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tiifalockhart · 3 years

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Safety

@wistful-wings asked: Since you asked, request time! :D Somehow a degrading Genesis winds up in a soft warm bed with someone looking after him because damn he's sick the guy needs some love and care damnnit.

Pairing: Genesis x Reader

Warnings: mentions of starving, death, trauma, depression and anxiety.

Word Count: 2k

A/N: I have finally delivered the Genesis content. Hope this is okay!! Thank you so much for your request, feedback is always appreciated!

Ao3 || Masterlist

Everything was cold.

His skin was cracking, his fingertips were permanently cold, his hair and features had all turned an ash grey. It was a curse: living a life where Genesis already knew his fate. No matter how hard he fought, he was trapped in a shell that was falling apart. He fought like hell to end up losing to himself.

Every day, breathing became more and more of a chore. His on-setting depression began to consume him. Sephiroth’s words from Nibleheim rang in his mind unendingly, he was constantly reminded of what he was to become.

“You will rot.”

One of his only friends throughout his life, his partner, his idol (no matter how much he hated to admit it now) had destroyed him with those three simple words. He felt like shit. Genesis ruined everything... Now Angeal was dead, and Sephiroth was nowhere to be found. All of this for revenge... If he had quietly left, maybe they would still be alive, maybe they would have come with him.

As much as he hated Shinra for what they did to him and the others... It certainly wasn’t worth losing everything.

For years, he had been hiding from anyone and everyone. He was afraid to show his face, the shame and guilt of what he’d done consumed him. What would Angeal do if he were still alive? He would have turned himself in... Or something like that, wouldn’t he? Dammit. It was conflicting... Genesis was so unsure of himself majority of the time now.

He was so cold and lonely, his body was failing him in more ways than one, and his intrusive thoughts certainly didn’t make the long and dreadful days go by any faster. Life was... Painful to say the least. Genesis managed to find a cave to hide in, somewhere where the sunlight wouldn’t give him migraines, where the public eye couldn’t find him, he felt surprisingly safer in that cave than he did with his own thoughts. He struggled to find peace, his mind screamed at him over and over about how he was a monster, how he killed his friends and how he deserved this unbearable fate.

Eventually, the pain of existing became too overwhelming one day, and he found himself wandering through Midgar aimlessly, trying to find some kind of release from this dreadful life. He thought it was the end for sure this time, his coughing had gotten worse, his limbs were weaker than ever, his skin was pale and his hair was the color of the Modeoheim snow. He didn’t have enough power within himself to perform a fire spell to attempt to warm himself up again. He knew this was the end. Maybe... It was for the better.

When he blacked out finally, no one would have ever known he was gone. Genesis was a distant memory at this point, who would have cared about his disappearance? He prepared himself to face the meaningless afterlife, to be rejected by the Lifestream and simply float out to nonexistence.

So, when he heard that gentle voice coaxing him back to life and reality, confusion hit him like a truck. Genesis thought he was dead for sure this time, so why was it he could hear a voice calling out to him?

“-ello?”

“Are you okay?”

“Wake up, you’re safe now.”

Confusion flooded Genesis’ features when he stirred. He wasn’t floating aimlessly in the Lifestream... He was alive still... Somehow. His eyes examined the room around him. He appeared to be in a bedroom, small potted plants and knick-knacks decorating the open space. Next to him, he noticed you sitting in a chair, a look of concern decorating your features. Once he was full aware and all his senses returned to him, he sat up quickly, a distrusting glare taking over his features.

“Where am I?!” He demanded, staring over at you. You raised your hands in surrender automatically, your eyes widening at his sudden outburst.

“You’re... You’re in my house. I saw you passed out, I thought you were hurt-” You explained hurriedly, sitting back in your seat. “I made you food... And brought some water.”

He raised a brow and glanced over at the plate and cup sitting on the bedside table. From what he could see, it was already better than anything he had been eating for the past years. Hesitantly, he relaxed a little, nodding lightly. “Thank you.” Genesis muttered softly.

A sigh of relief left your lips as he seemed to calm down. “Are you feeling okay? Do you feel sick? Maybe weak?” You asked, examining him for any injuries. He shook his head slowly, frowning slightly.

“No, I feel normal.” He lied, even though his mind was racing with thoughts. Why did you take him in? Why did you trust him? It didn’t make sense. Do you not know who he is? He was bewildered from your... Normal response to him.

You nodded awkwardly in response. “Well... You can make yourself at home until you’re ready to go.” You stated, standing and heading towards the closet. “I have some old clothes that might fit you. You can also use the bath if you wish.” You explained, placing a couple of towels on the foot of the bed, along with an oversized sweater and sweatpants combo. “I hope you don’t mind that I brought you here... I couldn’t leave you there, though.”

Genesis looked over at the outfit and towels, narrowing his eyes slightly. Now you’ve decided to take care of him? He didn’t deserve it, he was a murderer, a manipulator, a... Monster. Monsters don’t deserve to be taken care of. He pushed those thoughts away quickly, attempting to find his voice once again. “Thank you.” He responded, his voice sounding strained. It sounded like he was forcing it out.

However, you didn’t waver. You simply assumed it was him struggling to be thankful, which was fairly naïve. How were you supposed to guess that he was having an internal battle between his confusion and his intrusive thoughts? “Well... I’ll be downstairs. Dinner will be ready soon, you should come downstairs after you bathe, if you’d like.” You explained, nodding awkwardly.

Genesis didn’t respond this time. He was unsure of what to say. The tension in the room simply grew thicker the longer you stayed there, so you left fairly quickly. After the door closed again, Genesis let out a breath of relief as he pushed himself off the bed and stumbled over to the mirror. His hair was still white, all color had vanished from it. His dark circles, his pale complexion, his colorless eyes all stayed the same. No wonder you brought him in, he looked like he was on the brink of death. He let out a shaky breath as he pulled away from the mirror, unable to stand looking at himself anymore. Instead, he distracted himself with moving to the bathroom. Walking was a chore in itself, he couldn’t imagine doing anything else at the moment. Dammit, why was he so weak? He used to fight battles back to back, now he can barely walk a few steps without feeling like collapsing.

After finally reaching the bathroom, he took his time with bathing, appreciating the feeling of warm water flowing down his back. The scar on his back appreciated it too, it didn’t sting when the water hit it just right. It was... Nice. His sore muscles could relax a little, while his limbs slowly regained their strength. Once he was out of the shower, he pulled on the loose clothing, silently appreciating the looseness and comfort of them.

Just as you requested, Genesis arrived downstairs awhile after the two of you parted. His eyes scanned over everything in the house, he noticed small mementos from your family and friends, picture frames of different people, random things that managed to explain the type of person you are. He also noticed that the small dining table was set for two people, you and himself he assumed. Out of everything he noticed though, you were nowhere to be found. He checked the kitchen, the living room, and the dining room once again. There were no traces of you anywhere. A confused expression settled on his features, until he heard the front door open. Hesitantly, he entered the room and raised a brow once he saw you.

“Oh! I didn’t realize you would be done so quickly.” You pointed out, an awkward chuckle escaping your lips. “I was just feeding the street cats.”

“I was in there for an hour.” Genesis mentioned, which caused your cheeks to obtain a light shade of pink. “You feed... The street cats?” He asked, changing the subject.

“Yeah, a lot of them get dropped off here. It’s really sad, so I make sure I feed them every morning and every evening.” You explained, guiding him back to the dining room. “I decided to go ahead and do it, I figured you’d be longer than an hour.” You added, heading into the kitchen as Genesis took a seat at the table. He found you to be such a curious creature... You were kind to everything, no matter what its background may be. He watched you closely as you worked, his eyes following you as you returned to the table.

You carefully placed an extravagant meal in front of him, a shy smile forming on your lips. It consisted of steak (behemoth meat), along with other healthy sides. He stared in amazement as you placed the final item, a small basket of bread, in front of him. “I usually don’t eat like this... I figured today would be the day I make something nice.” You explained awkwardly, taking a seat across from him. “Feel free to eat as much as you like, or as little. The rest will be used as leftovers for myself or the cats.”

Once you began to serve yourself food and eat, Genesis finally snapped out of his daze and followed along, serving himself relatively small portions at first. He wanted to taste everything first, before digging into his favorites. Unfortunately for him, though, he found everything to be absolutely delicious, it was the best food he’s had in years, even when he was working at Shinra. He finally gave in and decided to fill his plate with everything, hoping that he could eat it all.

The two of you stayed in silence most of the meal, you didn’t seem to mind that Genesis wasn’t interested in conversation. He was grateful for that, his face was so full the majority of the time that there was no time to speak. Somehow, the two of you managed to finish the meal on your own. Genesis felt like he was on the verge of a food coma by the end of the meal. He was beyond thankful at this point, you had done so much for him with no questions asked, you were quite literally a gift from the goddess.

When you were cleaning up, Genesis decided to show his thankfulness a little. He helped you carry the dishes into the kitchen, and he offered to clean them as you wiped down the table. To you, it was a sweet stranger, especially from a stranger like him. You could sense him beginning to trust you, which calmed your nerves a little more. The odd factor was the fact that the two of you had hardly spoken at all. Besides a couple small exchanges of words, it was mostly silent between you both. It was a little unnerving, but you couldn’t think of anything to fill the void with, so you simply dealt with it.

As the night rolled in, the awkward silence that you and Genesis had slowly developed into a comfortable silence. You ended up introducing him to the cats outside, but he appreciated them from afar. You also offered some books he might like to read, he was uninterested in them. Eventually, it was getting too late and you were fairly exhausted.

“I’m going to sleep soon. You’re free to do whatever you wish... If you stay, that’s okay, but you also don’t have to stay.” You explained, looking back at him from the stairs.

He raised his brows, a heavy feeling forming on his heart. “...Are you sure? That you don’t mind me staying.” Genesis asked, his tone a bit quieter and sensitive.

You smiled in response to this. “It’s your decision. I don’t mind having you around.” You answered, giving him a reassuring nod. He hesitated and looked away, a conflicted expression forming on his face. You took this as the end of your conversation and continued up the stairs.

“Wait!” He called out, taking another step up. “I didn’t really say thank you.” He stated, furrowing his brows. “I... I don’t know how I can make it any more genuine. But seriously, thank you for everything.” Genesis murmured, looking down at the floor.

A soft laugh left your lips, which caused him to look back up at you in confusion. “Why thank me? I’ve just treated you like a house guest.” You pointed out, snickering. “You’re welcome... I guess? I thought what I did was bare minimum...” You muttered the last part to yourself, before shaking your head and looking back at him. “I’ll do better tomorrow!” You decided, a determined look in your eyes.

For what felt like the first time in awhile, a smile formed on Genesis’ lips. It wasn’t a smirk, or a deceiving grin, it was a genuine and heartfelt smile. It felt... Weird. He liked it. Maybe he’ll stay for longer then... “I’m looking forward to it, then.” He responded, matching your lighthearted banter.

The both of you stood still for a moment, as if finding some way to continue, before you finally broke the silence again. “Well... I should get some sleep to prepare for tomorrow. See ya.” You waved down at him, before heading off to your room for the night.

Genesis couldn’t really describe the feelings he felt at that particular moment, but he knew that staying was a better idea. A fresh start... Maybe it won’t last for so long, but it was a nice break, especially since the position he’s in currently isn’t exactly the best. Or maybe... He didn’t have to explain himself. He was going to stay because he wanted to.

He felt safe with you, and that’s all that mattered.

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rogershoe · 4 years

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Lights, Camera, Action

Part four

(Part three)

Masterlist

Summary: You’re a production assistant on the set of Cursed. The night before your first day at work, you opened your laptop to shockingly realise you’d be working with Daniel Sharman (and a plethora of other amazing actors), someone you’d been watching on screen since you were a teenager. You kept your expectations low, the PAs rarely got to interact with the talent…what was your chance?

Word count: 3.8k

Tag list: @sxperncturalimpala67 @mrsaaronkeener @tinygardensoul @disasterday @5am-cigarette @lancelotapricot @demoiselle-en-detresse00 @slytherlight @18somethingpsyche @ceruleanmusings@glxctt @cavillxhenry@lovelyapplessss@hereagainsstuff@linkpk88 @aliceperdida@weeping-redemption@magicalsaladnacho @lancelotapricot@ineedyourskulls@fandomarstrash @cheythefangirl @pure-ghost @estrielle @tessxblxckthorn @isaac-lahey-is-bae @bubblyanis

Warnings: age gap between reader and Daniel, swearing, slow burn

Notes: This has definitely been the most fun chapter to write out of all four so please let me know how you liked it!! Also I realised that Cursed was actually filmed in England so for the sake of the story we’re just gonna pretend like it was filmed in LA hahaha.

Sunday, January 13th, 2019

10:31 am

You rubbed your eyes, swiping across your phone’s screen to turn your alarm off. The sun’s light bled through your curtain, giving your room an eery glow.

It had been almost a week since Huey had informed you that you’d be working with the make-up/costume department as well. You thought you would start on Tuesday of last week (the day after you got the message), but Huey had apparently “forgotten” to inform you that you would actually be starting in a week. On Monday. Meaning tomorrow.

To say you were a bundle of nerves was an understatement. Naomi had also approached you last week warning you about how you’d be working with the actors a lot more and how you should work on “being completely comfortable” around them. Had she really been that intuitive? Still, you hadn’t had any interaction with them at all since you’d delivered Daniel’s costume to his trailer on Monday. You’d only seen them shoot scenes and talk to the director and other crew members from far off. (Never to the production assistants.)

You tried to ignore the nerve-wracking thoughts of having to actually interact with the actors and instead focused on Bradley. Yes, Bradley.

He had invited you to have breakfast with him at the Original Pantry Cafe, a breakfast place he had said was the “very best in LA”. To be completely honest, you were a bit taken aback when he had asked you….did he mean as in a date? You of course, being the idiot that you were, didn’t bother to clarify, so now you had no idea whether you were just meeting him as friends or something more. You hoped to god it was just as friends. You couldn’t deal with dating at this point… especially with Mr. Daniel Sharman on your mind 24/7.

11:13 am

The sun warmed your face as you stepped out of your parked car. You had just pulled up to the cafe and proceeded to subtly peek through the window as you walked to the door. Bradley was sitting on a small table inside by the window. Thankfully he was on his phone so he didn’t see you staring. You entered the shop, a small bell tingling above you. The warm smell of fresh bread and eggs and syrup wafted towards your nose. For a second, your belly rumbled and you forgot about all your worries. You glanced towards Bradley and saw that he was now walking towards you, a huge smile on his face. An uneasy feeling suddenly grew inside you as you realised he might think that this was some sort of date.

“Y/N! How are you?”

You both started walking back to the table after you gave him a hug, “I’m good” you shrugged off your maroon jacket laughing, “Tired too”

“Really? When’d you sleep last night?” he suddenly swerved around you and pulled out your chair.

“Thanks” you said, sitting down, a funny look spread across your face, “I slept around 4:00”

“Seriously?” his eyes widened.

“Yeah…found a good series on Netflix” you rolled your eyes, smiling.

“I still don’t have Netflix” he sat down and pushed a menu towards you that you then proceeded to open.

“Really?” you laughed loudly, “You’re working on a Netflix show and you don’t even have Netflix?”

He smirked slightly, “I guess I’ll get it once Cursed comes out…anyways, what do you wanna get?”

You flipped through the menu, chuckling, “A coffee for sure”

“Well….. the pancakes are really good….. and so are their omelettes” he said pointing towards a mouth watering picture of a stack of chocolate pancakes. Healthy eating could go out the window for today.

“Oh, I’ll definitely get those..how about you?”

“I’ll go for the bacon cheese omelette I think”

“Sounds yummy” you said and closed your menu

Bradley called the waitress over and you both gave her your orders. He also ordered a lemon raspberry smoothie. There was an awkward silence when she picked your menus up and left.

You clasped you hands together resting them on the table, “Bradley?” he looked up at you, “I have a silly question to ask ” you smiled slightly, a nervous feeling growing inside you.

“Shoot” he said grinning.

“Was this meant to be a date?….Or-“ before you could continue, he thankfully interrupted,

“Do you want it to be?”

Your mind went blank. Of course you didn’t want it to be…but judging by his answer he probably did.

“Well..” you tilted your head, raising your eyebrows slightly

“You don’t do you?”

You shook your head slowly, a sorry expression on your face, “Did you?”

“Doesn’t really matter now, does it?” he said tightening his lips.

Before you could respond, the waitress suddenly came up to your table carrying two plates of mouth watering food.

“One order of chocolate pancakes” she placed your dish in front of you, “and one bacon cheese omelette…..Enjoy!”

“Thank you!” you and Bradley both said simultaneously.

You grabbed your utensils, spooning a large bite into your mouth. You couldn’t deny that they were delicious..maybe this was the best breakfast place in LA.

“How is it?” Bradley laughed, cutting up his own omelette in from of you. You chewed quickly and swallowed.

“Delicious Bradley…how about yours?”

He had taken a bite, “Just as good as it was the last twenty times I had it”

You giggled, going back to your own food. The next half an hour was thankfully not awkward at all. Both of you talked about Cursed, the actors, what jobs you had had before….and of course, your little, “promotion”.

“I’m nervous……how much do you even have to talk with the actors on a day to day basis?” you asked

“Oh barely for me” he said finishing off his omelette, “I mostly work with the basecamp and costume department’s crew…when I accompany the actors to their set it’s usually a silent walk unless they feel like making conversation…which is rarely”

“So you’re saying I won’t have to talk to them as much either?”

“No Y/N you definitely will” he laughed at your widened eyes, “You’re essentially going to be helping the departments get the actors ready for the day…you might not have too much one on one conversation but you will be spending loads of time with them”

“You know that scares the shit out of me” you said scraping the remaining chocolate sauce off of your plate,

“Aw don’t be….they’re only humans like us after all”

You supposed they were.

12:22 pm

The second you got home and into your apartment, you shed your jacket, pulled out your phone, opened your contacts and called Talia. You two had met in university and been inseparable ever since. There was no friend you were closer to than her.

She picked up on the second ring.

“Y/N!! It was meant to be a date right? I knew he was into you!”

You chuckled putting your keys on the table and falling onto your couch. “Slow down Tal…he didn’t say that”

“Well then what did he say?”

“He asked me if I wanted it to be a date”

You could practically hear her eyes roll back into her head, “You idiot…! If it wasn’t meant to be a date, he would’ve been straight up with you and just said so”

“Are you sure?”

“Obviously! Even if it wasn’t meant to be a formal date, he’s definitely into you”

‘What am I supposed to do now?” you huffed

“Is that a serious question?”

“…….Yeah” you said after a pause, guilt lacing your words.

“You go out with him again!” you rubbed your eyes and groaned after hearing her say that.

She ignored you, “Then hopefully he’ll forgive you for being so clueless and in three or four years I’ll be an aunt to three little kids” she said laughing

You laughed too, “Talia! I’m being completely serious…..I only see him as a friend anyways”

“Why Y/N? If you saw a guy this cute, with a great personality I might add, two weeks ago, you would’ve been head over heels for him”

“That’s not true!”

“You know it is Y/N…..what changed?”

“I don’t know……I guess it might be my little crush on Daniel”

“Daniel?….You’re really going to let a tiny celebrity crush hold you back from true love?”

“I know it sounds bad Talia! And in the past I wouldn’t have…but now that I’m working with him things are….. different”

“Have you even talked to him?”

You paused thinking, “Yeah I have”

“And was that more or less than five words?”

“Less” you said scowling..”But it still counts!”

“Ugh Y/N, fine…If you see Bradley as just friends that’s okay….but don’t let Daniel cloud your real feelings for other guys okay? It’s not healthy to stay loyal to a guy who doesn’t even know your name”

“Okay Talia…thanks…I won’t” you said. She always did give the best advice.

Monday, January 14th, 2019

6:48 am

“Y/N! You excited to work on basecamp?”

You turned to see Louis standing behind you in the studio next to the crafts (snacks) table.

