you just gotta feel for Rumple as he tries so desperately to make Belle remember him. While I’m not really sure if I like or dislike the failed TLK, the cup scene absolutely accomplishes what it sets out to do. Also, “do you have any spells to return memories?” Just look at Rumple here. He looks so nervous as he’s asking, as fragile as a young schoolboy! And he does that in front of CORA! That is adorable for Rumbelle! Captain Swan - Killian just gets hit by a freakin’ CAR and the first thing he says is, “Hey beautiful.” Killian, never change! ...Actually, yeah. You need to change a lot, but fortunately, you do! Hell, even Emma gives into the flirting a bit after a bit! Also, “everything else is still intact.” KIllian, could you be any more obvious?! Also also, Emma’s pretty keen on keeping an eye on Killian despite the fact that he’s handcuffed. Finally, Emma’s reaction to Rumple’s threat to kill Hook at the end of the episode...looks like she does care. Golden Heart - ”I’ve no reason to cheat you.” “Anymore.” Looks like we’ve got some angry exes! XD Also, notice how Rumple’s lingering juuuuuust a bit during that kiss! You dog! ()()()()()()()()() Finally! Another really good episode to talk about and get pumped over!! Thank you so much for reading and to the awesomesauce fine folks at @watchingfairytales for making like Frankenstein and bringing my creations to life! Bwahahahahha!

Any guesses on what will happen next time? I’ll give you a tiiiiiiiiny hint: It’s one of my favorites. See you then! Season 2 Tally (104/220) Writer Tally for Season 2: Adam Horowitz and Edward Kitsis: (29/60) Jane Espenson (25/50) Andrew Chambliss and Ian Goldberg (24/50) David Goodman (16/30) Robert Hull (16/30) Christine Boylan (7/30) Kalinda Vazquez (10/30) Daniel Thomsen (10/20)

Operation Rewatch Archives

#ouat #once upon a time #watching fairytales #ouat 2x12 #ouat rewatch #jenna watches ouat #basically every character in this episode is discussed

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jaemtens · 6 years

Text

Rescue (Chapter 2)

seventeen | junhao | side meanie / vernkwan | chapter 2 of 10 | 8.2k

tumblr links: 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10 ao3 links: 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10

written with @bulletproof-bad-wolf | updates every saturday morning

summary: When Soonyoung finally “agrees” to let Junhui get a dog for their apartment, he realizes that he needed something a little bit more than a puppy. Enter Minghao, the bona fide Bad Boy™ with tattoos and piercings. Oh, and he doodles puppies and kittens in their Probability and Confirmation class.

chapter 2: minghao

Screw that appointment with his college counselor -- he didn’t need to waste his time talking with Choi Seungcheol for the umpteenth time this semester. It wasn’t like his college counselor actually cared about him; the suave, faux-soothing voice Seungcheol liked to use during their “appointments” was just a ruse. Seungcheol probably just used them to stroke his ego, to make himself feel good that he was helping a troubled kid get through college and life in general. It probably made him feel like he was really making a difference in the world because he got a certified Loser like Xu Minghao to enroll at their prestigious top-tier institution. Minghao was already imagining their next admissions brochure: “If this Loser turned it around, so can you!” said the speech bubble next to Minghao’s half-smiling Generic College Student pose.

Minghao took a left, shuffling through the crowded crosswalk.

Screw Probability and Confirmation for being the biggest waste of his time ever. After the second class of the professor droning on and on and on about capital E Existentialism and John Locke, he lost total interest in paying attention to the lectures. He was 110% sure he could literally put anything on his written exams, and the professor would think that it was “insightful” and “profound,” to use his favorite philosophy buzzwords. This, despite the fact that his written exam would probably be 110% word vomit with those precise buzzwords.

He practically walked through some random dude, his shoulder pushing the other guy aside. He took a right.

It wasn’t like he didn’t write anything down during class. No, he had a half-page of semi-coherent notes with multiple words triply-underlined, probably because he heard the prof repeat them at least seventeen times. How do you even take notes in a philosophy class? Half of the lecture slides are just random pictures of random bronze statues of random Greek dudes who had some random ideas that they wrote in a random book 2000 years ago. The class was randomly structured with a nonsensical syllabus that emphasized random discussions that the same two students participated in with no goddamn end in sight every class. He learned more by doodling cats from the shelter.

Minghao swung another left, ignoring the senile-looking old dude playing harmonica on the street corner. No, he didn’t have any money, he thought, clutching the two dollars in his pocket.

And, most of all, screw Wen Junhui for existing. Of all the people who he could run into after class in a desolate hallway, it had to be Wen Junhui. Of all the people who could know about his lame-ass doodles, it had to be Wen Junhui. Of all the people who could invite him over to their apartment, it had to be Wen Junhui. And of course he did all of that while be the biggest freaking dork ever. It was Too. Goddamn. Cute.

He tapped his foot waiting for the next light to change. Minghao was impatient, but he didn’t know why.

Yes, you heard that right, random person tuning into Minghao’s inner monologue: Xu Minghao, the twenty year-old college student who wears leather jackets, has three tattoos, and five piercings, is in love with a twink like Wen Junhui. Are you surprised? He was too for about five minutes. When Jun walked into their first class together, he remembered actually perking up a little bit to check him out. He thought Junhui was so fucking cute with his sharp, bookish features, his messy raven-black hair, and his tall, lithe frame. Minghao was a master of playing it cool around people who caught his eye, but he knew deep down that he was seriously intrigued. Junhui ticked off all the boxes on the checklist entitled “Minghao’s Type.” It was only a matter of time before he fully admitted that Wen Junhui was half the reason he was distracted in Prob and Conf.

The light switched to green, and he crossed along with what seemed like the rest of humanity. He shoved his way to the right and switched directions yet again, his worn boots stomping down on puddles without much care.

So why did he snap at Jun? Why did he go against all of his feelings?

Minghao stopped again, staring down at one of the puddles. Nobody was around him -- it was quiet off of the main street.

He didn’t know. Half of him was so goddamn smitten. When Jun physically ran into him and immediately apologized even though it wasn’t his fault, when Jun stuttered in the cutest way possible, when Jun talked about how he liked his stupid little anime drawings -- god, Minghao just wanted to melt right then and there. But the other half of him knew it was fake. How did he know? He just knew, okay. It was inevitable. He knew that Jun didn’t actually like him, that Jun was just apologizing because he was scared of the weird guy with a bunch of piercings in his philosophy class, that Jun was just making fun of him when he talked about his chibi-kittens. He got so angry -- no, upset was the right word -- that he just wanted to walk away. He let his feelings flash in front of Jun, mostly just to push him away, He knew Junhui would hate the real Minghao, so he just made it easier for both of them: push him away before Jun learned too much about who he really was.

A single raindrop splashed in the puddle he was staring at, the ripples distorting his features. Shit, it was starting to rain. Minghao ran his hand through his dark hair, wondering where he was; he had been walking aimlessly for what seemed like an hour.

“Shit,” he muttered under his breath, recognizing where he was. He didn’t want to be here of all places; what if Jeonghan was here? He searched frantically, analyzing each street corner while licking his lips nervously. Swarms of people were coming and going along the main road, so it was hard to see. He crossed the street he was on to get a better look; Jeonghan had long blonde hair the last time he had seen him, but who knew what he looked like now. All he knew is that he did not want to talk to him today of all days. Giving up, Minghao ducked inside one of the convenience stores.

He licked his lips again, feeling out of place. Convenience stores were always a little overwhelming, so much crap packed into such a small space. He hated squeezing past people to get through the narrow aisles… everybody always gave him weird looks, and he would always just tut back, rolling his eyes. They were probably judging him because of his tattoos and piercings while they went about their boring day during their boring life. He normally hated normal people -- why did he like Jun then?

Ugh, focus, Minghao. Why did he go to the convenience store again? He jammed his hands into his pockets, immediately feeling the two dollars again. Oh, right: food. That’s why he was here despite his undying hatred of convenience stores. Luckily, it was pretty empty. He didn’t even need to go search for what he was looking for; why was he so worried? Why was he so on-edge?

He grabbed a Snickers bar and a pack of gum, shoving them toward the clerk at the counter, who scanned them both.

“Three dollars.”

Minghao reached into his pocket, pulling out only two.

“Shit,” he muttered. “Um, I’ll only take the candy bar, I guess.”

The clerk sighed. Apparently he didn’t get paid enough to deal with this. At least he was getting paid, Minghao thought to himself.

“Two dollars.”

Minghao shoved his cash down on the counter, grabbed his candy bar, and didn’t wait for the receipt before darting out of the store. He shoved the Snickers bar in his jacket pocket and checked his phone: 1:52. He only had eight minutes to make it to the shelter; Minghao knew he was going to be late. He threw his hood over his head, and ducked back into the crowds of people. Hopefully Dokyeom didn’t chew him out this time.

Why would Dokyeom chew him out? Dokyeom was literally the least confrontational person ever, and, honestly, it seemed like he was just happy to get the extra help at the shelter. Who cared if Minghao showed up ten minutes late -- he was a volunteer anyways. At least, that’s how he rationalized showing up late to himself.

Yes, Xu Minghao, the leather jacket-clad street-certified bad boy volunteered in his free time. Where, you might ask? At the pet shelter of course. Street trash was his name and cats and dogs were his game. His sidekick?

“Hao-hao, you’re late!”

Don’t even ask.

“Not today, Dino,” he muttered, rolling his eyes. He knew he should have entered through the back -- the bell at the front was dead giveaway. Not that it would’ve mattered much anyways: Dino was going to annoy him eventually.

“Oh come on, Minghao,” Dino protested, shooting Minghao a fake-hurt look. “What if I told you I brought you ramen today?”

Minghao stopped. He thought about how hungry he was and how that Snickers bar wasn’t going to be enough. Dino liked to bring him food: at first, he used to refuse until Dino finally convinced him that it would be going to waste if Minghao didn’t eat it. He sighed, and Dino knew then that he had acquiesced, a big smile breaking across his face.

“Fine--”

“--Let me grab it, Hao-hao!” Dino interjected before Minghao could finish his long, exasperated concession. He shook his head while Dino abandoned the front counter, running back to his bag to grab what was now half of Minghao’s lunch. Snickers and instant ramen? He’d had sadder lunches, believe it or not. Or no lunch.

“Here you go,” Dino announced, putting the cup-ramen back on the counter.

“Thanks, kiddo,” he replied, ruffling Dino’s hair as he headed to the small employee “lounge” as they affectionately called it. “We can get started on our usual routine after I eat, okay?”

Dino nodded in response.

