#the boss: why is the son who I treated like a tool for killing his whole life show no loyalty to me or our family name? | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

giorno-plays-piano · 3 years

Text

Money, Money, Money Part 1

Pairing: mob!Bucky Barnes x Reader, slight Peter Parker x Reader

Warnings: lots of swearing, silly drunk mobs, mentions of alcoholism, parody, Peter is adult, is this a crack fic??

Words: 2578.

Summary: When Steve finds out somebody has stolen their money, Bucky realizes he has to take his ass off the leather couch in his office, finally.

P.S. This is my first attempt to write humor and I’m sorry in advance for everything I’ve written here 😅

_________________

“BITCH, DID I STUTTER WHEN I SAID TO KEEP THAT SAFE CLOSED AT ALL TIMES?”

Allyson massaged her temples softly and let out a groan: if Mr. Rogers continued to yell like that, he would definitely choke soon. This morning he had been pretending to be the death, vengeance and fury, ready to kick the ass of her immediate superior, James Barnes, who acted like he was deaf, unable to pull himself from the couch where he slept after getting drunk as a fish last night. Oh, poor Bucky. Apparently, he fucked things up again if Mr. Rogers stormed into his office like he was getting chased by a 200-pound dog.

“What the fuck is wrong with you, you son of a...” glancing at a pouting man-child with a three-day beard, Steve covered his face with his palm and let out an exasperated sigh, “... respectable woman who would die of shame if she saw you now!”

“Come on, Stevie,” the man yawned, finally moving his huge, muscular body up to sit instead of just laying on the couch since he felt a little guilty Steve was getting all riled up while he just chilled, “why so serious? Yeah, somebody took a bit of cash from the safe, it’s not a big deal.”

Allyson heard everything as if they were speaking right in front of her - Bucky was a real Mr. Cheapo who didn’t want to rent an office with decent walls - and quickly closed her ears, wishing she had taken her earplugs today. Her boss just made a grave mistake, and now both of them were going to pay for it with their eardrums.

“NOT A BIG DEAL? NOT A BIG DEAL, YOU MASSIVE BAG OF DOUCHE?! DO YOU KNOW HOW MUCH MONEY WAS THERE, HUH?! DO YOU HAVE ANY IDEA WHAT THOSE MONEY WERE FOR?!”

Seriously, she considered getting a new job, but these free daily standup shows were both tiring and so fucking funny she was afraid she might wet her seat.

“Oh my fucking God, Bucky, I swear I’ll kill you, I’ll... no, I have a better idea!” Steve gave his best friend a dirty look. “I’ll call your uncle. Yeah, you know which one. He’ll be sooo happy to take you drunk ass to jail and then give your mama a call. I bet she has a cure for both your attitude and alcoholism.”

“You wouldn’t do that!”

Suddenly realizing the danger he was in, Bucky quickly got up, almost falling to the floor but holding on the leather chair in the very last second. When Steve talked about calling his uncle, a chief of police of the neighboring town where his whole family lived, it meant things were going bad. Real bad.

“Bucky, it was the part we were going to invest into Pierce’s casino. I have to take it to him tomorrow morning. TOMORROW FUCKING MORNING, DO YOU HEAR ME, YOU STINKING DRUNK?”

“I’m drunk but not deaf, Steve!”

“Oh my God, I’m driving you to a rehab, go gather your stuff right now!”

Allyson sighed, getting up and proceeding to choose the most beautiful cup to fill it with fresh coffee: when their conflicts escalated to threats, it meant her boss would soon start to sweet-talk, apologizing to his best friend and promising to sober up and get things right. Every time she felt like Mr. Rogers would really do something to Bucky, the guy used his natural charisma and charm and got away with anything by just reminding Steve how he fought for his best friend in the dark alleys when Rogers was a sick, skinny kid. It worked every damn time.

There they were again, talking about same things with Bucky swearing on his mother’s life that he will find the money and bring it back to Steve. Usually it meant the threats were coming to an end, and soon Mr. Rogers would open the door and come out red as a lobster, breathing heavily as if he just ran a marathon. There he would see her with a cup of nice coffee with cream and two spoons of sugar just like he preferred, gladly accepting it and saying nobody understand him but her. Then Allyson would smile compassionately, listen to his small talk before he went out the office, and wait until her grumpy boss would fall out the room, reeking alcohol, and ask her what the fuck had happened yesterday.

After that in a couple of minutes things would finally settle down, and Allyson would have a chance to give a call to her best friend.

_______________________________

Your day couldn’t start better: you had finally received your Amazon order - hooray to the stupid makeup tools you would use, like, once a year - and even watched your favorite Netflix series with a cup of a fragrant coffee with marshmallows because it was Sunday and you were finally free from both work and cleaning the apartment. It felt so nice to just do absolutely nothing, laying on your couch with a piece of pizza in your hand. Seriously, even a workaholic like you had to do it more often.

Your lazy morning was interrupted by Peter, a sweet college student who was getting into troubles more often than a drunk in a local bar: you seriously considered calling him Harry Potter after you found him half-naked with a scratch on his forehead standing in the corridor of your building and holding a broom. To protect himself from bullies, he said, by the look on his face you could tell it was as good as a magic wand against 6"4 ft tall guys, seriously.

Since he rented an apartment with other unlucky nerds who had zero skills how to survive in this cruel world, you ended up nearly baby-sitting Peter, patching him up after he was getting in a fight and lending him some money time after time when he struggled to pay rent or buy food. His parents were elderly people with income below average, but they still did whatever they could to give him an education, so you decided to give the guy a hand.

Now that baby was standing in front of you, lit up like a Christmas tree, with a bouquet of wonderful pink roses, big box of hand-crafted chocolates and a whole bag of what looked like some very fine food, even a bottle of champagne clinking inside.

"Good morning, Fairy Godmother! I came to bring back what I owe you!" His smile was a mile wide when he looked at your face, happy to the point he couldn't stand still, dancing like those Duracell rabbits in the tv ad.

"You're up early, Cinderella."

You yawned, laughing when you saw the guy pouting at the nickname you gave him - tf he expected for calling you Fairy Godmother?

"Don't stand there, come in."

When he actually handed you the flowers and chocolates, giving you a quick peck on the cheek shyly, you froze, finally realizing he brought all this for you. Wait, what? Where the heck did he get so much money to buy that expensive stuff? You thought he was helping his other neighbor who was planning to finally propose to his girlfriend. Perplexed to the point you nearly missed that peck, you blinked at tomato red Peter.

"Please don't tell me you robbed your 90-year-old paralytic professor."

"Why don't you ask if I robbed a bank?" He pouted again, putting the bag on the floor and getting a hundred dollar banknote out of his old leather wallet. "I actually came to thank you for everything you've done for me. And I didn't rob anyone! I got a real job!"

"Real job?" You eyed him curiously. "But don't you already have a job in delivery?"

"Pfft, you can't call it a job. It was getting one nasty smelling pizza from one place to the other while looking miserable."

You barely held your laugh, leaving the bouquet and chocolates on the side table and rubbing guy's back. Poor Peter, nobody was giving him a hand - while you couldn't question people's decision since the guy wasn't the most reliable one, it was still a shame he wasn't treated decently as if all of them weren't young and careless once.

Wait, but who on Earth gave him such a well-paid job all of a sudden? He must have spent hundreds of dollars on the bouquet, chocolates, food and champagne, not even counting those 100 dollars he owed.

Oh God.

"Please don't tell me you're working for some shady business." You looked at him in horror, your hand flying to your mouth. "Peter, is it Tony's band?!"

"Jesus woman, why would I work for some stupid mob." The guy rolled his eyes, and you sighed in relief, not knowing what to except from this trouble on two skinny legs. “I’m telling you, it’s nothing bad! I just have to keep it a secret before I get a contract. Once I figure it out, I’ll explain everything, I swear!”

“Alright, alright, don’t stress over it, I’m not your Ma.” Smirking, you went to take a square glass vase you hadn’t use in ages, filling it with water to drop the bouquet inside. “Let’s celebrate it, then! Woah, careful there, give me that bottle until you drop it on my clean floor, I’ve been scrubbing it for hours yesterday!”

_______________________

Bucky still felt like Steve was making too much of a big deal out of it: obviously, it was Tony who went to him at night when Bucky was already drunk like a monkey, celebrating the birth of Clint’s daughter. Nobody else had the courage to steal from him, Steve’s right hand, an ex-soldier who had a reputation of a man killing with the first punch. Not that Bucky ever killed anybody, actually being a ex-trumpet in an army band...

Anyway, the man was heading over to Stark’s Tower, a motel where he and all his guys lived when his wife Pepper was out of town. Pepper had definitely been out of town lately since Tony didn’t call: when she was coming back, Steve and Tony were having a two-day truce with nobody getting in a fight because it was making Mrs. Stark upset, and when she was upset, both Steve and Tony didn’t risk getting out of their holes to face this enraged blonde woman who could make anyone wet themselves with one her glance. If there were anyone killing with just one punch in the town, it got to be Pepper.

As he got closer in his Cadillac that looked like it went through fire and water before being sold to Bucky, Barnes stared at the motel suspiciously: it was strangely quiet with everyone hiding inside, not a man guarding the motel’s entrance. What the hell happened? Tony loved showing off, pretending he ruled over the town, and he would definitely act like a king after stealing Steve’s and his money. It was unbelievable Bucky so nobody welcoming him with a smirk.

Hoping he didn’t use all that money for emptying a liquor store, Bucky parked the car and went to the motel, dying to have some beer: one heartless blonde boss of his emptied his fridge.

“Oh, more drinking partners returning to continue the fun, huh?”

Bucky froze immediately, staring at Pepper who stood in the doorway with a face of an iron maiden. Jesus fucking Christ. She returned to the city way before Tony told him, and it was clear she found him not in the condition she expected to. While Bucky considered whether it was better to run, Tony’s head appeared somewhere behind his wife, and Barnes saw Tony was as drunk as him, if not even more. He could see a huge blue mark from Pepper’s heavy hand on Stark’s cheek.

“Who’s that, honey?” The man asked innocently, earning an enraged glance from his wife, and Bucky thought he should have run. “Hi, Buck! Come on in, it’s ok if you didn’t bring beer even if I asked twice.”

Oh. Something was going on. Of course, Bucky could rat the man out immediately, telling Pepper he wasn’t drinking with Tony yesterday’s night, but he wasn’t such a heartless bastard - by the look on Stark’s face Barnes could see his sweet blonde wifey would beat poor Tony to death with her Dior handbag.

“Sorry, I blacked out for a couple of hours in my car.” He mumbled, bowing his head in respect. “Pepper, such a pleasure to see you.”

“Come on in, alcoholic.” Her gaze was heavy, and Bucky shivered a little, carefully leaving his shoes near the door and scurrying away to the coach where Tony sat, nervously biting his fingers. “Well, do you wanna tell me something, huh? How many hookers have you brought here yesterday?”

Glancing to Tony and back to Pepper, Barnes suddenly realized his frenemy had been so drunk he had no hecking idea whether somebody really brought hookers to the motel - it was a total taboo, but once they got drunk they could barely control themselves. Once they literally woke up to a Santa Claus singing Jingle Bells in the tub in the middle of June because Tony missed Christmas.

Of course, Stark would never slip up the night before Pepper was coming back to town, but, apparently, she didn’t stay with her mom for as long as she planned, and Tony was royally fucked.

“I’ve asked you a question.”

And now Bucky was, too, if he didn’t think of something quick. Of course, he could tell her the truth, but it meant losing Tony completely, and Barnes didn’t want that. A real mafioso should have at least one strong enemy, right?

“I’m sorry, Pepper, but I don’t think there were any hookers here last night.” He said, carefully choosing words. “You see, first, Tony never allows us to. Second, we’re good Christians. We would never invite some hookers when we celebrated the birth of Clint’s daughter!”

As he got silent, enjoying the effect his words were having on Pepper, Bucky looked at the man sitting to his right, watching Tony’s eyes watering: it was definitely God himself who sent Barnes his way that morning, saving his from near death. Nothing would work better than this excuse. Clint and all Bucky’s guys were so drunk to the point they barely remembered what had happened, and it would be easy to convince them Tony and his gang came to see Barnes for something and ended up staying with all of them.

Besides, there was a nice bonus Bucky could add to make it work even better.

“By the way, Clint named her Natasha. That’s also the name of your mom, right?”

By the look on Tony’s face the man realized he was ready to sing.

“How did he know my mom’s name?” Pepper eyed Steve’s right hand distrustfully, but he could tell she was less irritated.

“Oh, you know, he and his wife couldn’t choose the name, so we started saying whatever names we knew, and Tony mentioned Natasha.”

For a second Bucky thought Stark was going to kiss him through excess of joy.

When he finally left the motel, getting his pack of beer given him by lovely Pepper who changed the anger to mercy, Tony ran out of the house after him, giving him a pat on the shoulder and whispering quietly, “I own you one, brother.”

Bucky sighed. Stark didn’t take the money.

______________

Tags: @finleyjayne @alexakeyloveloki @helenaeisenhower @villanellevi @hurricanerin @inlovewiththefictionalcharacters @chris-evans-indian-fanfic @navegandoaciegas @rosalynshields @brattycherubwrites @sllooney @angrythingstarlight @lookiamtrying @buckysbunny @soleil-dor @stargazingfangirl18 @dillybuggg @literate-lamb @cosicas-cuquis @sarge-barnes-sir @buckybarnesplumwhore @jaysayey @megzdoodle @gotnofucks @lux-ravenwolf @iheartsebandchris @ximebebx @jeremyrennerfanxxxx123 @sourpatchspinster

#bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes #steve rogers #peter parker #peter parker x reader #winter soldier #mcu #crack fic #mcu fanfiction

69 notes · View notes

ssaltbending · 3 years

Text

Ok, guys, hear me out: Zuko is a Capricorn, Katara is a Cancer —and here’s why (it would be so poetic).

Part 1: Zuko

TW: explicit mentions of child abuse.

I know this statement might seem weird and out of place, but in the last couple weeks I’ve been digging a lot into astrology and, in order not to forget my roots, I thoroughly felt the need to combine both of my most recent obsessions in one post, given that this headcanon hasn’t been able to leave my mind ever since I came up with it: if we applied astrology to the Avatar world, I’m sure Cancer and Capricorn would be Katara and Zuko’s signs, respectively. And I don’t say this in a superficial way, just by looking at zodiac memes and associating Katara with the crybabies Cancers are portrayed as or saying Zuko is a Capricorn buzzkill as people who know astrology on a surface level would assume they are —those are some of the most common stereotypes about the signs. No, I’m saying that they embody those signs on an archetypal leve: in the way their stories, especially Zuko’s, resemble the myths that originate the zodiac signs and their respective traits.

Therefore, without further ado, let me explain.

The Capricorn archetype: the sins of the father...

As any casual astrology enthusiast may probably know, the sign of Capricorn is connected to qualities such as perseverance, integrity, resilience and ambition, typically treated as the CEO or boss of the zodiac. However, the sign itself has a richer and much more complex story as we look at the deities it is associated with as well as the planet that rules it: Saturn, linked to the Roman god of the same name and the greek gods Cronus, Zeus, Hestia and Pan. Some astrologers choose Cronus as Capricorn’s patron god and others prefer his children, but that can be explained very easily.

The myth goes like this: Cronus, a giant and father of what we would know as some of the main greek gods (Hestia, Demeter, Hades, Poseidon, Hera and Zeus), was actually the son of Uranos, who he subverted thanks to the advice of his mother Gaia to use an agricultural tool to kill him. But as time went by and Cronus had started having children with his partner, Rhea, the fear of his descendants becoming stronger than him and doing the same thing he had done to his father took over him, which led to his decision of swallowing them all whole. He started with Hestia all the way back to Zeus, whom he couldn’t swallow right after he was born, unlike his other children, because this time Rhea had hid him in the island of Crete to protect him from his father. To deceive him, Rhea then covered a rock in cloth to make it resemble a baby for Cronus to eat it, thinking that it was a newborn Zeus.

Time passed and Zeus grew stronger until he was ready to confront his father and save his siblings from his womb, and when he finally did it, he managed to force Cronus into disgorge them one by one, in the reverse order they had been swallowed —which left Hestia as the last sibling to be disgorged.

After that, Zeus was left with a prophecy, where he would also be possibly overthrown by a son of his. And after Métis, the woman he was told would bear said child, gave birth he swallowed the newborn whole just like Cronus had done with his brothers and sisters. The child in question, however, started giving him headaches as it grew older and bigger inside of him and would become the goddess we know as Athena. What Zeus did with her was the repetition of a cycle perpetuated by his forefathers, a cycle of abuse and trauma that seems inescapable. What this part of the duality of the Capricorn archetype shows one of the ways in which those ideas of tradition and legacy can be carried on (a very negative one, to be honest), but that’s not the only way they can manifest, which gives the archetype this… almost cinematic quality, in my opinion. (And if we take this into account, I might headcanon Azula as a Capricorn rising due not only to the archetypal coincidences but the overall mastermind outlook she has and how much of a natural, domineering and calculating leader she is, but that’s besides the point.)

Now, let’s talk about the other side of the archetype, which gives it this incredible dual quality: Hestia’s path. Unlike her brother Zeus, Hestia was the one who not only had been devoured by her father, but she had spent the most time inside him as well. This is often associated with the emotional isolation many Capricorns experience in their youth, the lack of warmth and love by one of their parents, along with the desire not to become the abusive parent they were exposed to. Hestia is the other side of the story, the unspoken leader of the Olympians, the one who broke the toxic cycle running in her family for generations, vowing to become an eternal virgin and protector of the earth. Besides, Hestia means “hearth”: the inner fire, the one that is never allowed to go out.

(art by @elisebrave)

That is the soul of the Capricorn archetype: the crossroads of destiny, the moment when the child decides whether to become like their parents, or forge their own path like Hestia did. Do you guys see what I see now? Are the similarities clear enough?

As my dear friend @persephobeee points out in her Capricorn essay (a crucial source for this one): “The Capricorn archetype is a cycle of stuck parents putting stress on their children at such a young age so then their kid ends up making money in retaliation, but then treat their kids the same as well due to the lack of warmth and freedom they had in their own childhood. The intense pressure put onto them as a child [then] leads to isolation and depression. It’s a cycle. ‘I don’t want to be my parent, but also… how they have ruined me’. The chain can continue with Zeus (projecting sorrows and nightmares onto their own children) or it could break with Hestia (the path of love, light and protection).”