“More nervous than excited” you said laughing.

“Well Huey wanted me to tell you that the timings have been changed and you’ll be helping the basecamp from 7 to 9 not from 8 to 10”

You checked you watch and your eyes widened, “ But that’s in ten minutes!”

“I know Y/N….you know how Huey is with his last minute changes” he said comfortingly

“Oh I know alright” you said sighing, “I guess I should get going…wish me luck”

He gave you a warm smile, “You’re gonna do great…you’ll have Pandora to keep you company anyways”

You faked a smile….Pandora was better than nothing you supposed.

You walked out of the building, cold damp air hit your face as you let the heavy door close behind you. There was not a hint of blue in the sky, just grey clouds. It had been raining when you had gotten to work and by the looks of it, it was going to rain again later. The ground was wet and you had to walk around dark puddles to prevent your shoes from getting wet.

You went up to the same trailers Bradley had taken you to yesterday. You didn’t know anyone except Siara….thankfully you saw her through the open door of one of the trailers.

“Hey Y/N!” she said as you walked through the door, wiping your feet on the mat inside the vehicle.

“Hi Siara…..do I just help you out or is there someone else I’m answerable to now?” you said smiling and tucking your hands into you back pockets.

“I was told that Huey or Naomi would guide you and Pandora” she responded, going through a rack of dirty looking costumes

As if on cue, a voice sounded through your headset, “Pandora and Y/N, please report to trailer nine”

You tapped on your earphone indicating to Siara that they had just told you and walked out of the trailer.

“Good luck!” you heard her yell.

“Thanks!!”

When you got to trailer nine, you walked inside to find it was huge, almost double or even triple the size of what Daniel’s had been. It had long mirrors on both sides of the van and six white chairs on each side instead of three. There were almost 9 people in the trailer (which you would think would be a lot but in the huge vehicle it seemed like barely any). You looked around and saw Naomi and Pandora standing together in a corner opposite from the trailer’s door. You went up to them.

“Y/N!, how’ve you been?” Pandora said, a huge smile stretching itself across her face. Why was she being so nice to you all of a sudden?

“Good, how about you?”

“Ladies! We don’t have time for chit chat. The talent and extras will be here any second and you need to be ready”

You nodded crossing your arms over your chest. “I told all this to Pandora but I’ll repeat myself”

She turned towards her, “Pandora, you will be helping out mainly with the extras since they have such extensive make-up and costumes…you might help with the talent if they need it too depending on the day”

Then she turned to you, “Y/N, you on the other hand will also be helping out with the readying of the extras and-“ she checked her watch and you could almost see the tension paint itself across her face. “And you’ll be giving a hand to Daniel Sharman’s make-up crew…since two of them resigned”

For a second you didn’t hear what she said and your mind fixated on just Daniel’s name. You nodded subconsciously, swallowing hard. A rush of adrenaline and nerves hit you when you processed that you’d be working with his make-up crew. You honestly still didn’t know what that meant but you were both nervous and insanely excited to find out. Naomi then without another word rushed down the stairs of the trailer and out into the gloomy weather.

Did this mean you’d get to talk to Daniel? Would he actually notice you now? Or would you just be another part of the huge make up crew? Before you could bombard your poor mind with more intriguing questions, you froze in your spot when you saw the door to the trailer open. Multiple people walked through…extras.

You let go of the breath you didn’t know you were holding and looked towards Pandora to see her also watching the extras. A realisation suddenly dawned on you that she was probably being nice to you because she knew beforehand that you were working with the Daniel. You honestly didn’t mind…it was better than when she was in a pissed off mood.

“I guess we should start helping out?” you said looking at Pandora

She nodded going over to the chairs where the extras were getting seated, the make up crew bustling around them. There were even more of them now, they must have trickled in when you were speaking with Naomi. You saw Jasmine and the blonde make-up artist enter through the trailer…Daniel’s makeup artist. You suddenly gasped, only realising after you did so.

Pandora looked at you with a funny expression, “What’s up with you?”

“Nothing…sorry” you said shaking your head and walking over to her. Your back faced the trailer door.

A man, most likely a makeup artist from the looks of it (he had a belt around his waist with multiple makeup brushes and other tools), came up to the both of you.

“Are you the extra help?”

“Yes” Pandora said

‘Great..” he looked around the trailer, “You guys won’t be doing anything crazy…just acting as assistants essentially to anyone who needs it” You saw his eyes widen as he looked over your shoulder most likely at the trailer door. You didn’t want to seem rude but you couldn’t help yourself as you turned around to find Daniel walking through the door of the trailer. He didn’t have his keys or anything for that matter on him so he must have left them in his personal trailer. His hair wasn’t tied up in a bun today and looked wet…it must’ve started raining outside.

“Sorry I’m late!” your heart stopped for a second when you thought that he was talking to you, but he was actually looking over your shoulder at the crew member you and Pandora had been talking to.

He quickly rushed past you and to Daniel, “Oh no no Daniel, you’re just on time!”

He smiled and walked past him to a chair where Jasmine and that other woman were setting up their supplies. You really had to learn her name. You knew you should go to them seeing as you were supposed to help but you were frozen in your spot, you heart beat thudding through your ears.

“Y/N! You’re helping us today right?” you tore your eyes from Daniel and to Jasmine who was calling out to you from her place next to him. How she knew your name you had no idea…Naomi must’ve told her.

You opened your mouth to talk but realised that it was better to just go over and see what they need help with. Your mouth tended to go dry when you were extremely nervous (or even excited).

You walked over to the three of them. Daniel saw you through the mirror and maybe it was just you but you could’ve sworn there was a hint of recognition in his eyes. The second you caught his blue eyes you looked away and at Jasmine.

‘What can I help with?”

She bent down and pulled out a white cape looking sheet from a shelf and put it on the long table.

“It’s similar to a hair salon really” she opened a drawer and got multiple long clips out, then proceeding to go stand behind Daniel, “I’ll teach you the little tasks you’ll have to do so don’t worry…the basics are the same for the extras’ makeup as well”

You kept looking at Jasmine not wanting to be caught staring or even looking at Daniel through the mirror. She took a brush and brushed his hair back, using the different coloured clips to clip it out of his face, most likely to get him ready for the makeup. You had never been this close to any of the actors you knew and loved. It felt a bit like a dream really. Maybe it even was.

You were snapped back to reality when you heard Daniel’s voice. “I know…aren’t we all” he said laughing.

He must have been responding to something Jasmine or the other woman said, you wished you had been listening.

“If you pick up things quickly you can be doing all this and I can focus more on the makeup” you heard Jasmine say. She had picked up the white sheet and was now putting it around Daniel’s neck, making sure it was covering his clothes.

You nodded smiling and suddenly felt his eyes on you. You took a sudden risk and looked in the mirror right at him. His eyes were darting across the trailer now, thankfully not looking at you anymore. You crossed you arms over your chest, an act of subconscious self defence at how self conscious you were feeling at this moment.

“Can you pass me the makeup wipes?” you heard Jasmine say. She was pointing at a white box on the counter. You quickly grabbed them and handed them to her. She didn’t take them from you but instead pulled a couple wipes out of it.

“His makeup is essentially the same everyday” she said. She then proceeded to take the wipe and gently rub it across his face, most likely to make sure there was no oil or residue and so they could have a fresh canvas for the makeup. “The tears are the hardest and longest part to do so you’ll probably be needed most then”

You felt a bit more comfortable now and spoke, "Do you do those too?”

You glanced in the mirror and saw Daniel grin a bit. Jasmine smiled too shaking her head, “Oh no, I’m still learning. Cassandra does the tears and most of his main makeup. Hopefully by the end of the process I’ll be able to do some of it though”

You smiled feeling like a bit of a fool, of course she was still learning.

You heard Daniel’s voice and assumed he was talking to Jasmine, “You’re a production assistant right?”

He wasn’t.

You looked over at him through the mirror to see him looking directly at you. You nodded, smiling. You wanted to say something but the words just wouldn’t make their way out of your mouth. God, you probably looked like such a starstruck dumbass.

Cassandra had seemed to disappear, you looked around the trailer and she was nowhere to be seen. You swallowed and breathed deeply trying to calm the adrenaline still making it’s way through your body.

“Will I just be watching today?” you asked, curious to know how much actual work you’d do.

“I guess so…Cassandra will let you know when she comes back” she said shrugging. She threw the makeup wipe into the bin and smiled.

“Daniel probably has some of the best skin I’ve ever worked with” she said laughing, “There’s barely any oil….ever”

He laughed too, “I doubt that”

Your eyes suddenly fixated themselves on his smile and you found yourself beaming too.

You quickly snapped yourself out of whatever day dream world you were living in.

What in the living hell was wrong with you? He was an actor and suddenly just because you had seen him in real life you were falling for him? You had to get your act together….otherwise it could end up being a real and unnecessary distraction.

You tore your eyes from him and looked at the door to see Cassandra walk back in.

“Have you shown Y/N the basics?” she asked walking over to you three.

“Yes ma’am…I believe so” she said smiling.

Cassandra smirked looking skeptical, “Has she Daniel?” she said jokingly.

He nodded, lifting a hand to run it through his hair but dropping it at the last moment when he remembered his head was adorned with clips, “I think she has”.

You smiled feeling a bit nervous…Cassandra was a tad more intimidating than Jasmine. “You have to pick up things fast okay Y/N?” She went up in front of Daniel and grabbed what looked to be translucent powder and a brush, handing it to Jasmine. “We don’t have the time to slow ourselves down for you or Pandora”

You didn’t know what else to say other than, “Okay…of course”. You had no room for error apparently, you just had to get into Cassandra’s good books and you’d be fine. She wasn’t as sweet as she’d been on that day where you were still only a set PA.

You looked at Daniel and found that he had closed his eyes and Jasmine was dabbing a bit of powder over his T zone…probably to absorb the excess oil that she had proudly told you he didn’t have.

“Do you do a lot of makeup yourself?” Jasmine asked you

“Not usually but sometimes I guess” you said

“So you know all the different brushes?”

You thought back to the hours of mindless makeup videos you would spend hours watching at 3:00 am when you couldn’t sleep.

“Yep, I do actually” you said confidently. Thank god you weren’t completely clueless in this new endeavour.

Part five

#daniel sharman #daniel sharman x reader #daniel sharman fanfiction #daniel sharman fanfic #daniel sharman fic #isaac lahey #daniel sharman x oc #daniel sharman one shot #daniel sharman headshot #cursed #cursed netflix #netflix #cursed fanfiction #cursed fanfic #weeping monk x reader #lancelot x reader #nimulot #cursed fic #lancelot x oc

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heresathreebee · 3 years

Text

Dirty Water

Benny 'Borracho' Magalon x Robyn Banks (Black!OC)

Summary: Robb met a couple of shady characters calling themselves cops. Well it just so happens they are, and they're worse than she first thought.

Masterlist

Word count: 2.5k words

Rating/Warning(s): +16 Mature | kidnapping, mild torture, tied up, wanna be clear: IRL I do not condone hooking up with a person who kidnapped you or was complicit in kidnapping you, it just don't work out like that in reality

AN: so basically I'm gonna write and post this in whatever order I please, then go back and figure it out later. Since my brain has jumped back on the Pascal bandwagon, it's hard to focus outside of his body of work but I'm still coming back to this story with relative ease.

Just when she'd started to warm up again, a another shower of ice cold mop water was pitched over her head. Robyn sputtered and coughed, trying not to swallow the suds in her mouth or let them see her cry to keep the dirt out of her eyes. From the shadows that danced beyond her eyelids, she could tell the alleged cop who called himself Nick was crouching in front of her.

"Last chance, sweetheart," the dirty cop said. "Tell me how you know Tony D'Onofrio."

Fuck.

Seven years ago, two federal agents walked in on officer Robyn Banks being sentenced to traffic duty. She didn't mind– she was fed up with the secrets her colleagues were forcing her to keep anyways. Maybe stepping down could help her clear her head, maybe give her time to compartmentalize those events and feelings. Only now could she say that the rest of her career was already out of her hands.

"Those agents on that file? They approached me about D'Onofrio. Said he was my moby dick. Made a big deal about 'justice' and 'law and order' and 'the sanctity of the badge." Robyn spit more mop water onto the floor and continued, "I told them I didn't know what the fuck it had to do with me and they just sorta looked at each other."

The blond man– Nick called him Z, she thinks– crossed his arms. "Quit jerkin us around, Banks, get to the fucking point."

Nick held up a hand. "Easy, tiger. I asked for a story and that's what I'm hearing. Keep going, Robbie."

Robyn scowled on the inside. "They told me he was my father. More like a sperm donor than anything, he probably didn't even know I was alive."

"Now that is interesting," Nick purred.

He cut the zip tie binding her arm to the rolly chair and handed her a towelette to wipe her eyes. She dared not reach for the tie on her other arm, lest her captors think she's pulling a move to escape. Instead she dabbed the sweat and mop water that soaked into the skin of her neck and face to pause and think about her next words.

"That was the basis of the deal. I join their investigation undercover, see if I can get somewhere with my connection, and help them put one of the biggest crime bosses on this side of the coast away for good. In exchange, I get to call the shots, they'd put in a good word with my CO and elevate me to detective status instead of beat cop."

"Thought you liked being a beat cop," the one in the silk flamingo shirt said.

"Apparently nobody believes that."

"So," Nick steepled his fingers beneath his aquiline nose in thought, "your end of the deal wasn't even your idea? How does that work?"

"Sounds like she got something else out of it," the bald man in the white polo accused.

Robyn glared at him, but she didn't contradict him. If she wanted to be listened to, she needed to stay calm. Stay calm, stay alive. Go home with the minimal amount of PTSD.

"Do you want me to tell you what happened or not?" When nobody raised any more objections, she continued. "I agreed to their terms. Next I know, I'm climbing the criminal ladder, dropping bread crumbs about my parentage, two years goes by, yada yada yada, and then bam. I have a meeting with the heir apparent to the Italian mafia.

"At that meeting I told Tony D'Onofrio he knew my mother and that I knew they had been dating around the time I was born–"

"Conceived–"

"Yeah that– he stared at me for so long I forgot how to breathe and then… he… believed me."

A pin dropped somewhere in the empty parking garage. A dog barked wildly a mile away but could still be heard in the silence that followed. Robyn still couldn't believe he'd bought it either.

"He just… believed you," Nick said skeptically.

Robyn could do nothing but shrug. "I never got the details, I couldn't ask my mom about it and Tony never gave me any indication that he knew about me before that meeting. He just asked me what I wanted and did it."

Nick dragged his eyes over her form, shivering and glistening, and then-- "what did you ask him?"

Robyn felt her eyes gloss over as she tried to remember what mysterious force compelled her to say the exact right words. "I told him all I wanted was for him to know, to see him with my own eyes and know he was real. I said I didn't need any favors or special treatment. I just needed some closure."

That was all. And the agents had been fucking furious with her. They had accused her of using them, of being a traitor and a spy for D'Onofrio or a mastermind cat-woman type villain and all manner of other terrible things. They were ready to pull the plug on the whole operation when Tony had offered her a better job. A job where she would come face- to- face with every schmoe on Tony's payroll.

"Tony offered me a job 'running errands.' Not quite in his inner circle but higher in his ranks than I had any business being," Robyn said. "Most of the people doing these jobs were kids, easy to get around the city undetected and reliable. Now he knew I wasn't a kid but I guess he wanted to see more from me, put his best eyes on me to see if I was legit."

Nick nodded and stood up (his knees popping like broken branches). He walked over to Murphy in the flamingo shirt and passed a few inaudible words between them. Robyn wasn't skilled in the art of lip reading, and failed to catch anything from Murphy except the word 'pointless.' It rubbed her the wrong way, sending a spark of fear through her that quickly dulled back into the numbness of being helplessly bound to a chair. She needed to finish this soon before she completely cracked.

Nick returned to her side, chasing some pepto bismol with a flask of what smelled like tequila in it. "That's a very sweet story, Robbie, really it is. But… what I wanna know is why you're not in this file."

"That's not what you asked me," she griped, then backpedaled into, "I'm trying to tell you why I'm not in the file. But in order to tell you that, I have to tell you what was left out of the file first. I'm getting to the point, I just… there's a lot of shit to sift through."

Nick nodded like a patient father (yeah, right). "Just the good parts then."

"Yeah," she nodded quickly, "just the good parts..."

"The good parts, uhm. Well he did learn to trust me. I barely had to do anything just… let him try to kindle a relationship between us. I started calling him dad at his request, nobody bothered me or questioned me after that and I didn't abuse it, expect on the downlow giving info to the feds. He liked that about me– he liked me. We'd talk about my mom and he'd let his guard slip, started taking me to his meetings and asking me to deliver his important paperwork."

"I let him think I was with him and documented everything I could for six more years." In truth, she had had some doubts. About putting him away and the vacuum of power it would create, about the dichotomy of good versus evil, about her career. In that last year, she had actually warmed to the idea of becoming a detective and getting to do work with her own moral backbone and not someone else's. "We made the arrest January 19th and put him away for a dime."

Nick leaned so far forward in his chair Rob had to lean back. "This is the part where you wrap it up, sweetcheeks."

Robyn gulped. "Gomer and Valentine pushed me out. They'd been acting really strange at the end, wearing these shit eating grins and looking at each other, and then they iced me out. Had me fired on the grounds that I was too close to the perp, used a fucking Christmas photo for evidence. There went the Italian mob's heir and seven years of hardwork, and I wouldn't even be mentioned by name in the case file. No testimony, no credit, just a dishonorable discharge and dumped on my ass in the streets."

"Wow." Nick rubbed a hand down his face like he was the exhausted one. "That's quite the story, princess."

He looked at each of his mates, every face stonier than the last. Especially the silent one's, the latino guy. Then he looked back at Robyn and smiled with a lot of teeth.

"I do have some questions though, if you'll let me." Sure like I have a choice. "Now it wasn't public knowledge you were in on the investigation, but I find it hard to believe your dad's lackeys didn't know it was you who turned him in. And what I find even harder to believe is that they'd let you live for it."

Robyn said nothing. There was a part of her that didn't quite grasp it either. When she had arrested him, when she'd slapped the cuffs on him herself and read him his Miranda rights, after the shock of her betrayal wore off, Tony had congratulated her.

"I'm proud of you, kid. You may be a narc but at least you got your head straight. You got guts, kid."

As far as she understood it, his last order as the leader of the mafia was not to harm her in any way. Nobody bothered her. They still knew her face on the streets, sent glares her way but never touched her. One of his underlings had come to her place and suggested she skip town permanently just to be safe. It was not a courtesy she ever expected from anyone let alone a man with a reputation for high profile robbery and murder.

She didn't know what to expect. "I guess he really did love me." And Nick left it at that.

Robyn was unbound, blindfolded, and dumped right back onto the street those so called cops had snatched her from. Her legs shook as she walked the last block to her place, utterly miserable and in desperate need of some sleep. Maybe tomorrow she could figure out what the fuck her life had come to. She showered (and cried) and picked up the half drunk beer from her fridge and brought it out on her front steps, taking a sip of the flat beverage and wishing it was something stronger.

People passed below her on the streets, never once looking up. The traffic never disappeared but it did lull this time of night. She didn't mean to– barely noticed she was doing it– but she found a pack of cigarettes in her overcoat and lit one up.

"Next time," she promised herself. I'll try to quit next time.

Just as she was beginning to ease the tension that had been weighing on her all night, a man climbed the steps to her building and pointedly slowed down to a stop a few feet away from her. She chanced a glare at him and found him no stranger which was somehow infinitely worse.

"Fuck off," her nerves got the better of her, "I told you everything, can't I at least get some sleep first?!"

The man lifted his hands in defense, carrying a bottle in a brown bag in one of them. He was, well, he was the handsome one. The Cuban with the neck tattoo and broad shoulders. His eyes seemed a lot softer now Despite the dark setting.