In reality, the “lounge” was no more than small round table with two chairs, a microwave, and a mini-fridge that no one but Dokyeom used. Minghao threw his ramen cup in the microwave and let it heat up for two minutes.

Their pet shelter certainly wasn’t one of the largest in the city, but it served its purpose. About two dozen dogs and cats called this shelter their temporary home. The obvious goal was that these cats and dogs would be adopted, or, more accurately, rescued, by a loving and caring owner. Of course, practically that didn’t always happen. Minghao formed connections with most of the adoptable cats and dogs, serving as their primary day-to-day caregiver aside from Dokyeom. Dokyeom was technically his boss as the only employee of the shelter who was actually paid; he was a mix between an administrator, who managed the day-to-day paperwork and things like that, and also a vet tech, who could perform basic check-ups for the days when the actual vet wasn’t in. Minghao was a senior volunteer, devoting lots of hours at the shelter. It was like his home. Volunteer was a bit of a misnomer too -- Dokyeom did pay him a little each month, just not nearly at minimum wage. It was an arrangement that Minghao was okay with, considering how much he worked here. Finally, Dino was the newest volunteer; Minghao and Dokyeom had just finished formally training him. They were quite the team: Dokyeom was quiet, supremely qualified, and a little mopey, Dino was bright, enthusiastic, and sunshine-y, and Minghao? Well, Minghao was Minghao. Jaded and a bit sarcastic around people, but soft and caring with the two-dozen pets under his care.

The microwave started obnoxiously beeping, signaling that his food was done. He carefully removed the ramen cup, fished out a plastic spork, and took his Snickers out from his jacket pocket. Bon appetit: gourmet meals by Minghao in two minutes.

Dino must have been distracted with something else because usually he bothered him 24/7 once he walked in the door.

“Hao-hao!”

-- he spoke too soon.

“How was your day? How was class?” Dino was standing in the doorway to the lounge, halfway between the employees-only area and the front desk.

“Boring,” Minghao replied. He fished out a spoonful of ramen, blowing on the noodles to cool them down.

“You always say that!”

Minghao shoved the ramen into his mouth and started talking while chewing: “Because class is always boring.”

“C’mon, Hao-hao. Something interesting must’ve happened,” Dino insisted, not missing a beat.

Minghao scooped out another spoonful of ramen. He thought about his encounter with Junhui earlier, made a face, and then decided to lie.

“Literally nothing interesting happened, Dino.”

“Nothing? Nothing at all?”

Minghao swallowed. “Well, now that I think about it…” he started, watching Dino’s eyes light up in anticipation, “I did run into this annoying kid at the shelter who wouldn’t leave me alone during lunch…”

Dino frowned. “Not funny, Hao-hao.”

Minghao just smirked in response, going for more ramen.

“You’re literally the most interesting person I know, how can nothing ever happen in your life?”

Minghao? Interesting? He scoffed in response. “You only see me on Tuesdays and Thursdays, when I have Prob and Conf. Mondays, Wednesdays, and Fridays are more interesting,” he explained.

“Okay, well what happened yesterday?”

“Got an A on my dance practical.”

“Really? That’s great! Good job, Hao-hao!” Dino held up his left hand for a high-five. Minghao was still in the middle of eating, but he decided to humor his friend, fist-bumping Dino’s open palm while slurping down his last spoonful of noodles. Dino just made an amused face in response.

“It’s not that impressive,” he elaborated, tossing his spork in the empty ramen cup. “They’re starting us off with real basic stuff, and I wish they’d just move onto harder things already. I get that this class is a pre-req or whatever, but come on.”

“I’m--”

Before Dino could start saying much, the bell at the front rang, meaning someone (Dino) had to take care of it.

“You got it?” Minghao half-asked, half-suggested, waving his Snickers bar at Dino.

“Yeah!”

Dino disappeared back to the front desk, leaving Minghao to eat his Snickers in peace. Still, he listened in, half-concerned that it might be something that Dino wasn’t comfortable handling on his own. He unwrapped the candy bar took a large bite, demolishing the first-third of the Snickers.

“How can I help you?” he heard Dino say from the front.

He took another bite. So far, so good. He could hear the customer respond, but he couldn’t make out the words. It sounded like a guy, though.

“I’m sorry, sir, we only work with cats and dogs.”

Minghao rolled his eyes. Did someone bring in their pet hamster again?

“You talked to Dokyeom about it this morning?”

He definitely did not, Minghao thought to himself. This was going to get out of hand; Dino was too nice, he wasn’t going to turn the visitor away like he was supposed to. Minghao left his candy bar on the table and headed to the front desk; he was so ready to turn this random dude and his hamster away.

“Dino, what’s going on?” he asked, standing next to his shorter friend at the front desk. He sized up the guy who Dino was dealing with. He couldn’t be much older than either him or Dokyeom, and he was holding an opaque pet carrier that was far too small for either a cat or a dog.

“Um, he says that Dokyeom agreed to see his chinchilla.”

He made a face -- oh, even better than a hamster.

“You’ve gotta be shitting me,” Minghao muttered.

“Look,” the other boy started, his voice a good octave below either Minghao or Dino’s, “I swear I talked to Dokyeom this morning, and he agreed to look at Buttercup.”

“Its name is Buttercup?”

“Her name is Buttercup,” the boy corrected.

“Look, buddy, we only work with cats and dogs here. I can give you the phone number and address for our vet runs an animal clinic downtow--”

“--Hansol?” Dokyeom interrupted from behind them. Minghao and Dino spun around at the same time; apparently Dino was equally shocked that Dokyeom agreed to see a chinchilla, of all things.

“You know this dude?” Minghao asked.

“Yeah, we spoke on the phone this morning,” Dokyeom explained, shifting his focus back to Hansol. “And I’m guessing this is Buttercup? Come on back.”

Hansol nervously smiled in response, and Minghao turned back toward Dokyeom. “Since when did we start seeing chinchillas, DK?”

“Right in here,” Dokyeom said, directing Hansol and Buttercup into the small examination room. Minghao’s de facto boss then turned his attention back to him: “Look, he couldn’t afford to go to the vet, and he sounded really worried.”

“Yeah, but you don’t even know how to spell chinchilla, not to mention medically examining one,” Minghao protested.

“C-H-I-N-C-H-I-L-A,” Dokyeom spelled, “and I’m taking a night class on rodent health this semester, Hao.” With that, Dokyeom turned around, heading to the examination room that Hansol and Buttercup were in.

“It’s two L’s, dumbass!” Minghao called out just as Dokyeom closed the door. Minghao shook his head and turned his attention to Dino: “I swear to god,” he complained.

Dino just smirked in response. “I’ll start tidying up the front while you finish your candy bar?”

“Oh, shit.” He ran back to the lounge, shoved the last third of the candy bar in his mouth, and threw out the candy wrapper, ramen cup, and spork before returning to the front. Dino had already moved onto tidying up the front area of the shelter, which doubled as a waiting room and play area. The couches were a little worn and had several tears on the cushions, but it was expected when you think about just how many meet-and-greets they facilitated in the front. Every time a visitor wanted to adopt a pet, they would have to sign in with the front and wait until either Minghao or Dino brought out the dog or cat they were interested in. They had cat toys in one bin and dog toys in another, and it was their job to supervise the adopter-adoptee interaction. Minghao explained it to Dino like this: it was as much about how the pet fit the adopter as the how the adopter fit the pet. Minghao and Dino were there to be the rescue’s advocate, to make sure that they wouldn’t just end up right back in the shelter because the adopter was a poor match. Minghao was perhaps the fiercest advocate. He hated having dogs and cats at the rescue longer than they needed to be there, but he thought it was even worse for a rescue to get a taste of rescued life just to return back to the gutter of shelter life -- or, even worse -- street life. It was heartbreaking. At least he and Dino could take care of them to the best of their ability.

By the time Minghao got back to the front, Dino had already picked up most of the toys and returned them to their respective baskets. Minghao picked up some of the worn-out pillows that were strewn about the floor… Dokyeom must’ve had a lot going on this morning.

“Cats first?”

Dino nodded in response, and they went to the back of the shelter together.

“I’ll do social first,” Minghao announced. Dino nodded again.

It was so much easier when they had two people to work the cat room: one was the “social,” or the person who handled the cats, and the other was the “cleaner,” or the person who replaced the litter and refilled the water and food. Minghao was going to be the social first, which was arguably the better job. It was essentially five minutes of cat handling -- times six, until they switched. Usually they went smoothly.

Usually.

Minghao removed the first cat, a black-and-white tuxedo, and cradled her in his arms. She was dying for attention, pawing at Minghao’s face. Dino chuckled, dumping out the old litter into a waste bag. He pulled out the bag of fresh litter, and he refilled the mini litter box. Dino then grabbed the gigantic 25-pound bag of food, starting to pour out kibble into the tuxedo’s food bowl. Just then, Minghao heard the bell in the front ring, and he looked at Dino. Without missing a beat, the younger boy shoved the heavy bag of food into Minghao’s free hand and disappeared to go take care of the visitor at the front desk. Minghao wasn’t weak, but Dino gave him the bag at a weird angle, and he was forced to let it fall to the ground. Kibble spilled out everywhere, all of the cats were meowing, the tuxedo squirmed her way out of his arms -- it was a total mess.

“Why didn’t you put it on the ground, Dino,” Minghao muttered, massaging his temples. “No-no-no, don’t go for the kibble on the floor.”

The tuxedo was going straight for the kibble, the rest of the cats meowing up a storm. Minghao groaned, quickly picking up the tuxedo and throwing her in her cage. “One moment,” he whispered.

Minghao started scooping kibble up off of the ground, crouched over with the waste bag at his side.

“What happened here?” Dino asked from behind him.

Minghao sighed again. “You happened.”

They made it to through the rest of the cats without incident (Dino was a little more timid with them, having been scratched one too many times), though Dino was reluctant to put away his last furry friend. She was the friendliest of the bunch and loved to nuzzle up her face into Dino’s while he was holding her. Honestly? It made Minghao so happy to have someone else around who loved cats and dogs as much as he did. He may have been all tattoos and piercings on the outside, but he was a big softie on the inside. Dino put his last friend back in her cage once Minghao was done cleaning and refilling the food and water.

“I have to go study tonight, Hao-hao,” Dino announced, checking his phone. “I have an exam in two days, and I’m not ready for it.”

“Yeah, sure, I’ll take care of the rest,” Minghao replied. “Good luck if I don’t see you before then?”

Dino smiled in response, his eyes forming into little crescents. Dino went back to the lounge to grab his belongings, but not before pushing Minghao’s buttons: “You’re cute when you care, Minghao.”