This is why Capricorn’s planetary ruler, Saturn, is also associated with ideas found in this myth: restriction, limitation, order, boundaries, leadership, responsibility… pretty much dad vibes, to be honest. Do you guys see what I see or do I have to dig deeper?

“But isn’t zuko a firebender?? Why would he be an earth sign??”, you may ask.

The way that I might be making headcanons about the Gaang’s western zodiac signs isn’t gonna be based on which element they bend, because that would be quite reductive and restrictive for me as an astrology junkie, but their similarities to each sign’s archetype and overall characteristics. And yes, I do see Zuko as an earth sun, but that wouldn’t be his only sign, there is also the moon and the rising sign, which also have an important impact on the individual. In my opinion, Zuko’s personality embodies the qualities of fire signs as well: competitiveness, drive, passion, impulsiveness and loyalty. But to me those qualities are better shown in his character through his moon sign: an Aries moon, to be specific. See those anger outbursts? The “I don’t need any [fucking] calming tea!!”? The “you never think these things through”? Aries moon behavior, right there. But I’m not going to focus on moon signs right now. Let’s get back to the behavior I am the most well-versed at: Capricorn behavior.

So, the sign of Capricorn is also a cardinal sign, a leader, since they are the ones that begin each season. In the Northern Hemisphere, Capricorn season starts right on the winter solstice, and the opposite happens in the South. However, since all the astrology lore comes from the North thanks to the Greeks, Babylonians and more, the seasonal connections are related to the seasons there. As a consequence, Capricorn is the cardinal sign that brings the coldest, darkest season of the year: winter. And incorporating that into Zuko’s character would be incredibly fitting, in my opinion, because of some stuff I’ve read here on Tumblr saying that making him being born during the coldest time of the year would make it a terrible omen for a firebender, worse in this case due to him being born into the royal family, symbols of the power and “supremacy” of the Fire Nation. The fact that he would be born in winter, if we follow this reasoning, would have made him seem as a disappointment to his father ever since birth.

… or maybe I’m just cruel, guys.

Moreover, I think Zuko embodies many of the Capricorn qualities in the way he carries himself (because no, not all Capricorns are confident managers with the world in our hands) and how hard he has to work to earn everything he gets. A key part of what this sign represents is “the path of hardships the goat has to overcome in order to reach the top of the mountain”, which along with the myth I have described before, could easily be applied to Zuko. It describes values of endurance, hard work, discipline and drive in order to achieve your goals, something that can be seen in Zuko all throughout the series, but changes its focus as the seasons go by. Besides, uhm… have you guys seen “The Day of Black Sun, Part 2”? That is literally the positive outcome of the Capricorn myth made into animation: the confrontation between an abusive father figure and his abused child who has decided to part ways with him in order to become a better person.

On another note, I think it is important to highlight how the Capricorn in Zuko could be seen based on how the rest of the Gaang treats him as well when he changes sides and he’s accepted into the group. How?, you may be wondering: as a father figure, but in a positive way. In many scenes it can be noticed how he naturally takes a position of leadership within the group as well as he takes care of the younger members such as Aang and Toph but, especially in Aang’s case, tries to ground them and teach them. As examples, take the following: Zuko reminding Aang that soon he will have to face the fact that he might have to kill Ozai, him trying to get everyone to train when the comet is about to arrive; how when Aang gets lost, it is him the one people look to in order to lead the group, etc.

Another thing that is well-known in Capricorns is our resilience and perseverance and, honestly: do I even need to explain that? When it comes to the guy who would get his ass beaten again and again and again for one season straight in order to get what he wanted which would also give him the approval of his father, what he craved most? It screams earth sign behavior to me, but with a heavy saturnian influence due to Zuko’s background which, to me, can be quite an interesting reflection of the Saturn/Cronus myth with his children. Said tenacity could also be exacerbated by the willpower and energy brought by the possibility of him having a fire moon, I don’t know, think about it. I stick to that headcanon.

That perseverance can also be seen when it comes to Zuko’s firebending, given how much he’s always trying to improve his skills. Although it could be argued that in reality he’s doing so due to the expectations put on him to be a proficient bender just like his sister in order to be accepted by his father, and his constant training to the point of exhaustion is just a manifestation of that toxic behavior. I am sorry to tell you, but that’s textbook Capricorn behavior, associated with the symbolism of the hardworking goat in general: working the hardest in order to get what you want is always on-brand when it comes to important Capricorn placements, and in my opinion Zuko is no exception.

Final thoughts.

Anyway, what I think would be most relevant is what I mentioned before about the Capricorn archetype and how it could tie in nicely to Zuko’s character arc with him as a representation of Hestia, who could grow out of the abuse she experienced and got a chance not to make her father’s mistakes and break that horrendous cycle she had been a victim of. I would go into this more deeply, but I think it has been enough for now. However, I’ll be back soon with a part two, talking about my water queen Katara. What do you think about this headcanon? Do you agree? If not, why?

Thanks for coming to my weird-ass TedTalk at 1am. I needed to vent and I haven’t been able to put the computer down since 9pm, I literally only stopped to eat, lol.

See you soon,

a Capricorn sun.

77 notes · View notes

frauleinfunf · 3 years

Text

My dumb headcanons about Mrs. Levin and her side of the family

Bc I cannot stop myself and love thinking way too much about Kevin's family tree bc that's how I express my love for characters

-Deborah Rifka Rozowski was born in 1969 at Kings County Hospital

-She has an older sister named Nancy, whom she's thick as thieves with

-Their father was a very physically abusive parent and their mother had untreated postpartum depression that led to her attempting suicide several times during their childhoods

-Their father had threatened to put her in an institution more than once in front of them

-In addition to a rough home life, she grew up in Brooklyn during the Son of Sam killings, the 1977 blackout, and later the crack epidemic. So it's safe to say she survived by being tough and street smart.

-Deb also had a deep of love of books and writing. It started as a form of escapism, but also became an outlet for her to express her feelings in ways that weren't picking fights

-At 16, Deb's father kicked her out. Nancy immediately put her up at her apartment with her husband Ira, but Deb ended up leaving in the middle of the night. Nancy was already heavily pregnant and Deb didn't want to feel like a burden, but also just wanted to leave Brooklyn and New York and get as far away from her current life as much as possible. Of course being a teenager, she assumed this meant she had to cut ties with her mother and sister.

-Deb wandered for the next few years, hitchhiking her way across the country and making money through odd jobs, mostly pick pocketing and mugging people though.

-At 19, she was in a city just outside of LA called Bellwood, where she ended up trying to mug Devin Levin

-Devin Levin was a hard simper and ended up asking her out after disarming her.

-Devin helped her find a job and an apartment, and soon they start a relationship, marking the first time Deb had ever felt like her life was stable and happy.

-Devin eventually convinced Deb to reach out to her sister, who still had her old phone number (Deb was not expecting that when she agreed to give her a call). After yelling at her for having Nancy worried sick for years, she broke down crying so happy to know Deb was alive and well.

-Nancy did have to be the one to tell Deb that their mother died from suicide a year after she left.

-Deb, while still obviously upset, had kind of assumed that happened in the intervening years.

-Nancy stopped speaking to their father after their mom died, and Deb sure wasn't eager to start talking to him again. So at this point their family was just them and Nancy's husband and kids.

-Deb became a mom at 23 and married Devin at a courthouse while she was pregnant. Their honeymoon was a weekend getaway to Santa Barbara.

-Nancy flew out to California with her husband and now three kids in tow to stand witness for the wedding, and she flew back alone a few months later to meet her nephew and help Deb settle into being a new mom.

-Kevin was 2 when Devin died and Deb just kind of spiraled from there, starting to drink while she sat shiva for him.

-Deb moved back to New York to be closer to her sister again. Nancy and her family were living Yonkers at that point so that's were Deb found a place for her and Kevin.

-In addition to her grief and addiction, Deb's life was not made easier by the fact that she found herself having to work two jobs to keep a roof over their heads and having to leave Kevin with Nancy for most of the day.

-She showed up to her waitress job drunk and her boss scrambled to find someone to take take her home. A trucker named Harvey Hackett who was at the diner for a union meeting volunteered.

-Harvey came by the next day to check on her, and that's how their relationship started.

-Harvey signed her up for AA meetings and, once Deb was sober enough, started teaching her how to drive a truck.

-Deb may not have loved Harvey in the way she loved Devin, she never could've loved anyone like that again. But he was a good man who wanted to take care of her and Kevin, and at that point that was all she wanted.

-They got married when Kevin was 4 and as we know that ended up being the worst decision of Deb's life.

-Meanwhile, things in Kevin's life weren't all that great, even before Harvey started to fear him.

-Nancy's kids (Amanda, who was 7 years older than Kevin, Mikey who was 5 years older, and Josh who was 2 years older) did not adjust well to an aunt they only met once and her kid all of a sudden coming back into their lives, and in addition to that their mom was now practically raising their cousin alongside them.

-It certainly didn't help that Nancy almost immediately started including Kevin whenever she called her kids her munchkins, and even called him Kevala the way she called them Amala, Mikala, and Joshala.

-So already they were inclined to ostracize Kevin, and that only got worse once his powers started developing and regularly short circuiting their electronics.

-Things came to a head when Kevin one day followed them to their treehouse and Amanda pretended she was going to push him out, scaring him enough that he unintentionally shocked her and left a third degree burn.

-Nancy and Deb, after a long talk with a lot yelling and crying and cheesecake, decided it would be safest for Kevin if Deb found other babysitters, which she could now afford with her and Harvey being unionized truckers.

-Nancy was absolutely heartbroken about this and cried on her last day watching him. Amanda, still mad about her burn, convinced Kevin that Nancy was crying because she thought Kevin was a freak just as much as the kids did.

-Until he ran away, Kevin ended up having a long, long list of babysitters who were all scared off by his powers at one point or another.

-Eventually Harvey and Deb started working their schedules so that at least one would be home all the time, meaning they started to see each other much less.

-While Deb and Nancy understood that Kevin's power outbursts were something he couldn't control and completely tied to his emotional state, Harvey did not.

-It didn't help that Harvey and Deb had very different parenting styles in general, with Harvey believing Deb was too permissive and Deb believing Harvey's approach was "totalitarian dogshit"

-So whenever Deb was home Kevin, while still struggling, was a lot more happy and behaved than when Harvey was the one who was home.

-A lot of Kevin's acting out was him being a kid who's stepfather feared him and him obviously not having the tools to deal with that since he was like 7.

-The rare time Deb and Harvey had together was often spent fighting about parenting, and Kevin just came to hate Harvey's presence in general, especially with Amanda's words still in the back of his head after all these years.

-On that fateful day when Kevin accidentally destroyed the house, Harvey just completely lost it.

-He said Kevin's mother suffered so much because of him, because of the pressure of having a freak son.

-This, combined with his experience with Amanda, is what convinced Kevin that his mother was going to reject him.

-After Kevin ran away, Deb and Nancy's family searched everywhere for him. Now faced with the prospect of never seeing him again, the now teenaged Amanda, Mikey, and Josh were certainly feeling a lot of guilt for how they treated him as kids and how much they tried to ignore what they did as they got older.

-Harvey and Deb's divorce was very messy, to put it mildely

-Harvey, a smart man, moved to the other side of the country just to avoid Nancy and Ira, whom he now feared even more than Deb. With Deb, he had hurt her baby. With Nancy, he had hurt her baby AND her baby sister.

-Once Kevin reunited with Deb, he reunited with Nancy. He still has no contact with his cousins though.

-Why Harvey was chosen to be the one to talk Ultimate Kevin down instead of Deb or Nancy is a mystery only God knows.

#ben 10 #ben 10 alien force #ben 10 ultimate alien #kevin levin #i just have a lot of feelings about this woman who's only had three lines in the entire franchise okay #and kevin but i think that goes without saying at this point if you just look at my blog #this is also very long bc this is what i think about when customers are yelling at me about their phone not working #which means i'm always thinking about this

10 notes · View notes

wonderfulworldofmichaelford · 4 years

Text

Psycho Analysis: Jason Voorhees

(WARNING! He’s back! THE MAN BEHIND THE MASK!)

...ki ki, ki, ma ma ma...

The slasher subgenre of horror has plenty of villains, but the key to any great slasher movie (aside from quality kills) is having a memorable slasher who sticks in the mind of those who watch the film. You can’t just have some generic evil guy and expect the killer to be cool and memorable; you need to give them a fun gimmick. And in the scores of slashers who populated the 80s, there are few out there who are quite as legendary and iconic as Jason Voorhees. Jason is one of those few villains who, even if you’ve never seen a single one of his movies, you’d know on sight.

Even now, with him being absent from cinema for over a decade at the time of this writing due to legal disputes (though not from other mediums such as video games), Jason is still a household name, still remembered as one of the coolest, creepiest horror villains to come out of the 80s. In fact, I’d even go so far as to say Jason might be the greatest slasher villain of all time. So let’s take a look at the man behind the mask and see what we’ve got here.

Motivation/Goals: Jason as a villain is motivated by two main factors: a desire to make his mother proud, and a desire to get vengeance for how he was treated. The first few movies are all Jason taking out his anger over his mother’s death on anyone near Camp Crystal Lake. In earlier movies, he’d really only kill anyone who invaded his territory, but later sequels had him expand his killing range by going to Manhattan, Springwood, and even outer space. Basically, Jason is motivated by revenge against a world that persecuted him, and a desire to impress his mother. The simplicity of his motivations is actually a great strength, because it means there doesn’t need to be constant time in each new film adding on to Jason’s lore like they do with Freddy, Michael Meyers, and so on. Jason kills kids who have sex, that’s it. Simple, clean, effective, and a vehicle for cool kills.

Performance: There are a LOT of people who have put on the hockey mask throughout the franchise, but perhaps the most well-known name is Kane Hodder, the hulking actor who portrayed Jason in the seventh through the tenth films. He’s certainly the Jason that will spring to mind when thinking of Jasons, but he’s the obvious one. His actor in Freddy vs. Jason, Ken Kirzinger, was chosen because he had kind eyes and could tower over Freddy, and amusingly he actually appeared in Jason Takes Manhattan as a huge chef Jason tosses aside. Then of course we have Ari Lehman, the man who cameoed as Jason at the end of the first film in the Carrie-esque jump scare, most notable because he is so proud of his role that he named his punk rock/heavy metal band First Jason.

And these are just the few I wanted to highlight here; the original continuity is ten movies worth of actors playing Jason, and he even has multiple actors in some films.

Final Fate: It depends on the movie. His mortal life is ended by a young Tommy Jarvis in The Final Chapter, but then he comes back in Jason Lives as a zombie, a zombie who is only incapacitated until Jason Takes Manhattan where he is seemingly killed off for good by the nightly flooding of the Manhattan sewers with radioactive sludge (likely a safety measure against C.H.U.D.s). But then he comes back in Jason Goes to Hell where his original body ends up obliterated for most of the movie until the ending, but soon after he’s dragged right down to, you guessed it, Hell. But then comes Jason X, and he’s brought to space where he finally ends up obliterated for real by falling through the atmosphere of a planet and burning up. And this isn’t getting into the numerous deaths from games, comics, and so on; Jason is a man who is very hard to kill.

Best Scene: What does one pick for the best scene? His sleeping bag kill from VII? The liquid nitrogen kill from Jason X? The numerous amusing scenes he has when he actually reaches Manhattan in Jason Takes Manhattan? It’s a tough choice, but honestly. I might just have to go with his corn field rave massacre in Freddy vs. Jason. It’s just so damn cool.

youtube

Final Thoughts & Score: Jason Voorhees is one of the great early slasher villains and, most impressively of all, he managed a remarkable level of consistency until the very end, at least compared to some of is peers. Compare to Michael Meyers, who had to constantly be rebooted because filmmakers kept trying to find ways to humanize and explan his motivations to the point that franchise has a fractured timeline to rival the Zelda series, or Freddy Krueger, who deteriorated from a terrifying psychopath who treated killing like a game to a non-stop quip machine that spent more time slinging one-liners than kills. Jason, while certainly going through some odd phases – recall the time he was a weird demon worm that could surf between bodies, or the time he went to space and became a cyborg – never really lost sight of the things that truly made him effective as a character.

Yes, Jason is a silent antagonist, but he says a lot with his deeds and actions. He’s a killing machine, but he certainly isn’t mindless, and he usually seems to have some sort of ethics that perhaps we don’t understand, but Jason certainly does. For instance, in later films Jason does not hurt animals, and once he’s a zombie he doesn’t kill children either. A lot of this likely stems from Jason essentially being a child in a deformed man’s body, and this goes a long to making him an interesting, tragic figure. Jason almost certainly doesn’t understand what he’s doing is wrong, and if he does, he’s almost certainly too blinded by rage to care, especially after becoming a zombie.

I think the underlying tragedy of Jason simply being a monster who only wanted to please his beloved mother and violently lashes out at those he sees, through his warped perspective, as the ones to blame makes him an interesting and complex character… and here’s the great thing! Unlike other slasher villains, this is all established very early on, and rather than continue piling on more and more backstory, the series decides to throw Jason into interesting situations. This is a problem that befell his slasher sibling Freddy; as cool as Freddy managed to be, every new film added more and more convoluted backstory rather than trying to put Freddy into an interesting scenario he could have interesting kills in. And the less said about Michael Meyers, the better. But Jason? They gave him all he needed in the first two movies, made him a zombie in the sixth, and then spent the rest of the series getting weird and creative. Jason is a villain effective because his simple characterization and motivation means he can slip into any sort of situation, be it fighting a telekinetic girl, going to Manhattan, fighting Freddy Krueger, fighting Ash Williams, slaughtering camp counselors en masse, or going to space.

It should be incredibly obvious Jason is an 11/10. He’s a testament to what makes a slasher villain great and memorable: he has a simple yet flexible mindset that allows him to be thrust into a variety of situations, he has an iconic outfit, he has an awesome weapon of choice, and he is parodied, referenced, and known throughout the world to this day. He has killer video game appearances in the likes of Mortal Kombat X and his own Friday the 13th game, he has tons of comics including ones where he takes on Freddy, Ash Williams, Leatherface, and even Uber Jason, and despite the obnoxious legal battles currently keeping him from appearing in any media to any great extent, you’d be hard pressed to find a person without even passing knowledge of Jason.