"Swear on my life, I'm not here for Nick." He took a single step up, waiting to see how she'd react, and when she didn't run, he took another and set the covered bottle down next to her before backing off. Still skeptical, Robyn carefully unwrapped the thing, revealing an expensive looking wine label. Dark red. "It's an apology," he explained with his hands in his pockets, "Nick thinks he's this big, clever actor but he can be a real bully when he drinks."

Robyn gave him the 'do I look like an idiot' eyebrow and he had the decency to look at his feet. "We could really use your help with this, Banks. Nick forgot to mention the part where Tony was put on parole for good behavior. He'll be out tomorrow."

"He what." That's just the thing isn't it? The case that ended her career permanently and he just got to walk off after only serving two years of his sentence. That was the real crime here. Robyn gritted her teeth, gripped the neck of the bottle and squeezed. She started shaking it like it was her criminal father, or the weasel federal agents who took her credit, or the dirty cops who kidnapped her tonight.

Borracho looked concerned. "Do you need a corkscrew or– "

Robyn shrugged off her jacket and looked him dead in the eye as she wrapped it around the base of the bottle and gently banged it on the porch step until the cork exploded into the air (along with a third of the bottle's contents but whatever). Borracho raised a hand to protect his face from the spray, and turned away to hide a silly grin.

"Nevermind," he said, shaking the excess drink off his hand. "Listen, if he calls you about anything, please let us know."

He pointed to the bag, which had a phone number on it. "Don't let your work be in vain."

"You try that line on everybody?" Rob was feeling a little facetious in the face of mercy, over tired from the revelations, and pissed off by these fucking pigs. "Your good cop, bad cop routine needs some balance. Did you know I was kidnapped today? Now this wine is a start but you'd better step it up, good cop."

He started to walk away but she called out, "I got Nick, Z, and Murphy. Clocked 'Gus' by the name written on his underwear. Which one are you?"

"Benny," he threw back, and disappeared into the nighttime traffic.

"Benny," Rob scoffed. "Cute ass."

Robb drank the equivalent of two glasses, then passed out from exhaustion. She slept dreamlessly and tried to forget last night had ever happened. Benny, in the meantime, returned to the office where his crew was huddled around a phone receiver.

"Don't appreciate you throwing me under the bus, B," Nick growled from his seat.

"Shup up and drink this," Benny pushed the glass of raw eggs closer to his boss' hand, a so called 'hangover cure'. Nick shrunk back a little.

"Told you she'd be sweet on him," Z elbowed Murphy in the ribs and ignored his protesting 'um actually I said that.'

"Wouldn't call her sweet," Benny said, grunting as he took up residence at his own desk. "She looked like a feral cat."

Nick laughed. "Yeah well don't go getting mixed up with that pussy, B, we've got work to do."

It was gonna be another long night for everybody.

#three bees writing #god it's been so long #i don't know what to call this series #benny borracho #benny borracho x oc

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rosaline-kei · 4 years

Note

Oh my god that yandere armin x mikasa fanfic was sooooo good. Reading that really brightened up my day thank you for taking my request! I realllyy can't wait for part 2!!!!!!!!!

Disclaimer: I do not own Shingeki no Kyojin / Attack on Titan nor its characters.

Title: Yandere

parts: 2/2

Synopsis: Unknown to everyone but his victims, there’s a side to Armin that he dedicates to protecting his beloved.

Requested By: @bobfregmegler

If it's ok may i request a yandere!armin x mikasa fanfic set in the aot world? If that's comfortable for you of course.. I loved your fanfic, Bared and I am in desperate need of some arumika content.

Rated: T / M (I’m not that sure; but it’s a fanfic about yandere so there’s that. Read it at your own risk. I might finalize the overall rating depending on the second part.)

Pairings: Armin Arlert / Mikasa Ackerman

Read it also on / Please Leave a Review at: my Ao3 / FF net (might post there soon.)

A/N: Thank you for liking it! Here’s the second and final part. I hope you’ll enjoy it <3. There’s a slight twist at the end?? Sorta. It’s up to your personal interpretation.

Mikasa could handle her own, Armin knew. Alongside her striking beauty, was her prowess in pure, physical strength. But, that didn’t mean Armin should lower his guard.

It didn’t mean he shouldn’t protect her.

Scanning the crowded room, it didn’t take him long to spot them. Not when the herd of uncivilised barbarians stuck out like a sore thumb, with their yapping and hollering; their disruptive noises that dared ruin his serenity.

They were sitting together, and aside from all the chaos that erupted from their mouths, reverberating about, they were enjoying the sight of voluptuous women putting on a performance in front of them while wolfing down their bottles of beer. The next thing Armin knew, he was eavesdropping.

“What a show!” One of them exclaimed enthusiastically before clapping, “Too bad it wasn’t that oriental lady! Ahh! What a waste, I tell ya!” Armin tensed, his hand diving into the secret compartment of his jacket, searching impatiently for his dagger.

Wait, no… Control. He reminded, hand abruptly halting in its search. Upright killing them in this crowd is silly… and luring them out might take too long… I don’t want to keep Mikasa waiting. He considered. That only leaves one other option…

“Do yer’ think we can get a grab of her? I saw her enter that motel nearby…” His friend hiccupped, taking another swig of alcohol. Cheeks flustering; not because of the alcohol, though. Armin felt his stomach twist. “Her friend looks like a puny piece of shit anyway…” A smirk decorated the blonde’s expression.

“Ha! Why not?” He smirked deviously, “You don’t see Orientals these days… and can yer’ get us a little more alcohol pal? The encore’s gonna start! And then after… I’ll gather the boys and…” The revolting, impure look said it all, and that was enough eavesdropping for Armin, who felt his patience and control thinning; the taut thread waiting to just… snap!

I’ll kill you. He swallowed, eying his prey that departed from the pack, staggering towards the counter, bargaining with the bartender for another few bottles. He waited, as much as it pained him, he waited, for the right moment. To make the right move.

Luck seemed to be on his side, given how his doltish and stupid prey appeared to be distracted, his attention being directed towards a pig-tailed brunette who revealed a little too much. Watching his mouth water as he slid himself toward the brunette infuriated Armin; did he think about Mikasa like that, too? His Mikasa?

Control. Control. Armin, you can’t let loose, yet. He reprimanded himself, shaking his head, recalibrating himself. Before he knew it, the ugly drunkard and the lady got themselves entangled, swaying back into the crowd.

Perfect.

“OI!” The bartender yelled at the man, who clearly forgotten his order. “YOUR DRI—”

“I’ll deliver it to them!” Armin exclaimed in an awfully high-pitched tone, eyes fluttering as he emerged from the shadows, twirling his way in front of the bartender who looked at the blonde questioningly. “Oh, come on, I don’t wanna keep them waiting! I want to impress them!” He had his lips pouted out, arms crossed, internally praying he’d buy this gimmick. If he could pass off as Historia with a wig and a skirt, this shouldn’t be that much of an issue. Besides, based on his intuition and gut, this particular bartender didn’t seem like the sharpest man out there; he appeared to be more flippant and frivolous.

“Whatever… I’ve seen too much shit, and I’m not paid enough.” He waved his hand dismissively at Armin, evidently fed-up with whatever he had going on in his life. Not that Armin cared though. He was just grateful that his intuition was right.

“Thank youuuu!” He squeaked, smiling all too brightly, before carrying the tray of beers away.

To a secluded corner, where the edges of his smile sunk, grimly settling into a frown

Quietly, he removed a vial containing a form of floral poison he had extracted from a flower not too long ago. It was back when they resided in the woods with the rest of the squad, when he accompanied Mikasa one day to gather wood.

“Careful!” She warned when the blonde nearly trampled on a patch of violet blossoms. “Those are poisonous…” She explained, before rambling on about how her late mother once told her how these killer flowers were commonly mistaken for another more innocent breed, and how it would irritate your skin, possibly leaving long-lasting scars if you got too close to it. “Poisonous, huh?” Armin said, intrigued. How… useful. He didn’t say that out-loud. And it didn’t take Armin long to find out the effects of consuming such a deadly little thing. (How he found out, Armin didn’t have the time to recall his experimentation).

Cautiously, he dripped the deadly liquid into each of the beer mugs, letting it swim and camouflage in the yellow drink, staying hidden, awaiting to strike when indulged. Luckily I brought this along… You never know what trespassers you’ll meet. He noted to himself, eying the idiotic bunch.

Taking a deep breath, he continued with his performance.

“Heeeyyyy sirs!” Armin chirped as he skipped his way to the hooligans, wearing a cheeky smile as he set the venomous tray down.

He watched as their eyes watched him carefully, and as he had anticipated, they were too intoxicated to even remember who he was, or the fact that he wasn’t a woman. “Ehhh? What happened to t—”

“Ah, who cares? That bastard’s probably humped himself elsewhere. Tsk!” The man spat, unconcerned with the disappearance of his other friend. “Besidesss,” He droned out, shooting an inappropriate look towards Armin’s direction, licking his lips ravenously. “We got a flat babe here to fool with before we chase the Oriental… c’mon, join us—”

“You should drink first!” Armin insisted, arms and legs both crossed as he continued, “I wanna go wear my specciiaaalll bunny costume for you… delightful men…and maybe get a couple of my friend to join, after all, you guys seem like charming folk!” He persuaded, a slight whine echoing towards the end of his statement.

“Bunny costume eh?” He watched as their face twisted into something nauseating as they let their fantasies run wild.

Disgusting. Impure.—Those were words Armin associated with people like them; people that dared cross that line. Fortunately for him, they’d never have the chance to inflict those fantasies on Mikasa. Not after this.

“Be right back!” He giggled, stepping back into the crowd as they raised their jugs, exclaiming eagerly that they have scored one, before chugging all of it down.

“Drunkard fools.” He uttered under his breath, his giggling and cheerful appearance alike coming to a halt, replaced by a cruel yet excited look. Alas, Armin began the countdown.

10.

He watched as they continued chattering amongst themselves, full of corrupted exhilaration as they waited for Armin to supposedly return with toys and goods for them to exploit.

9, 8.

He watched them starting to shift uncomfortably, something itched.

7,6.

Something was set ablaze in their throats, they first shrugged it off as the burning aftermath of alcohol at 7, but at 6, they started to drown themselves with beer, then water in hopes of extinguishing whatever was burning.

5,4.

Then, the world spun before darkness enveloped some of them. The others who were still stubbornly fighting against the flame, refusing to surrender to their abrupt fate, dropped to the ground, one by one, choking. No one paid too much attention, having either assumed they drank one too many bottles or were too engrossed with the music; with their dance to debauchery.

They gasped for air. Pathetically, helplessly. Armin watched with elatedness, although he was a little disappointed with himself that he had given them a quick and easy death. If he hadn’t promised Mikasa that he was to be back within forty-five minutes, perhaps blood would’ve been spilled. Perhaps he’d have something else schemed, to drag out their death, to make it excruciating. Ahhh! What a missed opportunity! He couldn’t help but think as he bit his lip, watching their deaths unfold.

Everything became numb, from their flesh right to their bones. Everything became limp; everything, all their nerves started to relax itself—settling them down into an ugly afterlife or hell. That was what they deserve.

Death washed them over, stilling them completely. P-e-r-f-e-c-t. Armin hummed, pleased by the results. Turning away, he snuck his way to the back-exit before anyone could notice that they were, in all actuality, dead.

I can’t believe I had to use that high-pitched tone… ahhhh! How embarrassing! Not to mention, I still have to buy bread... what a troublesome day! He huffed calmly, taking a glance at his watch. I have eighteen minutes left… geez, time flies too fast…Ah! I should get some bread for Mikasa too! He smiled, rubbing the hand that Mikasa touched, feeling and embracing her lingering warmth. I should hurry…

He wanted to see her, quickly. To gaze at her undying beauty, inhale the sweet scene her entire being emanated, perhaps to even embrace her… to lay next to her—if Mikasa’s offer was still on the table; he wouldn’t force anything on her.

Never.

“Ah… I wonder if they have the bread Mikasa likes—”

Having been too engrossed in his thoughts about the raven, he had failed to pick-up the approaching, threatening steps that headed towards his direction; failed to be aware of his surroundings.

He had carelessly fallen prey, his words cut off when a bloody barbarian shoved him against the wall face-front, gripping both his hands.

“Y-YOU…! YOU MURDERED THEM RIGHT?!”

Ah, right. Him.

It wasn’t Armin’s intention to keep him alive out of his own good heart, he thought it’d be humorous to let him be the only one living while his other friends died. It was wicked, sure. But in his mind, it was his own fault for being so careless to leave the drinks right there, in his reach—and maybe Armin would’ve sincerely thanked him for that, if he hadn’t touched that hand.

“I…I saw you serving them that fucking shit!”

His grip was wavering, trembling. Armin couldn’t tell if it was due to some form of developing trauma eating him up, or the fact that he was still drunk. Either way, that wasn’t his primary concern at the moment.

“I…I will kill y—”

“…ouched…th… and…at…he…” Armin’s words were at first inarticulate, as he tried to comprehend the sin that this man had just commit.

How dare he.

“H-Huh?!—”

Interrupted by a successful kick to his groin thanks to his incompetency of securing his entire body properly, Armin threw him on the ground, his feet crushing his face. “How… dare… you…” His voice started out low as he squatted down, glaring daggers at him while his right hand searched for one of his own.

“W-W—”

“How…dare you touch this hand?” He lifted up his left hand, while his right snatched out a dagger that had been waiting in a hidden compartment of his attire. “You know…? Don’t you know…? I knew you barbarians were idiots but I didn’t expect you to be this stupid… This… This was the hand that she touched… and you—” He pointed the dagger right at his throat, tracing it round and round, finding some amusement as he watched his hunter-turn-prey’s eyes follow the knife, evidently terrified.

“…And you fucking contaminated it.” He cursed, head tilting in this flummoxing being right in front of him. He couldn’t understand nor comprehend how someone could be this impolite, this inconsiderate. Even Captain Levi—who had once lived in this place—never did something so offensive!

“I…I… Y…You’re a sick bastard!” The man choked out; and before he could even have the chance to struggle, the dagger pierced right through his throat.

Armin watched the life drain from his eyes. “Sick bastard…me? But what about you?” He said in an accusatory tone, dragging out the plunged dagger, trailing it around his eyeballs, paying no mind to the blood that spewed out. “I saw that look… you know? The look you and your low-lives gave her... and I heard… what you planned to do to her and oh… did that ticked me off.” He said, an eerie chuckle following after as he aimed the tip of the dagger at the lower end of his eye, tempted to dig it out, and perhaps hang it as ornaments somewhere far away; where that look wouldn’t reach Mikasa.

But alas, he didn’t have the time. There was still the bread.

“Ahhh, I’m going to be late!” He groaned as he stood up, patting off any dirt or dust that stained his clothes; he’d have to deal with the blood later. Albeit, he was careful enough not to let it stain too much on his clothes. “Maybe in your next life, you could be a little more considerate of wasting people’s time… honestly, was seeing your dead friends not enough? Ah! Or you could rot in hell! That way you won’t bother this ‘puny little shit’ anymore… right? Right? Hah!” Armin shook his head, taking one last laugh at his idiocy before strolling off, unbothered to clear the mess. It was the underground after all; decomposing bodies and murders weren’t a rarity. And right now, he doubted the military police would even bother with an investigation, given the corruptness of the system, and the trouble the corps were stirring up.

What a day.

“Hmm… I wonder if the bread shop has that bread she likes a lot…” He hummed.

Armin stood outside silently. He was a twist of the doorknob away from reuniting with his love.

It is unlikely Mikasa is asleep, no matter how exhausted she is. Armin calculated, and then took a glimpse at the edge of his sleeves where a faint crimson stain remained smudged. The room is dark, it has poor lighting… she won’t see this… then again, she has sharp eyes… ahh… Well, even if she does, I’ll think of a reason… I wouldn’t want to worry her. But if she’s asleep… I’ll just set the bread down and make a run to the washroom.

Taking a deep breath and grasping the packet of loaves, he entered the dimly lit room, closing the door after. “Mikasa… I got you some bread if you want to eat it, oh and it’s not that stale! Even if you’re not hungry, it could be tomorrow’s breakfast before we have to set out in search of those documents…” Armin spoke, settling the package down.

Albeit, before he could do a full scan of the room in search of the raven, he was met with a sharp pair of familiar obsidian orbs that never failed to steal his breathe away. “M-Mikas—”

“You’re… early.”

“I…I didn’t want to keep you waiting…” She’s close. Armin noted, feeling her breath brush the exposed surface of his neck; needless to say, it sent a thrill down his spine. It was difficult to contain, control. “I…Is something the matte—”

“No, No… I’m glad, you’re back safe—”

“Your wrist!” Armin gasped; withdrawing himself from his lovesickness the moment his eyes caught sight of a scar that stretched form the top of her wrist to god knows where. Did… someone come here? Did I miscount? Did I miss someone? I’m sure all of them drank the poison… and I even made sure to get rid of the last… who did it? I shouldn’t have left. I shouldn’t have—… but… who did it? Who dared to touch h—

“I was… just checking if our gear was working, and I accidentally cut myself.” Mikasa assured, “Even in the dark…” She took a step closer. “Your eyes never miss a thing, do they?” Whether it was meant to be a praise or not, Armin took it as one.

“But don’t worry, I’m fine.” She smiled, hand reaching out for his. And Armin would’ve let her. Hell, did he desire her soothing touch. Words that she can’t say, she made it up for her actions. Armin loved that about her. Just a tight squeeze of her hand on his was already overwhelming, it was heaven and earth and all of serenity. He wanted to feel it, but then he remembered it.

Panicked and instinctively, he took a step back, his hands hidden behind his back.

He won’t let her hands be contaminated too, with that filth.

“A…Armin?”

“A-Ah! No… I’m just a little dirty, that—”

“Not that.” She said, a finger pointing towards the faint smudge on his sleeve. “…Is that…--”

“Jam.”

“Jam…?—”

“The bread shop owner spilled some on me when she was taking the bread. Ahhh, it doesn’t matter now! Geez Mikasa you don’t need to be so worried.” Armin quickly brushed it off. He looked at her worried eyes. “I’m fine, I promise.” Even in the dark… he thought, admiring her eyes as his hand reached out about to caress her cheek, your eyes are sharp too—

But froze when he recalled how filthy.

“A-Ah! Sorry… I—” And then, Mikasa nuzzled herself in his palm, Armin’s eyes widened in horror. “M-Mikasa! I’m dirt—”

“It’s fine.” Armin flinched. What? “Because it’s you, it’s fine. I couldn’t care less.”

Armin felt his heart skip, race, palpitate.

He wanted to hold her longer, closer, tighter. He was obsessed. But… he couldn’t risk her noticing that that red patch, wasn’t jam.

“I-I… I’m going to take a quick shower!” He coughed, before forcefully dismissing himself.

Once he closed the door, his back hit the wall and slid down. He held the hand that had the blessing of touching her cheeks. Were they… pink? Armin couldn’t tell due to the lighting. He bit his lip. I love her. He couldn’t help but think. Suddenly, he didn’t feel so filthy anymore.

Caressing the hand, he once again savoured the warmth that was there. Never again, was he going to be so careless to let anyone stain it with their own trace of impurity.

I love her. I love her. I love her, so much. He bit his lip. Nobody’s… I’ll make sure nobody will bother you.

Nobody.

Mikasa heaved a heavy sigh. I wonder if that was really Jam… I can’t tell anymore, not in this dark. Not when… Her eyes glimpsed at her fresh scar, and while Armin may not notice due to his little adventure that Mikasa was unaware of, there was a faint scent of blood in the air. Not Armin’s, not the man he killed, and not—

At least he looks fine… he’s… Her cheeks blush, as her hand reached out to touch the side that Armin touched. He’s safe…

She bit her lip. I’ll make sure he’s safe.