“Yeah, yeah, yeah.” Minghao waved him off dismissively, turning his attention to the dogs. Before he could even get to the first one, her tail wagging in anticipation, he heard the bell ring at the front. “Already?” he murmured to himself.

“One moment!” he hollered to the front. He brushed off all the cat hair on his jacket and pants before moving out front where he could help who he hoped would be the last visitor of the day.

“Hey, how can I help yo…” His voice started trailing off as soon as he realized who he was talking to. “Junhui?”

“Minghao?”

“What are you doing here?” he asked, moving behind the front desk. Was he actually here to adopt? Or did he find out where Minghao spent most of his free time? How much did Junhui know about him?

“W-what are you doing here?”

Junhui seemed genuinely confused to see Minghao here, so maybe he really was just here to adopt?

“I asked first,” Minghao retorted. He kept his facial expression steady while Junhui just stood near the front door, seemingly still in shock.

“I… I was dropping off… an application. I wanted to a-adopt.”

“Hmmph,” Minghao replied. “I can take it.”

“O-oh, yeah, just give me a sec,” the taller boy murmured, putting his messenger bag down on one of the coffee tables near the couches.

Why?

Why here? Why now? Why him, of all people?

Why did Junhui have to be so goddamn cute all the time!? The way he stammered out responses, the way he fumbled through his bag looking for his application, the way he always seemed so nervous around Minghao… it was too much. He just wanted to scoop Jun up into a hug and not let go -- sure, Junhui might have been taller (and older, too), but the way Junhui seemed to get so… timid? At least, he always seemed so unsure of himself around Minghao. Was that just how Junhui normally was? Or was Minghao special?

“Here you go,” Junhui said, interrupting Minghao’s train of thought. He was holding out his two-page application, and Minghao took it wordlessly. Looking through the app to make sure everything was filled out correctly, he couldn’t help but notice how… pretty Junhui’s handwriting was. It was free and elegant, just like how Junhui was when he walked through campus. Nothing like the Junhui right now, who stammered and stumbled through his words, sentences falling out in jumbles. Minghao set the paper down and looked up; Junhui looked away, like he had been watching him carefully before Minghao’s gaze met his. Maybe Junhui was just intimidated by him?

“Our administrator will look through this and call you once everything checks out. After that, you can come back and meet some potential rescues that we think match your application. Anything else?”

“You -- you never answered my question.”

“Hmm?”

“You work here?”

“Volunteer, actually,” he tersely corrected.

“Really?”

“Surprised?”

“Y-yeah, kinda.”

Minghao sighed. Yes, surprise-surprise, the boy with tattoos, piercings, and leather jackets who slept through class also doodles cats and works at a shelter five days a week. Even if Junhui thought he was cool when he was a bona fide bad boy, he surely just thought he was a total loser now that his façade was falling apart. Ha, you thought Xu Minghao rode a motorcycle to school and hadn’t cried in eight years? Joke’s on you, he plays with kittens every other day.

“Alright, well, if that’s it--”

“--Actually, I did have a question about my application…” Junhui interjected, this time looking directly at Minghao with his big brown eyes.

“Okay.”

“So, um, my apartment only allows me to have dogs that weigh under 30 pounds. Do you have any smaller dogs right now?”

Minghao ran through their current rescues in his head. He couldn’t help but start thinking about which of their current rescues would suit Junhui, which ones he would trust with someone like Junhui… which one would be happiest with Junhui.

“Yeah, I’d say we have at least three or four that are under 30 right now.”

Junhui just smiled in response. Minghao thought he was going to melt, but he couldn’t smile back. He knew Junhui was probably just being polite.

“Thank you for your help,” Junhui finally replied. “And I guess I’ll see you in class on Thursday?”

“Yeah, guess so.”

Junhui just smiled again, grabbed his messenger bag from the coffee table, and exited without another word, leaving Minghao alone with two-dozen rescues and a whole lot of feelings. The one thought he couldn’t shake?

That he wasn’t good enough for Junhui.

#seventeen #svt #junhao #junhao fic #seventeen fic #jun #minghao #junhui #xu minghao #the8 #wen junhui #my writing #rescue #junhao fanfic #seventeen fanfic #svt fic

22 notes · View notes

maelstromradio-archive · 7 years

Text

Halloween Choose your Own Adventure

You find yourself hanging out near the Drowning Wench, when all of a sudden a daft Moogle Messenger happens upon you with a letter! You tell the moogle to scram, as it waited for some sort of tip.

Why wouldn’t you tip the moogle?! That’s rude of you! Anyway back to everything being about you…

The letter you is address to you and yet no sender… The letter reads:

Dear Friend,

We are throwing an All Saints Wake Party tonight! Come to the Haunted Manor and wear your best costume! It will be a Monster Mash and you might even get graveyard smashed! ;)

Come alone. (Not like you had a friend or significant other to go with anyway...loser)

Are you going to go?

You go because you need to get out and getting drunk at the Drowning Wench is only so much fun.

You get kicked out until you can pay your 950,000 gil tab… I won’t judge your habits...Okay I’m judging… You decide to go because parties mean free food and drink!

You go to your house and you dig through your retainers for the perfect costume, something really scary. What will it be?

A Scary Wolf

A Mangy Wolf

A Wittle Cutie Wolfie OwO

It’s time for the party! You make your way to the Haunted House and, like a responsible person, you use your Linkshell app Chocobo Porter to get a Lift...You think it’s an Uber Idea…

You pull up to the house about 7 or 8 and you yell to the Bird, “KWAH smell you later”. You look at the mansion, and you’re finally here…

Use the Spooky Door Knocker

Go around back and slip in like you’ve been here and grab a drink

Bust through the door and make a grand entrance!

You make your way in, and for an All Saints Wake party it seems rather dead. A butler shows up behind you…

“Hello guest...my name is RiffRaff... and time is fleeting!”

You think this guy is weird, but you roll with it. RiffRaff leads you to the Study where there are plenty of others in masks quietly sitting drinking cocktails.

You wish you had a drink right now…

You also realize there are some people you know here: The Wae Sisters, Scoot Patoot, Nanomo, Shyntyrr Zaurett, and Cypher Blackfyre. There are a few others you don’t know as well...

Thunder Crashes! You hear a voice!

“Welcome all to the Party! We shall have a night of frights and a murder!”

Thunder Crashes! You hear an Awoo. The lights go out and in the middle of the room a body mauled by some sort of animal…

A gnarly Wolf

A Wolfman

El Hombre-lobo

By the looks of the cuts and bites you can tell it’s of a wolf! After everyone calms some, you yell with confidence!

THERE IS A WOLF AMONG US! (Awoo human)

Everyone looks at you and you can tell they are judging.

RiffRaff states that there is a murder in the house and everyone should split up and attempt to find this person! Eyes all look at you in your (use costume choice from above) and you smile and say:

Come on I couldn’t harm a fly!

You decide to not push buttons and let everyone pair off.

Who is your partner?

RiffRaff

The Widow

The Professor

You and the (above choice) make your way upstairs. You try to make a joke about what a terrible time to dress as a (Insert choice from above).

Your partner glares at you. You decide making jokes isn’t help you here.

So you decide to check the upstairs rooms. Which room do you pick?

The Master's Bedroom (It’s where the safe words are used)

The Ladies Bedroom (It’s where the magic happens)

The Guest room (It’s where the tears happen)

You enter to the room (thunder crash and howl). You’re hiding behind a lamp.

Your safety buddy is near the fireplace. You are near the books. You think of all the stories you’ve read and you know that one of these needs to be a lever

Pull all the books to search of a lever

Ignore that idea and just search the room

You know how cool you’d look if you found a great clue so you bust out your Official Hildibrand Certified School of Detective Work and start busting out clues… You find none...

Your buddy stares at you and leans on the fireplace. They hear a click and the fireplace moves open to show a secret path!

You follow the path. It’s dark. You get scared by a familiar sound… (AWOOO)

You look around your partner is gone! They split the PARTY! YOU NEVER SPLIT THE PARTY!

You keep following the path with your hand along the wall. You feel a hole big enough to squeeze your hand through...

You put your hand and feel slime covered lever and pull

You feel a crank and you get to cranking

You feel what appears to be a snake. You pet the hole snake and you hear a click. You later think that was a really nice snake and you want a snake as a pet.

You end up in the Study with the dead body!

*Lightning crashes*

Everyone comes back into the room, sees you with the body, and that your safety buddy is missing. People are now ready to make their accusations!

The Wae Sisters:

Ebony: "It's obvious who the werewolf is. It's [the audience]!" Tara: "Sister, perhaps we can get them to bite us." Ebony: "Good idea, Sister. Though that may prevent us from becoming vampires." Tara: "Hmm. Not worth it, then. Wolves are disgusting anyway.

You:

I’m only dressed like a wolf…

Scoot Patoot:

If anyone coulda’ dun it it was you! I know a wolf when I see one.

You:

I’m ONLY DRESSED LIKE ONE

Nanamo:

I believe that which I see for myself. It is true that no others were around to see (his/her) demise. Yet here I find you: the only one present, and the sole individual capable of inflicting those wounds. Who else would the killer possibly be? It must be so!

You reply:

I DIDN’T KILL ANYONE!!!!

Suddenly...

Excuse me… Maybe I can clear somethings up…

Everyone turns to see a Lupin in the doorway.

You see I called you all here. I thought a fun Murder Mystery Dinner would be a fun All Saints Wake event.

You say:

I see. I didn’t do a thing! I was trying to explain that to you the whole time....

Lupin:

I do apologize for that. Also your costume is very offensive to my people.

You:

I’m sorry… It’s all I had really.

Lupin:

I don’t dress like your people… ANY WAY. I hope you all forgive me, there is still a party to be had. Food and drink are in the Ballroom!

So you enjoy the rest of your night. You have your fill of food and drink. You even got Lupin to be less mad about your costume...

You decide to walk home from here since it’s not that far.

It’s nice moonlit sky and sweet breeze. You hears something rustling in the bushes and shrug it off, but pick up the pace. You hear heavy breathing and starting running!

You can’t out run it! It’s too late!

Awooooooooooooo!

Thriller Laugh

I know what you’re think what happened to Shyn and Cypher? Well...

The show is done and so it ends The darkness falls across the lands Where will our two hosts go? Not even the demons know. For they were there to face a hound from hell With the help from you had a story to tell For now the night closes in to bring its doom Stay bundled up in your room For this is a word of warning for you Always fear the wolfs Awoo

Happy All Saints Wake!