Here’s a few interesting notes, though – a lot of shout outs to Jason have characters using a chainsaw, which as we all know is the tool of Leatherface. Jason uses a machete for the most part but is very versatile, but even so the closest he ever came to using anything remotely like a chainsaw was in VII, where he used a weed whacker. Jason also didn’t gain his iconic look until the third film; in the second movie, Jason wore a burlap sack over his head. And finally, there’s a bit of trivia I’m sure most are aware of by now: Jason was not the killer in the first or fifth films. In the first film, the killer was actually Jason’s mother, Pamela Voorhees, and the fifth film Jason was still kind of dead so a copycat killer named Roy Burns took his place. So hey, while we’re here, let’s talk about these Jason adjacent killers:

Pamela Voorhees is one of those rare female slasher villains, and the fact she is so absolutely amazing makes you wonder why there aren’t more. She’s basically to Friday the 13th what The Boss is to the Metal Gear Franchise – an all-important female figure whose actions completely and totally changed the course of history. Her quest to avenge her son’s death led to her slaughtering people at Camp Crystal Lake, which led to her death… but then it turns out her son had lived all along, and her death served only to make him into a violent, vengeful monster. Add on the fact that Pamela was using the Necronomicon Ex-Mortis on her son to empower him (supported by Jason Goes to Hell and Freddy vs, Jason vs. Ash), and Pamela is indirectly responsible for every murder in the series. Or perhaps even directly, if it really is her voice Jason hears in some of the movies and the Friday the 13th game. Betsy Palmer absolutely kills it in the role (pun intended), and it’s a shame she was annoyed by the role for years, though she apparently did eventually come around and embrace it. As one of the great ladies of horror, Pamela definitely earns a 10/10.

But now let’s take a look at the opposite end of the spectrum with Roy Burns. The idea of a Jason copycat killer is not entirely without merit, and for the most part, the movie is incredibly solid, with good kills on Roy’s part. The issue comes with the ultimate reveal of his identity, which turns the entire movie into an utterly convoluted mess that makes absolutely no sense. The lack of buildup of any kind, save for two brief scenes prior to his unmasking, makes the twist lack any sort of punch, and his reasoning for killing people is just absurd. Hell, he isn’t even targeting the one person responsible – that guy gets away with a jail sentence while Roy butchers innocent people!

Basically, Roy fails at being an engaging replacement for Jason due to the film’s finale, which goes out of its way to undermine him and everything you just watched. It should come as no shock that he’s a 1/10. Still, unlike most villains with this rating, he does have a little bit of redemption due to being playable in the Friday the 13th game. You’re just controlling him as he kills without any worry about stupid backstory, so hey, I’ll give Roy that at least, and I can’t deny his mask is pretty sick.

UPDATE: Ok, I was way too hard n Roy. Yes, his motivation is stupid and poorly explained, his killings are absolutely ridiculous and make no sense with his motivation, I still stand by all that... and yet, I’m watching this movie for creative kills, right? And boy does our boy Roy provide. He slaughters his way through these oneshot characters with gusto! I think I’m just still bitter he’s not Jason, but I like Season of the Witch even if Michael Meyers isn’t there, so maybe I’m just too harsh on Roy and his movie in general. I think his dumbass motivations hold him back, but I think the correct score for him is a 6/10. He is most certainly not abysmal enough for a one and I was really foolish to issue a score like that. Sometimes even I have trouble overcoming my biases.

It’s interesting, though, that both of these characters tend to be forgotten, overshadowed by Jason. In the intro of Scream, Drew Barrymore’s doomed character accidentally says Jason is the killer of the first film, rather than Pamela. And I think that while that is likely a common misconception, it’s less because Pamela is forgettable but more that Jason is so overwhelmingly cool that he overshadows anyone else in these films with few exceptions. Jason may very well be the greatest slasher villain of all time, and if you disagree, well, who won in Freddy Vs. Jason again, hmmm?

And more importantly, what slasher villain has an Alice Cooper song dedicated to him?

youtube

I rest my case.

#Psycho Analysis #Jason Voorhees #Kane Hodder #Friday the 13th

20 notes · View notes

yikesharringrove · 4 years

Note

How about a continuation of the MafiaAU where most people just see Steve as Billy's arm candy, his weakness but he is really the more ruthless of the two or the power behind the throne? Like Steve has been learning the business his whole life and takes advantage of the way people talk more freely around him because they see him as too dumb to understand. Billy gets it though and loves his pretty little viper.

So in my little brain, the mafia au was modern, but I don’t think i ever specified that, so yee.

More murder boyfriends, some fucking, this is also totally based on that quote from My Big Fat Greek Wedding where the mom says something like “The man may be the head, but the woman is the neck and can turn him any which way she likes.”

They also fully use torture (of another person) as foreplay.

Under the cut.

Read on ao3

When Billy and Steve got married, they merged their power completely.

Billy was the de facto head of their new combined assets, the cities the Harringtons had control of, as well as the front businesses, and of course, the Chicago branch that Billy owned.

Billy gave Steve many wedding presents, would shower him with clothes and trinkets, ornate knives and guns. But he surprised him, on their wedding knight with one perfect one.

“Bill, you shouldn’t have.”

Steve’s father was bound and gagged, tied to a chair in a warehouse on the edge of the city, close to the docks of Lake Michigan, ready for the body to be dumped.

“Wanted to get you something special, Kitten.” Billy was running his fingers along his tools, the knives and saws he used for his art. Steve was pressed against his back, peppering kisses to his neck, eyes dark and trained on his father. “You wanna help, or just wanna watch.”

“I think I’ll watch, for now. Wouldn’t mind finishing him off, though.” Billy turned around, connecting their mouths, one hand roughly holding the back of Steve’s head, the other holding a sharp knife.

They spent the whole night in the warehouse, Billy carving patterns into Mr. Harrington’s flesh, Steve whispering to him all the reasons he deserved it, the way he peddled his own son to make his connections, how the Harrington name was built on Steve’s body.

It was a slow death, Steve only dealt the final blow as the sun was threatening to rise. They walked to the car, bloody hands intertwined as they let their men deal with the body, dispose of the evidence.

The next day was spent making love, slowly, passionately, as their own free agents, neither of them having to answer to anyone, wanting to answer to each other.

When Steve’s father was the head of the Harrington estate, he would often talk loudly and freely about how disappointing his son is. He would call him an idiot, a good for nothing child. Would say the only thing he was good for was being bent over. Would send him city to city to let potential allies do just that. He would give him to his henchmen, the cronies he sent out on runs and jobs, would let them have him for a night as a treat.

But Steve let this happen.

He wanted everyone to think he was dumb, because that was his access. People did a lot of talking around him, always figured he didn’t understand the codes they used. He would steal documents off of desks when the man who owned it would be too busy to notice him slip it into his discarded pants. He knew everything about everyone, and Billy Hargrove was the first person to see that.

After their marriage, after the Harrington-Hargrove mob was created, was built, Billy was only more feared.

He had extreme power, and has used dirty tricks to get it. But Steve, not many people gave a second thought to Steve. He was the beautiful arm candy. Always had been, so why wouldn’t that be his role here?

Many thought Billy had only married him to gain the Harrington power, some decided Steve was being held against his will. Some figured it was all a front, an arrangement for Billy to get more power, and they wanted little to do with one another.

The people who said that, almost always wound up dead.

Steve would be an integral part to every meeting Billy had. He would come in, would perch on the arm of Billy’s chair, and would say very little. He would give tittering laughs and throw love-struck looks to Billy.

But when everyone cleared out, he would give Billy everything he knew.

Steve was always in tune with any gossip. He knew people, and never forgot a face. He would tell Billy which men were trustworthy, who was waiting to double cross them. He would point out who had hit on him, and who he had to let fuck him before they were partnered.

Billy always took Steve with him when he was eliminating these men. He wanted them to know exactly who had condemned them, told them they had underestimated Steve in a big way, always let Steve take the kill shot.

Billy is seen to have all the power, but Steve calls the shots, standing behind him, whispering in his ear.

Billy was the first to know about the Bonanno family’s plans to kill Billy. Had heard a few Bonanno lap dogs talking about it as he made his way to Billy’s office, had heard them say Hargrove won’t fuckin’ know what hit him and once he’s out of the way, I’m takin’ that pretty little piece of ass for myself.

He had fluttered his eyelashes as he passe, offered them a simpering good morning and entered Billy’s office.

He leaned down to Billy, pretended to give him a kiss on the cheek.

“Four attack dogs, waiting for signal to ambush.” He groped for the gun Billy kept under his jacket the silencer screwed on tight. He whipped around and shot the head of the Bonanno family, one bullet, right between the eyes.

“Good shot, Princess.” Billy admired his handiwork, always so proud. He directed his own lap dogs to take care of the four in the hallway. They were brought into the office, hands cuffed behind their backs, guns pressed to their temples.

“Heard them say when their boss came out, they were gonna run in here, gonna take you out. Steve stood in front of one, let his fingers drift over his jaw. “This one said he was gonna take me for himself.” He kneeled in front of him, one hand gripped roughly in his hair. “Go ahead, tell my husband what you said. I’m sure he wants to know.”

The man’s eyes were panicked, shifting between Steve’s sweet smile and Billy, leaning against the desk, gun held lazily in his hand.

“Please, share what exactly you said.” Billy’s grin was viscous.

“I, uh, said I’d take him for, for myself.” Steve tutted.

“Pretty sure there was more you said.” Steve stood back up, moving to Billy, giving him his best doe eyes. “He said I was a pretty little piece of ass. Said I’m probably real tight. Said he’d love to,” he took a breath, one finger curling in Billy’s belt loop. “Force himself in.”

Billy shot the first man, one bullet straight in the face. He was seething. No one was allowed to talk about his baby like that. He shot the next two, leaving the one that had spoken of last, nodding at his guards to take the rest of the bodies out of here, to throw him on the chair across for Billy’s desk.

“So, what do you think gives you the right to say those things about my husband.” He brought out a flat box, the velvet insides holding his blades, the sharp silver ones Steve had given him as a wedding gift. “You plan to kill me, and to rape my sweet baby.” He tutted. The man in the chair was sweating, his eyes wide. Billy held the box out, standing to the side. “Kitten, I think you should have the honors.”

Steve had watched Billy work a hundred times. He knew where to cut, which tendons to sever to cause the most pain. He was as artful as Billy, less practiced, but still sure.

He didn’t make too many cuts, didn’t want the man to bleed out. He situated himself on the desk, in plain view of the man and his own husband.

“I think we should give him a little show. What do you think, Darling?” He was looking at Billy through his lashes. “Let him see what he’ll be missing out on.” He took off his jacket, undoing the buttons on his shirt slowly, revealing soft, pale skin.

“I think that’s a wonderful idea, Kitten.” Billy stepped in to undress Steve the rest of the way, using their belts to strap the man down to the chair, making sure he couldn’t escape while they were wrapped up in one another.

Steve stared at him darkly, really made a show of fingering himself, opening himself up for Billy. The man obviously didn’t know where to look, wanted to watch the three fingers disappearing into that dusky pink entrance.

“You’re allowed to watch. We’re putting on a show, just for you.” Steve purred out, standing to turn around, bend over the desk, whole exposed, wet with lube and stretched out.

Billy shifted him around, spread him out on his back, legs spread open, giving the man a side view of their fucking.

Billy didn’t hold back, was rough with Steve, yanked his hair and bit at him, leaving marks in the spaces between fading ones.

Steve was arching, his noises high-pitched, breathy, loud. He kept his eyes open, trained on the man beside them, as if to say this could’ve been you.

He came quickly, bent up and hard from the events of the day, the way they were being watched. He begged Billy to touch him, to let him cum. Billy obliged, as he always would, stroking him fast and hard, fucking him through it as his back drew tight, as he screamed, as he shot off all over himself.

Billy forced him to his knees, finishing all over Steve’s face. Steve stayed there, breathing heavily and naked, face covered in thick white cum, blinking slowly at the man, licking his lips.

Billy retrieved his gun and the man could feel it against his temple.

“Next time, don’t forget who the real boss is.”

Steve grinned as the shot rang out.

#don't know WHERE this came from #honestly im kinda shook #i need to turn inward and like #study mysefl a lil #yikes write #harringrove #mafia au #steve harrington #steve harrington x billy hargrove #billy hargrove x steve harrington #billy hargrove #harringrove fic #harringrove ficlet #harringrove drabble

106 notes · View notes

mittens-220 · 4 years

Text

Hataraku Maou-sama! Volume 21 Detailed Chinese Summary Part 6

Detailed preview summary: Read here

Detailed summary part 1: Read here

Detailed summary part 2: Read here

Detailed summary part 3: Read here

Detailed summary part 4: Read here

Detailed summary part 5: Read here

Demon King and Hero Defeat God

Scene returns to Heaven. Everyone saw that Ignora forcefully put almost all the angels who were still alive to sleep, Ignora said this was done was because Nuxe needed it, and a long time was needed before everything could be settled, so just let them sleep first. Everyone could not accept it, at this time, Maou and Kamael were fighting and crashed into the room again, the scene was chaotic. Emi said to Ignora, let’s forget about those big matters first, I only know that with how Nuxe and Lucifer are, if we listen to you completely and cause this type of children to increase, the world will get destroyed! Then it was likely Lucifer who said all of you suddenly barged in and caused trouble, then lecture others about family relationships. Emi asked, could it be that he was missing home now? Lucifer said how is that possible, but your states are too consistent compared to normal, right? And the enemy boss is this calm for some reason, she is clearly at a disadvantage. Emi asked Ignora, your goal has been achieved? You really do not wish to resist anymore? Ignora said, all of do not wish to kill people unnecessarily, isn’t that right, Emilia-chan? (By the way, she calls herself Obaa-san when talking to Emi) Look, that Daath looks like my son, he chose Lucifer, as a mother, there is nothing which will make me any happier than this.

Ignora said perhaps it was especially easy for her to miss her child at an older age, we were exiled by our home planet, but we were recognised as the true humans of this world, the proof is mine and that person’s cute child. I know you “Ente Isla people” are very angry at us and the Tree of Life, but we do not wish to eradicate all of you, we want to use our power to monitor the whole of Ente Isla and manage the Tree of Life, creating a planet and humans which will definitely not be destroyed. Therefore, we need to show that we are the highest ranked existence in this planet. I want to protect this planet and humans, and have been fighting for this the whole time. Even though Sataniel denied me, but look, in the end, the Tree of Life judged that we were correct, and because of this, manifested using Lucifer’s appearance.

Emi asked Utsushihara, is this the case? Utsushihara said that is also that kind of situation, that’s why Amane was very anxious that I actually did not choose the native people, but the aliens instead. With this, there might be a conflict between Sephirah, what Ignora said is basically true. When they were chatting, Maou and Kamael were still fighting.

Utsushihara said, but to be more accurate, we chose Lucifer, the son of Ignora and Sataniel, but we did not choose the “angels”. Then he produced a small piece of metal in his hand, and said it was easy since Yesod and Malkuth are in your brain, then passed the ring to Emi, saying that with this, you are the strongest in the universe. Emi understood everything after putting on the ring, and Utsushihara became another consciousness in her head. The holy sword appeared in her hand, it was made up of light. Utsushihara said that I was only a Yesod which was coincidentally born from a Yesod fragment, for me, who is Daath and Yesod, I am the judge of the Tree of Life’s future, I yearn for a peaceful life for the hosts of the planet more than anyone else, and the correct Tree of Life and the Sephirah children have to…… he controlled Emi’s movements and rushed towards Kamael, and with one cut, split the armour after the merger between Kamael and Malkuth, then a white explosion of holy magic was produced from Kamael’s whole body and dissipated, he turned back into a burly man with purple hair and fainted.

Once Kamael collapsed, Eros also had a huge reduction in battle ability. Maou remembered this was similar to the arrow which Chiho shot at Raguel when she was controlled by Lailah in volume 5, which was known as “falling”, the effect from Yesod, Sariel likely had a Yesod fragment in his eye. Seeing Emi was already used to the new method of fighting, Utsushihara hugged Nuxe and separated, that’s right, we chose them, which means that we only acknowledged that they want to protect humans. Therefore, the “Ente Isla humans” who we acknowledge will lose all the power of miracles one day. Ignora was stunned. Emi asked if they would lose their immortality, Utsushihara said he was not sure, because their immortality was researched via science and not via a miracle power like spells and magic, so they could only see and wait.

Ignora was still in shock, not expecting such a result from being selected. She called out for Lucifer helplessly and Lucifer had already came up behind her during an unknown time and hugged her from behind. Lucifer said that he actually really liked his own life, but once he thought about the past, he realised that he had never been loved. His mother was obsessed with research, his father was very ambitious, these two people treated him as a tool to prove that they were correct and always locked him in a chamber, no matter what kind of grand reason that had, this was just abuse. Lucifer said, I agreed to help Olba to return to Heaven in the past, thinking about it now, I only wanted to resolve my confusion from when I was young. Then he hugged Ignora tightly, telling Alas=Ramus, this is your enemy, you deal with her.

Emi pointed the tip of her sword towards Ignora, Ignora did not struggle at all, but she could not do it at all, this stalemate went on for a while, Maou and Ashiya who finally arrived pull them apart. Ashiya said that if even they did not kill her, allowing her to lose her power now is not a good move, they can still make use of her in many ways. Maou said, you don’t want to kill her, right? Your killing aura when you seriously want to kill someone, I know it the best. Emi reverted to her original self, but Alas=Ramus jumped out on her own, putting Ignora’s hand on her head, Ignora’s hair also turned back to purple. Lucifer let go of his mother and said I thought you would definitely kill her, I didn’t expect you to become soft-hearted. Emi said do not use me for your own grudge. For the hatred in your life, use your own power to fulfil it. What is left is just the clean up after the battle.