A/N: Is Mikasa a Yandere too, hm? Well. I left it ambiguous! So it’s up to your personal interpretation <3

#aot #snk #attack on titan #shingeki no kyojin #mikasa ackerman #armin arlert #arumika #armikasa #aot fanfic #snk fanfic #aot fanfiction #snk fanfiction #attack on titan fanfiction #shingeki no kyojin fanfic #attack on titan fanfic #shingeki no kyojin fanfiction #my fanfic #my fanfiction

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spacegirlinorbit · 4 years

Text

Fooling You? Series

Fooling You? Chapter 5: Leave it up to boys to ruin plans

Warnings: swearing

Taglist: @treestarrrrrrrr

Fooling You Masterlist

(All rights to HP universe belong to JK Rowling)

Song:

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Chapter 5: Leave it up to boys to ruin plans

I woke up early this morning after having such a vivid dream I can barely remember now. I looked at my clock on my nightstand saying it was only 7 am. Lily said we are going to leave at 9 so I still had about an hour or so until I needed to get ready. So I quietly tried not to disturb the others as I went to the bathroom and got ready and change into some leggings I had grabbed from the chest and then grabbed a hoodie as well. I slipped them on along with some shoes and left the room. I made sure to grab my wand on the way out and had it sit in my hoodie pocket.

I made my way down the stairs and there was only a couple people in the commons and the head boy and girl of the school posting something on the board wall.

“Goodmorning! y/n isn't?” The head girl, Michelle, I believe is what her name is asks.

“Yes, Goodmorning.”

“Ah, how are you adjusting?”

“Fine. Say is breakfast ready yet?”

“Oh yes. You know how to get to the Great hall?” She asks and I nod with a smile and bid her goodbye.

I make my way out of the common rooms and towards the ever changing staircases. Once I missed my stop a couple times I finally hop off and make my way to the Great Hall feeling more hungry than before. I see that there is food spread about the tables like crackers and cheese, fruits, and various breads.

The plates and cups are all aligned for every student who may come in. Since school doesn't start for another few days, it's pretty scarce in here. I do however notice that a student wearing a red unlined robe sits at the far right table so I make my way over there and take a seat randomly and away from anyone else. I help myself to some grapes, banana, and a buttered croissant. I reach for a cup and it automatically fills orange juice.

God, I’m going to miss coffee. Maybe I could buy some in Hogsmeade.

I enjoy my breakfast thinking quietly to myself until someone sits across from me. She is an older woman, a professor I assume. She smiles sweetly at me and I try to return the smile back without looking confused.

“Good Morning. I wanted to personally introduce myself, I am Professor Mcgonagall of Transfiguration and head professor of the gryffindor house. Also the deputy headmistress of Hogwarts.” She explains herself.

“Wow, quite the title you have. They should just call you queen.” I joke to lighten the mood. Is this normal? Since when did teachers make time for students?

“Oh you flatter me dear. I just wanted to let you know that if you need anything especially personal if you feel uncomfortable going to Dumbledore about it, I am here for you. I unfortunately couldn’t meet with you yesterday, but I at least wanted to make my acquaintance known.”

“Of course. Thank you Professor Mcgonagall.”

“Right, well I’ll excuse myself now. Welcome to Hogwarts.” She smiles and I can truly smile back as she leaves.

I see more students enter the Great Hall and I finish my OJ and banana and leave the Great Hall to avoid further interaction from anyone who might want to question who the new girl is. I slip out of the Great hall and take my time walking back to the tower taking the long way instead of those confusing staircases. After leaving the Great Hall I reach the viaduct and take a moment looking at the view and breathing in the morning air. I see a couple of owls pass by in the sky most likely delivering letters. I exit the viaduct and back into the school building but now I am faced with two ways to go.

Left or Right? Shit I should've taken the map and there’s someone coming so I can’t use apparition that will look suspicious. I could summon the map.

“Are you lost?” I hear someone say pulling me from my thoughts. I look up and I see him. Sharp jawline, star like eyes, and cherry lips against his pale skin. Damn he looks fresh out of a portrait.

I stumble on my words until I finally breathe out, “Yes.”

He looks me over curiously and then takes a cautious step forward. I remain still, entranced by how handsome he is. “Where do you need to go?”

“Gryffindor tower.” I could've sworn in that moment I heard him mumble ‘shame’. Shame indeed. Shit what am I thinking?! I don’t even know his name.

“You are going to take a left through there and cross the stone bridge and then head straight and the tower is at the end.” He explains as he extends his arm and the flex of his bicep tighten the loose black button up he has on. I try to breathe as he looks back at me.

“Thank you um…”

“Regulus. Regulus Black.” He says with an air about him that makes him stand tall.

“Thank you Regulus.”

“Of course, but it’s only fair if in return I get to learn your name.” He says with a smirk.

“Y/n. Y/n Y/l/n.”

“It’s nice to meet you, y/n.”

“You as well.” and we part ways. I pinch my cheeks to defuse the blush, but I think I only made it worse. I finally get back to the gryffindor tower and head to the room. I walk in the room and it is a mess and the girls are yelling amongst themselves.

“What’s going on?” I question shutting the door.

“Oh thank merlin, where were you?”

“I went out for some breakfast and then I got lost.” I explain by leaving out some details.

“Oh, see, I knew we should have gone out and looked for her.” Marlene says.

“And we were just about to if you didn’t just show up just now.” Lily explains.

“It’s okay really. I need to get familiar anyways since I'll be here for a while, right.” I state back to them.

“Right then, well it’s almost 9 so let's get dressed and head to Hogsmeade.” Lily says. I make my way over to the closet and pull out a black turtleneck shirt and some sneakers along with a jean skirt and cropped jean jacket. I get dressed and put my hair in a ponytail and added some chapstick to my lips knowing they were going to get chapped in this weather boarderlining winter. I pulled my mother's necklace from my nightstand drawer and clipped it on. Then grabbed my cross body bag. The others dressed similarly for the weather. A mix of fall and winter.

Enter Hogsmeade

Once we entered the village, the shops filled with some people passing through making their way from shop to shop. Hogsmeade was a homely village, with pointed top cottages and shops of variety. I can smell something sweet and spicy in the air, it must be the drink everyone has in hand coming out of a place called Madam Puddifoots’ Tea Shop. I hear laughter coming from another end of the street where we walk at another shop called Zonko's Joke Shop.

“Say Lily won’t you take her to the quill and cauldron shop, maybe Dervish and Banges. Me and Dorcas will head to Gladrags and then meet you guys at Honeydukes.” Marlene says as she shares her idea.

“Why Honeydukes?” Lily questions.

“Because she must try butterbeer and I’m starving.” Marlene groans.

“Here since you’re getting the outfits.” I say pulling out some galleons in a small coin sack. They all look at me incredulously.

“Well, you didn’t tell us you were loaded.” Marlene exclaims at the bag of gold.

“I’m not, really.” I say shaking my head. I used mainly american dollars in the U.S. and sometimes wizarding money, but it was easier to transfer american money so that my relation to Grindelwald wasn’t known.

“Darling, it’s okay. I’m paying for everyone’s clothes today. My treat for bursting in yesterday.”

“You mean all summer.” Lily mumbles.

“You can say that again.” Dorcas remarks.

“Har Har, Lily fire and I’m hurt D. Spicy this morning aren’t we?” Marlene says sarcastically.

“Just go!” Lily says and pushes Marlene away. Meanwhile Lily takes me to the quill shop where I can get more ink and paper. I also grab some envelopes hoping Lily doesn’t see it as I purchase them quickly. Then we stop at Ceridwen's Cauldron, where I buy a small silver cauldron and then we make our way to the herbology shop where I gather fluxweed, dittany (that I could easily use as an aphrodisiac), ginger, and valerian. However I couldn’t find moly, a special flower that can allow my body to counteract any enchantments used on me.

I go up to the counter and purchase my items and ask the lady who is packaging my items,”Do you by chance sell Moly?”

She looked up at me slowly and then looked me over curiously. “What do you want with Moly?”

I challenge her stare, “I’ll need it to reverse the effects of the valerian if something goes wrong.”

“Hmm, that you will. Best not put yourself in a deep sleep, deary. However the moly will cost extra.” She states.

“I think I’ll have enough.” I say putting the coin sack of galleons on the counter. She smiles at this and goes to the back to get the package of Moly.

“3 galleons.” She says with an obvious devious smile. I place the coins on the counter and take my bag of herbs and leave the shop as Lily follows behind saying goodbye to the lady.

“Everything okay back there?” Lily asks.

“Yeah. I got everything I need. Should we head to Honeydukes was it?”

“Yes, let’s go.” Lily connects our arms together as we walk the streets to get to a place called Honeydukes. Lily and I are laughing and talking about the shops and the people in the village and what we think they are up to. She stops abruptly and lets go of my arm. I look towards her confusingly.

“Lily?” I ask trying to see what she’s looking at.

She turns around abruptly and smiles at me, “I saw a friend in there that I haven’t seen for a while. Do you mind if I go say hi?”

“No not all. I saw the post office two shops back, I think it’s high time I write a letter to my friends in America.”

“Great. I’ll come find you then, I shouldn’t be long.” She says and rushes into what seems like a pub called, Three Broomsticks Inn.

Marauders 3rd POV

Lily rushes into the pub and quickly and furiously makes her way over to the four boys who all have their heads down knowing what’s coming towards them.

“WHAT THE HELL are you guys doing here?” She seathed.

“Lily darling, what a lovely surprise!” James grimaced trying to ease the fire in her.

“Shut it James!” Lily snaps. “Black what the hell, we told you we could handle ourselves.”

“Aww Lily don’t be like that. We are just here in case.” He whined.

“Look and listen carefully to the words coming out of my mouth. We are fine. They won’t dare come here. Diagon Alley, for sure, but here never. It’s too crowded with students and teachers from Hogwarts that we would be able to sniff them out. Go! NOW. We are fine and everything is well.”

“Sirius I think we should go.” Remus pipes in and Peter nods in agreement.

“Right, where is this new bestie of yours?” Sirius pried.

“She’s at the post office. Said something about writing a letter to her friends in America.”

“Oh you can’t be this dull.” Sirius says. Lily gasps in shock and her anger intensifies.

“Padfoot.” James states.

“Here we go.” Remus says and takes a sip of his tea.

“What did you just say about me?” Lily presses her hands down on the table leaning towards Sirius.

“What if she is writing a letter to well you know or maybe someone in connection.” He explains quickly slightly fearing her wrath.

“You think I didn’t think about that? Dumbledore has someone in there to infiltrate her letters.”

“He does?” James questions.

“Yes, maybe if you boys paid attention in the meetings you would know that we have put in place a way to intercept any communication she has. Even the letters.”

“Well damn.” Sirius mutters.

“Go back to the school boys. The party isn’t going to plan itself.”

“Will do, mlady.” James says with a big smile on his face and adoration in his eyes.

“Fuck off, Potter.” She says and walks away from the boys, hiding the small smile on her lips.

Y/n POV

I go into the post office and head to the counter. A man sits there stamping off envelopes and a woman on the other end is helping someone else out. I also see some elves attending to the mail and owls in their cages. I walk over to the small island made for people to write off their letters. I pull out a paper and ink with my wand but disguise it with a spell to make it look like a quill.

I write out my letter to look like it was ordinary and directed to my friends back in America. Then I look around to make sure no one sees and blow across the paper with blue fire and I quickly whisper what I want to really say as the paper fills with my words and disappears. I sign it and envelope it to an address that is in America, but will be rerouted to Austria once it goes to transport and the real address will reveal itself. Grindelwald taught me this secret way of communication when I left for america. Taught how to use the blue fire to conceal the truth of things you want hidden. It's undetectable but takes skill and focus. I have been doing it so long it comes easy to me now, yet if anyone knew I would be suspected for dark magic. I put the letter in the post box outside so I won’t have to explain the faraway address.

“Did you get to write your letter?” Lily says as she approaches me.

“Yes. I only hope it gets to them safely.” I smile and we take off to honeydukes.

By the time we get to Honeydukes, it's noon and Marlene gushes to us all the clothes and accessories she bought and how great we are going to look tonight at the party. We all ordered lunch and I got to try butterbeer for the first time. It's like butterscotch candy mostly, its sweet deliciousness coats my tongue and I order another once I'm done. I wonder what kind of treats the party will hold tonight. Maybe I’ll finally meet “the boys” and see the one I ran into this morning.

#young sirius black x reader #fooling you? sirius black fanfic #marauders au #marauders x reader #dumbledore x grindelwald #sirius black #sirius x reader fanfic

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angstymarshmallow · 5 years

Text

part two: breaking point (cal lowell x mc)

[a little note: i should come up with a name for this series. Two stories almost back to back - this is what happens when inspiration finally manages to cooperate. I wanted to get this out quickly, while I’m still very much invested. If you read it - than you! If you leave a comment, bless you!].

[part one]

[summary: when Wren (MC) is faced with the choice to either walk away or protect Donny, she chooses the latter. But tensions brew between her, Cal and the pack - because for an alpha, the pack must always come first.]

[words counted: 5189]

The pub is in full swing as Wren follows Donny past the double doors of the entrance. The two bouncers dressed in all black and they stiffen, their posture indifferent to her presence while paying no mind to Donny’s less imposing stature. Although they make no move to stop her, Wren still feels their eyes trained on her back as she pushes past them.

There’s a heavy scent of smoke that clings to the air the moment they’ve stepped inside. Her nose tickles, and Wren sneezes before she uses the collar of her shirt to shield herself from the worst of it. It isn’t until the smoke thins out as they delve deeper into the pub that her eyes are able to adjust to the view.

On first glance The Howlers is a good place to mingle and chat to strangers if you’ve got the time. The lightning is darker than she remembers – not that she makes it a priority to visit anymore, but the place seemed to always hold character. Maybe it’s the fact that they only play 80s rock music from the jukebox located in the corner of the room. Or maybe it’s the hustle and bustle from the typical Friday crowd. Still, it’s lively – with the sound of laughter as a common occurrence as people flag down waitresses for a round of more drinks. Predominantly, Wren spots the telltale signs of werewolves spread sporadically – donned in their familiar jackets that emphasizes their pack insignia. The rest are seemingly an innocent mix of humans and supernatural; coexisting all in one place. Most of those humans probably can’t even tell the difference.

If Wren hadn’t been on edge when she’d walked in, she certainly is now as several onlookers’ gazes halt in her general direction. Muttering stiff apologies, she wedges herself among smaller groups of people until the bar is nearly within plain sight. She makes a point to raise her chin high, despite the lingering glances that still haven’t looked elsewhere. Some of them she recognizes, some of them she doesn’t – most of them aren’t happy to see her.

“Hey wait a second –” She starts, but it’s too late to stop him; Donny has already scampered ahead of her. He’s almost half way across the room within the seconds it takes her to speak, heading in what appears to be one of the backrooms after a boy near his age waved him over.

Wren hesitates to call after him a second time.

So much for finally hanging out together.

Honestly, she shouldn’t be surprised. Donny’s antics of ignoring her is something she’s accustomed to. Feeling a little deflated by his distance, Wren stuffs her hands inside the pockets of her jeans and swaggers the rest of the way over the bar.

At least she’ll be able to drink and forget. That’s at the least the one plus side.

She orders a beer and almost reflexively remembers she’s the one in charge of getting Donny back home in one piece.

Ugh.

Changing her order at the last second and giving the older bartender an apologetic smile, she slouches a little inside her stool as her eyes skimmed the length of the room.

There are always a pair of eyes hovering in her direction – wolves mostly; she wonders irritably if they don’t have anything more to do with their time than send daggers at nearly every given opportunity. Still, she supposes it could be worse. They could have let her stay outside. The last time she’d been here hadn’t been pleasant and Wren rubs her eyes at the memory.

“Is everything okay Wren?”

She glances up at the bartender to find his brow creased with worry. She forces a smile. “I’m alright Bill,” she mumbles, “it’s just been one of those days.”

“Don’t I know it,” Bill snorts derisively, his dark eyes softening with sympathy when she doesn’t respond right away. Pausing, he scratches his bread, then hands her a drink of water. “But it’ll get better. You just gotta take every day one step at a time.”

“Even when every day is starting to look insufferable?” She eyes him critically before bringing the cup of water to her lips. “And in the form of a seventeen-year-old boy?”

“Even then. I’ve had to raise three, be lucky you only have one to deal with.” He clucks his tongue.

“Damn, I’ll cheers to that then.” She raises her class to him and he laughs before lifting an empty polished glass towards hers’.

They clink.

“Haven’t you ever heard of that sayin’? When life gives you lemons, you –”

“- make lemonade.” She finishes for him, “yeah, yeah – only about a hundred times.” She rolls her eyes, setting her drink slowly back on the counter.

“Thatta girl.” He seems satisfied with her answer and grins. “Let me know if you need anything.”

“Will do.”

At least she can always count on Bill not to great her like an outsider. He’s the only one that accepts her as one of his own, and she wonders if it has anything to do with him being half-demon. Although, he’s only half human – he’s treated her more humane than all the other bartenders here.

Frowning at the thought, Wren rifles through her jacket until she’s able to find her phone. She dials Cal’s number quickly before hooking the device by her ear.

It barely rings once before his warm baritone floats across the line. “Good evening beautiful.”

Hearing his voice does something funny to her heart. It skips a beat and some of the tension leaves her body. She’s able to sit a little straighter and relax her shoulders at the husky rumble in his tone. “Hey, I just wanted to check in.”

“How sweet,” his tone is light and teasing. “Good thing too, you’re just in time. I’m almost done over here.”

“Long day?”

“The longest.” He replies with a sigh, “I just can’t wait to get home and see you.”

“Sweet-talker,” she teases back. “You’re just saying that to get me alone again.”

“I need to get you alone. Maybe we’re finally due for a vacation.”

She smiles, “I’d like that.”

“Hmm, how do you feel about going up north – getting out of the city?”

“Mmm,” she closes her eyes briefly – picturing the two of them snuggling and getting cozy by a fireplace. “A weekend at a cottage sounds heavenly.” She sighs wistfully. “There has to be marshmallows and lots of blankets.”

“Sold.” He laughs. “I love that idea, it’s definitely a top-contender. It would be nice to have some alone time; I know we haven’t been able to lately.”

“I don’t mind stealing moments here and there.” Just thinking about this morning makes Wren’s stomach flutter. “Especially when they’re rough and fast.” She lowers her voice, “god you can make a girl scream Lowell.”

Cal utters a noise somewhere between a growl and a chuckle. “Be careful, I’m too far away for a repeat performance right now.”

“Don’t temp me to stop by your office.” She warns. She mumbles a short word of thanks to the bartender as he delivers a second glass in front of her.

“Where are you?” He pauses for a moment, “are you by the pub?”

“Mhm, just here with Donny – who’s left me alone the second we walked in by the way. Classic Donny.”

“You know he doesn’t mean anything by it.” But Cal sighs as he says it, and she can almost picture his brows forming a crease.

“I know – I just want to get through to him. I keep hoping that if we get a chance to bond, he won’t see so bad for you.”

His interjection is almost immediate. “He doesn’t think you’re bad for me.”

She shrugs, “not in so many words, I guess it just feels that way. I see the way you two are with each other when I’m not around. It’s…nice.” She ends her sentence shakily, clearing her throat that’s suddenly grown thick with emotion. She’s never grown up with that and in a lot of ways – she envies them for it. She’s always wanted a family – people to make her feel like a whole person and not the bits of herself she’s still trying to figure out.

“I think sometimes he just misses it being the two of us.”

Wren snorts. “I’ve gathered as much.”

“But,” he continues, his voice upbeat despite the flatness of Wren’s own tone, “he’ll see how amazing you are the more you two hang around each other – I know he will.”

“Mhm,” she’ll believe it when she sees it.

“Is that –” A pause. And then, “is that the only thing that’s troubling you?”

She’s almost surprised he’s able to tell so quickly that something is wrong. But then again, Cal has always been proven to be extremely considerate of her feelings – even when she tries to bury and hide them. He seems to have the uncanny ability to read her.