#ffxiv #choose your own adventure #All Saints Wake

1 note · View note

tokyoteddywolf · 7 years

Text

An Armful Of Feelings, A Shance One-Shot

*wheezes* okay, this grew way over what i originally planned, but i also kind of like how it turned out, so here, have a Shance one shot with a lot of fluff, a splash of angst, and a bit of a surprise. :)

keep in mind: Lance is 22, Shiro is 26, Pidge is 20, Hunk is 22, and Keith is 23.

Enjoy! (This is 5,000+ words that got way out of hand....)

Prompt: “it seems we’re the only two people in this class that actually know what the fuck is going on want to team up for this project and ruin everybody’s lives” au

Lance yawned as the teacher droned on and on about some cellular structure, and sleepily scribbled down the notes. Even if he was twenty two, college could still make you feel like you were back in middle school. He took this Human Based Technology class mainly because he was a top student when it came to human anatomy and specialized in nerves and muscles, and planned to go into neurology. He figured it would be an easy class to pass, and boy was he right. His friend Pidge, who was an actual certified genius, flicked a small paper ball at him to get his attention. He looked over at her and snorted at the dead look on her face. Yup, she was bored too.

“Alright class! As you know, the Fall Semester is ending soon in a little over a month. Therefore, your final assignments shall be given out today so that you may have the entire month to work on your projects.” Lance perked up at this information. Final assignment? A month? Why would they need a month to work on a project? “The reason you have the rest of the semester to work on this, is because it is a contest as well. You must take some form of human based technology and either produce a study on it or improve it so as to better improve the lives of those who use it. If you decide to do a study paper, you are excused from the contest as everything is graded based on presentation. If you decide to improve the technology you've decided on, you must bring a model, blueprints, a speech on how it works, and a demonstration or slide. You may work in pairs for this project, and everything is due before the final day of class.”

Lance and Pidge slowly turned to each other and grinned like a pair of wicked Cheshire Cats. “Wanna team up since we're the only ones who know anything in this class?” Pidge asked, smirking. Lance's face matched her own. “Fuck yes, let's wreck these losers.” He purred, the two friends chuckling evilly as the rest of the class realized that there was no way in hell they would beat these two at their best subject.

“So, what should we try first? Wheelchairs? We could attempt hover technology...” Pidge said, idly nibbling the end of her pencil as she lay on her bed with a notepad in front of her, Lance eagle spread on the floor staring at the ceiling. “Nah, hover technology hasn't been researched enough yet, and people are already working on improving it.” The Cuban male huffed, waving his hand in dismissal. Pidge hummed thoughtfully, wracking her brain for any more ideas, and blinked as her phone dinged and lit up with a notification.

She unlocked her phone and checked the message, noting that it was from her brother's friend Shiro. Shiro went to the same college as her and Lance, actually. He was working on a Masters degree in veterinary practice after his break in the Military. He was four years older than Lance, six older than her. She glanced over to her bored meme loving pal, smirking slightly. Lance and Shiro actually knew each other through Shiro's younger brother Keith, though Shiro hadn't really talked with Lance much, and Lance had the biggest fucking crush on the Japanese-American she'd ever seen. It was admittedly kind of cute yet frustrating because when Lance pines, he pines hard.

Sighing, she read the message.

Absolutely Shiro-Done With Life

hey pidge my arm is acting up again, can you come over to take a look at it real quick?

Pidgeotto The Great

yeah sure give me a while tho im busy thinking of a project to work on for a class.

Absolutely Shiro-Done With Life

okay thanks. :)

Pidgeotto The Great

ᕕ( ᐛ )ᕗ

Absolutely Shiro-Done With Life

why are you like this

Pidge laughed and shook her head, grinning. Lance sat up. “What's so funny?” He asked, raising a perfect eyebrow. Pidge shrugged. “Just Shiro. He needs some help with his prosthetic. It's probably the inner joints again, probably just flexed something wrong and the attachment slipped.” She explained, blinking at the sudden thoughtful look on Lance's face. “I know that look. What idea do you have this time?” She asked, sitting up properly as Lance got to his feet and grabbed the notepad and pencil, scribbling something down and mumbling to himself.

Pidge knew better than to interrupt him while he was in Thinking Mode, so she settled against the wall lining her bed and watched him pace back and forth while he jotted down notes and was muttering something that sounded like calculations. When he finally turned to Pidge, she blinked in surprise as he suddenly shoved the notepad into her lap. “We can do this for the project! It's perfect!” Lance chirped as his small genius friend read over the notes with a critical eye. A huge grin split her face as she looked from the notepad to her beaming pal. “Okay, but if we do this, we're gonna have to ask Shiro for help. You gonna be able to control your awkward crush self around him enough to get any work done?” She teased, noting how he got a little red cheeked and shuffled in place.

“Yeah, as long as I focus on the project and not Shiro himself...” Lance explained, still a little flustered. “I'll give him a quick text and have him come over so we can chat about this in person!” Pidge cheered, picking up her phone and quickly typing out a message to the source of the project's idea.

Pidgeotto The Great

actually, do u think u can come over to my dorm real quick??? I need to talk to you about smth and id rather do it in person than over the phone. I'll fix ur arm while ur here, since I keep my tools with me.

Absolutely Shiro-Done With Life

Yeah, sure, I can do that :) What exactly do you want to talk about?

Pidgeotto The Great

u'll see when you get here, its nothing bad. I have smth to show you as well, so hurry up and get ur ass over here!

Absolutely Shiro-Done With Life

Language, Katie. But sure, i'll be there in a few minutes.

Pidgeotto The Great

ur not my dad (=^=) but yeah see you soon!

Lance was the one to open the door and let Shiro in, since Pidge was busy working on the blueprints Lance had roughly sketched out. “Hey Shiro! Glad you got here so fast, me and Pidge really need your help on this.” The skinny man said, grinning and thanking everything holy that he'd taken all those drama and acting classes back in high school, appearing as his normal, aloof self while Shiro smiled back. “Hey, been a while since we've talked, huh? So, what do you two want to talk to me about?” Shiro asked as Lance let him inside, shutting the door behind him and moving over to where Pidge was working at her desk.

Pidge looked up at the sound of Shiro's voice and grinned. “Well, you know how me and Lance have that Human Based Technology class? There's a big project we have to do, and me and Lance got to team up for it!” The small girl explained cheerfully, though the light malice in her smile had Shiro shuddering a little. Pidge had no mercy in competitions, she was a terrifying opponent in a battle of technology and wills. “And I'm supposed to help you how?” Shiro asked with a raised eyebrow, curious.

“Well, we're supposed to take a human based technology and improve it further, so Lance and I were thinking of doing prosthetics and wanted to ask you if you'd let us modify your arm!” Pidge declared, sitting up and pushing her glasses back into place. Shiro blinked, startled, looking over to Lance, who nodded, then focused back on Pidge. “You… want to make me a new arm?” he asked, a little confused and a slight bit apprehensive. His current prosthetic wasn't all that advanced, and often ached during cold weather or the joints would stick and refuse to bend, and would twinge painfully at the connections sometimes. Lance jumped into the conversation to explain. “No, not a new arm, a better arm, one that should work like it was your old flesh one instead of metal, at least according to my calculations.”

Pidge nodded enthusiastically, and picked up the notebook to show him the detailed layout of the arm Lance had sketched, complicated words and numbers scribbled next to the diagram. Shiro scanned the page, eyebrow raising higher and higher until he looked at both students with a conflicted expression on his face. “If I agree to this, what exactly do you need me to do?” he asked, folding his arms over his chest. Pidge motioned to Lance.

“Well, all we'd need at first are measurements. Once the prototype is finished, we'd test how the cuff attachment fits on you, then make sure it was comfortable before connecting it to the actual prosthetic. Once everything is done and all the tests are finished, we'd have to take off your old prosthetic to put the new one on. The new arm is supposed to use extremely tiny needles to enter your, ah, stump, and connect to the proper nerves and muscles like how it is for a flesh arm, and connects to your neural pathways so that the electric impulses you use to move your body are used by the prosthetic as well. Basically giving you an arm you use with your brain rather than your muscles.” Lance explained in all seriousness, scratching the back of his neck sheepishly. “Of course, you don't have to if you don't want to. We can always just do a model and some blueprints and just explain how it works...” He mumbled, scuffing at the carpet with a sock covered foot. Shiro hummed thoughtfully, turning the idea over in his mind for a few minutes.

“Pleeeeaaaaseee Shiro?” Pidge whined, turning big brown puppy eyes to the six-years-her-senior man. “You'd let me and Lance build you a new arm, right? I am the little sister of your best friend after all~!” Shiro wavered, before glancing over to Lance and immediately regretting it as the Cuban male also turned the pleading pout on him, big blue eyes and trembling lips and oh god dammit he was going to agree to this one way or another wasn't he?

Shiro sighed. “Alright then, I'll let you do this. But you better go all out. Anything less than an A and I'm calling Matt.” Pidge whooped and Lance grinned before yelping as he was yanked into a group hug by the excited girl, Shiro getting dragged in and pressing against Lance's side and oh boy he hoped his face wasn't as red as it felt- “Thank you thank you thank you Shiro!!! Me and Lance are gonna build you the best fucking arm this side of the moon!” Pidge declared, arms around both of her taller friends. Shiro laughed and contributed to the group hug, a quick squeeze, before pulling back. Lance missed the heat almost instantly.

“Come back over tomorrow and we should have some blueprint outlines done. I'll take your arm measurements then. For now, let me take a look at your current prosthetic. You said it was acting up, right?”

Lance sat on the bed, fighting down a blush and distracted himself with scribbling out more detailed sketches of the new prosthetic, listening to Pidge and Shiro chat as she fixed up his arm.

A week later, Lance hissed in pain as a piece of the metal arm shell he was working on slipped and cut his palm. Pulling back, he shook his hand, trying to work off the sharp throbbing pain. “Lance, are you okay?” Shiro asked from where Pidge was examining his arm again, the joints having been sticking a lot more than usual recently. “Just peachy. The metal doesn't want to work with me today.” Lance groaned, scrutinizing the blood welling up from the cut. It wasn't very deep, but not shallow enough that he wouldn't bleed.

Concerned, Shiro got up, moved over and took his hand to take a look, not noticing the sudden flush on Lance's cheeks as he clicked his tongue in worry. “That's going to need a bandage for sure… Hey Pidge, where are the bandages?” Shiro asked, turning to where Pidge was watching the exchange with amusement. “Desk drawer, third from the top.” She replied, and Shiro dragged Lance over to sit in Pidge's green swivel chair, rummaging around in the mentioned drawer and pulling out a box of large band-aids, the kind you use for knee scrapes.

