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apomaro-mellow · 7 months

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Matchmaking Harringtons 3

Steve was having a great time with Eddie. It was mostly because he was just that amazing. He was funny, hot, cute, and totally into him. A winning combo in Steve's opinion. But it was all due in no small part to the fact that his parents were so supportive. Steve didn't talk about the girls he dated that much (because why would he?) but his folks seemed actively interested in his going with Eddie.

Maybe it was the whole 'serious relationship' thing they were trying to commit him to. Maybe they were overcompensating for not being around much and wanting to also prove they were okay with his preferences. Either way, they always wanted to know how things were going with Eddie.

They'd been going out for a couple of dates at this point and honestly each one was better than the last. They were all typically low-key, with moments that they were able to get alone for a bit of privacy.

"Let's just say the back of his van is very spacey", Steve said into the phone as he paced about his room.

"So...you're still a total slut then?", Robin said from the other end of the line.

"Guys can't be slutty. And it's not being a slut if it's with the same guy."

"So you've?"

Diane was in the middle of bringing up a basket of laundry when she heard her son's conversation in his room. She swore she'd never be the kind of mother that constantly eavesdropped but well, the door was open just a smidge...

"Not, not the full thing, all the way yet. I think he's nervous. Or he can tell I'm nervous? I don't know. I told him I'd never been with a guy before and I thought that might make him, you know, take initiative?"

"Or maybe he's taking things slow because he doesn't wanna scare you off?", Robin suggested.

"That...could be it. But that's kinda why I called. I thought he was moving kinda slow, but guess where he's taking me tomorrow?"

"Steve, is Munson taking you to a hotel?"

Steve rolled his eyes. "No. He's taking me to Le Petit Nuange. That French place a town over?"

Robin gasped. "Sacre bleu! Va-t-il faire une proposition?"

"Robs, please. My extent of French is 'filet mignon'."

"Do you think he's serious? Like trying to meet your parents serious?"

"I don't know? Maybe? It's just weird. Le Petit is just...so not Eddie."

Diane was inclined to agree. A fancy place like that seemed out of character for someone as boisterous and non-conforming as Eddie. He has once brought a bouquet of lilies, despite their dire meaning. 'Screw flower language, these are some damn fine flowers', he had said.

And even if he thought of taking Steve somewhere special, Enzo's was the nicest place in town. Where would he get the idea to go to the next town?

Jonas.

Diane had thought he was being suspicious when he hid Steve's shoes before a date and met Eddie outside to talk. Diane had thought he'd been giving the boy some kind of shovel talk. He must've been giving Eddie advice on where to take Steve instead.

And she could just imagine what he was trying to do - clean Eddie up. Well, if he wanted to go behind her back, then two could play at that game.

-------------------------

The doorbell rung and Steve answered it. Eddie was there, in a button up shirt with long sleeves that hide his tattoos. His hair was pulled back into a ponytail. And he had a bouquet of nice, traditional, red roses.

"They're beautiful", Steve beamed. He took a moment to put the roses in a vase, missing the thumbs up his dad gave Eddie. Diane however, did not miss it.

"Your chariot awaits", Eddie said, giving a sweeping bow and then locking his arm with Steve's. "Have a good evening, Mr. and Mrs. Harrington!", he called back.

As the van roared down the street, Diane enacted her own plan. She had her husband would also be having a date night.

At Le Petit Nuange, Eddie and Steve were being seated and Eddie had never felt more out of place. It was like everyone could tell he didn't belong here. But when he saw Steve smiling from across him, he knew there was no place he'd rather be.

"What made you want to bring me here?", Steve asked.

Jonas had practically cornered Eddie when he had come to pick up Steve, saying he just wanted to talk a little. Eddie was prepared for the whole 'I have a shotgun/shovel and I'm not afraid to use it.'

"Let's talk", he had opened with. "Steve and you have been having fun, right?"

"Uh, yes? I guess?", Eddie said, unsure now.

"Fun's all well and good Eddie. But now's the time to show Steve you're serious. And you are serious? Aren't you, son?"

"Y-yes. Yes, I am, serious like a heart attack."

"Then you've gotta take him some place special. A place like, uh, say Le Petit Nuange", Jonas rubbed at his chin.

Eddie's brows rose up under his fringe. "Le Petit Nuange? That place is-"

"Is upscale. Which is what Steve deserves, isn't it?"

Eddie swallowed. "Yeah, yeah it is."

He looked at Steve's hand, sitting on the table, just asking to be held. Steve deserved all this and more. And Eddie wanted to be the one to give it to him. It was why he took extra shifts and more of his side business to have the dough to take Steve here.

"I just looked up places in the yellow pages and thought you might like it."

"You know, my parents actually come here a lot", Steve pointed out.

"You don't say", Eddie tried to hide his expression by covering his face with the menu. When he got a look at the prices, it did a good job hiding the way his eyes bugged out. Looks like his purse strings would be a little tight after this. But he had prepared for that. Steve was worth it.

He was worth the stiff shirt, the swanky eatery, and even spending more time selling music that was beneath him to the general populace.

"So tell me more about this gig you've got coming up", Steve said.