Wren bites her lower lip for a second, deliberating on how to answer. “I guess it’s a little awkward…being here without you.” There are still eyes watching, probably ears listening around her too. And the longer she sits, fiddling with her drink – the more she wishes he was here.

Somehow as though reading her thoughts, Cal’s tone turns soft and he mutters softly into the phone. “I’ll swing by as soon as I’m done.”

“Thanks,” she swallows thinly. “It’s not that I don’t like it here,” you’re a liar and you know it Wren. Ignoring the voice in her head, she continues “it’s just I prefer being here with you on my arm.” Suddenly smirking, she brings her drink to her lips and takes a long sip. “I mean you are pretty nice arm candy.”

Hearing him laugh across the other line, makes Wren to smile into her drink. She loves the sound of his laugh.

“Wren, you’re one of the most capable women I know. Down to when we just met – you were ready to tackle and beat the shit out of a guy for cheating during my cage match for Donny.”

Oh yeah, that did happen. Those days she’d never even realize how important Cal would be to her – not completely, but she’s always had an inkling they’d share something. It’s only her luck that something turned into something she never wants to let go of.

“There’s nothing anyone can say or do to you there that you can’t handle,” his words bring her back to the present, “– werewolf or otherwise.” He finishes and speaks with such alarming sincerity and pride in his voice that her heart swells with affection for him. “Most of all you’re my mate. As much as they don’t care for it, as long as you’re under my protection – you’ll be okay.”

“Not that I need the protection, but I’m still completely melting over what you said.” She props a hand up and tucks it underneath her chin. “I love it when you get all protective and sweet over me – it’s really a turn-on.”

“Good,” he laughs. “I intend to take care of you for a very long time Wren Howell.”

“Mmm, right back at you.”

“I’m getting ready to leave now; I’ll see you soon?”

“I’ll be waiting.” Exchanging goodbyes, Wren pockets her phone for a moment, still smiling over their conversation. He reassures her like there’s never anything to be afraid of – but he’s the one that makes her feel fearless.

Flagging Bill down for another drink, she points to her cup. “Could you bring me a beer this time? Heineken?” Hell, one drink won’t kill her. Probably.

Bill nods, before turning his back to her and quickly retrieving it.

While he’s busy opening the beer, Wren slides a twenty and turns her attention to behind the bar. She frowns at the sound of some kind of commotion – she can’t make out the words yet, but several people in the bar seems drawn in that direction too. Damn, sometimes she wishes she had a better sense of hearing. Almost half the supernaturals she knows of had ten times better hearing than she does.

“Is something going on back there?” She jerks her chin behind Bill.

Bill gets the top off of her drink effortlessly before giving her a nod. “Yeah, it’s just some kids giving trouble after losing a gamble.”

Oh no. Is that why she’s had a funny feeling since getting here? Did she dare think the worst? There’s no way Donny would - “Which kids?” She’s almost too afraid to ask for more, but it doesn’t seem like she has much of a choice.

Before Bill is able to answer, the flurry of activity turns into a scuffle as two familiar and young-looking werewolves leap past the crowd that’s started forming and abruptly whizzes past the bar.

“Hey! Get back here!”

There’s a third figure fumbling to get by, but a beefy man blocks his path, and Wren can’t see past him to get a good sense of going on. Grabbing her beer, she gives the bartender a parting smile before stalking over, her boots clicking quickly on the floor as she tries to get past the small crowd that’s formed.

The first thing she notices is how scuffed up Donny looks. His hair is askew, there’s an angry gnash across his cheek and blood dropping from his mouth as he spits on the floor. His fists are clenched and the beefy man a few feet away glares down at him with so much hostility that Wren’s terrified he’d beat the shit out of him right then and there.

“Woah, woah – woah.” She holds up a hand, pushing past the crowd that’s gathered to step in front of Donny protectively. “What the hell is going on here?”

“The little shit here owes me one grand.” The beefy man sneered, jerking his behind her. His arms are covered nearly from head to toe as he folds them.

“This little shit has a name,” Wren speaks up, holding the hand around her beer tighter while the other helps to keep a clear distance between Donny and the taller figure still glaring them.

He has a good five inches on her – but he isn’t too tall for her not to still deck him if she needed to. “It’s Donny, and he isn’t just any pup – he’s the alpha’s little brother.” She doesn’t like pulling rank, but she’s starting to realize that look in the man’s eyes – the blazing anger that’s reserved for someone who isn’t going to go anywhere unless they’re given what’s due.

“Well in that case, he can pay his and his friends share. Since Cal sits so fucking high on horse, I’m sure it’s no problem to pay off the debt he owes us.” At the sound of us, two other men stepped away from the crowd to stand behind him.

Shit.

“And what I’m looking at is two grand from all three of them. So pay up.”

Ah, shit.

“I don’t need your help.” Donny’s protest is weak and almost a soft whimper as he tries to step away from her.

At the slight movement, the two men flanking the beefier one steps towards them until Wren growls and their attention shifts back to her.

“Really not the time Donny.” Wren snaps back, shifting towards the side until she’s in front of him again. She doesn’t want to hear it from him not right now. She’s pretty sure if they get out of this alive, Cal is gonna beat the shit out of him when he finds out. Hell, maybe she’ll give him a piece of her mind too.

Truth is – she doubts Donny has that kind of money – she didn’t. Not right now. She’s blown past her last check to help pay for Donny’s school fee this year and the idea of giving the last of her savings to some assholes is the last thing she wants to do. “Look Donny’s a kid.” She starts, making cautionary steps back. She motions for Donny to do the same. “He didn’t know what he’s doing.”

“I heard it’s not the first time he’s gambled himself into a debt he can’t pay.” The beefy man sneered.

“And look where that got him?” Wren notices out of the corner of her eyes that a few people have started paying more attention to their circumstances. Several of them carrying Cal’s insignia. “You attack Cal Lowell’s brother,” she raises her chin higher, “you put a target on your back.”

The three men exchange glances and then laugh. They laugh so hard that the crowd uneasily starts to get bigger and Wren keeps edging her way towards the counter-tops of the bar – hoping that’ll give them enough cover to cause some sort of distraction to get out of here.

“Cal’s got nothing on me, ain’t that right boys?”

The two men nod, “that’s right Derek, he eats people like him for breakfast.”

Shit, she definitely doesn’t like the sound of that.

At this point, there’s a shuffle of movement behind her – and Wren nearly does a double-take at the line of four other men stepping up to her defense. She recognizes most of them and almost utters a sigh of relief that they’re from Cal’s pack.

“I’d get out of here if I were you man. That isn’t just any woman you’re talking.”

“Yeah,” one of the men growled. “She’s a real piece of work, huh?” His beady eyes give her once over that makes Wren’s skin crawl.

“It’s Cal’s mate.” One of the men behind her mutter, “and if I were you –”

“I’d back the fuck off.” Wren interjects, feigning more confidence than she actually feels. “You think Cal is the only person you shouldn’t piss off? I’m one of the best nighthunters this side of the state.” Okay, saying she’s one of the best is a stretch – but she can’t appear weak. They’ll jump at the chance to hurt Donny if she does.

Plus, she isn’t completely alone. She tries to tell herself they’ve at least got the numbers to take them on if they had to, but all the cocky attitude vanishes from her expression when three men from the crowd swagger over and fall in line behind Derek – wearing tattoos in a familiar fashion.

Maybe, this isn’t such a coincidence after all.

“Donny, you’re gonna have to run.” Wren whispers softly, behind her. Not taking her eyes off the men, she tries to step tentatively backwards. She tries to be subtle; shifting her half-empty beer to her dominant hand.

If looks could kill, the blind rage in Derek’s eyes would have had Wren rolling in her own grave right about now.

“No way.” Donny mutters back stubbornly.

Ah, fuck. “Come on kid, work with me here.”

Tension oozes between both sides – neither one of them making the first move, until Donny snarls and bares his teeth at them.

Suddenly all hell breaks loose.

Wren isn’t sure who moved first – if it’s Derek or a collection of wolves that move together as one once they ran full speed into them. The rest of the room erupts into chaos soon after – with bodies wrestling into each other the moment they make contact.

Wren shoves Donny out of the way just as Derek slams into her.

The force is strong enough to send her flying and Wren lands with a hard thud across the counter of the bar. Tears threaten to swim her eyes for a second until she’s able to recover and roll herself off the counter seconds before Derek’s punch can land – taking half of the granite counter tops with him.

Shit.

Wren flings the bottle from her hand and watches as it lands almost directly near the top of Derek’s balding head.

The man grunts, stumbling for a second before growling and throwing himself at her.

Wren utters a yelp of surprise – barely dodging the most of his blow before delivering one of her own. She punches him square in the jaw, hisses as her knuckles make contact and does it a second time before ducking away from his hands.

The stint of the blow makes her wince but adrenaline has already flooded her system and Wren knows if she doesn’t act quickly – he’ll catch her.

All around her, there’s tossing of glass despite Bill and the two bouncers trying desperately to maintain order – fists that find flushed and angry faces – plus a bellow of screams and growls that makes Wren think she belongs in some old Western instead of a dingy bar across the river in New Orleans. The situation is almost comical – if she hadn’t been knee-deep it; dodging Derek’s attempt to grab her as she makes her way towards the exit of the bar.

A blow to her stomach from another wolf makes her swear she’ll see stars as she sags against the wall. The pain is almost blinding, but Wren has adrenaline on her side. Taking a moment to breathe, her eyes searches for Donny and much to her relief he’s remained mostly unscathed – closer to one of the exits with a werewolf that had backed them up earlier. Good, she’d lost sight of him for a second and she hates the idea of anyone else hurting him except for her when they’re back home later.

Another punch sails by her head and Wren ducks at the last second to avoid it. Some of the cement from the wall give way and falls on top of her head. She drops low to swipe at the man’s knees in front of her.

He staggers and Wren twists upwards to strike an uppercut across his jaw – powerful enough for him to stumble and fall. Wincing, she takes a second to ensure she hasn’t broken her wrist before she twists away – not giving the man a chance to recover.

Now’s my chance.

Sprinting towards the door, Wren abandons all pretenses of fighting anyone else before a hand grabs onto her and yanks her back. “Fuck –” The world threatens to go black as her head hits the pavement.

Something twists There’s a moment she thinks her fear will win out before she tries unsteadily to get back on her feet. They buckle and she falls. “Shit, shit, shit.”

“You fucking bitch!” Derek bellows, grabbing her by the ankle. He digs into her flesh and a flare of pain shoots up her leg. “You’ll pay me what you owe!”

Wren twists enough to peer down at the irrational rage inside the man’s eyes. He’s still holding on too tight – and if she isn’t careful, he’ll break her bones. Yelling, she uses the heel of her boots to kick him. “Let me go!”

The man grunts. The pressure decreases as she struggles against him. His grip loosens, but he doesn’t let go.

He kicks him harder this time, yanking her leg away despite the ache in her ankles at the sudden motion. She scrambles to her feet and barely moves three steps before he tries to grab her arm again.

“That’s enough!”

The entire bar nearly goes completely still.

Although Wren recognizes him – it’s always easy for her to tell because he takes so much space of the doorway; the dull-amber colors in his eyes alludes her into thinking he’s not just Cal anymore. He’s the alpha. And the alpha demands complete control.

Almost immediately, every wolf belonging to his pack lowers their head in a sort of reverence and subservient way. Only the remaining stragglers stay half unhinged by his appearance. They stare at him, blinking and unblinking as he steps further into the pub. “What the fuck is going on here?” His tone hasn’t changed, but the words are said with purpose as his eyes dart around the room.

They land on Donny first, who wipes blood from his lips before finding her.

Ah, shit.

The look of surprise turns into instant worry as his eyes look her over from head to toe. Something in her chest tightens until disappointment replaces his concern. Before she’s able to say anything – he has already turned his attention elsewhere. “Well?”

Most of the residents -notwithstanding the werewolves have began packing up as Bill half-orders them out.

Derek, bloodied and still holding onto Wren – drops his hand and jerks his chin at Donny. “Just collecting on a debt that’s all. He owes me.”

There’s a tumble of emotions inside of Cal’s eyes at his words. Then just as quickly, they disappear and he smoothens his face into a careful expression. “I suggest we take that matter outside, as the leader of my pack – I’ll deal with anything he owes you.” He starts, then inclining his head to Bill apologetically he adds. “I will take care of this, if you’ll allow me to come by tomorrow.”

Bill doesn’t protest, seemingly he nods in understanding as the rest of people began to clear out for the night. “It’s time I closed anyway.” Louder, he adds. “The Howlers is closed – get your asses out of here.”

There are murmurs and snorts all around, but no one disagrees with the man in charge. Slowly the crowds began to think out and disappear in threes and twos at a time. Most of them leaving have bruises here and there – the worst of it are probably the people clutching their arms and favoring one leg.

“We shouldn’t be fighting in someone else’s fine establishment; won’t you gentlemen follow me outside? Where we can discuss this properly?”

The men behind Derek hesitate, clearly taken aback by Cal’s decorum. Derek snorts, his nostrils flaring before he agrees surly. “As long as I get what’s owed to me.”

“Perfect, just give me a second to talk to the owner and I’ll meet you outside.”

“You better.” He said begrudgingly. Wordlessly, he walks past Wren and shoves Cal before pushing past the door’s entrance.

Wren swallows past the sudden lump in her throat. Cal’s barely looked at her since coming in, and she can tell by the way his jaw is clenched that he’s too angry to do much talking than he has to. Still, her concern for his feelings are louder than how considerate she knows she should be, and tries to reach for his arm as he steps past her. “Cal, I –”

He doesn’t move away, but he doesn’t reach for her either. Although his eyes don’t glance back to meet her pleading gaze, she feels the change in the atmosphere between them – as tense as it had been moments ago, just before the fight had broken out. “Could you take Donny home? I need to take care of this before I talk to those guys out there.”

“Of course.” She hesitates, “if you need anything else –”

“What I need, is just a moment to convince the staff that this was all some kind of misunderstanding. The last thing I need is for them to think my pack is a danger to anyone coming in here.” He snaps, his voice raising an octave higher that makes her flinch in response.

Her own temper rises at the sound of his tone. “look, it’s not like any of us planned for any of this to happen –”

“No, because you never give a thought to what anyone else wants.”

“E-e-excuse me?!’ She sputters. Her heart has started beating louder than the sound of her own breath as she takes a giant inhale to settle her nerves – to stop herself from saying something she’ll regret later. Anger is easier to resist when it isn’t someone she cares about. “Look, I know tonight was a lot, but you don’t get to put that on me.” She can barely temper her own voice, although miraculously – she manages to ignore the urge to scream. “Things happened so fast,” she steps close enough to point a finger at his chest. “And I tried to stop it.”

“Did you?” His tone is almost mocking.

“I did!”

When Cal turns to her, his eyes are flashing with so much anger that for a moment – the rest of Wren’s sentence dies in her throat.

She’s seen him look at a lot of people like that over the year she’s known him. It’s the kind of fierceness and anger he channels, whenever he protects someone he loves – whenever he’s protected her. It’s the kind of raw anger whenever Donny’s safety is threatened that Wren often finds endearing. But she can’t find it endearing now, not when she’d never thought to see the day he’d look at her like that– like she’s the enemy. As though she’s made it her life mission to screw this all up.

“I’ve got half a dozen pissed off wolves, a couple others I’ve never met before and a staff to help to pay for all the fucking damages here.” He takes a deep breath, running his fingers through his hair as though it’ll take some of the frustration out of him. “If you want to help me Wren, I just need you to take Donny home because from where I’m standing that’s the only thing you can do for me.”

The stint of his words hit home. She barely manages some semblance of a nod before she turns to leave; her eyes stinging with tears she refuses to shed as she jerks her chin at Donny. Without waiting for him to respond, she pushes her way past the metal doors of the entrance and wastes no time to shove past the small crowd still left at the front of the bar.

By time she’s found her car, her fingers are shaking and it takes a couple attempts for her to fish the keys out of her pocket. Fuck. Keep it together, just keep it together. A sob escapes her throat, and Wren yanks the door quickly open as Donny’s footsteps finds the passenger seat of her truck. She turns on the ignition, and rubs her eyes hastily as he slips inside.

“I’m sorry.”

There’s a tremble in Donny’s voice.

Wren freezes, glancing up only to stare at him.

Sometimes, she forgets he’s still just a kid.

And much to her dismay, his eyes are glassy enough that she thinks he’ll cry. Although he isn’t bleeding anymore, he looks nearly as broken as she feels – from his torn shirt, down to the arm he’s currently clutching to his chest.

She doesn’t speak, not at first. Almost hesitantly, she leans across to his side of the car and squeezes his good hand for good measure. And for a moment, it’s enough.

His eyes are a little clearer as he stares unblinkingly back at her.

She offers him a shaky smile that doesn’t reach her eyes. “Me too, kid.”

Leaning back inside her seat, she winces at the dull ache in her sides at the motion. With the adrenaline rush nearly gone, she’ll be feeling a hell of a lot more before she even reaches the main road. Closing her eyes for a moment – she breathes deeply, searching until she’s able to find enough strength and willpower to move. Seconds later, her eyes fly open – Wren smoothly pulls the car out of reverse and drives home.

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ambivalentangst · 5 years

Text

Maybe Next Time

I’m so pleased to finally present my @voltronsecretsanta2k18 gift for @langstexmachina, who requested a klance soulmate au! Featuring Keith/Lance working at varying retail chains for the aesthetic, reincarnation, and a whole lot of dumbassery—I hope you like it!

Lance moseys on down his aisle, shoulders hunched because he still has his vest on from work. He has to run errands and forgot to ditch it in the car after getting off, so not only is Lance slinking through a public area in something entirely not-flattering, he’s slinking around Target in his Walmart uniform.

Lance at least thanks his lucky stars that blue is his color, and furthermore, that he’s just picking up a few odds and ends. However, his eyes, mismatched and not entirely his own, are burning. Lance sighs, setting his eggs next to his shaving cream. He must’ve gotten something in them, and he rubs at it as he waits for the cashier to finish up with the person in front of him. He’s not a very chatty guy, granted, but Lance isn’t looking for a conversationalist as much as quick service.

Really, he can’t believe himself. He hopes the workers aren’t too peeved. Lance knows he’d already have complained to Pidge about it multiple times if it happened to him.

Lance hears his cashier move the stick thingy dividing his stuff from the next person’s, but he has to tamp down his embarrassment to make eye contact. After a second, he looks up and smiles. Lance knows exactly how much crabby customers suck and doesn’t intend to be one himself, even if he is currently dressed as a disgrace.

His cashier doesn’t return the action, reaching for the eggs. Lance spares a moment to read his name tag, inverted though it is.

Keith.

Lance looks the rest of him up and down while he struggles to find the barcode and decides that Keith is simultaneously very, very cute and hot as hell. Unfortunately, looks don’t help him out much, and he’s growing irritated by the sounds of his sighing. Lance wouldn’t normally interfere, but it’s kind of taking a long time. Besides, how else is going to get his number if they don’t start talking?

“Uh, I think it’s over here—”

Lance goes to point as Keith’s head snaps up, dark eyebrows furrowed.

The words die on his lips, his gaze locking on the color of the eyes staring back at him. It’s all Lance can focus on, the blue and grey that borders on amethyst, expanding until Target and the conveyor belt blurs into grassy fields, a looming palace, and rolling waves all at once.

Lance smells rain, smoke, soap—crisp and clear like any other memory could never hope to replicate. On his tongue is roast duck, homemade bread, and berries he’s never tasted before. It’s like he’s living it, though Lance has never spent a week outside some city or another and therefore never had the opportunity to experience any of the assault on his senses crashing through his mind. Keith’s smile appears before him, and Lance knows instinctively that he’s the one who put it on his gorgeous face, no less beautiful through the eons it’s kept popping up.

A thousand realities—lives—flash through Lance’s mind, tales of princes and servants, warriors in battle appearing and streaking past at a breakneck speed that he can barely keep up with.