“Here, let me see.” The larger man ordered, and Lance swallowed thickly before holding his bloody hand out, palm up. “Here, use this to wipe up the blood before he drips on my floor.” Pidge called, tossing an old towel over to Shiro, who caught it and started cleaning away the red liquid before unwrapping and carefully pressing the band-aid on. Lance was 90% sure his heart was about to jump out of his throat. “There, is that better?” Shiro asked, and released Lance's hand. The Cuban male laughed awkwardly and stepped back to breathe. “Uh, yeah, it does feel better. Thanks, Shiro.” He admitted with a wry grin, Shiro smiling back in relief.

“Okay, tender bro moment over, Shiro get your ass back over here so I can finish up adjusting that joint.” Pidge drawled lazily from her spot on the bed, amused when both men jumped, startled, like they'd forgotten she was there. “Ah, right. Sorry.” Shiro muttered, before moving away to go sit next to Pidge and her array of tools. Lance cleared his throat nervously before going back to working on the model prosthetic he was attempting to build.

To be honest with himself, that was probably the closest he'd ever gotten to holding Shiro's hand…

“No no, Lance, the blue wire connects to this finger, not that one.” Hunk directed his best friend gently, as Lance was working on the hand part of the prosthetic back at his own dorm. It had already been two weeks since the whole bandage incident, and Lance's crush had started to spiral out of control the more time he spent with the older man. Ever since then it just seemed to get worse and Lance had no idea how to fix it. Small encouraging comments as he worked on the wiring, smiles and soft looks, they'd even started trading stories on their families. (Lance had so much blackmail on Keith now, it made even Pidge impressed. And she was the Queen of blackmail.)

Sure Lance was known as the campus flirt, but he never really succeeded in any of his endeavors. He'd dated before, but it's not like he ever had to deal with a crush this bad, and he really didn't want to mess up the current dynamic he shared with Shiro, so confessing was a no go. Sighing, he set the tangled up mess of fingers and wires down and groaned into his hands.

Hunk, his roommate, best friend and mechanical genius, raised an eyebrow. “You doin' okay buddy? If it's too confusing I can always take a look for you...” He asked, concerned. Lance huffed out a short laugh. “No, it's not that. I'm just having some… problems with my feelings lately, that's all.” Hunk made a soft, drawn out 'oh' sound and smiled sympathetically, patting Lance on the back.

“Ah, I see, you're crushing hard on someone again. Still Shiro or do you have your eye on someone new?” Lance sighed. “Nope, still stuck on Shiro… and now that we're doing this whole new prosthetic thing, we keep spending more time with each other and it's doing bad things to my heart, Hunk! I don't know how many more looks or praises I can take from the guy before my heart decides to give up and die in my throat! I'm dying from love, dude!” he whined, slumping against his pal. Hunk chuckled and ruffled his roommate's hair affectionately.

“You'll live, buddy. Remember how bad I was with Shay before I told her how I felt?” Lance snorted. “Yeah, I remember. You kept baking foods that were a little too salty and binged on chocolate chip cookies. You were afraid of her brother and how he'd react if you tried dating her.” Hunk grinned sheepishly. “Don't get me wrong, he still scares me, but everything ended up just fine once I confessed and I now have the sweetest girlfriend on campus.” “Dude, you and Shay have been the reigning champions of the Cutest Couple title for two years running.” Lance deadpanned, and Hunk laughed. “I think you and Shiro would be cuter than me and Shay, honestly. But, if you're going to confess, you'd better do it in the best way possible.” The engineer said cheerfully. “Oh yeah? How?” Lance grumbled, tilting his head from his pal's shoulder to look at Hunk's smirking face.

“Why, in the most dramatic and Lance-like way possible, of course!”

The two boys didn't stop laughing for hours after that.

“So, exactly how is this supposed to work?” Keith asked the tiny technology expert as she finished adjusting the attachment cuff and corrected the size, looking intrigued by the now mostly formed arm. Pidge sighed.

“Well, this cuff keeps his arm from falling off. All we have to do is slide the inner mechanism parts into the metal casing we made from the mold we made from Shiro's left arm and hand, though we flipped it so it became a right arm and hand, and then we connect it to this cuff that's supposed to fit over Shiro's stump to keep the prosthetic from falling out or disconnecting, which would probably be a little painful. The cuff is designed to hold onto the skin around his arm, tight enough to stay but loose enough to be comfortable and not constricting the blood flow. The arm itself is going to basically use a bunch of tiny, dissolving needles to shoot wires into his body and connect to the proper muscles and nerves you use to move your arm. Everything is going to be secured so that it won't disconnect, and the wires are supposed to also attach to the bone so that tugging on his prosthetic won't make it pop off. The cuff is just an added measure to keep everything from aching, since even though it's lightweight it's still going to ache a little if left hanging for too long. The adjusting nanomachine fabric I added will prevent chafing and will adjust when Shiro flexes or moves his arm. It also covers the scarring, which is an added bonus, since we all know he doesn't like looking at the reminders...” Pidge trailed off, and Keith nodded grimly.

“Yeah… I'm just glad the nightmares have mostly stopped...” Keith muttered, flopping down onto the ground. Shiro had gone to the Military after high school, and had stayed there for a few years before being honorably discharged after losing his arm during his time as a POW. Army life had changed his brother, and Keith was pretty sure most of it was for the worst. Nightmares, PTSD, a lost arm and a changed personality. He wasn't as happy-go-lucky as he used to be, and had lost a few memories too. It took him a long time to go back to college, but Keith was glad he did. He seemed to open up more nowadays, and was much less closed off than before. The young astrology student sighed and tilted his head to look at Pidge with a sudden smirk, and the upside down girl at the desk turned to give him a raised eyebrow look.

“So, how's the plan going?” He asked, wiggling his eyebrows. Pidge laughed. “Stop that you dork. And the plan is working perfectly. It's only a matter of time now~!” The twenty year old woman sang, as her partner in crime gave her a thumbs up. “Soon, my conspiracy theory comrade, soon.” Keith purred sinisterly, and Pidge giggled evilly. “They'll never know what hit them.”

Lance exhaled deeply and rolled his shoulders. Today was the day. The deadline was tomorrow, and they had finally finished building the prosthetic arm and put it through more tests than he'd taken in his junior year of high school. Every single test proved the arm was ready. Now all that was left was actually attaching it to Shiro. He knocked on the door, and when he was let inside, he was faced with Pidge, more serious than he'd ever seen her before. “You ready for this?” The gremlin asked, quirking a brow at him. Lance nodded firmly. “Let's get this show on the road.”

They started setting up everything they needed, like pillows, towels, adjustment tools and double checked the testing checklist they would use once the arm was properly connected to Shiro's body. “Okay, I called Hunk and Keith over as well, because we need to document this and I can't hold a camera while adjusting connections and you can't either since you're the one moving it into place.” Pidge informed him as she prepped the prosthetic for attachment, as Shiro would arrive with Keith. Lance nodded from his spot on the bed, where he was arranging the pillows for Shiro to sit with in order to keep him as still as possible while they put the new arm on.

Sure enough, less than a half hour later, an engineering student, an astrology student and a veterinary student walked through the door like the start to a weird joke with a bad punchline. “You ready for this, Shiro?” Pidge asked as said man settled onto the bed and clutched a pillow with his good arm. “As ready as I'll ever be.” He joked, though it sounded a little strained. “Okay, first things first, we have to take off the old arm. Try not to freak out, okay?” Pidge warned, knowing about his panic attacks and giving fair caution before she tried anything.

Shiro swallowed thickly and nodded. “Don't worry, it's not going to hurt, and I'll stop if it gets too bad.” Pidge soothed before she moved around him to start undoing the latches and connections to his stump. Shiro did really well, at least until she actually pulled off the arm. That's when everything went wrong. Shiro started hyperventilating, eyes darting around frantically and pained noises leaking through his tight-lipped mouth.

“Shiro, calm down, you're okay, it's just me, Pidge, see? I'm not hurting you, you're in my room, and- WOAH!” Pidge tried to calm down the former soldier, but ducked with a short scream when Shiro lashed out at her. Good thing nobody was in the dorms at this time of day. Lance was thankful for the soundproof walls as Shiro panicked through his flashback, the older man wheezing for the people he couldn't see to leave his arm alone.

“Shiro! Snap out of it! You aren't in the enemy camp, you're safe, it's okay!” Keith yelped, attempting to hold down his big brother, and ultimately getting hurled across the room. Hunk stepped in and managed to hook his arms around Shiro's shoulders to restrain him, but his legs still flailed and kicked frantically, and Lance was terrified that he was going to hurt himself like this. So he did a stupid, very Lance thing and stepped closer to the writhing, screeching man, ignoring the sharp flash of pain across his arm when nails sliced into them, and carefully put his hands on Shiro's cheeks to force him to look into ocean blue eyes. Hunk tightened his grip on the man.

Shiro panted and wheezed, chest heaving, his knee drove itself into Lance's gut but Lance was more durable than he looked, so he toughed it out and spoke as calmly as he could. “Shiro, you have to snap out of it, buddy. You are just fine, nobody here is taking your arm. You're okay. It's not real. Look at me, because I am real and whatever you're seeing isn't. Just, focus on me, okay?” He asked, though his stomach ached and was probably gonna bruise and his heart was pounding like crazy. Shiro slowly started to calm down, silver eyes unclouded and looking at him, and Lance could hear the background sound of Pidge helping Keith up.

Less than twenty minutes later had Lance sitting next to a prosthetic-less Shiro, rubbing small circles into his back as his crush quietly sipped a glass of water. Pidge was doing a minor repair to the new prosthetic, since it had gotten knocked over in the struggle, so they had a little while to breathe. Shiro cleared his throat gently. “I uh, I'm sorry for freaking out like that… you were all just trying to help...” He murmured, subdued and solemn.

Lance laughed lightly. “Nah, man, it's okay. I've had worse from my siblings. Plus, we knew you might freak, going in. Nobody blames you for having the reaction you did, it's only natural after what happened to you back then… But, now everything is okay again, and once Pidge finishes up you'll have a new arm!” He reassured, smiling. Shiro huffed, mouth twitching up in a faint smile.