Scene changed to three years later, Emerada brought over a bunch of Ente Isla currently to exchange to Japanese yen from the landlady, and even went to enjoy MgRonalds’ air conditioning with Alberto. Libicocco in formal wear was very handsome. He was participating in the full time employee training and would be able to take up a post next year if he passes. The Sephirah came to Earth because in the summit meeting, the holy sword was taken out to threaten others and frightened the humans, so they chased the Sephirah over to “recuperate/rehabilitate”. Lucifer is in charge of managing them. Everyone knows that Ignora was Maou’s neighbour. During summer this year, the Landlady barged in forcefully to install air conditioning, but from the compressor outside, it seemed like the air conditioning was rarely used. The others were all very worried, but Lucifer nonchalantly said that she was the type of person who was very stubborn about staying alive, and her heart would not die that easily. Maou, you should watch her closely, do not allow her to interfere with my current job. Maou said, that is your mother, why aren’t you taking responsibility. Lucifer said that he did not raise me, why do I have to provide for her, she should be thanking me for the fact that I am taking care of these Sephirah. Then it was mentioned that three years ago, they captured Ignora and locked her in Suzuno’s room in the Theocracy, she knocked on the wall for a long time, but she stopped doing that in the end.

#hataraku maou-sama!#hataraku maou-sama #the devil is a part timer

13 notes · View notes

unikornu · 4 years

Photo

Page 9, The Right Rythm

-Slow down there Boss, we are just halfway through the evening. Gage snapped the beer from Lucy's hand and took a sip himself. They were sitting at the corner table in Cappy's Cafe while the pack was drinking themselves dead after getting the news about taking Safari park. Keith was almost running around them trying to keep up with delivering the drinks to the thirsty savages and not to slip on blood that he still didn't manage to clean after last fool that tried to push on alpha crap against Mason. Meanwhile Lauren was just happy to squeeze more caps and making sure no one is disturbing the business couple, having her shotgun ready under the bar.

- Hey, cmon i deserve a break after dealing with that rampage zoo crocodiles... she rolled her eyes and sighted deeply.

-Gators, Boss...they are gators. Not crocodiles, jezz. Have a bit of respect since they almost tore us apart. Gage shook a finger in her face and passed the bottle back. -And, hey that is actually my beer, get your own booze woman. Gage protested but she turned away and gulped down everything that was left.

-You mean that "was" your beer. Ye...sorry, i forgot my "purse" at home. She hiccupped and smiled with one corner of her lips. He scratched the back of his head and looked away trying to stay serious.

It has been a completely crazy turn around in her life, from being lost and lonely, squeezed between what is right and not, almost giving up on herself. Now she is the leader to the people for which rules exist only to not kill each other and in the name of profit. Nisha was damn right about it at least. The rules..they stopped existing at the moment people started dropping bombs on each other officially.

Lucy kissed goodbye her pre-war memories and moral backbone once again in Far Harbor, the night that Nucleus threw away its last radioactive breath in the air. She wasn't saint back then, before the bombs either, having a loving partner, living good, almost luxurious life while working with one of the most crooked figures in the crime society as personal assistant and agent. Once it was all gone within one explosion she missed mostly the warm and calm feeling, landing up in the bed, feeling safe with someone who she trusts and trusts her back. Now, passing each week in Nuka World it feels again like she has that warm spot again but this time it's better because no lies were included, to anyone, not even herself. Crime life was luring her from the very beginning to its bloody and thirsty claws but she wanted to be smart about it, not getting caught guaranteed that wheels and cogs kept moving forward into the direction they wanted, not the one they are told to pick. And justice was always served blindly and flat, rules were rules and no one cared about flipping the coin to the other side or treating each case in its own light. And she never dared to question her pre-war boss who trainer her and shaped into the sharpest tool he could ever have.

Lucy muttered under her nose being lost in her philosophical thoughts and past, staring at the raiders in the background but she snapped out when the cold wet glass touched her shoulder.

-Lets have another round and then head back, taking another park doesn't mean that the job is done for us eh? She took a beer he handed her opening slightly her mouth to say something but nothing came out.

-You okay, Boss? You seemed very interested into the void you've been staring at the last five minutes while i was trying to get us beer without punching anyone on the way. Raider sat back across the table and raised a bottle to give it a gentle hit with hers before taking a long sip.

-Gage...what made you the person you are now? I would like to hear your part of the past since we seem to be stuck together a while now.

-How i became a foul mouthed one eyed son of a bitch? He pushed his chair closer and crossed his both hands on the table. -Ye...well, fair enough but that will cost us yet another beer.

Lucy managed to scrape few more caps from the pocket and pushed them towards him. - I'm all ears then.

- I grew up in a typical settlement like many out there, being an ordinary kid but i realized fast that my parents were just a couple of pushovers, cowards, same as the rest of dem folks...no one there would stand up for himself and as a kid i couldn't understand why. Was pretty much rebellious from the start, rules were not to my liking too much...so one day i see them kneeling down again because of some stupid fuck with a gun and i just realized i won't end up like them, not like this. Gage poped a cigarette from the pack and light it up while continuing his story on how he was also lost, looking for a place that would make his guts feel right while trying to get by day by day doing various jobs and assisting in caravans.

-They always took what they wanted and were on their way, no talking, no deals, just pure will to do what you want, take what you want to survive. Those were the only rules that made sense and stick to my head back then so when i met a gang again i joined up and worked my way up, all the way here. The only reason i ain't dead yet tho is that i knew how to put a barrier between doing what ya want and losing control. He popped open a lighter and put a fire under a cigarette that Lucy gently placed between her lips.��

-What about you, Boss? We all know your famous story of being the living human ice cube but...what was before exactly, that gal like you wants to nest with a bunch of dirty bastards like us even after war, hm? He scanned her smooth face ignoring the scar across her eye as he saw enough of them in his life and smashed the cigarette in the ashtray.

-Well, back then being the one against the rules would put you very fast out of the game, in jail or worse and i didn't want that to happen. Seeing the world out of system and its underground opened my eyes too. I thought that becoming a lawyer i would be de one serving the right justice but i realized my hands were always tied by someone above...the system so i...took the other path and did what i think was right. Secretly turned to a crime part of life, saw all of it. Fell deeper and deeper and became liking it, living it, maybe a bit too much at times. And now this world...? No laws, no jail, everyone with his own life and gun, it just feels...right, for me at least. I don't have to lie anymore to anyone. She puffed a cloud of smoke into Gage's face and finished her beer.

As the time passed half of the raiders were dead drunk lying down all over the cafe. Gage and Lucy decided its a good moment to leave so they stood up from the table and walked over the drunks while heading to the exit.

They strolled back to Fizztop in silence, side by side, she knew her right hand man wasn't much of a talker so he had his well deserved break of silence, all the way to the top. It didn't last any longer tho. She turned on the radio and took her metal chest piece down, throwing it to the side.

- I have a gift for you...but i will want something in return. She kneeled next to bed pulling something round and white from under it, hiding it in her arms as she approached him at the couch.

-What kind of gift it is then that ya want something back for it eh? Gage was sitting on the couch like a true raider, with his arms crossed and legs spread awaiting for the reveal of surprise.

-Well, we are raiders after all huh, nothin ain't free like that? Anyway...i noticed you seem to be fond of certain...creatures while they were trying to eat us alive and i stumbled upon this in the pool in the reptile house. Gage relaxed his arms slowly and stood up with a surprised look in his eyes as she reveled her gift. It was...shiny and round, barely damaged.

-Boss...is it... a goddamnfucking gator egg? I...ayee.. dunno wut to say, shit. Will it actually...you know, pop out at some point? He asked and took it gently with his both hands running the fingers across the smooth shell and then putting it carefully on the pillow at the couch. - It might actually. Would be a decent addition once Mason or you train it properly. She nodded at him, her arms crossed this time, tapping a finger against her upper arm awaiting to hear the magic words that for Gage felt almost like grinding a sand paper against his tongue.

-Fuck...thank you, Boss. I will try not to break it i swear. There it was, finally. He smiled at her but this time it was a truly honest smile, the one that very few had occasion to see.

-Now my part of the deal big guy, dance with me. Gage smile turned fast into a half opened mouthed expression.

-Pardon...wut? Dance? Hell no. He shook his head and watched her snatching two shots of whiskey and coming back right at him.

-Cmoooon, this will help to loose that tension both in your legs and your head, and we are alone. Cmoon Gage, just one dance, i wouldn't trust anyone else with it after all those years... Her words, the trust, felt honest and warm in his ears.

-Shit...fine. But just that one time, Boss. I'm embarrassing myself here. He sighted and took down a shot in one gulp. They threw the empty shots away, the glass shattering into small pieces on the floor. He untied his rusty gold armor and threw it to the side letting it slide away.

-Let me show ya, and no back stabbing okay? Lucy joked and gently took his right hand and placed it on her back while putting her left hand right under back of his shoulder. Then she raised her right hand and ordered him to do the same.

-Stabbing...with this kind of dancing they were almost asking for it.

He tried not to look directly in her amber shiny eyes reflecting the night lights of Grillie's bar but it was proving difficult with so little free space left between them. As she started to guide him slowly after few stiff steps he finally gave in and relaxed. Did he felt embarrassed swinging around like that? Yeah. But deal is a deal and after so much effort and blood and bullets put together into taking the Nuka World he could let himself be embarrassed like that for a few minutes in exchange. Beside both of them could finally admit that they trust each other at this point, a bit at least.

#fallout 4 #fo4 #nuka world #lucy's diary #lucy feit #porter gage #screenshot #thrax's action poses

8 notes · View notes

angel-deux-writes · 4 years

Text

I don’t think I’ve ever talked about this On Here, but I really want to tell the story of the guy who put in my kitchen floors because it was terrifying

im putting it under a cut bc it’s probably not that long, but who knows.

(scrolled back up after i actually wrote it to confirm that it is in fact long)

Some backstory is that I was INCREDIBLY lucky and got my condo very cheap in a neighborhood I already knew I loved. The other unit I’d looked at was a full 30k over my budget, but this one was perfect because the owner hadn’t updated ANYTHING since it was built in 1985, so it was just...awful. Awful rugs, awful floors, awful walls. My dad is like...the dad who loves a project, so he was all “I can fix all of this except the floors!!! it’ll be great!!”, so I bought it. We hired a local company to do the floors, not wanting to go to Home Depot or whatever (Which i still support in theory, just......not this company lmao). Everything except the kitchen and bathroom was originally carpet. Hallways, stairs, every single room. And it was cheap industrial carpet, too. Like the kind in office buildings. The dude who did the carpet was like “what the fuck were they thinking???”

Also, one of the carpets had a truly upsetting rusty stain, so. My guest bedroom might be haunted.

Anyway, the carpet guy was great. He was the owner of the company, and he was older and very kind. I had my mom come over with me when he was doing the carpets, but I didn’t even need her there. He was cool. His son was in charge of the hardwood portion (I say “hardwood”. I mean, like, the cheapest laminate while still looking nice lmao). He was less great. He had a team of like 3 dudes and 1 lady who would show up and work, doing my office/dining room and upstairs hallway. I know carpet is easier, but the carpet guy took one day, and these guys took a week and a half. They messed up a few times, and it was kind of stressful, but overall it was okay. They had to redo all the subfloors, because condos built in 1985 were almost universally built in buckwild, impossible-to-explain ways, so it took forever. The hardwood guys were loud as hell, but they were nice!

At one point, one of the nicest guys accidentally broke a few of my kitchen tiles while putting in the transition from the wood to the tile. I was cool with it, tbh, but he offered a discount on a new kitchen floor because, shocker, the subfloor under the broken tile was really jacked up, and it wouldn’t be as simple as taking a tile from under the fridge and replacing it. I was like, okay, cool! We set it up.

I did not hear from them for four months. Which, I get it. It was a discounted job, so obviously they wanted to do full-price jobs first. I have no problem with that. The same hardwood guys came back to do the subfloor, and then they were like “okay [the owner’s son] will contact you about the tiles. That took about a week. Finally, I got a date. It was a Friday, a day when my sister was already working from home, so she was like “yeah, I can handle it.” She works in interior design, so she’s used to dealing with construction people, and she was REALLY useful when it came to talking down the son of the owner, who was like...every bad stereotype about contractors meshed with a used car salesman.

So I’m at work the day the tiling is supposed happen. My sister is fine at first, texting me about how the son showed up with one single guy, and then left, so it was only the single guy working. She was annoyed like “it’s supposed to take one day, right? That’s what they said? There’s no way he’s finishing at this pace. Why are they making this guy do the whole thing by himself?”. She called him “nice, kind of cute, but a very slow worker”. I was like ‘well, if they have to come back tomorrow, whatever, that’s fine’.”

Around 10:30 she starts texting me increasingly insane shit.

“He’s talking to himself downstairs? Maybe he’s on the phone”.

“He keeps dropping stuff and yelling SHIT really loudly.”

“Someone just showed up with a bag, and he let them in, and they chatted in the kitchen for like ten minutes, and then the person left, and they didn’t take the bag with them”.

“He’s standing outside using the tile cutter and SCREAMING whenever it’s on.”

“He’s out in the rain and shout-singing something while he’s cutting tile”

“He is BARKING LIKE A DOG TO THE TUNE OF THE RUGRATS THEME SONG CAN YOU PLEASE COME HOME”

I’m half convinced she’s making this shit up, but she’s uncomfortable so I tell my boss what’s going on and race home. When I get there, there’s a vaguely adam driver looking guy who seems nice enough. A little startled to see me, but we make pleasant conversation, I see that he’s not very far along, and then I go upstairs to see my sister. I brought her takeout as a treat, and we sit there for a while talking about normal things. Gradually, downstairs, the dude starts talking to himself. I’m thinking that’s still not THAT weird. Then he starts singing and clapping along. Okay, a BIT weird, but not terrible. I decide to go downstairs into the living room and play some Playstation. Like, maybe he thinks we can’t hear him upstairs and he’ll be more chill when i’m down there? NOPE! HE ABSOLUTELY WILL NOT! He does the barking thing again (and it is, in fact, the rugrats theme song), he’s working at a pace of about one tile per hour, and he starts singing a song that consists only of the word “bitch” over and over again.

I’m texting my dad, freaking out, and he tries to get in contact with the owner or his son, but nobody’s answering the phone. My other sister and her friend are on their way for game night. My sister’s boyfriend should be home soon from work, but not soon enough. It is, at this point, 7 pm. There is absolutely no chance he’s getting these tiles done today. He’s not even halfway done. My kitchen is VERY SMALL, by the way, so this reasonably could have been done in a day with two people, but I suspect that because it was a discount job, we got the discount treatment.

My other sister and her friend show up, and the guy is perfectly pleasant and normal to them. We all go upstairs into my sister’s room, and we sit there, waiting in silence for it to start again, hoping that maybe with more people in the house, he’ll be okay.

NOPE! He starts singing the “bitch” song again. I distinctly remember my other sister whispering “I love this song” and pretending to groove, which was kind of funny but NOT THE TIME. I’m sitting on my sister’s bed clutching a camp axe like a maniac, because I’m like “we are going to be killed by this giant kylo ren asshole”. I’m still texting my dad, who’s like “if you need me to come over, I can, i’m out of work”, but at this point it’s almost 8 and I’m also thinking about my neighbors. Like, he can’t be here at night. He just can’t. He’s so loud even just doing regular tile things!

I muster up LITERALLY EVERY IOTA OF COURAGE THAT I HAVE, and I head downstairs. I ask him when he’s planning on wrapping up, because I know there’s no way he’s going to finish tonight. He tells me it’ll probably take about two more hours. That is 1) absolutely not true and 2) not something I’m willing to deal with because I live in a condo with neighbors on either side of me, and one of my neighbors is a truck driver who gets up at like 4 am! So I explain that my friends and I have an obligation to get to, and I would love it if we could arrange for someone to continue the work tomorrow. He’s SUPER NICE ABOUT IT and is like “oh, okay, no problem!” He leaves. Just...walks into the rain. Leaves all his tools and his tile cutter. I move it inside because it was on my front porch and it is, again, raining.

My sister, a Nancy Drew Game fiend, starts searching the entire downstairs and eventually finds the plastic bag that someone brought him. My other sister, who is a nurse in a hospital that primarily treats overdose patients, is like “yep, that’s drug residue for sure”. I’m like, okay, so he didn’t hurt any of us, and he was nice, just....high and weird. But it’s over now, so whatever. My dad says he’ll call the owner’s son the next day, and everything’s cool. He also says that he, my mom, and my brother will all come over to watch the football game at my house the next day just to be there (which...im less than thrilled about the football part, but sure). I also beg my friend to drive up from the Cape to pick up his hat that he left at my condo over the summer just so he can chill for a few hours in the morning.

The next day, the same guy returns, with the owner’s son this time. The owner’s son is like “why did you only get this far along?” but otherwise doesn’t really say anything. The barking guy is TOTALLY FINE, totally polite. My friend lingers as long as he can, but there’s an ice storm coming, so he peaces out eventually. I’m alone for about an hour with the guy, and nothing happens. He’s quiet, even when the owner’s son peaces for a bit. My parents show up, we watch the football game, and nothing happens. I feel like A LUNATIC, because my dad is like “he seems fine now” and I’m like NO BUT YESTERDAY WAS TERRIFYING.

Anyway, so that’s the story. I didn’t end up saying anything to the owner’s son, but my dad reamed him out a bit for sending only one person to do a job meant for two. And now every time I drive by that business I suppress a shudder, and sometimes the barking version of the Rugrats theme song still gets stuck in my head.

#genuinely it was so so scary but he never even did anything? he was just weird #and almost definitely high #the barking thing was almost funny? like it would have been funny if he wasn't in my house

16 notes · View notes

ironwoman18 · 4 years

Text

We found love in a hopeless place part 9

Chapter 9: Our First Kiss

Early that day, while Spencer was with Emily. Max drove to pick up her younger sister, Eloise, because a pipe broke and the principal sent them home for the day.

When her sister got in the car and hugged her she asked "what's up with your car?"

"Oh Dad had to use it. His car is at the mechanical workshop so he dropped me at school and went to buy food and other things" Max nodded.

"Ok. Lucky I was out early today" she smiled at her "want to eat McDonald's?" Asked Max which made her sister smiled big and nodded. Max laughed and drove to the restaurant.

"So how are things with Spencer? The guy we met yesterday?"

"Well things are going good. He's the sweetest guy I ever met, a little awkward but it's cute" she smiled softly.

"You really like him, don't you?" Max nodded "what does he do?"

"He's a FBI agent"

"Really? That's awesome!" Said Eloise with a smile.