Lance sees himself whisper a thousand I love yous, share a million more barely-there touches that meant so much more to him—to them—than what met the eye. There are goodbyes, tears drying on each of their faces, but more often than not, they manage.

Coming back to himself to stare at a very unsettled Target employee, he has the visions to remind him why that makes him so ridiculously happy. Keith has a white-knuckled grip on the eggs he’s supposed to be bagging, and Lance jumps as he hears a crack from within the container.

“Dude,” Lance whispers because hot damn.

“What the hell?” Keith—his soulmate, Keith—growls, slamming the eggs down onto the scanner. Lance hears the sound of more eggs breaking and is granted a vision of them from ages ago, helping hands on a farm to bring in money for their families. Keith has a habit of being rough with products. Lance realizes it probably isn’t the thing to be noticing right now, but as Keith leans over the belt dividing them, his shirt stretches and it’s obvious that he’s, like, built. “What are you doing?”

Lance takes a step back, hands raised defensively. “What, you think I’m responsible for that whole hallucination mumbo-jumbo? You’re half of the problem, mister.” Lance’s finger points aggressively at his face, showcasing the evidence there to prove his point.

“Why are you in my line?”

Their voices are raising, drawing attention. Other customers are starting to leave Keith’s lane, eyes wide as they run from the disaster unfolding before their eyes.

Lance stares at him incredulously. “Because I wanted, like, three things, dude. Cool it!”

“I am your soulmate, not a dude.”

“Well forgive me if I’m not sure what to call the guy I met a grand total of three seconds ago, who I then shared some kind of flashback, montage-y thing with. Why are you yelling at me about this?”

“I’m not yelling!” Keith yells.

Out of the corner of his eye, Lance sees somebody fast approaching, a blur of red and khaki. That does very little to slow his roll, getting up close to the person the universe decided he was fated to be with in multiple lifetimes. “You know, I originally wasn’t sure about why I shoved you into the River Thames, but I’m starting to get it.”

The visions might’ve been rose-colored, but there was a lot of questionable courses of action thrown into their relationships thrown over the years.

“I cannot believe I am stuck—”

“Is everything alright here?” a new voice interjects—Shiro, the manager.

Both Keith and Lance spin to face the interrupter, mismatched eyes flashing dangerously. “We’re fine,” they seethe, twisting back around to face each other just as soon as the words are spat out.

Lance glares at Keith, hating himself for lingering on the image of his flushed cheeks, which kinda’ make his rat’s nest of a hairstyle work. Unbeknownst to Lance, Keith struggles to cope with the freckles dotting his bronzed skin.

There is a long, drawn-out pause between the two of them. Lance cracks first. “You know, blue doesn’t look half bad on you.”

Keith fights down a blush. It isn’t even that great of a compliment, he’s just weak. His awareness of the matter pisses him off a little bit, he isn’t going to lie. Rather than letting himself get worked up again, he raises a brow in disbelief. “Really?”

Lance nods, looking a little offended that Keith would question his judgement. “Yeah, really. Your eyes and brows are really striking —you’re welcome for that by the way, that’s half me—which works good as the focal point of your face.”

Keith tries harder not to let his cheeks go pink.

While he’s trying to think of what to say, Lance seizes his opportunity. It’s probably destiny, really, that Lance wanted to land a date with Keith from the first moment he saw him. “Your shirt though, that really completes the look. Course, it’s made of the good stuff.”

Keith’s pretty baffled. The piece of clothing that Lance is going on about is a red tee that he picked up from Michael’s on his first day because all of his clothes were black. He goes to find the tag, trying to figure out what it is that’s drawn Lance’s eye. In retrospect, he really did leave himself open.

Lance’s shit-eating grin is sharp as a knife as he delivers his punch-line. “Boyfriend material. Speaking of which, are you free tonight?”

Keith blinks.

At the end of the lane, Shiro snickers into his hand. Keith guesses that he’s probably used the same one on Adam before, the idiot.

Keith’s face is stony. “No,” he tells him frankly. “Not for that line. I work again tomorrow. Seven to five. Try again. Shiro,” he fixes him with a glare, “I’m going on break.”

Keith marches off, and Lance watches him go. If it were anyone else, he’d be crestfallen. As is, he’s smitten. His grin softens but doesn’t fade in the slightest.

Shiro watches the two morons go their separate ways and, knowing Lance will be back the next day, decides not to tell him he forgot his groceries.

#keith #klance #lance #voltronsecretsanta2k18 #ambivalentlangst #ambi exchanges

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mc-dude · 5 years

Text

The Silence Around Us (PG)

Something’s gotta give. Bull can’t. Dorian won’t.

Part 1 / 6(?)

He remembers the first time he’d seen a saarebas.

Eight years old, too old to cling to his Tama’s leg but too young to be outside the compound unescorted. She had a golden mask on her face, a collar around her neck, and a chain being led by her Arvaarad. Hunched shoulders under heavy metal pauldrons, a tired gait, and every few steps the Arvaarad would give her a sharp tug that made her stumble so hard he was sure she would fall. He remembers how small she seemed, just a head taller than himself, and already a saarebas; already serving the Qun. Something to be proud of, his Tama had said, voice firm but something he couldn’t name in her eyes– something sorrowful. She knows her place, Ashkaari. Maraas shokra, asit tal-eb.

Asit tal-eb, he had responded, automatic, dipping his head in deference. It made sense. The biggest honor one could be given is a place inside the Qun. To know one’s purpose. He would be given a purpose soon.

Privately, when he was alone with his thoughts and prying eyes, he hoped that it wouldn’t be as a saarebas.

The next time he’d seen one was on Seheron.

His unit had been called to evacuate the village. Got there too late. Ears ringing from gaatlok, blood in his eyes, and there they were– kneeling by his Avaarad. A bas this time. Elf, judging by the one ear he could see. The other was a bloody hole on the side of their head, half a mask on the ground by their feet. Their lips were sewn shut, the stitches tidy and neat. Bull had never seen one without their mask before. The Avaarad had bent down, whispered something in the bas saarebas’ ear, and they had stood, tears dripping down their face, raised their palm–

– and the fire engulfed them whole.

He failed his purpose, the Avaarad had said, later at camp while Hissrad’s hands still shook, the smell of cooking flesh still ripe in his nostrils. Ebasit kata.

He’d seen a lot of shit on Seheron, but something about the way that elf barely flinched before lighting himself on fire made his mind splinter, cracks beginning to form. It’s not right, he remembers thinking.

Nothing’s right, he emends years later, feet squelching through pools of blood calf-high, the body of the baker he’d bought bread from that morning dismembered so thoroughly he barely recognizes him. Like he exploded from the inside. ‘Vint magic.

Later when his unit found him, he shrugged them off and went straight to the re-educators.

It’s quiet.

Sera had given up on the usual chattering she does to fill up the silence and gone to sleep, Adaar following with one last worried glance to where Dorian is scowling at the fire, tearing pieces off of a stick and tossing them into the flames. There’s a smear of blood on the bottom of his robes, his staff charred and broken beside him, a scrap of plaideweave attempting to hold the two pieces together.

He’d chosen the spot furthest from Bull, directly opposite across the fire. The light turns Dorian’s skin a honey-coated bronze, makes the hazel of his eyes turn golden. It’s a good look, but he’s not in the mood for aesthetic appreciation. Doesn’t think Dorian is, either.

Said mage throws the last of the stick into the fire and glances up at him, opens his mouth– and then scowls even harder, reaching down for another stick. Bull considers what Dorian might need.

“You want a piece of paper?”

Dorian shoots him a look that would wither a lesser man. His eyes flick up towards Bull’s horns, and then back down at his feet, shoulders tense. He’s been doing that all day. Not hard to figure out what kind of thoughts he’s been having.

Eventually Dorian’s fingers clench in his leathers, and he finally pushes himself from the log and throws Bull one last suspicious look before slipping into his tent without a word.

That’s the problem.

It’d been all jokes at first; Dorian Pavus, a man with a complaint ready for every occasion, rendered mute by a ‘vint mage? Fucking hilarious. Sera had started a commentary on Dorian’s inner monologue that was pure poetry. Even Adaar had joined in at some point, after Dorian assured her with an elegant scrawl on Sera’s ingredient list that yes, it was reversible, an old spell, just requires some key ingredients he can get back at Skyhold. It’s rare to see her smile these days.

It’d been less funny later, when the second wave ambushed them. When Dorian, unable to call out for help, had taken the brunt of an axe clean through his staff and deep into his side. It took Adaar three lyrium potions to fix him back up. The suggestion to make camp was unanimous.

Even less funny when Bull had tried to pat Dorian’s arm in apology on the way back and Dorian had flinched away, marched off towards Sera and shot him a look that, to a guy who’s been reading people’s secrets from their faces his entire life, said every word he couldn’t speak. Suspicion. Anger, and not just at his earlier niggling.

Took him a moment to figure out why. Must be getting slow in his old age.

Bull lets out a long breath once Dorian’s tent flap settles. He lets his head fall down into his hands and rubs at the mess of scar tissue around his bum eye.

His Tama had taught him that everyone has their place. Anaan esaam Qun. That’s the truth. Those that don’t have a place must be given one. Also the truth.

Another thing that’s true: Dorian would be given two options under the Qun. Die, or serve.

Truth: if he died, it would be a fucking waste.

Another truth: if he didn’t, it would be even worse.

“Crap,” he mutters, thumb pressing into his eye patch until the nerves buried under dead skin start to burn.

Another thing that’s true, while he’s on a roll: Dorian doesn’t trust him.

A half-drunken proposal, some raunchy come-on for the lone ‘vint at the bar. A cutting response, as if he would let him. Come on, don’t you trust me? He had said blithely, leaning on his elbow with a wink.

Tell me, the Iron Bull, he had said, voice deathly quiet and furious. If, let’s say, for the sake of postulating, in the morning after our delightful affair you received a letter from one of your masters, and after you broke whatever ridiculous chain of ciphers to read it, it informed you that I had been given a new purpose, that in the name of the almighty Qun, I must be delivered to Par Vollen to be reeducated. What would you do, I wonder?

Bull had been deep enough in his drink that it had taken him a moment to respond. They wouldn’t order me to do that. You’re helping the Inquisition.

Dorian had pushed back from his seat with a noise of disgust. As I expected. Good evening. And then he was gone.

So, yeah. Dorian doesn't trust him. Knows Bull has his back in a fight, but won't let him get too close. Which.. annoys him, even though it shouldn't. He's not here to make friends.

The fire cracks, a shower of sparks flitting up into the night sky. He frowns.

It's not like Bull is going to throw him to the Avaarad at the first opportunity. Not his jurisdiction. He's here for info gathering, to assure the Qun that no, they don't have to invade Fereldan to deal with the hole in the sky. That's his job, and he does it well.

He leans his chin on his fist. Then again, he concedes, that info includes a dossier on one Dorian Pavus. Not just him, of course; he has one on the entire Inquisition, weaknesses and strengths carefully cataloged and filed away in locked chest only he knows the location of, unsent and waiting. Hell, he has twelve pages written on Adaar alone. Dorian's report barely fills a single page.

But Dorian's from Tevinter. A noble with powerful connections. A mage. That makes him interesting, in the eyes of the Ben Hassrath. Dangerous. Bull rubs at the inside of his knee, wincing at the stiffness.

What would you do, I wonder?

He thinks about it now, staring into the embers with Sera’s soft snores cushioning the oppressive silence.

What would he do, if the Avaarad got hold of Dorian?

The thought makes him nauseous. He presses his thumb against his eye socket again, jaw clenched tight.

He'd try to convince them of his worth to the Inquisition, first, because it's the truth. Dorian's discovered all kinds of terrible shit about the Venatori that's turned the tides of dozens of fights. They'd all be dead if it weren't for him and his research.

And if that failed?

Bull's fingers dig into his palm.

He'd let them take him. Because the alternative was forsaking the Qun, becoming Tal-Vashoth. That's something he can't risk.

His shoulders slump, breath he didn't realise he held forced from his lungs. The guilt hits him like a dragon tail to the gut.

Smart of Dorian, then, to keep away. Not like Bull's ever said anything against how the Qun deals with magic. Not fair for him to expect Dorian to be anything other than suspicious. He glances as the flap of Dorian's tent, stomach twisted into a knot.

He does his job well.

Somehow, the thought isn't quite as satisfying as it once was. Bull grabs a stick and nurses the fire, watching as the flames grow higher.

Dorian had done a trick a few weeks back. Surrounded a group of three templars with flame, and then sucked it inward until they were burnt to a crisp. Didn't even blink. Just waved, and the flames had gone out, as effortless as breathing. Nothing creepy about it, just a master craftsman at work. It left Bull feeling oddly adrift, and more than a little turned on.

He’s caught Dorian staring a few times, something considerate in his gaze, appreciative as he drags his eyes over the muscles of Bull's arms. He knows he's interested. But then he'll catch Bull's eye, remember who he's ogling, and his face will go carefully blank.

That's not even what disappoints him the most, though. If it was just about sex Bull wouldn't give a shit, just find some other person to fuck and get on with his life. But the thing is– he likes Dorian. He’s pretty sure they could be friends, if the Qun wasn't hanging between them like a double edged axe.

Dorian challenges him. Some of their arguments last weeks, put on pause when one of them’s away, and then picked right back up the second their within earshot of each other. Dorian’s got a big brain in that perfectly-shaped skull of his, and behind his carefully constructed veneer is a thoughtful, level-headed person. A surprisingly kind person, despite being raised in the upper echelons of Tevinter society. Bull’s pretty sure Dorian still doesn’t quite understand what trust is, but he’s getting there. He saw Sera throw a blanket over him back in Emprise and the mage only glanced suspiciously like, twice. Progress.

Bull blinks into the flames, shakes his head a little. The point is–

The point is: Dorian’s got layers. Bull likes a guy with layers. Keeps things interesting. But in all those layers, the thickest one is his self-respect. There’s not a shred of Southern thaumaturgical self-loathing in his pert body. He won’t ever apologise for who he is. Ergo, Dorian’s never going to trust him while he still follows the Qun. So there’s not a solution here.

Bull abandons the Qun, he dies. Either the Ben Hassrath kill him or the Inquisition does, after he loses his mind and turns on them all.

He shivers. Fuck.

No, he won't be going Tal-Vashoth. He's not going to be a liability, not going to hurt innocent people after he can't remember who he is. He's seen that shit before, and it's always fucking horrible.

Except, a voice from the back of his mind reminds him, Adaar is Vashoth. Adaar, with her nose deep in her pint, staring down at her gloved hand in resentment. I don't want to hurt people. Said she was a healer back in her merc group, picked up the trade growing up in Rivain. He's seen her cry over a man she just impaled with her staff. There’s something gentle in her that the world can’t quite seem to crush, no matter how hard it keeps trying.

She's Vashoth, Bull reminds himself, not Tal-Vashoth. She’s had nothing to rebel against. She's not the Tal-Vashoth who slaughter children, that torch villages. The kind that he's killed hundreds of, the kind that need to be put down like the vermin they are.

Because Qunari go mad without the Qun, he reminds himself again. He's seen it, seen the mad desperation in their eyes before he buried his axe in their neck. Seen the bloodlust in their attacks, heard their unhinged screams as they ambushed his unit in the jungle. He's seen the way they slaughtered innocent civilians, children. Something has to change in a Qunari born to the Qun who chooses to leave it, something deep inside them. It has to, it has to, because–

– because if it doesn't, then he–

The fire pops. Bull pushes to his feet despite the protests of his knee.

“Fuck,” he says once, just to break the stillness of the camp, and sets off to patrol the perimeter.

No time for thoughts like those. It is how it is. Asit tal-eb.

#adoribull #dorian pavus #iron bull #writin #anyways..... here's this #i feel like their relation had to deal with this huge thing between them before dorian would even think of getting close #he got too much self respect for anything else #game just sort of glossed over it like it did with a lot of things #i got a few parts planned #writing bull pov is surprisingly natural #ccw as always

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rin-rue · 6 years

Text

Pretend (Bucky Barnes x Reader) One-Shot

Song inspiration: Pretend- Oak Hollow Sessions, Lukr

“I gotta go, see you Buck. Thanks again for last night.” She kisses my cheek and the door shuts behind her. My heart is racing, and my palms are clammy. Why did she have such an effect on me? We’re friends. Friends that fuck. Friends that are completely… fucked.

“I’m fucked.” I breathe, running my fingers through my hair then down my face. I pick up my phone and debate on texting her. Telling her I can’t keep doing this, but I know I can’t stop seeing her. She’s my drug. When she’s around I feel euphoria, but the second she’s gone, I crash hard.

“You keep doing this to yourself man, you’re a complete wreck! Tell her how you feel, before she finds another guy to fool around with.”

“Dude, she’s not like that.” I shake my head at Sam. He rolls his eyes and crosses his arms. “She’s kind and gentle. She treats me like a real person and not the Winter Soldier. She isn’t scared of me.”

“I still think she’s using you, Barnes.”

“Sam, have you even met y/n? She isn’t the type of girl to do that. I like her.” Steve comes to her defense, “But you gotta tell her Buck, I agree with Sam on that part. She might think of you the same way.”

“Someone show me a picture of this gal.” Sam laughs “If she has you both defending her honour, then she must be something to look at.”

I take out my phone and open the Snapchat app y/n made me download. “I’ll do you one better and show you a video.” I go into my saved folder and press play. The video starts and her back is turned to me. She was wearing a pair of my boxers and a Pink Floyd T-shirt she was in love with.

“…Whatcha cookin’ doll?...”

“You’ll have to wait and see..” She turns around and smiles widely, “Are you filming me Mr. Barnes?” she laughs rolling her head back. I remember that day. She made me homemade bread and strawberry jam, something I haven’t had since my mother was alive. It was incredible. She was incredible. The rest of that day we spent in her apartment wrapped up in blankets on the floor, watching movies, talking and exchanging soft touches while waiting for our pizza to be delivered.

Sam and Steve watch the rest of the video and look at me then at each other, “What?”

“You’re smiling like an idiot, man.” Sam looks at me amused, “I think it’s time for me to meet this girl.”

After a few days y/n and I make plans to meet again, but this time I take her to the Avenger’s tower. She was dressed in black yoga pants and a cropped hoodie, with her hair up in a messy bun. She said she looked terrible, but she still looked like a goddess to me.

“I can’t believe you didn’t tell me you were taking me here. I’m barely dressed for meeting your friends, what if they think I’m a slob! Can I go home and change?” She laughs. I smile and wrap my arm around her shoulder pulling her into my side.

“You look great doll. They don’t care what you look like, half of them are almost always in training gear anyways. Just be yourself.” She lets out a shaky breath and grips my arm.

“God Bucky, I’m so nervous. I don’t know why.”

We enter the building and head our way up to the main room we shared. The moment we step out of the elevator, Vision is there waiting. Y/n steps back startled. Vision apologizes and explains that he was sent by Tony to escort us, which was weird. We walk in silence as we follow Vision into the common room where we’re met by the whole crew. Steve and Natasha are the first to approach us, and she quickly whisks y/n off to show her around.

“Why is everyone acting so weird?”

“This is a big step in your relationship Barnes, she’s meeting the family.” Tony says, “You guys are dating right?”

“He wishes,” Sam snickers, “He doesn’t have the balls to tell her how he feels.”

“That’s not true! I could tell her anytime I want-“

“Tell me what?” y/n says walking into the room with Natasha. She raises an eyebrow and puts a hand on my shoulder. I instantly panic and look at Steve for help. Steve opens his mouth then closes it, then opens it again, but he can’t think of anything.

“He wanted to tell you that he needs a date to Tony’s party tomorrow evening. He was scared to ask because there will be crazy amounts of paparazzi and he wasn’t sure if you’d be comfortable in that environment.” Natasha comes to my rescue, but this is the first I’m hearing of this party. Tony looks at Nat oddly before clueing in.