Keith and Hunk were currently in the dorm kitchen working on getting some food after the whole fiasco, so it was just Lance, Shiro and Pidge in the room for now. Pidge piped up from her spot at her desk. “Lance is right, Shiro! Though he still shot down my idea of getting a bulletproof vest.” She sounded like she was pouting, and Shiro blinked. “They only stop projectiles, Pidge, they don't protect you all that great from a kick to the chest. You'd still get tossed and bruised.” Lance defended himself, rolling his eyes. This led to an intense debate between the two on force, inertia, the density of padding versus the strength of a kick, the vulnerability of the human body, and a bunch of other terms that had Shiro feeling like he was in the middle of a scientific lecture on physics.

Luckily, the debate ended with the return of Keith and Hunk with a large plate of freshly baked chocolate chip cookies and various other snacks. Pidge finished checking the wiring and nodded in satisfaction, moving over to Shiro. Hunk held up the camera. “Right, we're rolling!” The big man signaled. “Okay, on three, big guy.” She muttered, Lance getting into position to hold the arm steady. Shiro nodded, keeping as still as possible as Pidge unlatched the cuff and pressed it into place at the edge of his stump, lining up the tiny near-invisible needles to the correct marks Lance had traced onto a diagram earlier.

Lance's sharp eyes and steady hands guided the robot arm into place, and Pidge counted under her breath. “One...two...three!” On three, she and Lance moved and quickly attached the prosthetic, Pidge's quick fingers moving up to lock the cuff over the held position of the arm, which triggered the launching of the needles and wires.

Shiro grunted as a prickling feeling erupted all over his shoulder and stump as the needles did their work, attaching the wires to their assigned places and nerves. The needles were made of condensed nutrients that were absorbed by the body once their job was done. The cuff locked into place, keeping everything still as the tingly feeling faded away and Shiro now had a hunk of metal connected to him.

“Alright, now we just wait a few moments for the nerves to kick in… Shiro, let me know if you start feeling any phantom pains or anything like when you had your actual right arm, because that means it's starting to work.” Lance ordered as he and Pidge moved away to let the arm do it's work. Shiro nodded, his brain getting used to the new attachment, until he suddenly jolted and started staring at the arm in shock.

“Shiro?” Keith asked, worried. Shiro's reply was a near whisper. “I- It's like I can feel the wires like muscles…” Pidge's eyes lit up. “Okay, try telling it to move with your brain!” Shiro nodded and narrowed his eyes, concentrating, and the fingers twitched. A quiet gasp echoed in the room. “Try again, like, give us a wave maybe?” Lance asked, and Shiro complied, the arm twitching and suddenly moving up to wave at the camera. A grin started to spread over Shiro's face. Pidge bounced up and down on the balls of her feet excitedly as she whipped out the testing checklist.

Shiro then proceeded to ace every single test with ease, becoming more and more used to using the arm as each test went by. Soon he didn't even have to focus too hard in order to move it, as it worked just like a real arm. Shiro couldn't stop smiling, and it was honestly the most adorable thing Lance had ever seen. Once the final test had passed, Pidge declared him officially cleared to use it however he liked. The first thing he did was scoop the prosthetic creators up in a huge hug, laughing joyfully and spinning them around, much to Pidge's loud squawking protest and Lance's surprised yelp.

Shiro actually even kissed the girl on the forehead and Lance on the cheek in gratitude before letting them go and practically bounding over to his brother like an overeager puppy to show off how his new arm moved. Keith had never seen Shiro like this before in his life, so he was a little blinded by the beaming smile on his older brother's face.

Hunk wandered over to Lance, trying not to laugh at how the biologist student was bent over, one hand supporting him on the desk while the other clutched at his heart as he wheezed and sputtered through a blushing face that put the color of a red bell pepper to shame. Hunk gently reminded Lance to breathe while Shiro practically sang praises behind them. Lance couldn't stop smiling for the rest of the day, and neither did Shiro. Pidge had new blackmail material on Lance, and quite happily shared it with Keith. Lance also didn't sleep that night, at least not as well as usual.

They got an A+, and the blueprints were actually being sent to the top research facility in prosthetics! Pidge could not stop freaking out over this news, and was currently walking behind Lance and Shiro, babbling to her parents about it. They were on their way back from the last class of the day, as everyone was getting ready for the break between semesters since the last day of school was tomorrow. Pidge waved them ahead as she continued to talk with her brother over the phone, so it was just the two college students as they walked towards the dorm building.

Lance walked next to Shiro, humming idly as his eyes flicked over to the taller male now and then. “So, Lance?” Shiro started, and Lance jumped slightly, not having expected Shiro to start talking. “Uh, yeah? What's up?” He asked, trying not to seem a little panicked. “So, uh, I was wondering… are you free this weekend?” That was not a question Lance was expecting, and he stumbled over a loose chunk of concrete on the sidewalk, falling forwards with a yelp, scrunching his eyes in anticipation for the inevitable crash to the ground.

Which… never came, as two strong arms shot forward and caught him before he hit concrete, one smooth metal and the other firm, warm skin and muscle. “Woah, are you okay?” Shiro asked, concerned, and Lance blinked up at him and offered an awkward smile as he scrambled to stand back on his own two legs. “Yeah, I'm cool, just didn't notice the pothole, haha.” He joked, attempting to cover up his embarrassment. Letting go of his hold on the other, Shiro smiled warmly at him. “Oh good. So, about this weekend… maybe I could treat you to lunch or something?” Oh, they were already at the dorms...

Lance smiled at the slight flush over the taller man's cheeks. “Yeah, I'm free on Saturday, if you'd like...” Shiro's smile widened. “Great! It's a date then. See you around, Lance!” Lance's jaw dropped as Shiro gave him a friendly wave goodbye and started jogging up the stairs to his floor. Lance could practically feel his face turning redder and redder as he processed the words.

“It's a date then!…..It's a date then….a date….”

Later, Hunk came home to find Lance screaming into the thickest pillow they had, and laughed like crazy when he learned the reason why.

That year, there was a new Cutest Couple in the yearbook. Lance had never been happier in his life, and Shiro was just as pleased.

Two college students, finally free from school, sat next to each other on lounge chairs outside a cute little drink store and watched people walk by. Both were wearing clothes more suited for summer, the man in a tank top and shorts, the woman in a t-shirt and jean shorts. Oddly enough, both were wearing sunhats and sunglasses.

The shorter woman sipped her lime green syrupy drink and smirked at her phone where a picture of two men holding hands, laughing, popped up on a Facebook post. The man next to her mirrored the smirk, and reached out his fist to bump against hers while he drank his own cherry red Italian soda.

“What do you think, Keith?”

“Pidge, I do believe that we can proclaim this mission, accomplished.”

The plan had worked, and the two lovebirds were none the wiser.

#shance #Pidge and Lance brotp #Hunk and lance brotp #Pidge and Keith brotp #slight angst on Shiro's part #Lance pines like a pine tree #voltron #my writing #holy shit this got way bigger than i first thought #oneshot #slight trigger warning: panic attack #Shance fic #kicks this off the list of fics to do at last #this is over 5000 words wtf

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seriouslyhooked · 7 years

Text

Getaway (The CS Mixtape) Part 129/?

Series of CS oneshots inspired by music. Collection on FF Here.

A/N: Reader prompted AU where Emma works in a bar and though she doesn’t need saving, she does need to get the hell out of dodge. Enter Killian Jones, a man on the wrong side of the law, who’s been tempting Emma since he fist stepped into town two weeks ago. I’ve decided to couple this chapter with the song ‘Getaway’ by Tritonal and Angel Taylor since my reader didn’t give a specific song.

“Come on, sweetheart. Don’t pretend you haven’t been making eyes at me all night long.”

It took a herculean effort for Emma not to actively hurl at that proposition from the sleazy guy across the bar who’d introduced himself as Walsh before setting down to drink almost a full bottle of their cheapest scotch. He was three sheets to the wind, handsy with every woman in here, and a royal loser as far as Emma was concerned, yet here he sat, insisting he had a chance with her. Leave it to a man to be that freaking delusional.

Thanks to this hole-in-the-wall bar being one of the only places in a fifty-mile radius, and its easy access to a cross-country highway, Emma had barely any regulars and a whole host of characters that came in here night in and night out. She’d discovered over her three months of being on staff at Gold’s that daytime shifts were almost always better. Sometimes they got families in the restaurant portion for lunch or at least more people who weren’t actively trying to get hammered, but at night the crowds were hit or miss. Tonight was a definite miss… well, aside from one person.

Emma glanced towards the back corner of the bar and felt the same swarming of butterflies low in her gut when she did. The familiar stranger who’d been in town for about two weeks was here, and right now his eyes were on her and the man who was giving her all this grief. Emma could practically feel the anger radiating off of him, but when she looked at him it eased some and the clench in his jaw lessened. She offered him a small smile and mouthed the word ‘refill’ to him in a silent question, but he shook his head and offered her a smile of his own. The punch it packed was inescapable, and before Emma could do something stupid like blush in the face of it, she tore her gaze away from him.

“That man is downright sinful,” Emma’s coworker Ruby offered and Emma was definitely in agreement with that assessment. It was one of many words she’d use to describe him, but sinful just seemed to have the right amount of edge to do him justice.

“You said it.”

Ruby looked surprised at Emma’s engaging with thoughts on the customers at all, but soon after delight lit up the brunette’s features. Since Emma first set foot in this bar Ruby had been trying to get through to her somehow, but Emma kept her an arms length away, not because she didn’t like Ruby, but because she wasn’t going to be here long. Three months was already way past her norm, but things had diverted from Emma’s plan, and to make a very long story short she didn’t have a mode of transport out of this podunk town save for hitchhiking with one of the less than stellar characters who stopped in here for a spell. She was still a few weeks off from having the money to do so, and part of Emma was glad, because if she had left on her normal timetable, she never would have met him.

Emma’s eyes looked back up to the stranger across the room and when she did his eyes were still on her. He didn’t try to hide his interest, but Emma had to wonder about him. For two long weeks he’d been coming into this bar, at first with other friends of his who had now since left, but other than a few words when he ordered and when he left each night he didn’t say much to her. She still didn’t even know his name and she found herself wanting to know that and so much more about him.

“Seems like someone’s interested,” Ruby’s words pulled Emma back from her new favorite pastime of trying to guess what a man like that could possibly call himself.

There was no reason to try and deny this guy’s brand of sex appeal. Emma had met a lot of people in her life, mostly because she never stayed in one place for long, but none of them were like him. Dark hair, a trimmed but prominent beard, and eyes so blue they put every remembrance she had of the ocean to shame, made him certifiably attractive but then there was the rest of him.