"Yeah but I feel like something just happened because he's out of job for a month. He hasn't talked about it and I don't want to make him uncomfortable"

"Why do you think so?"

"He said he had a nightmare last night and the fact that he's not working right now" she said as she parked the car close to the restaurant.

"Maybe he had a tough case. I heard that kind of jobs can cause PTSD"

"Of course I know it and I'm sure that was what brought him to the doctor where we met" Eloise nodded then they got out of the car and walked in the fast food restaurant.

They ordered two cheese burgers with fries and sodas. They sat down and started to eat then Max looked at her little sister "by the way... How did you know about the PTSD and the FBI?"

"Internet. I had to do an essay about the consequences of war in the army so I just made the connection with a FBI agent" she said matter-of-factly.

Max raised an eyebrow but smiled "of course, you always shock me with the information you discovered on internet"

"Internet is the best tool you could have" she laughed and ate a fry. Max also laughed and both ate and kept talking now and then about Max's work or Eloise's classes.

Their lunch was relaxed. Then Max drove to her dad's house and spent some time there.

When they arrived there was Michelle with her son, who hugged his aunts excited "aunt Max and aunt Ellie. I will go to the spelling competition!" He smiled big and both women smiled back and hugged him tight "The school's principal said I will go to a little competition a week after we start classes. It will be against other kids from the school"

"Congratulations buddy" said Max while ruffled his hair gentle.

"You will nail it Sammy" commented Eloise.

"Thank you aunts. I hope I don't lose my first competition"

"Nah you will do it great" Eloise and Max said at the same time.

"You own me an ice cream" said Eloise laughing and Max rolled her eyes but laughed too.

Then their father showed up with some coffee and some cake for his grandson.

They talked while the kid played with a tablet. Then Max got a message from Spencer asking if they could meet for coffee and she answered with a yes and excused herself with her family.

When she was gone the two sisters smirked "do you think this is the one for her?" Asked Michelle.

"I'm sure he is. She is crazy for him. Today she and I were talking and she quoted some of the things he told her. Even some random facts"

"Well, to be honest. I was getting worry after that idiot and her broke up. She hasn't had look luck with love"

"Yeah I will kill Mike if I see his face again" said Eloise with anger in her voice.

"Me too but back to Spencer" said the older sister "do you know about him?"

"Not much. Max kept some details about him to herself" they looked at Sam playing with some cars and making noises.

"He will come this Saturday maybe we can talk to him" suggested Michelle with a wicked smirk.

"I love your ideas!" Said the little sister excited and high-five her.

Meanwhile Max drove to the park Spencer told her to go. When she arrived she looked for him until she saw him sitting on a bench with a kid playing chess.

She smiled and walked to him "hey there" she said to him.

"Oh hey Max. These are Leonard and Patrick. I met them a few minutes ago and they wanted to play chess but didn't know the rules so while I was waiting. I taught them how to play"

"Really? And how old are you two?" Max asked softly looking at them.

"I'm 8 and my brother is 7" said Patrick then he looked at Spencer "is she your wife?"

They blushed and Spencer shook his head "No, we are dating but she's not even my girlfriend" he said looking at him.

"She's pretty. You should ask her. My mom always said that if you want something you should ask for it" he smiled innocently.

Max could see Spencer was uncomfortable, she bit her lower lip holding a laugh but his answer made her blush "I will think about it Pat" said Spencer smiling "ok kids. I have to go" they growled softly "but don't worry. If you want I can return tomorrow to teach you more" they smiled big "goodbye kids" he stood up and high-five them.

The couple walked in silence for a while then Max said "did they liked how you explained the game?"

"Kids understand easily the game. You just need to use the right words. An investigation said that teaching kids how to play chess will improve their social abilities, of course their math, language and logical thought" he told her "chest is easy to understand, the difficulties start when you have to learn strategies to win"

"My dad tried to teach me but I never understood" she blushed softly "I think my artistic brain couldn't handle to much math" she laughed.

"It's weird because I bet you can calculate pretty good" she raised her eyebrow "you know art is about proportions. You need to know the proper angle to draw a human being or know the right place to take a photo so the light show exactly what you want" she rubbed her chin thinking "it's all math"

"I think you are right" she looked up at him "but it's something we don't realize we are doing it"

"Exactly... I do calculations in my mind but I'm aware of that, you do it in automatic"

"Ok I understand" they arrived to a food truck that have coffee. They ordered and paid for it. When they had it they continued to walk "how was your meeting with your boss?"

"It wasn't a work meeting, she wanted to talk about me, ask me how I was and looked at me" he took a sip of his coffee "we met a long time and before she was my boss, we became friends and all the people at the BAU are like my family"

"Amazing, I feel the same about my job at the school. But sometimes I feel like I should be doing something different..."

"Like?"

"Like... Working in a museum because I know I won't be a great painter like Picasso or Van Gogh but I feel I could do more in a place where art is the main department"

"I used to think that. I wished to work in the cure of the schizophrenia or something like that but I ended up with the FBI" he looked at her "but then Emily showed me that I was helping people with my job there and I realized that I'm a better person because of this job"

She nodded and smiled at him "but it's stressful, right?"

"And sometimes dangerous" he said looking around.

"I can imagine" she looked at him. They stayed in silence for a few minutes. They finished their coffees and sat down "you aren't working because you developed a PTSD?" She asked.

He looked at her and sighed "yeah... I was having some symptoms"

"You don't have to tell me what happened"

"I want to but not today" he held her hand "you are becoming an important part of my life even though we just met a month ago" he looked at her "I'm not the kind of person who likes to express his feelings so when I do. It means a lot"

She looked at him "you too. And to show you I trust you, I will tell you why I had to go to the doctor..." She looked down.

"You don't have to Max..."

"But I want to Spencer" she looked around, the sky was getting darker and the park was getting emptier. She looked at him and smiled "it was two years ago... I met this guy... His name was Mike Davis. He was so sweet and kind, he was tall, he had brown hair and green eyes. A handsome man... We started to date and it was wonderful" she looked down "a few months later we moved together. After that he became something totally different. He treated me horrible, he never hurted me with his fists but he used terrible words to me... He made me feel like an idiot" Spencer felt the need to look for him and punched him.

"You had the mentality of an abused woman... No matter if he ever hit you or not"

"Yeah I defended him and he pulled me away from my family. We were always very close but he managed to break us" she had tears in her eyes. He rubbed her back waiting for her to continue "a few months ago I finally ended that after realizing what was happening. He left to New Jersey and then we met at the doctor"

"Did you talk to her? About this?" She nodded.

"Yes and I told her that I met a man who was helping me to move on and realized that not all men are like Mike" he smiled softly "I never talked about this with people outside my family and closed friends"

He held her hand "I promise that I will tell you what happened to me" he promised "maybe in a private place because it's something really bad" she nodded and held his hand tightly.

"Ok Spence" and without thinking she leaned in to kiss him. The kiss was slow and sweet, he rubbed her cheek gently in the kiss. They broke the kiss slowly but left their forehead together and eyes closed, they smiled.

OOooOOooOO

After next chapter I will start watching season 13 and use some events on the fic. In fact I want to add the guy from New Orleans.

#spencer reid #criminal mind #maxine brenner #maxcer #fanfiction

5 notes · View notes

firebirdsdaughter · 4 years

Note

The whole issue with Korenosuke pretty much boils down to brainwashing and slavery when it comes to Humagears. They are allowed to keep existing after reaching singularity if they chose to continue serving humans. Should they decide to have dreams beyond that, they need to be destroyed because god forbid they think for themselves and want a better life. To me this doesn't sound good guy like (not even grey grey), rather this is a bad guy in the making.

Yes, I totally understand that, esp bc that’s kind of the impression I’ve been getting of him, too.

That’s why I described him as a ‘less sympathetic Shroud’ type character. To explain the comparison… Well, if you haven’t see KR Double, warning, spoilers:

Shroud is a mysterious woman responsible for giving the secondary Rider his powers, and who often cryptically helps the main pair w/ weapons. She seems rather fond of one of them (Philip), but keeps warning him away from the other (Shoutarou) bc he’s ‘not good for you.’ She seems to be an ally, but as time goes on, she shows herself to be increasingly ruthless and cold. It’s revealed she choose the secondary bc he was motivated by hatred and revenge for his family’s murders, but when he breaks free of that and warms up thanks to the heroes, she literally sends him to die bc he’s of ‘no further use to her.’ She repeatedly tries to get Shoutarou out of the picture bc of his kindness and heart, and eventually states that she intended for the secondary and Philip to be Double, and for it to be a tool/weapon of revenge, w/ no compassion or heart, in order to destroy the villains. Also, turns out she actually was partially responsible for the secondary’s family’s deaths bc she gave the guy who killed them the super powered item in the first place in the hopes he’d attack the bad guys, and when he killed innocent people, she felt bad, but choose to manipulate the survivor into becoming fuelled by revenge like her rather than taking responsibility. She wants the same thing the good guys do, but her actions are largely no better than those of the people she’s trying to stop. For her, though, it does eventually turn out that, however twisted it got, her actions were motivated by love; Philip is her son, she was initially trying to protect him, but got so consumed by her hatred of her husband for what he’d done and her own desire for revenge that she became no different. In the end, they prove to her that she was wrong and she agrees to stand down. There’s no big dramatic ‘everything you did is okay now.’ Doesn’t ask for forgiveness. She stands aside and trusts them to build a new way.

(wow, that was incoherent, sorry…)

Now, to me, the big difference between these two is that I doubt Korenosuke has the ‘my husband went nuts bc of green planet light stared treating our son like a tool and then horribly injured me when I tried to protect my child’ start of issues; or maybe he does, I don’t know. But I get the same ‘wants the same thing, but is doing it wrong and for the wrong reasons’ kind of vibe, where Korenosuke is like ‘yes, we must stop Gai from destroying all the HumaGear’ but it’s bc ‘they benefit humans’ rather than ‘bc they’re people who deserve to live,’ exactly… And there’s also the fact that we’re outside the show universe. In universe, I can def see him being a lovely, personable dude, good boss to his human employees. But, just like everyone else in the universe, he doesn’t see HumaGear as people. Like, I like the idea of finding out he had the view you mentioned proving to Aruto that this actually needs to go deeper than just ‘make people like having HumaGear around.’ Make him realise the shallowness and the issues w/ that form of ‘support’ and choose to work to change the attitude.

I say I don’t seem him as a big bad partially bc I don’t want him used as an excuse for Gai’s actions, but also bc Aruto wouldn’t necessarily need to physically fight him. I feel like that’d be more of an emotional thing, rejecting the assumptions of the past and starting a new future.

So it’s not hat he’s ‘good’ compared to Gai he’s just a… ‘Different’ sort of dangerous?

If that made any sense?

#Firebird Salt #I dunno if I made any sense… ^^;#I don't know if it will turn out like this either of course it's all just wild conjecture

2 notes · View notes

gamsbo · 4 years

Text

I ended up in a gang trunk with five men in Goldsmith, Texas as the first woman and, at that point in time, the only woman in the field for a major oil company. My son read a story I had written ( I am woman Hear Me Roar ) and said, “you should have written more and made it more like a story.” Well, I am not a writer, but he is right. Sadly, I do not know how to write that way.

Remembering the Oilfield – or The Good, The Bad, and the Ugly

The good: I have to laugh because I cannot remember that much good. I remember some “okay.” I did not make any lifelong friendships. I remember faces, not names. The only good is I made a very good living and as a single mom (after 2 years in the field) that was very important. So I will tell you a few stories. Mainly they fall in the category of bad and ugly.

On the first day, there were three of us about the same age: a black man, a Hispanic man, and a white woman – quite a motley crew. I think we all went in with the feeling that this was a job, and once we got the hang of it everything would be all right. Boy were we wrong! For the men it was not so bad, but for the white woman it was different.

So let me tell you about a few of the accidents and some of the unkind behavior I was met with. I want to tell you, the oilfield was neither the safest place in the world to work, nor was it the friendliest. That is not to say working in an office is always safe or friendly.

My first introduction into the oilfield was that of a “roustabout.” It just means that you are going to ride around in a big truck with about six other people and you fix whatever needs fixing. I did this for six months.

I really lucked out that the gang pusher (boss) was the most unsafe person I had ever met in my life. We would drive up to a pump jack to fix whatever needed to be fixed (pump jacks have counter weights. If you are hit by one you are dead). It was his job to turn the pump jack off. Well, he did not always do his job. About the time you were ready to work, you would hear “click” and you knew it was coming on. You had one option: hit the dirt and roll. I did that a few times. In fact, in a safety meeting we were asked if there was anything the company could do to make things safer and we all pointed to him.

So here goes a few more stories of the good, the bad and the ugly.

The gang truck as a rule has five people (at least the one I worked in did), the driver, the pusher and three others all called “roustabouts.” As I was thinking about writing about the gang truck something funny came back: the smell inside the truck. I can tell you without a doubt it could have used extra-strength air refresher, and I am not sure that would have helped. I had very little trouble with the men in the truck, except one and some of the things he did to me border on just downright meanness.

There were three in the truck that had started with me. When I think of my days in the gang truck, three things come to mind. First, in West Texas it gets really hot in the summer time, the rattlesnakes come out, and we killed quite a few. One day we killed one and one of the men thought it would be funny to scare me with it. He knew that I had a book that I would work in as we went from job to job (I was taking API courses) and would lay it on the seat when we got out of the truck, so he took the dead snake, put it under the book knowing that when I got back in the truck I would reach for the book and come up with a hand full of rattlesnake. I did and it scared me so badly that I went over the front seat, knocked the pusher out of the truck, and the snake landed on him.

Second, we were working on a tank and the same man felt it would be neat to throw the hatch open as I stood over it. I was hit with H2S (Hydrogen sulfide – it kills – look up “Andrew, Texas and H2S” in the late 70s or early 80s. It killed a family of 13 from a leak of a wellhead near their home). I do not remember two hours of my life. I am told they just sat me to the side. All I know is I had headache for about two days, but he was not through with me.

Third, he was acting pusher and we had to clean up after an oil leak. This involved a lot of digging and shoveling. I ended up with a blister that covered the palm of my hand. He thought it was funny even when I asked if I could stop digging. This is not the only things he said or did to me but I remember these because I did not understand why a person would treat another person they way he was treating me.

I said that I lucked out and got the most unsafe gang pusher in the world. Well, I can tell the weather by the pain from my neck to my big toe. He did not cause all of it . He was okay, but he was just waiting for retirement.

I said my big toe and shoulder hurt. This is because of the gang pusher (boss). First the big toe: it was just he and I and we had to go level some counter weights. To do that you have this big box of tools and you put it on a big bolt and hit the end of it with a 16-pound sledge hammer. Someone had to make sure that the tool did not come off the bolt as the other person hits the end of the tool (which is about a foot and a half long) so Mr. gang pusher says, “Lynda, put your foot up on the tool so I can hit it and it doesn’t move”. It did not move, because he missed and hit my foot. It bent the steel (I had on steel toed boots) into my big toe. Let your mind go to the word PAIN! I was scared to take my boot off because he was telling me my toe most likely had been cut off and will be in my sock when I take my boot off, because this happened to someone else he knew. The toe was still attached, but that was not the end of him teaching me how to work in the oilfield.

Yep, it was just the two of us again and we had to do some work on a pump jack (not one of the grasshoppers but just regular size). We needed something that would put us about five feet up to do the job. No ladder for him. There were some old boards lying around the site, so we built a scaffold. I kept telling him, “this is not going to hold us,” and he was laughing at me saying, “what’s the matter? You scared?” I was not scared because I thought five was not that far to fall straight down. We were up there doing the work and heard a loud crack. We knew we were going down, but the man who had been making fun of me climbed me like a pole, causing me to come down and hit the side of the pump jack and break my shoulder, but he was okay.

Asst. Water Plant Operator and Plant Operator

I left the gang truck to become assistant Water Plant Operator and later Plant Operator. Things got better in some ways and stayed the same in others. I had two really good bosses. The head supervisor was an old Navy man. If it walked, you saluted it. If it stayed still, you painted it. There are a few things that happened that I would not write about. I worked with Well Service hands – people who did not work for Gulf Oil – they could be, and were very crude. The man I had a problem with did work for Gulf. He was in his 50s, his mouth was unbelievable, and he called me every name in the book. Oh, but then it got funny. A friend invited me to go to church, and when I walked in, there he stood as the greeter. He also was the head Elder. When he saw me, he turned white. I thought he was going to pass out! I walked over and told him it was okay. I was not going to tell the people of the church what type of human being he really was. It was funny: most of the men who were so crude to me in the field were so different if I ran into them with their wives or families. My job at the water floor plant was to maintain six turbojet engines, a thousand HP engine, plus smaller pumps and charts.

There are two memories from the Water Plant that stand out: one I will not write about except to say it was the worst sexual harassment problem I had in the field. The second was a water leak. I stayed at work for four days (got a good paycheck out of it). What made it worse than most leaks is that the welders were fixing the leak in the hole where the water was. We were told to watch a gauge and if it went past 38 PSI, it could kill the welders in the hole. I had a young man working with me and we would take turns watching the gauge. It got to 38 PSI once and we both nearly killed ourselves getting to the pumps that needed to be shut off. It was a strange feeling to know that if you did not do your job you could cause someone’s death. I went home on the fourth day and I can tell you, I was tired, and I sure did not smell good.

You know, I am sitting here thinking of so many of the things that happened: like when I was changing the fuse in the electric box and the door would not stay up, so I let it rest on my head (I had my hard hat and gloves on). When I was putting the new fuse in, I touched the wrong wire and my head hurt for a week. I had a boss who really had a problem with a woman working for him. When I first met him, I knew it was not going to be good, because he said, “lady I did not want you but they said I had to take you.” He gave me every dirty job there was. One of the jobs was repairing and cleaning all the chemical pumps to the point where my hands were burnt. After awhile, I would sit after lunch with my pocket knife and cut the dead skin off.

There are so many things I could tell you about and so many things I will not tell you about. Some were funny: like the time my dad was in a coffee shop (as a rule ,there is one place most oilfield hands go for coffee before going to the field) and he could hear the man sitting behind him talking about the “lady” that was coming to Andrews as a lease operator (by this time I had left Gulf Oil and was now working for ARCO). The man was saying things that no father wants to hear said about his daughter; so my dad picked the man up out of his seat and was letting him have it. About that time the local state trooper walked in and told my dad, “Woody, you can put the man down or you can hit him. If you hit him it will cost you $167.” My dad went home that night and had to explain to my mom why he needed $167.