“Ah yeah, it’s really big, lots of celebrities too. Now if you’ll excuse me, I have to tend to some sudden matters.” Tony leaves the room and y/n starts asking questions about the event, like what to wear, who will be there, if it was okay if she came. Natasha and Wanda asked her if she wanted to go shopping tomorrow and she agreed with a bright smile. They were getting along great. I’m glad everyone was liking her.

When y/n and I leave the tower, she asks me over and I quickly say yes. We walk into her apartment and soon find ourselves tangled in sheets once again. This was getting harder and harder to pretend we were just friends.

I spend the next day suit shopping with Tony and Steve. I was having trouble finding a suit that would fit my arms and thighs, but thankfully the tailor found a silky blue suit that fit perfectly. At first, I wasn’t sure if I looked good enough to pull it off, after being in battle gear and jeans for years, I forgot how good a suit looked and this suit looked good.

Finally, it was time to pick y/n up for the party. The limo parks in front of her building and I jump out and walk into the building. I come to her door and knock lightly. When I hear no answer, I try the door nob and open the door, peering in. I hear her music blaring from her bedroom. I walk in and close the door behind me. “Doll are you ready?” The next thing I hear is a loud crash and a small yelp. I run to her door and open it and see the most gorgeous woman I have ever laid eyes on, toppled over on the floor next to her bed.

“Bucky you scared me!” she hissed, I just stood there in awe looking at her. She stares back then laughs, “Are you just going to stand there staring or are you going to help me up?”

“Oh shit sorry!” I lunge forward and help her to her feet. Her dress was a floor length, black laced gown, that showed every curve and her smooth skin underneath it. I couldn’t take my eyes off her. “Um you look absolutely stunning, doll.”

“Thank you.” She kisses my cheek and we head out the door to the party.

Once we arrived, y/n gripped my hand tightly, “I don’t know if I can go out there, there’s so many people!”

“I’ll be right beside you y/n, I’m nervous too. You know how much I hate the spotlight.” I laugh and she relaxes a bit. Our driver opens our door and I step out first and help y/n out onto the red carpet. “ I guess Tony went all out on this one.”

“Yeah, there’s so many people here, and so many cameras.”

“Mr. Barnes! Can we get a picture of you and your date?!” A man says holding his camera up. I nod and wrap my arm around y/n’s waist, she puts a hand on my chest and we smile. He thanks us and we keep going up the carpet until we finally reach the inside of the venue. Natasha and Steve were waiting patiently at the bar for our arrival.

“Wow Bucky, you clean up nice.” She chirps, “And y/n you look amazing, I’m glad you went with that dress.” She winks. Y/n laughs and her and Nat get into a conversation. Steve pulls me to the side.

“Before you go any further, I have to warn you.”

“Warn me about what?” He puts a hand on my shoulder and sighs.

“Sarah’s here, and she’s with him.” My heart sank. The best night just turned into the worst. I can’t believe she’d really show up with the man she cheated on me with.

“Don’t do anything stupid Buck. You know how you get around her, you two are toxic.”

“I’ll be okay Steve, I’m over it.” I brush his hand off and walk back towards y/n who was now nursing a cocktail and talking to Thor and his brother Loki. I watch as Loki leaned in and whispered into her ear and she laughs loudly and slaps his shoulder playfully. He puts a hand on the small of her back and I instantly see red. I storm over and stand beside y/n. She smiles at my arrival.

“Bucky you know Thor and Loki, right? They were just telling me-“

“Can I speak with you?” I look at the brothers then back to her, “Privately?” She looks at me confused.

“Yeah, sure. Is everything okay?”

“Yeah, just peachy.” I link her arm in mine and pull her towards the hallway.

“Bucky, what are you-“ I push her against the wall and press my lips to hers hungrily. She kisses me back and puts her hands on my cheeks, “What’s going on Bucky?” I put my forehead onto hers and stay silent for a moment.

“I don’t know…I just, my ex is here with the man she cheated on me with, and when I seen you with Loki and how he was touching you and making you laugh, I guess I got jealous and all these feelings are coming up and I just can’t pretend that I don’t have feelings for you anymore. I like you a lot, I love you y/n.” I pull away from her and look down at my feet.

“Shhh, you don’t need to explain anything else. Why don’t we get out of here, huh?” she lifts my chin, “We can talk about all this when we get home, because I think I’m in love with you too James Buchanan Barnes.” I kiss her softly and cup her cheek, and she hugs me tightly, running her fingers through my hair.

“James? Oh, sorry am I interrupting something?” Y/n and I turn and see Sarah standing there with her arms crossed, looking less than impressed.

“Actually yes, you are interrupting.” Y/n speaks up.

“Who are you?”

“I should be asking you the same question.” I watch as y/n’s smile fades into a thin line when she watches Sarah step closer to me.

“James you aren’t actually with her, are you? You’ve clearly downgraded.” She cackles.

“Actually, Sarah I think you’re the one that downgraded.” I step in front of y/n. Sarah scoffs and steps closer to me and runs a finger down my jawline, but then y/n grabs her wrist and pushes her away roughly.

“Sarah was it?” Y/n says stepping towards her, “Let me tell you something…the next time you try to contact, touch or even look at my boyfriend, you’ll wish you never crossed paths with me.” Sarah takes another step back.

“Jesus, okay! Real prize you have here James, see you around.” She retreats into the room and y/n turns back to me and her face lights up again.

“Let’s get out of here.”

“W-wait, you said boyfriend just now.” She laughs and intertwines her fingers with mine “Did you mean it?”

“I wouldn’t have said it if I didn’t. Now c’mon James, let’s go home.”

#Bucky Barnes #bucky x reader #bucky one shot #bucky marvel #one shot

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pinksweatergettingbetter · 6 years

Text

alright so we’re back with chapter three - the Great Witch

i wonder how much of their memories Nick and Maya have actually recuperated

the whole thing seems a little dodgy...

“This bench looks like a torture tool– shall we try it out on you, Nick?”

why is Maya so bloodthirsty in the game?? i mean she’s mischievous, but...

ahhh their widdle walking sprites are so cuuuute!

hang on– is that a picture-picture of Barnham with his dog?? if so, that should raise a lot of questions...

also why is the only person who *doesnt* comment on the painting Phoenix? he’s the art major.

you know, ive seen plenty of Phoenix X Barnham, and Darklaw X Barnham, but I’ve never seen any Phoenix X Darklaw

i wonder why...

maybe Ive just never come across it

“Mr Wright, are you alright?”

(no response)

he's dead guys the fucking dog killed phoenix wright

luke: I can talk to animals maya: haha omg cool! phoenix, laying in a pool of his own blood: hurgle

wait did maya just call Barnham adorable by proxy

things layton likes: puzzles, stone lanterns

oh fuck i forgot about the puzzles

also what the FUCK muffet

Patty: I believe in your Phoenix

Phoenix, trying not to cry: cool cool cool

aww. its nice to have a moment to just talk about feelings, especially between the sidekicks.

...

...dont go into the forest you little fuckers

maya likes helms..??

“I used to come here with Nick. He’d carry the water pots, and I’d cheer him on!”

that reminds me, theres no plumbing. in fact, since its the middle ages, theres not even any outhouses. maya and phoenix have canonically shit in the streets

DOGS AND CATS, LIVING TOGETHER–

its 12:30 on a school night and I've spent over an hour trying to help a dog deliver mail

oh maya solved that one! thats the first AA solve of the game. ...er, to me.

i dont understand how piccarats work

like, the previous puzzle was 30 piccarats and it was ridiculously easy. this one’ twenty and ive already lost ten points

maybe its to do with how my brain works– the 30 one was a pattern/colour puzzle, and I'm an artist. this one’s about directions, and I'm ASS at directions.

darklaw what are you WEARING

you look like a skimpy medieval furry

seriously what is with the metal skirt on bare thighs

is that supposed to be comfy

man these backgrounds are so beautiful

why did she specifically tell Maya to be wary of witches

“You certainly both love your food. Personally, I’d just like a little more sleep...”

amen bro

oh fuck

Drosselmeyer wants to see Layton. dont let him brainwash ya!

“So this is the deathknell dungeon? Looks more like solitary confinement to me.”

considering the fact that she can see out the door, i doubt its solitary nick. solitary is a sealed box from hell.

Maya: you were just scared that nick would fuck up like always!! because he's an enormous fuck up haha!! Espella: i... no, i think he's really great

Phoenix: ...hey can i change assistants please

OH HO

CLIFF HANGER

one does not simply

visit the storyteller

“come to think of it, during that parade, the storyteller did seem to be held in high esteem by all the townsfolk...”

guys have you not realized that youre literally meeting god yet???

ah see Layton’s got it

c’mon luke keep up

pfft they think Layton’s a hatter

just wearing a tophat does not a hatter make

ah the knights garrison

this is where Chucky stopped playing on his second third-space save

I wonder why...

“And so the travellers finally arrived...”

yeah well first of all??? if you wanted me to get in there faster maybe dont make your door a fucking puzzle maybe

fuck you old man you aint shit

(btw i managed to solve it accidentally in the recommended 4 turns by pressing 3 random buttons and then realizing id somehow succeeded)

Storyteller: [farts suspiciously]

Storyteller: you guys are bad because you stopped me killing children

Layton:

“OOPS”

DUFLUS SHFLS

LUKE ITS OK

I LOVE YOU TOO MUCH TO BE MAD

Espella: it’s true... that the towns folk look at me in a different way

well for one thing youre a different art style than most of them without being anything usually associated with said art style

oh ok that i was not expecting

she’s,,, jesus???

Maya spitting truths here

wait hang on a second

first of all– “the great witch is just a character of myth” yeah well EVERYONE is a character, Espella

also, she says she came to live with Patty 5 years ago... which is also what Phoenix and Maya said

when their memories all got altered to include phoenix and maya, does that mean they like, had a whole growing-up-together for five years roster of memories?

13 y/o Espella and Maya meeting, bonding over stuff, wondering why only Maya had to make bread and Espella didnt

Phoenix–– hell, in the time frame, he’d be ‘Pheenie’ being their older brother. Acting like his 25 y/o self, or harkening back to those days and acting accordingly??

and how shitty it must’ve been when they realized none of it ever happened.

“Were these things... My memories?”

well probably not considering im pretty sure that tiny kid being flown over was you

i feel bad for nick’s... wherever is getting bitten, but this does lend credence to my headcanon that animals hate phoenix so

also the inquisitor office theme needs to chill the fuck out

“Exactly what are you doing over there on all fours”

dont do that

“He just sits back and lets his dog bite people, err... I mean, me”

he’s lucky nobody flips the fuck out and bites back. i suppose nobody would dare if they knew it was his dog, but still. not very responsible.

“Dr. Delduke” eh

well now

“He was no witch.” “Why?”

“HE was a man.”

( Welp, can’t argue with that. )

hey!!! equality to witches!! boys can be witches too!!

“Maya... can you get this mutt away from me? I can’t feel my leg.”

“Aww... So soon? I was hoping he’d use you as a blue chew toy just one more time.”

ok, seriously, what is UP with Maya? I can’t remember her ever being this violent in the original series. Like, she hit Nick over the head with the shichishito that one time, but she wasn’t constantly wishing harm on him??

as much as i appreciate seeing a tiny maya model i fucking hate the cloud puzzle fuck you for doubling up on it

oh i lucked into the answer awesome

this seems to be a running theme...

every time someone looks at the bell tower, they always comment on the bell never being heard. it must be foreshadowing.

wow Jean is very short

...also I'm calling it now, HE DID IT

hmm Greyerl’s voice actress is a little more noticeable than Luke’s...

also OH OK. the fucking bell tower just MANIFESTED OUT OF PURE FLAMES

THATS COOL

“He reacted in a moster peculiar way. Unlike others who saw it, he seemed unsettled, as if he was truly afraid of something”

oh i dunno, maybe the DEMON BELL TOWER???

Maya: only YOU can fuck up that badly, nick!

ok... genuinely, utterly, seriously, why is Maya so malicious in this game? She does tease Nick a lot throughout the series, but its usually in a more playful or goofy manner. A lot of the things she says in this game seem sort of unnecessary or weirdly hurtful... especially since phoenix hasn’t done much to warrant any of them.

hmm

well, I know what happens to Maya

but what the hell is he doing to Nick?

also I do hope there’s a reeeeeaaaaally good reason for all this...

layton flings out his arm to shut luke up skdgkafajkf

wait why did the owl bring them that

“Luke, my boy... We have the need... to rent a steed.”

LAYTON

oh and they fucking did

“You think that’s bad? You should see Nick try and do the laundry– Now that’s a major blunder!”

see that seems a little more in character somehow

especially since its something that seems like he would fail at.

still, weirdly insult heavy...

hey hey

100 coins

“in an alchemy sense”

shouldn’t that be an ‘alchemical’ sense?

“I guess you’re more suited to small, dark, damp places.”

is that a reference to the mushroom thing??

phoenix, in someone else’s abandoned basement: oh no their house plants are dying :( ill water them

this man??? is pure??

“Well well well. If it isn't a well.”

NICK

“Come to think of it... I haven’t noticed any plumbing here in Laborynthia.”

I WAS RIGHT

THEY SHIT IN THE STREETS

“As things stand, Mr. Wright is in serious danger!”

uh the story said Maya would die, not Phoenix. It said he’d be cursed, but Maya would be tried and burnt. You should probably be more worried about her...

great witch: sup guys I'm gonna fuck shit up

game: the following is too horrifying to look directly at; here, have some shenanigans with Luke and that other bard Bardly was complaining about.

“Birdly”

fuck you perhaps

WHY IS EMEER THERE

NOO

also hi Layton you’re looking a bit uh

a bit

...well this hardly makes any sense

doesn’t Layton appear not long after this? also, it’s easy enough to prove Maya’s not a witch; just hand her the staff and ask her to politely turn Layton back.

that or just cry on him real quick; worked for Ash

bweuuuhhh dont cry luke pls

luuuuke

its ok luke magic isn’t real luke

...though from what I’ve heard of your universe, someone could have used Science to turn him into gold and that could be totally real so

just

c’mon in for a hug lil guy

also see yuh all next time for part... four? i think?

#perusing pl vs aa #ooc

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all-the-effects · 4 years

Text

The Most Excruciating ‘Succession’ Dinner Scenes, Ranked by Distress

8. Mom’s home cooking, Season 2, Episode 7, “Return”

Facing a possible shareholder rebellion, patriarch Logan (Brian Cox) dispatches Roman (Kieran Culkin) and Shiv (Sarah Snook) to England to convince their mother — and major shareholder of Waystar Royco — Caroline (Harriet Walker) not to side with opponents Stewy Hosseini (Arian Moayed) and Sandy Furness (Larry Pine), who are waging a proxy war against Logan. The two youngest Roys dutifully cross the Atlantic to visit their mother, who we last saw asking guests at Shiv’s and Tom’s wedding how long they predicted the marriage would last.

Food: Instead of a 48-ounce T-bone steak with truffle fries, Caroline dishes up that classic combination of pigeon, potatoes, and wine. ★☆☆☆

Ambiance: Honestly, as transparently transactional as this exchange is, it’s pretty par for the course for this family, so there’s a comforting kind of casualness to the meal. Almost homey, one could say. Love to be raised in a household where love and affection are withheld until they can be divvied out in thimblefuls as paltry rewards or bribes! ★★☆☆

Company: Caroline, in case it wasn’t clear from her behavior at Shiv’s wedding, does not seem like a particularly caring mom or decent human being. No wonder she and Logan were once a match, and no wonder they later got divorced. ★★☆☆

Power plays and money moves: Mother and children bat around the offer of tens of millions of dollars so casually that their conversation could incite class warfare. Ultimately, Caroline comes out on top, offering to accept either Logan’s summer palace in the Hamptons (a place that she loathes, but that she knows Logan loves), or $20 million and the Roy children for Christmas. Not only is this a win-win for her, but she gets the added pleasure of callously treating her children like bargaining chips that they all know Logan will discard in favor of the Hamptons estate. “I think we have to hear which he’d prefer,” she says. “Let’s make him choose.” Holy shit, that is a barbed maneuver! ★★★☆

7. Cold butter, Season 1, Episode 4, “Sad Sack Wasp Trap”

The Roys’ annual charity gala is a black-tie affair attended by New York’s wealthiest. This year, it’s overseen by Connor (Alan Ruck), the eldest Roy child — and a half-brother to Kendall, Shiv, and Roman — who otherwise keeps himself busy with voluntary unemployment, weird politics, and a girlfriend who may be a sex worker he once hired. The event, a clashing of money, performative philanthropy, and misunderstandings, sets off a chain of events that shapes the rest of the season.

Food: Some of the food served includes lasagna, salad, and bread with butter too cold to spread. “The butter’s all fucked! You fuckwads, there’s dinner rolls out there ripping as we speak!” Connor screams at the kitchen staff before attempting to fire them all en masse, demonstrating that all it takes is a hint of supervisory power — and some pressure from dear dad — to turn someone into even more of an asshole. ★☆☆☆

Ambiance: Ostensibly classy. Dully fancy. You know. ★★☆☆

Company: Just a big roomful of rich people! Choose your players! ★★☆☆

Power plays and money moves: Due to a mix up with teleprompter and the underhanded tattletale instincts of snitch Connor, Logan takes this public event as an opportunity to fuck over his heir apparent Kendall. “I see you,” Logan hisses privately to his son after announcing in a speech that he would not be retiring. “I spied you fucking out, son, don’t ever do that to me again.” This particular battle may have been waged just in Logan’s head, but it kicks off a struggle between father and son that impacts the entire arc of Succession. ★★★★

6. Tom displays character growth, Season 2, Episode 10, “This Is Not for Tears”

Tom (Matthew Macfayden) — on the heels of a potentially marriage-ending talk on the beach with Shiv, prompted by her not defending him against a possible ouster — marches right up to Logan for what is quite possibly one of the most exciting minute-long encounters in television history.

Food: Chicken so good, Tom just had to steal a bite. ★★☆☆

Ambiance: On the one hand, they’re aboard a mega-yacht on the beautiful Mediterranean. On the other, the question of who will be deemed the “blood sacrifice” forced to take the fall for Waystar Royco’s crimes looms over them like a grim reaper. A mixed bag, one could say. ★★☆☆

Company: Tom and Logan, one of the least naturally occurring pairings in the series, have an established dynamic: Tom kowtows, Logan barely tolerates. While that would normally be a gut-roiling duo to be in the company of, the change in their dynamic in this scene kind of makes you want to stick around. ★★☆☆

Power plays and money moves: Everyone loves an underdog story, and in the world of Succession, Minnesota-raised Tom is one of the underdoggiest of them all. Fueled by a reckless surge of desperate rage, he confronts his CEO and father-in-law by grabbing a piece of chicken from Logan’s plate, taking a big bite, and throwing the breast back onto the plate. Tom’s muffled “Thank you for the chicken,” delivered through a mouthful of meat to a shocked Logan, is somehow the most dignified he has ever appeared. We also get what’s maybe the most Logan Roy line of all time, when he wonders aloud to Shiv what Tom has planned next, “Stick his cock into my potato salad?” ★★★★

5. Pizza in the Hamptons, Season 2, Episode 1, “The Summer Palace”

It should come as no surprise to anyone that the Roys have a mansion known as the “summer palace” in the Hamptons (which, in real life, was an estate built for Henry Ford’s grandson in the 1960s). Confronted with the threat of the “bear hug” hostile buyout that Kendall, Stewy, and Sandy initiated at the end of the first season, Logan decides to hold court at the summer palace in an attempt to seek clarity and a new successor.