He had the most commanding presence that denied anyone the chance to overlook him, but Emma noticed that he tried to blend in. The only person he ever went out of his way to speak with at all was Emma. He always sat himself in her sections or waited until she could be the one to see him, but then every time they spoke he was a complete gentleman. He didn’t pry or get overly flirtatious, and Emma found herself wishing he would. He looked one way and acted another, and Emma was almost desperate to find out who he really was underneath it all.

The man was also seemingly averse to color, opting for black and occasionally dark blues every time she’d seen him (which was every day since he first rode into town on that bike of his), and he had the leather to go with that chopper. He had bad boy written all over him between the tattoos and the slight trace of a scar on his face, but Emma didn’t mind. Despite her usual aversion to… well, everyone, Emma kept getting pulled back into this guy’s orbit. He hadn’t been far from her thoughts in two weeks, and that left her a little dizzy and more than a bit curious.

“Maybe I am,” Emma finally countered and Ruby slapped her hand loudly on the bar and put her other hand on her hip.

“Okay well that does it. You are going to talk to him and you’re going to ask him two things: first, what is a hunk like that is doing camped out in this craptastic town? And two why hasn’t he made a move when he clearly wants to?”

“Ruby I don’t think -,” Emma was going to counter that she was at work and that more importantly she didn’t do things like this, but Ruby interrupted her with a mere wave of her hand.

“Good, don’t think,” Ruby said as she poured two shots out for Emma and her. She handed one to Emma and continued with her plan. “You’re going to take that drink, take your little bit of liquid courage, and change your fate. Because if you don’t I will snatch him up for myself.”

“Yeah right. And leave your sheriff? I don’t think so.”

Ruby grinned at the mention of Graham, her reason for staying in this town when she might otherwise like to be somewhere else. Graham was the law around here, and he had been for about a year, but him and Ruby had plans to move on to greener pastures in another year or so. Ruby truly loved him despite her insinuation to the contrary, so Emma knew her threat was empty, but she still did not like the idea of any woman approaching her stranger. Oh god – now she was getting territorial over a guy whose name she didn’t even know? This was rich, and probably really bad.

“Come on, Emma. Enough stalling. Go and show that guy you’re no damsel in distress. You’re acting like you’ve never asked for a guys number before.”

Emma decided not to tell Ruby that she actually hadn’t. You didn’t really need numbers when your love life up to this point consisted of youthful infatuations and one-night stands that never lived past the next morning. But the idea of just one night with this guy was less than Emma wanted, and that was only mildly petrifying.

“Play all you want, darling, but I know you want me,” the same drunk said from down the counter, interrupting Emma and Ruby and pulling an eye roll from both women.

“What I want is a boss who lets us kick out assholes, instead of insisting everyone who pays can stay,” Emma offered to Ruby, ignoring the guy some more as she downed her shot and felt the heat scorching the back of her throat. She never drank on the job, but Ruby was right. She needed this.

“From your lips to God’s ears,” Ruby added as she tossed her own drink back and then she smiled again, offering Emma a tray of refills for a group across the way. “Table eight is right by your stranger if you want to go…”

“He’s not my anything,” Emma added though she couldn’t ignore the stirring in her heart that came when Ruby made the connection. Her eyes flicked back in his direction and he was still watching her, still just as intense as he ever was.

“You could change that. All you have to do is let him in.”

Ruby said that like it was easy, but if she knew Emma past the workplace sort-of friendship they’d formed, she’d know it was anything but. Life had taught Emma time and time again that she couldn’t just give herself away. Walls might make living lonely, but they also served a purpose. They kept her safe and whole and above the deluge of emotions that would come if she ever really had to face her past or all that was missing from her present.

Yet there was also a tiny voice in the back of Emma’s mind that said Ruby was right. It might not be easy, and it definitely wasn’t her M.O. but Emma could make a choice to take a risk. She could be braver and put herself out there. Who knew? Maybe the bad boy biker had more in common with a lost girl running from her own demons than she thought. Maybe there were more than a handful of moments in store for them. Maybe there was a future.

The thought inspired Emma to take the tray and to move around the bar, but as she did, she felt the unwanted hands of her not so secret admirer from the bar on her ass. Immediately she twisted, pinning Walsh with an angry stare and a serious tone that would stop any sensible person dead in their tracks.

“Don’t touch me.”

The bar went quiet except for the sound of someone rising to their feet. Emma didn’t even have to look back to know it was her stranger. She just sensed it and felt her own courage rising when she did. He had her back if she needed it, and even if she was more than capable of taking care of herself, that thought eased some of the knots in her chest that came from someone trying to take advantage of her, no matter how smarmy or weak he was underneath the unfounded swagger.

“Now come on darlin’, there’s no need to play so hard to get.”

Walsh moved for her again and Emma tossed the tray to the empty table beside her with a loud clang while she twisted his arm painfully and put him up against the counter. He groaned out a sound of pain as his face planted into the bar top, and though Emma didn’t delight in hurting anyone, she did appreciate that it meant he wasn’t able to put his hands on her again.

“I’m not playing with you. Touch me again and you will see just how serious I am.”

“Miss Swan!” Emma glanced up to the owner of this bar who went by Mr. Gold (though after a few months of working here, Emma was pretty sure that was an alias meant to make him seem grander than he was) who sneered at her. “Let the man go and say you’re sorry.”

“Say I’m sorry? Me?”

Emma was flabbergasted and yet part of her was not at all surprised. Her boss was a dick, and he’d never tried to hide that. But something was different today, something had broken inside of her and she wasn’t willing to accept this anymore or write it off as another spot of bad luck in her pretty pathetic life. Instead she let go of the guy and took off her apron in quick, sure movements.

“Screw that. I quit!”

“You can’t quit,” Gold said, seeming for the first time a little worried that she meant it.

“Ha! Watch me.”

Emma slammed down the apron and headed out the door with just a small salute to Ruby that silently wished her good luck and then a final glance at her stranger. He was still standing, watching her go and she didn’t know whether to be embarrassed or proud of herself so she just headed out into the warm night outside.

When the cool breeze hit her skin, Emma began to realize everything she’d just done and she moved into autopilot. She had to get out of here, she had to keep moving, but damn it her bug was long gone after that last thousand mile trek across the country to get the need to run out of her system. She was stuck here, and while she could ask Ruby to get her to the bus station a few counties over, she couldn’t ask her to leave in the middle of her shift. There weren’t many places around here offering employment after all.

Just like there weren’t many places offering a room to rent. The sad fact of the matter was that Emma was actually a tenant of Mr. Gold’s and she doubted he’d be letting her stay now that she was leaving him high and dry. She was stuck between a rock and a hard place, desperate to leave, but without a way to do so.

“Are you alright, love?”

Emma turned to the now familiar voice and found her stranger looking truly concerned for her. The sight of someone actually caring caused a lump to form in her throat. Emma was an exceptionally good judge of character with a sixth sense for whether or not someone was full of it, but this guy was genuine. He wanted to know if she was okay, and she weirdly wanted to tell him.

“I’ve been better, but I’ve also been worse,” she admitted and he offered a ghost of a smile as he stepped closer. Emma didn’t retreat from him as she might of with other people, and honestly she wished he’d close the gap more.

“How can I help?” he asked candidly.

“Do you have some magical lead on a cheap car so I can get the hell out of here?” Emma joked.

“No, but I have my bike and a want to see you safe. I’m at your service should you need me.” Emma laughed, not because she found him funny, but because he was just so out of place. What was a biker doing with words like that and a face filled with sweet sincerity?

“Just like that?” she asked.

“Just like that,” he promised.

Emma could feel the truth radiating off of him and it paralyzed her. She was so overwhelmed by his willingness to be of help, but all her old alarms were blaring in her mind saying that there were always strings. Nothing was every free – there was always a price when it came to kindness.

“Why?”

“Because you deserve the help, love, and because you’re too damn good for a place like this. I’ve been trying to find a way to tell you that since I first saw you, but no words I had seemed to do you justice. You’re impossible to describe.”

Emma let that sink in and felt the waves of pleasure and uncertainty that came in the face of such a confession. That he thought so highly of her was a real compliment, but she honestly didn’t know how to handle a guy who said things like that without some kind of angle. He wasn’t standing here saying she was gorgeous and thinking she might be an easy, vulnerable lay. He looked at her like she was worth something and then offered his hand to her gently like it was the most natural thing in the world.

“Come with me. I’ll take you anywhere you want to go. All you have to do is say the word.” Emma closed her eyes briefly loving the sound of that, of going away with him of all people, but she had to be smarter than this.

“I don’t even know your name,” she said frankly.

“Killian Jones, and before you ask, I’m a bad bet, love, and I know that. By all accounts I’m someone you want to avoid not run with, but bloody hell I’m hoping you’ll look past that. Let me be of use to you. Let me get you out of here. I want to help. I need to help.”

“I’m Emma.” She offered her name as she tried to wrap her mind around all of his words and his intensity and he smiled, his hand coming to brush away a strand of her of her hair behind her ear. It felt like she was surrounded by sunlight when he did, even though it was late, and the sun was long gone.

“I know. I’ve been paying attention, but you already know that.” She did know that, but it was still nice to hear.

“Why?” Emma asked the same question again, unable to let go of how surreal it felt. She needed answers. They were the only thing that would assure her in a situation when so up in the air.

“Because I couldn’t walk away. Because you’re different, and for the first time in a long time something in my life feels right again.”

What could she say to a confession like that? Emma still knew practically nothing about him, but she knew deep in her gut that she could trust Killian. It might be crazy, but for once she was willing to take the risk. With Killian she’d jump, and she started by pulling him down to her by the collar of his jacket for a kiss that started simple and sparked into something deeper, lustier, and more magical than anything she’d ever known. It was an incredible kiss, and it felt like finding home when Emma had never actually had one before. She hated to pull back, especially when his hands were on her body like this, pulling her closer and playing every ounce of desire she had to a beautiful tune, but she did eventually to tell him her decision.

“Okay.”

Things from there moved quickly, and Emma was glad that she’d never been terribly sentimental, because her one box of belongings was really all that there was room to bring. When she’d retrieved them and left what could be replaced in her room, she wrote a final note to slip into Ruby’s mailbox on their way out of town thanking her for everything and telling her she’d be in touch when she could be. Then when that was done Killian sought Emma’s command for their next steps.

“Where to, love?” Emma smiled and realized the answer didn’t matter.

“Anywhere. Wherever feels right.”

Killian grinned and offered her a helmet before getting them out of town and off on a new adventure. And luckily for both of them, that one leap of faith managed to turn into so much more. For they did find a place that felt right, and they both managed to put down roots and find a home in each other that they’d both so truly wanted.