Lease Operator

As a lease operator I had 186 wells with tank batteries that I had to take care of each day. Most days, nothing special happened. You just did your job, but once in awhile the day was rough. On one of these rough days I had a well that was driving everyone crazy. We were going to need water to float the pump down, so we had a water truck on site at the cost of $50 an hour. We were waiting for the pump and the company kept telling us that it would be ready real soon. My boss told me to stay on top of it. At lunch time, there was still no pump, so the gang pushers said they were going to lunch and that I should also. I called the man one more time and he told me that he would not be there until after lunch, so I went to lunch. As I was eating, I heard a truck radio. It was my boss, and he was not talking very nicely. It seems he had been talking with the pump man and he had told him that I had called and told him not to bring the pump until after lunch, which was a lie. It got really funny. The old man drove up with the pump and as he was rolling down his window he was saying, “oh, Lynda I am sorry, I will tell Mack (my boss) that I lied about you.” I was so angry that I reached inside his half open window and started pulling him out. The gang pusher had to pull me off of him. We floated the pump down and everyone went about their business.

About two weeks later I needed another pump so I called and the old man was working that Sunday. He was scared of me, but he knew he had to bring me the pump so he asked, “is there anyone with you?” I told him, “no, just me.” He did not come by himself. He brought his son-law with him. As a woman you had to fight this type of stuff all the time.

Back to Roustabout in Mississippi

I have spoken about working in Mississippi. When I went to Mississippi, I had to start over. Although I was still working for Gulf (but for personal reasons I had asked for this transfer), I became a roustabout again: back to the gang truck. I remembered how bad it was, but it was not always the men in the field. Sometimes, it was the supervisors.

As it became evident that I could not work for these men, I would ask for a transfer. I would give the paper work to the man who was over me, he would look at me, rip the paper up and throw it into his trash can. This went on for a few months. I called and talked to the EEOC. They told me what I could and could not do. The odds did not seem to be in my favor.

It seemed to me that the best thing for me to do was to see what jobs were out there for me. I was lucky and I found more than one. Shell wanted me to go off shore but for me that was a NO-GO because I would not be allowed to have a lock on my door as I slept. I was offered other jobs, but because I wanted to move back to West Texas, I took the one with ARCO (I have already talked about working for ARCO), and looking back it was not the best choice. I have always had a bit of sadness about leaving Gulf – not leaving Mississippi – but leaving the company.

Production Supervisor

I left ARCO and went to work for Enserch as a Production Supervisor. Things were better there because I was the boss. It did not stop everything, but one of the things that happened, I can laugh at now. We had a well Service Crew and one of my jobs was to sign their time sheets. Day after day I would go into their dog house and on the walls were some of the most vulgar pictures of women I had ever seen. They thought they were being really cute, but they soon learned I was the company woman. I went to a well site one morning and heard, “come sign our paper work.” My answer was, “no.”

They asked me why and I told them when they took the pictures down I would sign their timesheets. They thought I was joking. This went on for a few days. They even went to the supervisor and asked him to sign. He said “no.” They were standing their ground. I knew who owned the company (he was the mayor of Odessa at the time) and knew at some point he was going ask why he was not getting time sheets. One day he came to the site (he knew me from some work I had done on his election). When he was through, there were no pictures on the walls of the dog house, and he had his signed work sheets. Did more pictures go back up? I’m sure they did, but they were very mild.

The other thing I remember on that job is when Halliburton fracked the well, they misread some of the directions. The request was for 20,000 pounds of round sand but they used 40,000 pounds of square sand. For the next few weeks they did everything they could to bring the well back in, but they became the proud parents of a well that only produced sand.

Eastern New Mexico University – Roswell

Around this time I had been offered a teaching position at Eastern New Mexico University Roswell, teaching Petroleum Technology. The money was not as good and I would not have a company car or an expense account. It was something I really had to think about until one day when I went to pick my son up at school. He was walking home. I noticed as I got closer to him that he had blood on his face. Like any mother, that shook me up. I picked him up and asked what had happened. He did not want to tell me. In time he did. It seems he had been defending me and my job in the oilfield. I do not know all that was said, but it did help me make up my mind.

I left working in the oilfield only to find so many of the same problems in the teaching of it! Oh, the joys of being a woman!

When I went to work at the Oilfield Training Center at ENMU-R, I was the first and only woman, but had a good relationship with the men who had been teaching there a few years. As with my first year at Gulf Oil, I became “show and tell.” My boss and the school had me speaking all the local clubs like the Lions Club, Association of Desk and Derrick Clubs, among others. When the women students began to have problems with some of the teachers, my boss put me over the women. They were allowed to come to me with their problems with the teachers. This did not make me popular with my peers.

I started “Women of the Oilfield Training Center.” I would bring speakers in from different companies. It’s funny. One day, I looked up, and there were two guys at the meeting. After that it was as many men as women. By doing this, I was able to get job interviews – and yes – jobs for a lot of the students. I did two other things that did not help my relationship with them. In a production class, I put the students in groups and they had to research and build on a board an Oilfield supply yard, pipes, pumpjacks, trucks, tools, and just anything that would be in a supply yard. The project counted as 50% of their grade. What made the men upset is they did not think of it and the project made the front page of the Roswell Newspaper. Working with the students we (me as their leader) arranged a brunch for the editor of a major petroleum magazine. Among those present: a Congressman’s wife, the Lt. Governor of New Mexico, the Mayor of Roswell, and other VIPs from the main campus and around the state. The male teachers not wanting to take part in this kind of took it out on me. It did not help that this also made the paper. I was becoming too successful. I was a threat – just like Gov. Palin is to her supposedly conservative colleagues in the Republican Party.

The bottom line was because I was show and tell, and did things with the students that made the paper…and I think the principal factor: the school was hiring the men I had encountered in the field. They just had different names and wore clean clothes.

KOSA Merit Award, Vocational Education Teacher of the Year.

ENMU-R gives the KOSA Merit award at the end of the spring term just before the summer session commences. The award comes in two versions: Academic and Vocational Education. The teacher’s peers and president of the student body vote on the who should be awarded. I was given the award as the Outstanding Vocational Education teacher. It was the first time that a first year teacher won the award, and the winner also received $500. A plaque listing the names of all the winners hangs in the ENMU-R library, and my name is listed there for the 1981 – 1982 term.

Closing Thoughts

I wrote this to talk about what happened to me, but I will say this:

the men and women who work in the oilfields all over the world so that we can have gas for our cars (this includes the ones working in the plants), heat our homes, and do so many other things that are petroleum based work hard and it is not always safe. I learned that you had to be aware of everything going on around you. Yes there is more, but it is buried too deep after all these years and it is still hard to talk about…

I lived through it and now I just take a lot of Ibuprofen…

1 note · View note

smilerforyou · 5 years

Text

Stitched by the Hand

A/N: I’m back bitches! It’s been a hot minute since I’ve written fic! Enjoy!

Stitched by the Hand (Gale/Madge) (Victorian Era, London)

East London was the called the “darkest London” for a reason. Poverty raged everywhere one looked because of the increase in population in London since the Industrial Age begun and slums thrived off the poor. Smoke billows out of chimneys of sweatshops, black and dirty with grim and the smell of dirty sweat perspiring off the workers inside. A boy with short, black hair, long limbs, and handsome face works diligently with his right hand as he wipes the sea of sweat off his forehead. He makes neat stitches into the thick, glossy fabric of silk and pinches the fabric together with the other hand. He thanks god – if there is a god – that the fabric is dark and none of the rich posh Londoners would see the sweat stains lingering along the inseam. His stitches are precise and quick, every fourth stitch doubled. He’s required to make 12 pairs of pants per hour, which gives him exactly five minutes per pair, two and half minutes per leg.

He wipes sweat from his hairline again and finds his forehead warmer than usual. Although sweatshop’s temperatures run high with the bodies so closely packed together, his body feel weighted down and his face warmer than he’d like. Cholera is going around like wild fire through the slums and sweatshops, burning through people like crazy. He worries he’s caught the disease. His stomach drops and his visions goes unsteady for a moment as furnace puffs out another wavy of hot air.

“Gale!” someone shouts across the room. He turns around in his seat to look at the man – the owner in his slim cut suit and newly polished shoes – waves him over. Gale’s heart speeds up a little in his chest as he sets his fabric down on the crowded table, shoving the needle through the inseam so he doesn’t lose it before getting up. He pushes passed people sitting on the floor sewing dresses, not even bothering to say excuse me, only watching carefully where he places his feet so he doesn’t step on a dress. He hurries as fast as he can to the owner, who Gale didn’t even bother learning his name, but the man’s foot just taps faster and faster the longer it takes Gale to rush through the crowd. “This way,” the man says once Gale has arrived by his side. He doesn’t even offer a good morning or afternoon – Gale had no way of knowing what time it is because there isn’t any clocks around – before pushing passed the doors that lead to the stairwell.

The stairwell of made of rusted metal and squeaked every time someone stepped foot on it. Gale tries his best to make his footsteps from sounding so harsh, but it was nearly impossible to do such a thing. His boss walks up the stairs, never once looking back to see if Gale was following him, tapping his cane twice on every step. It wasn’t that the man needed the cane. He was physically fit and almost nearing middle aged. Gale believed that the man just liked the sound of noise he produced and why not add the sharp click of a cane on the ground. Also – although Gale had no proof of this – he could use it as a weapon against workers who didn’t do what they were supposed to. That’s why Gale’s heart pounds now. He fears the man knows he’s sick or is unhappy that Gale only produces 12 pairs of pants every hour instead of more. Although the pay is shit, Gale needs this job.

“Have a seat.” The man says as they enter an office. One wooden stool sits in the middle of the room and velvet couches line the walls. Gale knows without asking that he should not sit on the velvet couches. Velvet is for rich people, not invisible people like himself. He sits down slowly on the stool, testing its durability. When it stays standing he places his full weight on the chair. He doesn’t say anything and neither does his boss. He keeps his eyes downcast and listens to the only clock in the room tick, tick, tickthe seconds away. He holds his breath and counts off the seconds gone that pushes him further behind on his count of 12. If he spends 15 minutes in this office, he’ll have three pairs of pants that need sown and sown well, done in nonexistent time. He’s screwed. Especially since the rule was if you don’t met quota, you don’t get paid for a week. His family had already gone a week without food, they couldn’t go another week. Damn it, he is so screwed.

A knock resonates through the room and Gale whips his head up to look at who it is. His stomach drops than tightens instantly when he sees a man in a white lab coat with a red bag in his hand. A medic. If Gale could run away, he’d do it down. But he can’t.

“Gale, this is Dr. Melbourne, Dr. Melbourne, this is him.” The boss introduces.

“Ah, he’s the one you were talking about.” His boss nods, “Well, son, strip down.”

“What?” Gale squeaks out. His voice doesn’t even sound like his own, it sounds like a long distance voice that could belong to a female, not himself. Definitively not himself.

“Strip down, like naked.” The doctor says, looking amused. The doctor waves Gale’s boss out of the room and gestures for Gale to begin stripping. He closes the door behind him and sets his bag down on the desk. Gale folds his clothes neatly at his feet and waits as Dr. Melbourne examines him and moves his limbs different ways. A fine line of sweat beads form on his forehead again. Dr. Melbourne offers him a handkerchief. Gale accepts it and dabs at his forehead.

“Well,” Dr. Melbourne speaks as he picks up Gale’s raggedly thin clothes and hands them back to him, “You don’t have measles or mumps, but I’m going to have to take your temperature. Please get dressed and sit on the stool.” Gale does as he’s told and sits patiently as Dr. Melbourne goes through his bag. He places a tool Gale has no idea the name of against his chest, over his heart and listens. “Are you nervous, or does your heart always pound this hard.” Gale says nothing, his tongue is too thick in his mouth. Dr. Melbourne pulls back and looks Gale deeply in his eyes. The doctor’s blue eyes remind Gale of ocean water, and Gale’s eyes remind the doctor of the dirty water floating through the Thames River, “That’s a serious question…Gale.” He says as he reads the name off Gale’s report.

“Nerves,” Gale whispers out.

Melbourne nods and marks something on the paper. “There’s nothing to be afraid of.” Oh, but there is. Gale has no idea why he’s here and what will come of it, but if the doctor finds anything at all, Gale’s done for. He can’t pay any sort of bill, let alone a hospital bill, and he can’t lose his job because he’s already behind in payments on everything.

“Have you been experiencing diarrhea or dehydration?” Gale shakes his head no, but he’s lying. He knows those are symptoms of cholera. “Well, you have a fever and I know you’re lying.”

“I’m fine, sir.” Gale croaks out.

“Oh you wish you were fine!” the doctor says. “If this isn’t treated, Gale, you could infect the whole business, or worse…it could kill you.”

“I’m fine.” Gale says again. He can’t lose his job. He can’t lose his job.

The man jabs a finger into Gale’s abdomen lightly and Gale tries not to wince, but he can’t. It hurts badly. Another symptom: abdominal pain.

“You have cholera.”

“No I don’t.” Gale says, but the doctor only pushes harder against Gale’s stomach. His entire body stiffens and the seconds later a metal trashcan in placed between his knees, seconds before the vomit comes up.

“Yes. You do,” the doctor says, and Gale can’t do anything about it. A fourth symptom: vomiting. Gale continues to puke into the bucket as the doctor leaves. Tears spring to his eyes because he knows exactly what this means…they have to fire him. He sobs into the bucket and vomits every few minutes. He finds he’s been doing this a lot lately…puking. Once he starts, he doesn’t stop for a while.

His boss comes in and places a hand on Gale’s shoulders, mindful not to touch the skin where the large shirt moved off his shoulder. “I’m going to have to let you go, Hawthorne. Best of luck. You can stay as long as you need the trashcan for” Then he leaves. Gale wishes he never had to leave this trashcan.

“Treatment options include –“ But Gale doesn’t let him finish.

“I don’t have money. Can’t you tell?”

“Then I can’t help you if you can’t spare a dime.”

“I��d buy food faster than medical care.”

“Best of luck to you; you’re going to need it.” And then he leaves too. And Gale let’s go and cries and pukes into a trash for an hour. He’s so damn screwed.

Madge’s mother, Victoria’s, booming voice commanded the hallway outside of Madge’s door. The Prime Minister is in for a short visit, something Madge would usually listen in on, but not today. All Madge can focus on is the dirty, awful smell wafting in through the air vents. Madge’s mother may be the Queen of England during what is considered one of England’s greatest eras, but even she can’t get control the way the city smells. It’s horrible and it’s constantly being filtered through every home and business, and the country can’t escape the smell of death and gross, trashy smell.

As the Industrial Age further booms, the Thames’ clean water diminishes to sewage backup. The streets are littered with garbage and sickly homeless people who haven’t had a clean shower in weeks. They smell like the river does, because that’s the source of water big enough for them to wash themselves off in, only they’re washing themselves in contaminated water. Madge’s mother tells her to stay away from the slums because of cholera and she does as much as possible.

Madge wrinkles her nose and tries to block out the smell as she applies makeup onto her neck and chest. The skin colored powder dusts her skin lightly and covers the series of freckles littering her chest. She makes the mistakes of taking a deep breath, instantly regretting it.

A knock clicks harshly into her bedroom and in walks her brother, elegant as ever. He’s wearing a dark blue suit with brown leather shoes and a striped tie. He looks dashing, but he always does. It’s something that Madge as always envied of her brother. He is complete perfection with his chiseled cheekbones and jaw, slender but strong frame, ocean blue eyes, and his porcelain skin. Madge is slender like him, but she appears just small; and her eyes are ordinary blue, and her skin is littered with sparely scattered freckles.

“Walk with me, sister?” he asks in his deep London accent. She nods and gathers her things.

They walk aimlessly towards nowhere, but Madge knows exactly where this “nowhere” will lead. The slums. There’s a girl with glossy black hair and gray eyes that her brother is infatuated with as of recently and every time they go for a “walk” it’s just to see her, even if she doesn’t notice them. Her brother, Daine, insists that the girl notices them, but poor old Daine doesn’t realize it’s just because Royals are walking around the other side of town. It definitely isn’t because the girl is infatuated with her brother. But it isn’t Madge’s job to break his spirit; the universe would do that soon enough.

“There she is!” he whispers loudly. He points excitedly toward her. She glances their way, worry blazing in her eyes, before she returns to the conversation she’s having with a girl a few years younger than her. Madge nods and pushes her brother a little further away from the pair to give the girl space, but she doesn’t look away. Especially when a boy with bright red cheeks and the back of his hand pressed firmly against his forehead stops at the command of the girl’s hand. They share a glance at the Royals before the grow deep into a conversation that the boy seems to want nothing to do with. He tugs lightly against the restraint provided by the girl’s arms.

“Maybe you should go talk to her?” Madge suggests the second the boy disappears behind a building. She doesn’t look at her brother when she says it, but he follows her line of sight.

“Oh, Madgie, do you have a crush on the boy?” he smiles wickedly.

“No!”

“Maybe you should get involved with him, they are quite lovely people once you get to know them.”

“Mom told us to stay away from them, remember? We aren’t even supposed to be here.”

“Go.” He whispers in her ear as he pushes her toward the building the boy disappeared behind. Once Madge’s feet start going they don’t stop until she finds him. He’s farther up the alley, leaning – more like sagging like a wilted flower – against the wall. His breathing is heavy and from his body she can tell he’s distressed.

She lightly touches his tricep and is surprised to find it lined with hard, beautiful muscle. He jumps back, his eyes wide. “I didn’t steal anything, I swear!” Immediately, it springs off his lips.

“I know you didn’t.” she says softly, lifting her own hands to her face. “Are you alright?”

“Am Ialright?” his expression is nothing short of bewilderment. And when she nods, he looks utterly shocked and taken aback. “No,” he says simply and harshly, no elaboration or explanation, but a sharp no. She waits a few moments for him to say something. Most people don’t say no unless they want to continue. His expression hardens like molten lava, “Do you really think I’d tell you?”

“You don’t have too.” She’s trying to be kind, but curiosity burns in her veins. Her mother always told her that was one of her downfalls.

“But you expect me too.”