Food: Enraged and disgusted by rotting, raccoon carcasses that have been stuck in the chimney long enough to invite maggots, Logan yells at his house staff to get rid of the lobster and shrimp they had prepared and to order pizza. What must be hundreds of dollars worth of seafood is unceremoniously dumped in the trash outside. (The pizza, to be fair, looks very appetizing.) ★★★★

Ambiance: Reminder that Logan and the staff have just unearthed rotting, maggot-infested raccoon carcasses in the chimney. It’s not a sexy environment. ★☆☆☆

Company: After a break, the gang is back together again! ★★☆☆

Power plays and money moves: To stick or sell: that is the question Logan is mulling over. Too bad no one dares speak their mind freely; Shiv even laughs at that invitation. A cowed, sycophantic court of an authoritarian’s own making — what a neat foreshadowing of dinner scenes to come! ★★★☆

4. How to eat like you have money, Season 1, Episode 6, “Which Side Are You On?”

By sheer, bumbling force of will and the power of his bloodline, newcomer Greg (Nicholas Braun) — the grandson of Logan’s brother — finds himself on the periphery of the Roys’ inner circle. Tom, recognizing another outsider (who is also the one family member he outranks and can therefore bully), quickly takes Cousin Greg under his wing and to a nice tasting-menu restaurant after they commit some casual white collar crimes. While the whole episode is nothing but a series of strategic dinners, this meal stands out, not least because it gives us the enduring image of these two idiots sitting in a trendy restaurant, heads shrouded in napkins.

Food: Monkfish and ortolan, a delicate songbird deep-fried and eaten whole with a napkin over one’s head because it’s so controversial — and, in some places, illegal — to eat. “That’s so good,” Tom sighs, while Greg, choking on the small bones and brain of the bird, comments: “It’s a rather … unique flavor.” Bet you anything he was thinking about how much he’d rather be eating California Pizza Kitchen’s Cajun chicken linguini. ★★☆☆

Ambiance: Chic surroundings befitting of one of the “most exclusive pop-ups of the city,” in Tom’s words. ★★★☆

Company: Of all the messed-up relationships on Succession, Greg and Tom’s remains one of the strangest — and yet, oddly, the most touching. “We have a bond,” Tom tells Greg during dinner (reminder: they just did crimes together!) “I was an outsider once … It was hard, and you create this kind of protective shell, but underneath we’re all just little nudie turtles.” Don’t you mean ... inside every Gregg is a vulnerable Tomlette waiting to be cracked free? ★★★☆

Power plays and money moves: What Tom wants to teach Greg (apart from how to do crimes), is how to live like a rich person, and this dinner is a foundational lesson. “Here’s the thing about being rich: it’s fucking great. It’s like being a superhero, only better. You get to do what you want, the authorities can’t really touch you, you get to wear a costume, but it’s designed by Armani, and it doesn’t make you look like a prick,” says the guy who comes off as a prick 97 percent of the time. ★★☆☆

3. Dinner with the Pierces, Season 2, Episode 5, “Tern Haven”

On a mission to woo the Pierces, the family that owns a rival media group known for its dedication to chasing the truth and winning Pulitzers (the Succession-verse Sulzbergers to the Roys’ Murdochs?), the Roy clan helicopter out to the Pierces’ WASP-y estate for a weekend of smarming and charming. Dinner, a feast made by a staff of at least three is served with a side of awkward small talk (Roman’s girlfriend Tabitha: “We’re not planning to have a baby because that would require us having sex.”) and the implicit sense of purpose driving the entire visit. The Roys want to acquire the Pierces’ PGM, and the Pierces want the billions that the Roys are offering, but neither side wants to come off as too desperate.

Food: Roast beef, soup, rolls, salad, potatoes, haricots verts, spinach (or, as Tom likes to call it, “king of edible leaves, His Majesty the spinach”). Nothing too thrilling, but solid and traditional, just like the Pierces. ★★★☆

Ambiance: Take the strained civility of a Thanksgiving dinner and gradually turn the dial up until you hit the exact moment that Shiv destroys any remaining chance that she will be named Logan’s successor. “Oh for fucks sake, Dad, just tell them it’s going to be me,” she says in response to Nan’s inquiry and Logan’s hedging. Silence, almost echoing in the cavernous dining room. Stricken faces around the table. Logan, jaw clenched, barely concealing his fury. Try enjoying your roast in that icy tension. ★☆☆☆

Company: It’s hard to imagine a family more insufferable than the Roys, and yet the Pierces, with their smug sense of propriety and ritual of reciting Shakespeare instead of saying grace, are worthy rivals, indeed. ★★☆☆

Power plays and money moves: Well, it’s official: Shiv “fucked it,” as the youngest Roy tells Tom after the nightmare meal. ★★★★

2. Boar on the floor, Season 2, Episode 3, “Hunting”

It’s difficult to describe the disturbing, magnetic, can’t-look-away trainwreck of a masterpiece that is “boar on the floor.” You see, Waystar Royco executives fly to a Hungary hunting lodge for a corporate retreat. After a vigorous day of killing stuff, they retire for dinner, only to find themselves trapped in an ominous-looking banquet hall with Logan Roy, who is out for blood. You know what, just watch it:

Food: Sausage presumably made from the very boars these white-collar office ninnies slew during their literal hunt. Level of deliciousness unknown; the victims of the figurative hunt are too busy debasing themselves to comment, “Yummy!” ★★★☆

Ambiance: BOAR ON THE FLOOR! BOAR ON THE FLOOR! BOAR ON THE FLOOR! ★☆☆☆

Company: If the thought of being stuck on an overnight, overseas retreat with your coworkers sounds hellish, just imagine a paranoid and furious Logan Roy being one of those colleagues. ★☆☆☆

Power plays and money moves: There is no bigger display of dick-swinging power. ★★★★★★★★★★

1. Breakfast with a death sentence, Season 2, Episode 10, “This Is Not for Tears”

After years of covering up heinous acts like sexual harassment and coercion, Waystar Royco must finally pay for (some of) its crimes by sacrificing a “skull,” a.k.a. a member of senior management whose scapegoating will be enough to satisfy the shareholders and the American public. To decide who that skull will be, Logan gathers his loyal servants aboard an obscenely decked-out yacht for a breakfast discussion of which person should be hypothetically thrown off the ship to stop it from sinking. Logan, who knows that the shareholders think he should step down, opens the discussion with the martyrizing statement, “I think the obvious choice is me.” As undoubtedly planned by Logan, the group immediately begins protesting — and the circle jerk of betrayal begins.

Food: A decent-enough-looking array of breakfast foods like croissants and smoothies, but who can muster up an appetite when there are colleagues to throw under the bus? ★★☆☆

Ambiance: A gorgeous backdrop of sunshine, azure waters, and warm sunshine, but who can fully decompress when there are colleagues to throw under the bus? ★★☆☆

Company: Members of the work family and the actual family, such as Gerri (“daughters first class on the company coin”), Karl (“I just went for the sports massage, I had no idea it was that kind of establishment”; also, “sausage thief”), Roman (“widely known as a horrible person”), Greg (“Greg sprinkles are a fantastic garnish to anyone seated at this table”), and Shiv and Tom (“beauty and the beast”), but who can enjoy their kinship when there are colleagues to throw under the bus? ★☆☆☆

Power plays and money moves: In case it wasn’t obvious, this meal is all about throwing colleagues under the bus.

But in direct contrast with the dark-lit, primeval chaos of “boar on the floor,” this power breakfast, eaten in broad daylight on a fancy boat, is strategically, agonizingly restrained. Siblings and coworkers artfully deflect blame and offer each other up for slaughter under the cover of this all being a hypothetical thought experiment, stripped of emotions. In Kendall’s words: “I’m saying this but I don’t believe it, I’m just saying it because this is the time we’re all saying things.” The bullshitting is truly masterful, and, trapped by the inflated score I gave “boar on the floor,” I must hereby assign the same star rating here: ★★★★★★★★★★

full article: https://www.eater.com/2019/10/11/20908746/succession-hbo-best-dinner-lunch-meal-scenes-ranked

#they skipped the dinner scene where tom tells shiv to shut up #maybe less distress and more tension #succession hbo #shiv roy #baby #roman roy #gremlin #kendall roy #hes really going thought it jc #you can see him detoriorating by every meal

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textales · 7 years

Text

“The Kid is Hot Tonight.”

One of my best friends in Junior High was a girl named Sam. Her mom was the first female Top-40 Disk Jockey in Montana, and the reason I got into the radio business.

Back then AM still ruled the air – even if it was in mono and all crackly. The FM band was obscure - saved for nerdy technocrats who smoked pipe tobacco and hung out at the library…or worse, Radio Shack! Even though it was in stereo and superior in sound quality, FM was not yet as popular as AM. Most FM stations ran in automation, playing boring lectures from some college, or “beautiful music” suitable for any elevator. AM was fun and live and fantastically phenomenal. The kind of radio that came standard in every car, AM was the real deal. And Wendi Carpenter rocked afternoon drive on 1450 KQDI, entertaining countless central Montana listeners hungry for anything other than country.

Most days after school, Sam and I would stop at “the station” while her mother was on the air, to scoop-up free records and kill a little time hanging out with the other DJs.

“Early Adopters”

Record labels sent music to radio DJs everywhere. Even stations in places like Montana were great for launching new artists…and hungry programmers looking to make their mark would take the suggestions of record reps by adding new songs to the playlist. If the new song sold more than 500,000 units, those “early adopter” radio DJs would get their name and the station call-letters engraved on a plaque with a gold record, mounted in a fancy frame to hang as a brag piece.

One breezy afternoon in the early eighties, Sam and I were hanging out at KQDI when the Music Director told us “This band will never go anywhere,” and carelessly flipped a 12” vinyl record at me. I wasn’t sure if he was joking – but who cares if he was, it was cool to have a first pressing of a record with a stamp that said: “Promotional Use Only – Not for Resale.”

Little did we know in just a few months that Loverboy would become a big deal, and soon I’d be making a trip with my neighbor to see them play live.

“Working for the Weekend”

As neighbors go, Don was the coolest guy on the block. Not only did he have two of the greatest classic cars ever built (a red and black Chevy Chevelle AND a pretty blue Shelby Mustang 350 GT), but he was also a huge music fan with the biggest record collection and the nicest stereo on the North Side. His wife Judy was stunningly pretty and they were a model couple, making all the right choices like buying a home and saving for retirement starting in their early 20s.

Don was a bit of a purist when it came to music. He had strong opinions about music videos that played on the new cable channel called MTV…he found most of them fake and cheesy - he just wanted to see the musicians play. He also preferred vinyl LP records to the synthetic sounds of the new Compact Disks which were just barely making their way onto the scene.

I didn’t expect Don to give a shit about Loverboy – they were hardly a “real” rock band like Foreigner or Boston or Journey – so I was surprised when he invited me to go see them when they came to a college town nearby.

Because I was just 17 we had to promise my dad that Don would make sure I’d behave. Oh sure, I assumed Don would sneak a beer or two my way (and there’d be no need to bother my father with that detail!) but I was stopped like a deer in the headlights when he asked if I would mind if he smoked a joint.

At that moment I learned that he and Judy smoked pot. It didn’t bother me that he might want to imbibe in what has been considered essential for almost any concert-goer since the 1960s. What bothered me was the fact that I hadn’t even thought about it.

By no means did I think less of them for this – hell, lots of people smoke pot – I just felt like a fool for being so incredibly naïve for not even considering it.

Now that I look back, I wonder if there were other secrets. What else didn’t I know?

“The Feedlot” served gargantuan sub-style sandwiches using whole loaves of bread. I worked there for a stint between radio gigs. As high-school jobs go, this was so much better than actually having to make the stuff - I just delivered it using one of two company cars….a 1978 Chevy Chevette or a brand-new 1981 Mercury Lynx. I got paid to drive around? How cool was that?!

The manager thought it was cute that some of the regular customers would specifically request me as their delivery person – they wanted “the cute blond one” and she obliged.

Two big burly truck-driver guys who lived on Bootlegger Trail were particularly fond of me. I can’t remember their names, but they were always having parties and seemed so very happy and friendly. They’d invite me to stick around for a beer or a Coke. I would routinely turn them down - I had to get back to the Feedlot. I was on the clock after all, and my employer should get full value for the $3.35 an hour she was paying me.

Although they were “old” and lived in a trailer, (they were maybe in their twenties, it was a double-wide with full skirting and a tip-out), they were clean and smelled good and were always so very nice. They paid by check (everywhere still took checks back then), and they tipped well – very well, in fact. The tip for a five minute drive to deliver a sandwich in a paper bag was more than I made in an hour on minimum wage. My goodness, they were generous.

I remember their checks were so weird – not the blue or yellow “safety paper” most people got for free with their account at Northwestern Bank – theirs were “personalized” – printed with the Strawberry Shortcake cartoon character.

Strawberry Shortcake? WTH? That seemed kind of strange. And I remember how they would say “Bye” with an unusual inflection. It made no sense at the time because I didn’t realize they were dropping heavy hints and hitting on me. Hmmm…maybe they knew I was gay – I know I sure didn’t. And what else didn’t I know?

Hindsight is 20/20…and looking back I realize there were so many other times that I was so very oblivious. Like when I would surprise guys who were “entertaining” in their rooms at the all-male barracks on Malmstrom Air Force Base. This was a decade before “Don’t Ask/Don’t Tell” made being gay in the armed forces passable.

“Oh, duh, THAT’s what they were doing!” NO WONDER it took them so long to answer the door. You’d think they’d be expecting me – although the wait-time on a sandwich is hardly that of a pizza. Maybe they wanted to be interrupted?

Huh. What else didn’t I know?

Naiveté has its place, mostly to serve and protect the innocent. Although I usually got A’s and I considered myself fairly witty and articulate, I was completely naïve. I was guilty of being “wholesome,” and my selective attention wasn’t at all finely tuned. Or, on the other hand, my selective attention WAS finely tuned, with a filter added to keep out the unsavory thoughts I was consciously trying to avoid.

In the early 1980s a new disease called AIDS was killing everyone in its path. However devastating, this “gay plague” was an epidemic confined to places far away, where homosexuals congregated in bars and bath houses and did unspeakable things in the dark. Although gay men in big cities were dropping like flies, Montana was safe. We didn’t have “those people,” and those places where unthinkable things occurred didn’t exist in Big Sky Country.

I got why people were scared shitless, and a majority equated being gay and having AIDS as an automatic given. Misconceptions, myths and hysteria were rampant. Victims were treated like lepers. Some feared you could get AIDS simply by being close to someone or kissing or hugging them.

Most who had this opinion were essentially just naïve and innocent. But the gleefully, willfully ignorant were the most troubling - often expressing their fear as “god’s wrath.” Not surprisingly, many in this crowd also refused to believe Liberace was gay – go figure.

Hall & Oates sang: “Some Things Are Better Left Unsaid” and Ronald Reagan took the hint. The President said absolutely nothing about AIDS until 1987, near the end of his second term and years after his friend Rock Hudson had died from the disease. At that point in the U.S., over 36,000 people were diagnosed with AIDS and over 26,000 people had died from it. Montana was barely a bleep on the radar and it was still easy enough for the general public (and even the medical community) to avoid the issue for years. “Not in my backyard” was a common sentiment.

Throughout most of the 80s and 90s nobody in Montana knew anyone with HIV or AIDS and if they did they wouldn’t tell you for fear of being shunned from their church or social group…or worse, being fired from their job or attacked by the gleefully, willfully ignorant. Even doctors were dumb – my stepmother had a nurse friend who worked for a MD who threatened to fire her because her son had AIDS.

For the longest time I was able to say “not a single person in my friends and family circle has been affected by AIDS.” This was remarkable given that I had moved to a “real city” and was an open member of the very community in crisis hit hardest by the epidemic.

But hardly better than the gleefully, willfully ignorant, I had a self-righteous, cavalier attitude and figured I knew all I needed to know. I wore my “garbage bags” and knew to never get in a situation of risk. “I’ll just keep myself safe and sanitized and won’t have to learn anything about this unsavory thing.” Even though I gave money to various AIDS and HIV charities, I separated myself from “those people” and wore a protective coating to prevent me from getting too close. I still had tons of fun, knowing the rubber sheath would keep me safe, but I wouldn’t let love in or out…not in any way. Figuratively or literally…emotionally or physically. “Not in my backyard.”

My personal “Don’t Ask/Don’t Tell” approach on HIV and AIDS worked until 1990 when my roommate Robert tested positive, and I was forced to pull my head out of the sand. I was not going to let myself become a victim of fear and ignorance, so I told myself I best learn about this shit and what to do about it. I loved Robert and wanted to do everything I could to keep him alive. My self-righteous stance had softened.

What else didn’t I know? I discovered having an open mind and open dialog gave me the courage to reach out to people I’d been shutting out, including my high-school best friend Ross. My buddy, Buddy, with whom I had a one night encounter in college, had come out of the closet and announced his status, and others I knew were starting to surface. Although I was no longer able to say “Nobody in my life is affected by AIDS,” I was happy to kill that willful ignorance that was getting in my way of loving people. I let curiosity have a place at the table, right next to security. I started asking more questions. Not that I became obsessed, I just wanted to stop being scared to death. I refused to let hate and fear win over love and understanding.

It was a sad story two decades later when I learned that Don and Judy both died from AIDS. I heard he got it by a blood transfusion and unknowingly infected his wife. They died at home, both frail shadows of their once vibrant selves. Many friends and family volunteered with home hospice, trying to make the torture tolerable. They left behind two teenage kids…I can only imagine the emotional torture they had to endure with not one but both parents dying, made worse by bullying school kids mocking and making fun.

Somehow it was supposed to make it more palatable that the source of the infection was not self-induced but completely beyond their control. “Good lord, it’s not like they got this by having sex or doing drugs!” They were innocent and deserved no shame or blame.

Yet there was a shroud of secrecy. Nobody was supposed to know. If Don got AIDS from a blood transfusion beyond anyone’s control, why all the shame and silent treatment? What else didn’t I know? And why do I care? Am I as bad as those so called Christians who want so badly to assign blame and often end-up showering the victim in shame? I can hear them now: “You reap what you sow.“ “Play with fire and get burned.” Blah blah blah.

It was easy for me to have such a callous curiosity from a big city thousands of miles away. My job or reputation wasn’t at stake and my life wasn’t under the sharp scrutiny of the terrified in a small town where even just talking about sex was taboo.

Don wasn’t naïve and clueless, was he? Even though he was straight and a “guy’s guy,” I had no difficulty imagining a “what if” scenario. WHAT IF he had been at the wrong place at the wrong time? WHAT IF at a concert in Seattle or Calgary he smoked a little too much pot and drank too much? Maybe he stumbled into the wrong crowd who took advantage of his innocence, or worse, if he was coerced into something he didn’t want to do and by then it was too late? WHAT IF that was me instead of Don?

I only recently learned that in his dying days Don sequestered himself to a room in his garage in a self-induced quarantine. I wish I had been around to ask why….was it to protect himself from the outside world or it from him? And I’d like to think I would have had the guts to face my own fear and spend time with him talking about classic cars and music. But as much as I want to figure it out, I’ll have to be satisfied with a “You’ll never know” when asking “What else didn’t I know?”

It happened almost overnight: FM became the preferred band for radio listeners. The sound quality was infinitely better and in stereo, after all. And by the ‘90s every car had an FM radio that came standard from the factory at no additional cost. Program directors started putting more time and attention to programming their FM stations, and the AM signals were the ones left for automation and a disintegrating audience share.

In the next decade medical science had revolutionized treatment making HIV something people live with by taking just a pill a day. And now Prep offers what is essentially a vaccine against HIV.

It would be great if we could restore humans like we restore cars. It would be great to have some of those classics back in our lives. And it’s so unfortunate that so many who passed were essentially victims of bad timing – I’m fairly certain they’d still be alive if they got their HIV in this current era.

Ross, Robert, Buddy, Don and Judy. It didn’t matter how they got AIDS and died….they were all victims. Unfortunately, none of them got a gold record to hang on their wall for being “early adopters.”

What else didn’t I know? Too much to write…but one thing I did eventually figure out: whether the injection was by needle or by penis, knowing how it happened didn’t make the pain and suffering any easier for anyone.

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