…………… Doesn't take much to feel the rush With nothing but your eyes on me How 'bout we do just like we do Two crazy fools just breaking free

No, it don't matter what we've been told I can see the skies are gold Yeah, it's just you and me and open road, let's go

I don't see no red lights, just a wild ride You're my getaway, you're my getaway Tonight, I'm gonna be alright You're my getaway, you're my getaway tonight You're my getaway, you're my getaway tonight You're my getaway tonight

You're my getaway I don't see no red lights, just a wild ride You're my getaway, you're my getaway Tonight, I'm gonna be alright You're my getaway tonight

It's getting dark, let's light a spark Ignite our hearts and burn away This is our time, it's do or die Come on, let's rise for heaven's sake

Oh, it don't matter what we've been told I can see the skies are gold Yeah, it's just you and me and open road, let's go

You're my getaway I don't see no red lights, just a wild ride You're my getaway, you're my getaway Tonight, I'm gonna be alright You're my getaway, you're my getaway tonight You're my getaway tonight

Post-Note: Thank you to my lovely reader who asked for this. It took a while to figure out how to write this prompt because I hadn’t ever considered a story like this, but I finally stumbled on an idea today after your (very) long wait. I hope it did your vision justice. Anyway thank you all so much for reading, and as always, feel free to send prompts or ideas my way. I’d love the mixtape to have a nice long life and the more song suggestions I get, the easier that will be! And to everyone still waiting, don’t worry. I am making my way through the queue slowly but surely.

Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4, Part 5, Part 6, Part 7, Part 8, Part 9, Part 10,Part 11, Part 12,Part 13, Part 14, Part 15, Part 16, Part 17, Part 18, Part 19, Part 20, Part 21, Part 22, Part 23, Part 24, Part 25, Part 26, Part 27, Part 28, Part 29, Part 30, Part 31, Part 32, Part 33, Part 34, Part 35, Part 36, Part 37, Part 38, Part 39, Part 40, Part 41, Part 42, Part 43, Part 44, Part 45, Part 46, Part 47, Part 48, Part 49, Part 50, Part 51, Part 52, Part 53, Part 54, Part 55, Part 56, Part 57, Part 58, Part 59, Part 60, Part 61, Part 62, Part 63, Part 64, Part 65, Part 66, Part 67, Part 68, Part 69, Part 70, Part 71, Part 72, Part 73, Part 74, Part 75, Part 76, Part 77, Part 78, Part 79, Part 80, Part 81, Part 82, Part 83, Part 84, Part 85, Part 86, Part 87, Part 88, Part 89, Part 90, Part 91, Part 92, Part 93, Part 94, Part 95, Part 96, Part 97, Part 98, Part 99, Part 100, Part 101, Part 102, Part 103, Part 104, Part 105, Part 106, Part 107, Part 108, Part 109, Part 110,Part 111, Part 112, Part 113, Part 114, Part 115, Part 116, Part 117, Part 118, Part 119,Part 120, Part 121, Part 122, Part 123, Part 124, Part 125, Part 126, Part 127, Part 128

#captain swan #captain swan au #cs au #cs fic #cs ff #cs oneshot #cs fluff #captain swan fic #captain swan ff #emma swan #killian jones #ruby lucas #gold is an ass #walsh also sucks #captain swan mixtape #cs mixtape #the captain swan mixtape #getaway

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signutai · 7 years

Text

Okay so my copy of the English version of OPM Vol. 10 got here today and here are some of my thoughts: - Bang signing Charanko’s cast on the characters page. - I wonder if Charanko even knows because he seems to still be unconscious and it’s on the bottom of his foot. jfc bang - Spring Moustachio and Golden Ball on the characters page also, how sweet. - It looks like Spring Moustachio has a side job washing dishes or something? Unexpectedly wholesome, and he looks like he’d work in a fancy restaurant. - And the freaking Tanktoppers on the characters page. They’re such a bizarre family and I love it. - Of course Garou pops up out of nowhere when people are talking about him, he can probably hear his name being said from miles away because he’s such a needy, attention-starved child. - “I can’t believe you came to visit. I’m so happy, Saitama.” Mumen continues to be the single most pure person in the history of the universe. - Can I offer you a nice banana in these trying times? - “Silver Fang has trained an evil demon.” I’m sorry but this makes me laugh so hard for some reason. Maybe it’s the bitter, sullen look on his face as he says it. - Saitama hears that Tanktop Master defeats his opponents with a single punch and immediately offers him a banana too. - BUSAIKU - King’s picture in his guidebook is so precious. - Also he has Lightning Genji’s autograph? How sweet. ;~; - Smelly, beat-up weirdo shows up and asks to be taken to Busaiku’s neighborhood. Busaiku sees nothing wrong with this. - He will, however, draw the line at said smelly, beat-up weirdo asking to borrow his book. His priorities are clearly in order. - Garou’s dorky-ass little smile as he reads about the monsters. That is all. - “Chumpo” - Charanko is having precisely none of Saitama’s shit. - Saitama looks actually upset when he says, “Poor you...a side casualty of the Hero Hunter...” - It’s interesting that even though Saitama can’t remember Charanko’s name or who he is most of the time, he did remember when Charanko told him that he faced Garou head-on, even if he seemed disinterested and changed the subject immediately after. - Dammit, Charanko, leave your bandages alone. - I always love shots of Charanko cleaning the dojo floors because he seems super into it. You do you, charred ankle. - “I doubt you would do it...but no taking my place!” you had ONE job, saitama - Garou chopping a pint glass in half, because that’s not extra at all. - Golden Ball faking out Garou by acting drunk and catching him off-guard is BEAUTIFUL. - And he actually manages to do some damage! - Garou: -dodges a powerful volley of attacks with no effort whatsoever- “My eyes have adjusted.” EXTRA EXTRA READ ALL ABOUT IT - SPRING MOUSTACHIO TO THE RESCUE - “You weren’t at the bar so I went looking for you.” I’m not saying they’re boyfriend but...boyfriends. - Also, on the subject of him, since we know now that he’s a disciple of Nichirin from the Council of Swordsmasters, is the...handkerchief-turning-into-a-sword thing something he learned there or did he just...pick it up along the way? “Yes this next technique I will teach you is a little something called ‘I lost my scabbard one day and wondered if it was strictly necessary.’” - Actually pretty damn impressive swordwork there. - Sure, Garou, impale your hand on his sword, because that’s not extra either. - Garou “I’m Gonna Kill Every One Of You” walks away from a fight because his opponent’s out of ammo. I totally buy that you’re a merciless hero killer, dude. - His face when he wakes up after Saitama knocks him out is kind of precious. - Also doesn’t seem overly concerned about waking up in a pile of garbage, surrounded by crows. Also somewhat concerning that no one thought to call someone about the bloody, beaten-up dude lying unconscious in trash. - Genos: still dedicated to getting Saitama some hair. - Garou’s shack makes me sad. Someone find this stupid murderpuppy a real home. Does that place even have running water? When’s the last time he bathed? There’s a lightbulb hanging from the ceiling, though it’s not on now, so the place must have had power at some point. Did he just stumble across this decrepit old hovel and go, “Ah yes perfect, this is mine now.” And he sleeps under a wall of hero pictures, that’s not creepy at all... - Did he not learn basic first-aid at any point? Sure, just wrap your wounds up, it’s fine. - METAL BAT - “What the--?! Is this hell?” i’m fucking snorting, mbat is #relatable - Wanna slap that HA guy and his kid. - Good job you losers, you made Zenko cry. UNFORGIVABLE - “I’m the one who should be crying!” me too, bat, me too - Honestly I want to make fun of Saitama for not remembering the name of the Fist of Flowing Water, Crushed Rock, but I can barely remember what order the words go in either most of the time. - “Ha ha, you think you’re big enough for this super fight? I’ll just use you for choke hold practice again!” In other news, I hate Sour Face with a burning passion. I am amazed that Charanko stuck with his training for a year before Garou went on his rampage, since it’s obvious he was treated like absolute shit at the dojo. - Still unsure why so many people imagine Garou as being all big and beefy when he is a literal noodle. - Saitama actually sticks up for Charanko because Charanko faced Garou head-on and was brave! Good! Someone treating the fuzzy kumquat with a little kindness for a change! - Metal Bat, lounging casually on a dead monster, shoving sushi in his face. Amazing. - Centisenpai. If that’s what we’re going with, okay. - Garou: doesn’t remember much of the night before, still remembers to swing by the park to see if the kid with the book is there again. - Their budding friendship is adorable, especially knowing where it ends up. - I mean. Beating yourself repeatedly in the head with an unbreakable metal bat works, I guess. In other news, that is not related in any way shape or form, his intelligence is a three. - He is incredibly badass, though. God I love my terrifying son. - Only Metal Bat would see a giant fucking centipede that towers over buildings and get excited. - Onto the bonuses: glad that the one that was left out of the last volume is here now. - Tatsumaki: hates being called in to fight monsters, hates having nothing to do. Just hates everything in general, I guess. - Her pajamas are cute. - King is the OPM-verse equivalent of a brony and I love him. - He’s so upset that Saitama ditches him for the costume contest, aww. - DARKNESS BLADE, legit one of my faves - Darkness Blade...slicing his head open with his own shoulder armor...legit one of my faves... - Darkness Blade, getting his armor destroyed so we can see his nice abs. - Isn’t it a general rule to wear something under your armor? - Can’t remember the name of his own attack. Though, in his defense, he is bleeding profusely from the side of his head. - A SINGLE PANEL OF ATOMIC SAMURAI AND THE KIDS MY LIFE IS SAVED - Bushidrill’s hair is so poofy here, I want to touch it. ;~; - AND HIS DRILL. AND BURRITO-NESS. - What are you shaming yourself for, Bushido drill? I am so curious. - Fubuki being Fubuki is charming in its own way, I will admit. - “I’ll make them join my dojo as grunts! Charanko will be happy to have junior members!” you expelled him remember jfc bang, again - RED MUFFLER - DARKNESS BLADE (again) - STINGERRRRRRRRR - In which Stinger learns that Class-S is certifiably and batshit insane. - Darkness Blade’s hair just looks more and more messy every time I see it. Wonderful. A+. I approve. - Red Muffler’s Class-C friends probably don’t believe him when he tells them how many higher-ranking heroes he’s met and fought alongside. Little guy is everywhere. - Fubuki being badass! Yes! All in all, a very good volume, I love it, I’m incredibly happy with this one.

#OPM #One Punch Man #Saitama #Charanko #Garou #Metal Bat #Darkness Blade #Red Muffler #Stinger #Golden Ball #Spring Moustachio #Bushidrill #long post

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