“You don’t have too,” she says again.

He sags against the wall and leans his head down pitifully. “I’m dead.”

Madge huffs out air, “You don’t look very dead.”

“I might as well be.” He grumbles. He grips his head in that moment, a moment full of pure distress. Despite the dirty ground, Madge kneels beside him.

“Let me help you.”

“You can’t!” he nearly yells. His eyes check both sides of the street again before looking back at her. She notices the boy’s eyes are a wonderful shade of gray and it nearly takes her breath away looking at them.

They are so close together that Madge barely breathes, “Why not?” she asks and she swears she can feel his hot breath spread across her lips.

“It can’t be fixed.”

“Nothing is ever truly broken.”

“No,” he says, “but sometimes it cannot be used again.”

She looks at him then, reallylooks at him. His cheeks are rosy and his gray eyes – despite beautiful – are dull and lifeless. His body sags against the wall and his hands rest uncomfortably against his stomach. It’s like a pregnant woman holding her stomach, but he holds it like it hurts. Then it clicks, he’s sick. He has cholera.

“You are sick.”

“Thanks for stating the obvious.”

“Come with me,” she whispers, her lace gloved hand briefly touches his wrist.

He whips his head around so fast she fears she’ll get whiplash from just watching it. “Trust me or I’ll make it an executive order.”

He follows, even though his mind screams no. His heart…his heart, maybe just a little, says yes.

“Madge! You cannot be serious!” her brother nearly screeches at her in the back room of the kitchen. “You brought him here!”

“Yes! Now will you quiet down a little before the chefs hear you! I cannothave mom finding out!”

Her brother’s eyes bulge out of his head and he gives her the have-you-lost-your-mindlook. “Please!” she nearly begs him, “Just…Just keep it quiet! It’s just for a few days!”

“Madge!” he says again.

“Daine!” she takes his arms in his hands, “You told me to interact with them.”

He shakes his head, “I didn’t mean bring them home with you! What’s next, you going to invite him into your bed?”

She glares so hard at her brother, “Don’t be silly. What do you think I am? A prostitute?” He says nothing and that’s more hurtful than if he just said yes. Tear spring to her eyes and shakes her head. “I can’t believe you, I just cannot believeyou.” She says.

“Madge, you know I didn’t mean it.” He tries to mend his angry notion, “Your secret’s safe with me.”

“If it’s not, don’t think mom won’t know about your black haired beauty within minutes.”

“You’ll be staying here, for the time being. I’m sorry it’s not the best place, but it’s the only place I know the palace staff won’t go.”

If they were going off Gale’s opinion, his room is a palace within the palace. It is sparsely furnished, with only a bed, a small dresser, a washing bucket, and chair. The bed doesn’t even have sheets on it yet. The stone walls emit a cool air that chills his fevered body to the bone. A chill runs up his back. They both pretend they don’t see it.

“I will go get you bedding and clothing and be down as soon as possible.”

It’s silent for a long while. Gale stares at her. Her dress has crystals sown into the silk fabric, and it was clearly sown by a machine, not by worn out hands like Gale’s. She stares at the ground and smoothens out her dress, and he feels like he should say something, but the words won’t reach his tongue.

“Well I should go before mother starts questioning Daine about my whereabouts.”

He nods and watches her walk out. He tries to force any word from his mouth but nothing comes. It isn’t until she’s probably forgotten him that he whispers, “Thank you.”

Madge grips her hair as she sits on her bedroom floor, her dress fanned out around her. What does she have that a boy could plausible wear? And she sure as hell knows Daine won’t let her borrow any of his clothes.

“Think, Madge, think.”

“M’am?” her servant, Primrose, says as she enters the room, “Are you alright? Should I fetch a royal doctor?”

Madge drops her hands. “Oh goodness, no. I’m quite alright. I’m just at a loss of ideas.”

“Anything I can help with, m’am?”

“Unless you can find me a pair of trousers and loose shirt, I don’t believe you can.” she laughs under her breath.

Prim stands there in silence for a moment, studying the frenzied princess. She kneels before the princess. “I could always borrow clothes from my sister’s best friend and bring them to you.”

Madge snaps her head up, “You would do that?”

“Anything for you, your highness.” They stare at each other for a moment. “Are you planning on going out in disguise as a boy?”

“Something like that.” Madge winks. “I can’t involve you too much.”

Gale takes a deep breath. If he can keep the vomit done, it will save him a lot of time and energy. He’s already puked more than he wanted to today and the wash basin is already three-fourths of the way full from just this afternoon. He holds his stomach tightly as sweat rolls off his whole body into the thin mattress.

If he wasn’t in so much pain, he would have left the palace already. He doesn’t know what he was thinking in the first place! He has a familyat home that must be wondering where he is! And he lost out on another week’s pay. How was his family supposed to survive? How were they going to buy food to feed the children? His mother’s seamstress work wasn’t very fruitful right now and they really relied on Gale’s measly paycheck to pay rent and buy a few days rations.

His vision blurs as his stomach rolls again. His heart races in his chest to the point of being painful. He feels like he’s been cast out to sea in the middle of the rainstorm. The waters are so turbulent they roll viciously through the open space, and the rain is so heavy that nothing is visibly, and he’s soaking wet and cold.

He rolls to his side and releases the turbulent waves from his stomach, not even checking to see if he made it in the bucket. His body racks as his dispels the disease from his body. His vision is nearly black, with heavy spots moving before his eyes. He feels like his soul is leaving his body.

His stomach collapses in on itself, nothing left but phlegm and stomach acid to throw up. Every muscle in his body seizes with vigor. His can hear his labored breath heavy in his ears but he can’t feel his body heaving for air. And he feels a weight settle first in his chest, slowing spreading throughout his whole body until it feels like hot stones sitting on him. He eyelids are like iron, dropping shut and so very heavy to open again. The coals burn his skin even more and the paths the sweat beats leave on his skin ignites a firework of pain.

And he still can’t see.

And every moment the blackness consume him even more.

And every second that passes his wishes to see the Princess’ full lips and almond shaped eyes framed with the longest lashes he had ever seen again.

“Stay here,” Madge orders Prim. Madge had changed out of her dress into a simple loose white nightgown while Prim hurried back to the Seam to gather her sister’s friend’s clothes. “I’ll be back. If anyone asks for me, tell them I’m bathing and must not be disturb.”

“Yes, m’am. Would you like help changing?”

“No.”

Madge slips through the nearest service staircase, hidden by secret doors all over the palace. She races down the stairs, her bare feet slapping on the pavement like raindrops on the cobblestone in a rainstorm. She slips through the corridors with ease, her feet remembering every twist and turn from all the times her and Daine played hide-and-seek as children.

One last corner and her hands slam against the door. The wooden door break practically rattles out it’s weak frame, shaking open. She slips in and closes it softly behind her.

“I’m ba–“ she stops short. Hanging half off of the bed in a puddle of his own vomit was the boy. He was mumbling under his breath some nonsense and his pupils, she could see as she approached him, are dilated. The black pupil almost completely covering the gray.

Her knees slam against the stone floor, not even feeling the cold seeping into her bones.

Against her better judgement, her grabs his sweaty face, pulling his delusional eyes toward her.

“Hey, hey, are you okay?” God, why is she even asking him that?

He moans a response.

Her heart beats rapidly in her chest. She can’t move. All she can do is stare into his soulless eyes and cry. Her heart sinking in her chest.

What was she supposed to do now?

She was all alone with a sick boy she didn’t know how to save.

White and gold swims in front of his eyes and a sweet melodic voice sings in his ear. His knows it’s her voice, even though his vision is still blurry. This time his heart beats faster for other reasons than the cholera raging in his body. Her fingers are smooth against his rough skin. They feel like silk.

He can’t hear what she’s saying, but he tries to tell her, but only a moan slips passed his lips. He tries to focus on her face, but his eyes are miles and miles away from where his body lies.

Raindrops touch his skin, soft and slow at first, until it turns into a drizzle. How amazing is it that it rains inside the palace.

It isn’t until one splashes against his lips and he tastes the salt that he realizes sometimes raindrops can be tears falling from someone else’s clouds.

She drags his body back on the bed. His slick skin almost slipping pass her hands several times. She feels like time is an empty thing. It only fills the void when there’s nothing else. It only runs out of sand too quickly when time is the most precious.

Time is indiscriminate.

Time does not care if there is a boy dying in the basement of the palace in the Princess’ arms.

Time does not care if he lives or dies, or whether her heart breaks in two or not.

Time only gives you an unknown amount of seconds to do somethings with.

And Madge’s allotted time to save him is so miniscule she could blink and it would have slipped between her fingers.

She can’t blind. Not now. Not when she risked so much to bring him here, to save him.

She pushes his body against the wall and rushes from the room. She runs into the walls and falls up the stairs in her attempt to make it to anyone, to someone who could help. She knows she can’t say anything, but she doesn’t have a choice. She can’t let him slip through her fingers.

“Prim!” she screams, “Prim!”

Her bedroom door opens before she’s even halfway down the hallway. Prim’s eyes are wide with fear and alarm, her hair tangled like she fell asleep.

“Prim, I need your help!”

Daine’s door open across from Prim. He stumbles out, rubbing his eyes. “What is happening?”

“Come! Come! He’s dying!”

Prim starts, her face slackening in despair, “Who?”

“Oh the sick boy from the slums she decided to bring home.” Daine grumbles as they follow Madge down the hallway.

“He’s not infected with cholera, is he?” Daine shoots her a look, “Oh dear,” she whispers, “Let me grab supplies.”

In and out. His vision wanes on blackness so dark his body shivers in fear.

In and out.

In and out. He can hear his exaggerated breathing shallow in his ears.

In and out.

He feels death approaching. The blackness is starting to take over his body. His skin feels cold, his tongue dry as a bone, his mind dull and void of thought, and the weight of his own bones are becoming too much.

In and out.

“Oh dear,” Dane whispers the second Madge pushes open the door. “Oh dear, god.”

Tears stream down Madge’s face. “Daine…” she whispers, “Daine…how do we save him?”

She watches him stare at the dying boy in the corner of the room. “I don’t know if we can.”

Madge creeps over to the bed and sits on it, gently reaching out for the boy’s hand. Her thumbs rubs softly against his hand. She hopes he can feel her skin against his. If they really cannot save him, she wants him to know he did not pass alone, that he will not pass unknown like so many others who died in alleyways and river beds.

“What is his name? Did you ever find out?” Daine whispers, still hovering on the threshold, his hand covering his mouth.

“Gale,” Prim says as she enters the room. “Oh my god, Gale,” she whales.

She drops the medical supplies and bedding on the ground and rushes over to him. Her hands instantly go to his face, sliding down to his chest where she grips his soaking wet shirt. Her body bows over his. Seconds later, her body racks with sobs.

Madge and Daine look at each other.

“Gale?” Madge whispers, her hand tangling in Prim’s locks.

Prims shifts to lean against Madge. She wipes at her eyes and nose before mustering up the finest of whispers, “I went to get his clothes from my sister tonight. She had said he didn’t come home tonight. She never mentioned that he’s infected,” she sniffles, “What will his family do without him? They won’t survive.”

Madge’s heart sinks in her chest. Here laid a boy that meant his family’s survival. And he was dying.

The world was unfair.

Madge swallowed hard. “What do we do to cure him.”

Prim sobbed harder. “This is no cure. Rarely do they live after the infection sets in.”

“He’s too far gone, isn’t he?” Daine whispers? His skin is so ghostly white, he appears as if he might faint.

“More than likely, yes.”

“No! No!” Everyone looks at Madge, “No, we must try. He cannot die.”

“Madge…” Daine starts.

“Water…” Prim cuts him off, “Cholera rapidly dehydrates the body to the point of shock. Our only change is to rehydrate him as fast as possible. I also stole the antibiotics from the medical ward.”

“Do you think it will work?”

“No,” she sniffles, “But we must try.”

Daine leaves the room to get pails of water and a glass. Prim goes with him to help, which leaves Madge to undress him and change his clothes.

For a lady of her standing, she is slightly scandalized to be removing a boy’s clothes, especially in such a state. What if he does not want her to see his naked body? What if she had impure thoughts upon seeing his body? This was so unladylike.

He won’t live if you don’t, Madge.

So she tenderly went to work at his clothing, starting with his shirt. She slowly undoes the threading at the time to make neck wider and easier to pull over his head. Next she tugs at the bottom of the shirt, near his start of his pants, to untuck it from his trousers. Slowly, his skin begins to appear. His skin is darker than hers, tan as far as tan goes in London’s cloudy atmosphere. Oh goodness, he has faint tan lines!

She could only imagine him in his backyard, wearing nothing from a skimpy undershirt. She could only imagine his looking up to the sun and wiping his brow as his skin soaked up the rays from the sunshine.

She gulps and eases the shirt over his head, using one arm to hug his body to her chest so his shoulders and head wouldn’t get caught around the shirt. His head lolled back against her wrist, and she watches as his eyelashes brush against his cheekbones.

Next she undoes his shoes, throwing them careless onto the floor. She’s surprised to find that he does adorn socks. And next his trousers. Her face heats as her fingers flick open the button. She moves quickly to his ankles, trying to tug them off as far away from his hips as possible, but it’s all in vain. She has to roll his trousers down over his hips and around his butt before she can easily tug them off.

She stops short of pulling off his underwear. The white cotton is almost clear with sweat. Madge looks over to the pile of clothing Prim gave her earlier, on top laid a pair of underwear.

She takes a deep breath, clothes her eyes and tugs them off, she stares at his ankles as she rolls the new ones on. She lets out the breath she held and looks at the door. Oh how unladylike that just was. A Princess undressing a semiconscious man.

He groans and she nearly jumps from her spot on the bed.

Prim and Daine comes back with pails of water moments later and slowly but surely they pour water into his mouth. At first he throws up everything for hours and Madge’s heart sinks in her chest. Eventually, he begins to hold it down, and Madge’s finally starts slowing.

It seems like the solid black covering his eyes slowly turns to a dusting of gray spots blinding him. He feels the thin mattress under his body again and the coldness of the room seeping into his warm body. And he can hear the faint voices of three different whispers.

He opens his eyes to a dim, candle lit room. It takes a moment for his eyes to settle and when they do they land on the Princess. Her hand lays on his bare chest, but she’s not looking at him. He grunts as he moves to sit up and she startles, a deep rose blush painting her cheeks.

“Oh goodness, I’m so sorry.” She whispers.

Gale doesn’t say anything. He just stares at her. Her blonde waves are flat against her face, and her dull blue eyes look even duller with exhaustion. But what surprises him the most is her attire. She wears a simple white shirt and a pair of dark brown trousers with something off about them.

She looks simple and poor in her outfit. It is built for someone like him, not someone as important as her. Yet, she wears the clothing like she shouldn’t be in anythingbut that.

She sits down hurriedly when he reaches for his face. Her fingertips absentmindedly touching his cheeks, featherlight. Her blue eyes bore into his. “Are you alright? Are you feeling any better?”

He’s too afraid to speak in fear that she’ll remove her hands from his face. His skin tingles gloriously underneath her light touch. Eventually, he nods.

Her shoulders release their tension in relief and her hands drop to his collarbones. “I didn’t think you would make it,” she whispers.

She moves her hands to her lap, her fingers running over each other. He can feel her gaze on him, but he keeps his on her hands. She had long pianist hands that small marks like papercuts littering them. She wore a small silver ring in the shape of a star on her middle finger. His eyes trail up her arm, following the stitches in the trousers as he went.

That’s when he spots it. The double stitch on every fourth stitch.

“I made those pants.” He looks up at her. Her nose wrinkles slightly as her hands spread along the stitching.

“What?” she whispers.

He grabs her hand and traces her fingers along the stitching, pausing at every fourth stitch.

“The stitching is mine. The fourth stitch identified me. It’s how they knew my count at the end of the day.”

How did his pants end up in the royal household?

“I guess you were just supposed to be a part of my story, stitched together by the hand of fate.”

He looks up, his hand still in hers. He feels her intertwine their hands together.

“Maybe so,” he whispers, their faces so close together that their noses almost touch.

And there, in the basement of Buckingham Palace, two fates intertwine once and for all.

A/N: FFN, Gadge: the Mini Stories, Ch31: Stitch of by Hand

Feel free to jump over to FFN and drop a comment or leave a reply here!

#gadge #hunger games #fanfiction #stitched by hand #chapter 31 #gadge: the mini stories #writing #thg #gale hawthorne #madge undersee #I'm back bitches!

22 notes · View notes

trashayfanfiction · 5 years

Text

Blanca+Ash: Murder Doll

Summary: Blanca: Sergei Varishkov Ash is 14 when they meet. Blanca had mixed feelings. It was strange to have mixed feelings when you no longer felt anything.

Originally posted to my AO3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16545737

..........................................

“I’m just a killer,” Blanca overlooked the mansion’s grounds.

“You are the best,” Golzine clapped a hand on his back, guiding him out to the garden, “I would like you to train him,”

Blanca had never had a pupil before. Understudies, yes, but he had been too valuable to hinder with a pupil of such a young age. He wasn’t surprised Golzine asked him though. The cute blonde had become part of the old man’s life, attending meetings with him and trips; he was already being groomed in a way that no other pet had been. This pet was special somehow. The sharp look in it’s green eyes stabbed at his soul. It was a vicious wild animal. Golzine had a taste for exotic unruly things.

Blanca had never expected to train a prostitute -ever. Honestly, he looked down on sex workers and Dino’s pets. At best he had pitied their existence. Most of the time he saw them as tools to be used. He had bought his fair share of girls…. He enjoyed himself. They served their purpose. He had never seen them as people.

In his line of work he tried not to see most things as people.

For a little over a year he knew what it felt like to have emotions. It only lasted a year though.

After his wife died, he didn’t think he was capable of seeing things as people again.

He didn’t know why Ash was any different, he wasn’t. Blanca himself had trained from a young age to become a killer. Ash was fourteen. Ash was older than he was when he began. No longer a child, already a killing machine. Ash was no different from anybody else he’d trained.

The initial mock wargame taught him what he needed to know about Ash. Fierce intelligence only until motivated by his emotions. Frustrate him, and he lashes out irrationally. Blanca would need to teach him not to do that. The kid wasn’t entirely stupid with his feelings, these emotions seemed to be what got him so far….. but if the boy ever had something to protect…. If he ever fell in love…… That would surely kill him. The only reason he got this far by prioritizing himself and sheer dumb luck.

Blanca wasn’t surprised about the story of Ash’s first murder. Barely any planning, but enough self-awareness that he knew his odds. Rage had overpowered him, forcing him to act. The boy had no fear of death, only a fear of living in pain. He was glad the boy didn’t want to die.

Ash was more than willing to put himself in danger to risk getting a good hit in. Ash was fiery, but he knew he had to wait for the opportunity to strike back. All his life he had been gambling on hits, Blanca needed to teach him what to do when luck ran out. Otherwise the boy would go down in flames, burn out.

That fire was his greatest strength and weakness. He was good at winning the battle, he even understood not all battles could be won, but he didn’t know how to win the war. Ash wasn’t running headfirst into death, but he wasn’t giving in either. He was a survivor, despite that he had nothing to survive for. Ash would always be fighting: he didn’t know how to do anything else. He had no goal, no plan for himself of what he wanted after.

Blanca wondered if he didn’t want the war to be won, because he couldn’t imagine anything after.

He would make a good assassin. Blanca regretted thinking it. Very few made it out alive.

When he found Ash in Marvin’s shady hotel and the boy had a panic attack; he didn’t know how many years it had been since he held another living body against his with the intention to comfort. If he really wanted to help Ash he should wrap his hands around that skinny little throat and put him out of his misery.

Golzine wouldn’t like that very much, so he avoided it. Sparing a boy wasn’t worth getting the whole mafia on his tail. Ash was a commodity, like anything else.

The numbness to the world needed to function couldn’t be healthy. Even when he had is wife, he doubted he had been a good partner. All of his human interactions were fake.

This boy would always be at Golzine’s mercy. Even if Ash rose up and killed him, he would never escape. There would always be someone after him for killing a mob boss. But after Ash cried to him in that hotel room, he had no doubts the youth would try.

The child would fight to the best of his ability. Maybe that’s why Blanca said yes. ………………………………………………………………………………………….

They trained intensively for two years. Strategy, hand to hand combat, proficiency in several different weapons. Ash would need all the help possible in getting himself out. He nagged the boy about his need to bulk up. “Looking like a victim will only help a spy,” Blanca told him, “Dino want’s you as an enforcer.”

Ash laughed, a mirthless sound. Telling him he would look like a victim whether he liked it or not, and Dino would like him less the more he looked like a man. “You don’t want me to lose the only reason I’m special, right?”

Blanca told him he needed to eat. He had noticed that Ash carefully monitored his calorie intake, and in times of extreme stress, refused to eat at all. Blanca assumed this was because that was the only thing Ash had control of in his life. He wouldn’t take that from him, even if it did interfere with their training. But he chided the boy for his lack of stamina. Even if Ash didn’t want to deal with the eating issue directly, he would find a way around it.

He understood it limited him….. like that stupid revolver Ash insisted on a few years later after becoming a marksman. The reload time was inefficient compared to other models, and it held few bullets, “Don’t want to kill too many people too fast,”

He couldn’t help but crack a smile, “Child, that is entirely what we want you to do, end situations quickly. If I recall you hated learning to kill one person slowly,”

Ash’s face grimaced at the memory. Torture had made him queasy. Blanca had taken him with him for a ‘real’ assignment…… Ripping out the man’s nails one by one with pliers until he told the truth, the whole truth, and was sure it was accurate. Cracking the man’s teeth with pliers after…. Once the information was extracted and Blanca ‘just wanted to see if Ash could do it’. The boy was white as a ghost.

The look of fear in the man’s eyes. The shock and attempt at a mercy connection when he realized how young Ash was.

This ordeal went on for hours…….

This was not one of the perverts he slept with. Ash could have easily done these things to one of the perverts…….

Blanca treated Ash like training a woman instead of a child. A child soldier would grow up into an intimidating man….. If they lived that long. But a woman would always be smaller and weaker. She would be the victim, but she could play as the victim with her cunning.

Ash was already able and willing to use his wiles to his advantage, Blanca knew this from their first meeting.

Still…. he felt bad encouraging someone so young to seduce their target. He didn’t know he was capable of that feeling anymore. He didn’t know if it would be different if Ash really was a woman. He had never trained a woman…… Maybe he would be just as protective of her as he was of this child.

Unlikely. He would probably seduce her himself if he found her attractive. Manipulate her emotions into being an even more cold and fierce warrior. Ash was already at that point, he didn’t need to. Not that he had a taste for young boys anyway. He would look the other direction when Golzine……

He shuddered.

Blanca was more protective of Ash than a woman trainee. He had no desire to seduce Ash.

Not protective, he warned himself, the child was Golzine’s property. His protectiveness only went as far as the contract. Ash would probably die in a year or two anyways. He would make it a better couple of years. Nothing would make it good…..

In that time Blanca felt the closest he ever had to human. Maybe even closer than his wife, because he was forced to share the harsh realities of his work to prepare the other. With his wife, he made excuses about what he’d been doing; she was sweet and normal, and would still love him, but she didn’t need to see….. He specifically called Ash over to see the most gruesome aspects of the work. Disposing bodies. Unexpected murder weapons. The boy already was brutal and resourceful, but he needed to be honed.

Anyone could be honed into this job, he didn’t think it took talent, just being willing to abandon your humanity.

But that thinking probably enforced the idea that he and Ash were talented. Killing came naturally……

He didn’t think of Ash like a son. If he was a real father he would have killed any man who showed him these things and did to Ash what Dino, Marvin, and Marvin’s men did to him on a regular basis….. though less often at the end of the two years.

Blanca had taught him to curb his harsh temper and sharp tongue. He didn’t get raped as a ‘punishment’ anymore.

Ash was still pretty, but he had gotten older. He attracted a different clientele now. Dino’s possessiveness of him had only grown. He was now a different kind of asset. Still rented out to the highest paying clients as a sample of the ‘luxury’ goods, or sent as a sign of good faith, but now as a ‘companion’ to Dino. An associate.

Ash told him didn’t want to be associated with any of this. He yelled at the frustration of being a tool to be used.

Blanca told him most people were tools to be used, and Ash believed him for a time… until some loud Chinese kid, a year later told him otherwise. ….now that was an interesting conversation with Ash yelling and screaming and saying that Blanca lied to him.

Ash always shared too much. He knew Blanca wasn’t his friend, but he was desperate for someone, anyone in his life. ….that desperation grabbed at Blanca in ways that other desperate victims begging for their lives hadn’t. Maybe it was because Ash didn’t expect mercy, he just wanted something for now.

That’s what Blanca found interesting about the boy. There were small flickers of humanity in between that emotionless rationality. Flickers that Blanca had long since grown out of by the time he was Ash’s age.

Perhaps that’s why Blanca could read him so easily years later. Knowing the boy was in love without saying anything. He was always surprised that Ash’s desperation didn’t lead him to abusive boyfriends who were just as manipulative as Dino. An abusive boyfriend would have an easy time. Blanca could have easily manipulated the kid to his own will.

Ash was cold and guarded and vicious, but he was a survivor. His instincts were strong, despite not knowing how to escape, he wouldn’t make his situation worse.

Blanca had mixed feelings. It was strange to have mixed feelings when you no longer felt anything.

Ash talked in his sleep. Sometimes Ash cried.

He felt bad for the child he was turning into a murderer. A killing machine, a weapon…. Who was still a pretty fleshlight for a disgusting older man.

Ash never told him what his dreams were about. It probably wasn’t any worse than real life, so there was no point. Ash knew dreams couldn’t hurt you.

……………………………………..

Over their two years, Ash never tried to seduce him. He assumed it would be tried when Golzine first mentioned the boy’s track record: Five teachers, ranging from a twenty-five-year-old male to a forty-two year old woman.

After their first meeting Ash must have known he wasn’t dumb enough to fall for such trickery. He’d read Ash like a book and it scared the boy. Nobody before had acknowledged him as a human enough to give the insight that Blanca had.

He taught Ash to walk that line; that seeing someone as a human really meant nothing. Humans were nothing. Acknowledging their hopes and dreams, wants and needs, fears and hesitations was all part of learning to get information.

That reasoning worked until Ash met another Asian boy, who changed him. No, not changed. Ash was the one trying his best to change for this boy. Ash had always had the capacity for the emotions this boy brought.

Ones who’s intuition truly a thing of wonder. Someone who saw through the murder doll that had been created. Seeing down to the terrified little boy underneath the mask, and attempting to help.

He wished he had the capacity to help, for once in his life.

But he was just a killer. It was too late for him, but maybe not yet too late for Ash.

.......................................

I always forget to update my fics to Tumblr aside from just AO3. Ah well. I think most of yall are in both places.

#banana fish #banana fish fanfic #fanfic #fanfiction #TrashAYfanfiction #ash lynx #banana fish blanca #blanca #prequel #ash+Blanca

28 notes · View notes

piermanwalter · 6 years

Photo

Megatron’s Weed Dispensary: An Awful Fanfic I am Morally Obligated to Write

Because I noticed my grades weren’t good enough to get into my major, I issued myself an ultimatum: For every percent I get less than 80 for every class by the end of the school year, I will write one thousand words of terrible fanfiction over the summer, as suggested by random people online. You can send me your own unwritable prompts if you want, but bear in mind that the more requests I get, the shorter the stories, because I have 8000 words to get through all of them. (Total combined word count: 1889)

As promised:

Just as the first brittle rays of light shone over the horizon, the alarm went off. Megatron hauled himself out of the chair he shut down in last night while dealing with tax forms for too long. Pouring himself a cube of energon, Megatron made his way downstairs to the storefront. His past self would probably hate him. Shrieking like a predacon and promising to tear the entire planet apart just so everyone could suffer as he had, Megatron knew it was his own weakness and incompetence had led to their defeat, and was prepared for death. The Autobots, in all their soft and cowardly ways, had let them live in their new society, making sure he was protected from anyone seeking vengeance for the war, albeit with a few restrictions. Some mercy. He would prefer to be rotting in prison, exiled to some tiny asteroid, publicly executed, or even be forced to become a gladiator again. Instead, the great leader of the Decepticons is reduced to managing microeconomics in a tiny narcotics shop surrounded by too many gawking idiots too frightened to enter his shop and actually buy something.

The few Decepticons that had survived the last battle were also doing about as well as he did. Not destitute, but not allowed any amount of power, which he supposed they deserved. Soundwave works as a building electrician, granted the privilege of internal com reactivation for good behavior. Astrotrain joined one of the newly formed shipping companies. Knock Out became a broadcast host, getting all the attention he wants at the expense of reading out prewritten propaganda drivel. At least they weren't nearly as badly off as Starscream, who was last seen going to Earth to become a stripper or something and never spoke to them again. In the early days of their integration with society, the Decepticons constantly planned secret meetings and vandalized government property, but now, it had seemed that everyone got caught up in their mundane routines and completely forgot about their past lives.

Speaking of which, a seeker who had been nervously pacing through the crowd finally worked up enough courage to enter the shop. What was his name again? Nacelle. A low ranking grunt soldier who managed to survive the war by being overlooked. Now that the best fliers were dead, he finally had a chance to shine as a professional racer. Looking proudly down upon the Decepticon logo the flyer chose to keep, Megatron said, "Still have the mark? Good. What are you here for?" Nacelle cleared his throat in a long burst of static. "It's my fault. We had a chance and I blew it for all of you. I thought I could weave through without getting stuck and-" "What happened happened. It's all ancient history now. Don't let it bother you." The last battle was fought in a series of deep tunnels below Cybertron. The cramped spaces were barely enough to stand in, let alone transform and fly. There was nothing a seeker jet like him could do. "Hey. Um… Boss. I'm sorry, okay? If I wasn't-" "You could have gone to the big pharmacy, but you came here, and my life has gone to slag so hard that this action matters. Ha! You did good."

Nacelle started nervously chuckling, so Megatron had to throw his head back and guffaw as hard as he could in order to get the nervous flyer to laugh with him. Now significantly more cheered up, he said, "Hey! Because I got hurt in my last race, I just got my Level 3 insurance voucher approved! No more weak stuff for me." Nacelle peered greedily into the display cases. "I'll have two centagrams of crystal tetrathyllead, a bottle of uravorite-infused high grade, two octane-cookies, half a kilo-" "You idiot. Don't get yourself killed. You'd be better off following the doctor's orders. I recommend 85 kilograms of the good anticorrosives, not the diluted trash they pipe into you in hospitals, taken over the next six weeks. Pick the brand yourself."

Torn between extreme curiosity towards hard drugs and wanting to obey his leader, Nacelle anxiously shuffled around and took so long to decide on a bottle of Velocitron-synthesized DCI-4A that Megatron started to pity him. "You know what, I'll throw in one of these for free." He took out a case from under a desk and opened it to reveal tiny jars of even tinier gems ranging from ice blue to deep green. "A racer like you should know what these are." Nacelle was shaken from his panicky mood the instant he laid eyes on the little jewels. "Wow! Steamlights! I didn't know there were any of them left in the city! Most of us racers got scared off using them after Fireflight popped two in a row and crashed into the ground at Mach 3." Megatron carefully tweezed out one of the smaller steamlights, a tiny blue cylinder barely bigger than a basketball and dropped it in a vial. "This is amazing. But…wow. These things are super intense." Handing the vial to Nacelle, Megatron replied, "That's fine. If you can't deal with the boost and your turbines detonate midair, consider it the price of failing me in the tunnels. Don't use it until you have fully recovered." His plan of rebuilding Cybertronian society may have died valiantly, but Megatron was still going to look after his troops the best he could.

Megatron's good mood was almost immediately ruined by his next customer. Out of all the mecha to come through the doors, it had to be the Autobot poster boy himself, Ultra Magnus. Glitch. "Hello! I've been making rounds, checking up on the other Decepticons. I really am glad that you are all doing so well. It is a bit suspicious for a mech of my standing to be here, but here I am." After the war, Ultra Magnus, the ever-faithful soldier, had much less to do and had let himself go a little bit. His protoform increased in non-subspacable mass enough that gaps appeared in his armor, but not nearly enough to warrant Megatron's spark crushing insults.

"You morbidly obese son of a Yugo. The only reason I let you in my shop is to marvel at the medical miracle of your sustained existence." Ultra Magnus cracked a sickeningly genuine smile and said, "I'm sorry. I didn't catch what you were saying." The store made so much money off valuable goods that it could stay running from a single sale per day, so Megatron legitimately didn’t care about losing a potential customer. "I'll say it again in a way your idiot prototype cyberbrain can understand. You're a chunk and I hate you." Ultra Magnus was mildly shocked. "Well! I didn't expect you to overcome our mutual grievances this soon, so whatever you say is entirely forgivable. Also I met Shockwave today, and I'm glad to say he was very courteous. Do you want to know how he's doing?" "I can ask him myself. Go eat Optimus Prime's tailpipe. Maybe that's why you're so slagging fat."

"Don't act as though you are different from me." For a second, Megatron thought they were actually about to start fighting right there, then Ultra Magnus winked. "To be fully honest, being here to check on you gives me an excuse to gather a few treats for myself without being caught. You won't judge, right? I'll take half a kilo of hypervisco and three bottles of the ferroin Engex. Ooh. Baltic amber oil from Earth. I'll have fifteen liters of that too, thanks." Deciding that Ultra Magnus wasn't worth the effort to continue yelling at, Megatron measured out the orders and accepted the credits in silence.

Megatron briefly entertained the idea of contaminating all of his product with acid crystals and astatine, but decided against it. He might kill or sicken the slagger before he got caught, and then he'd spend a few centuries in prison, then Prime would argue to put him through another course of rehabilitation, then he'd be stuck in another dead end job under much higher supervision. Like it or not, this Primus-damned stall was all he had, and it mattered greatly to Megatron that he got to be his own boss, make his own decisions, and yell at as many customers as he wanted.

After Ultra Magnus left, the crowd outside thinned. It was getting dark. Nearly time to close. Megatron debated shutting the shop early before deciding to stay open in case a few late night partiers wanted to pick up something fun. Megatron was shaken from his daydream about what his legal consequences would be if he ate forty kilos of steamlights and went on a uncontrollable nitro-fuelled rampage when a minibot burst through the doors, vaulted over the counter, and grabbed a case containing sealed vials of concentrated Berserker Button. As bad as it was for the mighty Megatron to be robbed by a random mech, at least this meant he had something to do.

Leaping from behind the counter to the door in two massive steps, barely remembering to trigger the hard light door shield, Megatron unsheathed the energon blade from his wrist and turned to pursue the target. A pathetic weapon compared to his massive fusion cannon, but he was able to get it installed as a necessary tool of his profession. After all, it's not as if he was lying. With his massive stride compared the minibot's short steps, the thief barely made it one block before Megatron knocked him to the ground with a flying kick, a bit of overkill for such a tiny opponent. The bot pulled out a beam pistol. Caught up in the thrill of the chase, Megatron nearly decapitated the little bot out of instinct. The blade stabbed into the ground a single meter away from his neck. Interrupted by a regular police patrol, Megatron was more than happy to surrender the thief to them. The little bot had been so terrified the random drugstore he robbed was staffed by none other than Megatron himself that he confessed everything. The Berserker Button was confiscated as evidence, and Megatron was allowed to return home to await further legal procedures the next morning.

Even after the leisurely walk back, his coolant lines still pumped hard, preparing for a death battle that will never happen. Megatron laid face down on the ground for a few minutes, waiting for the feeling to pass. Able to think clearly, Megatron figured that the legal procedures tomorrow would be formality more than anything else, considering the overwhelming evidence in his favor. He'd likely get reimbursed for the Berserker Button, then things would go back to normal. The case was at most going to take three days, barring some stupid Autobot-Decepticon rivalry showing up. Looking back, this was probably not the best day to spew horrible insults at one of the most influential figures of society. Either way, there was nothing Megatron could do about it. He felt a pang of guilt. In the past, he and his army would have bulldozed anyone who dared inconvenience him, and now he was acting like a regular civilian. Just in a day in the life of an ordinary mech. At this point, what did the last six million years mean to him or anyone else?

#this is actually fanfiction #transformers #megatron #grades #study motivation #drugs #nacelle #ultra magnus #megatron is a literal ex-con #did you catch the redline reference

3 notes · View notes