Eddie's face broke out into a wild smile and he nearly slammed the menu down. "It's gonna be a ride, Stevie." He wasn't shouting, but his volume was a little louder than polite, and he felt eyes on him. He cleared his throat and quieted himself. "I mean I'm excited to rub elbows with other bands. The experience is sure to be enlightening."

Steve gave him an odd look. "Yeah, I hope my parents let me go. Indy isn't far, but I feel like they've been keeping a closer eye on me lately."

The thought of Steve being in a crowd while he played made Eddie wanted to jump for joy. He wanted to tell him come, even if his parents said no. Sneak out for the weekend, what could they do? He was a man now. But he couldn't do that. Not just because he was trying to clean up and having his new boyfriend at a metal venue might ruin that image. It was also because Steve's had nice parents.

There weren't many that could both accept and encourage their queer child.

"You know Steve, your parents-hcck!" Eddie choked on his words as he saw the Harringtons walk right in and get led to a table.

"What about my parents?", Steve asked.

"They're uh, they're um great!", Eddie squeaked, then cleared his throat to get it back to its normal register. "I mean they're great. I can tell they love you very much."

Steve smiled, none the wiser to his folks being seated not too far away. Eddie tried not to look at them, tried to ignore them. But this couldn't be a coincidence.

Jonas was looking around while trying not to look around. "When you said you wanted to go out tonight....I didn't think you meant this place."

"Why not?", Diane questioned. "We're regular patrons. And it's been a while since we went out." They'd been getting plenty of alone time what with Steve dating now, but they usually spent their evenings at home.

Jonas pulled out her chair for her and when he sat down, he used the menu to continue looking around. Diane watched him like a hawk.

Steve didn't know what was going on with Eddie. He looked nice dressed this way, sure. But it didn't feel like him. He felt...smaller somehow. Like he was trying to shrink himself down. Even as they talked, his smiles were restrained, he didn't move his hands as much, and even his voice seemed like it was being held back.

Steve watched as he cut his food, using minimal motions like he was working with glass.

"Eddie, are you okay?"

"Huh? Yeah, course, I'm fine. I uh, I just need to hit the can-uh use the facilities. Please excuse me."

Eddie got up in a haste. He thought he'd be ready for tonight. It was just playing pretend. Potentially for the rest of his life. Maybe having an audience of the parents was what was tripping him up. He got close to the bathroom when a hand tapped his shoulder. He turned to see none of than Mrs. Harrington.

"Don't worry, I know this wasn't your idea", she started right off. "My husband put it in your head. I'll admit, I like the idea of Steve being treated like a prince, but if you clean up too much he'll get confused."

"Right, yeah, gotta strike a balance. Mhm."

"Glad we could talk", she patted his arm. "Go get him, tiger."

Eddie returned to Steve and saw Diane come back to her table not long after. He could see them exchange words, although he couldn't hear what. Then Jonas got up from his seat. He gave Eddie a strange look while making his way to the bathroom. Eddie sighed and excused himself again.

"Now I don't know what my wife might've said to you, but you've got to stay on this path. I can see a real future with you and Steve if you do."

"A real future?"

"I could only give my son to someone who could take care of him. You understand what I mean, don't you?"

Eddie nodded. The kind of man who could take Steve to these places and not have his soul leave his body when he looked at the menu. When Eddie sat back down, he looked at Steve, sitting across from him. It was the kind of view he could get used to.

Somehow, the meddling didn't end there. The Harringtons took turns, getting up to meet with Eddie and each time he had to come up with an excuse.

"I'm gonna check their wine selection."

"I want to make sure the kitchen knows my allergies."

"I'm gonna see if the violinist takes requests."

Finally, Steve stood up with him and grabbed Eddie by the elbow. "Come with me."

Steve took him to the bathroom and locked the door behind them.

"Steve", Eddie gasped, scandalized when his neck started to get kissed.

"You've been antsy all night." Steve's hands went to his hips and began to untuck his shirt.

Instantly, Eddie felt like being released from shackles. Steve's hand roaming under his shirt left him so distracted, he almost didn't hear what he said next.

"Hm?"

"I said, do you wanna get out of here?"

"The bill-", Eddie was cut off when Steve reached behind him and took down his hair, running his fingers through it to free the tresses.

"A little dine and ditch never hurt anyone."

Eddie looked to the window in the bathroom. Just barely big enough to make a getaway. He was halfway out when they heard someone knocking on the door. Eddie was helping Steve out as the handle was shaking. Steve was giggling and it was like a sweet bell to his ears.

They were making their way around the back of the restaurant and towards the van as the manager finally came around with a key.

Diane and Jonas could make out the commotion going on near the bathroom and saw the empty table where two lovebirds should be.

"You knew I made Eddie take Steve here", Jonas confirmed.

"Yes."

"And every time you got up-"

"Was to speak with Eddie. And now they've-"

"-Snuck out the bathroom."

Together they sighed, remembering when they snuck out of stuffy formals to be alone together. And because they wondered if they were doing right by their son.

"We're going to have a long talk when we get home, huh?", Jonas asked his wife.

"Oh yeah."

"Any hope for me?"

"Ask me after dessert."

Part 5

Tag Team

@tartarusknight @swimmingbirdrunningrock @estrellami-1 @potato-of-the-lord @dragonmama76 @m-owo-n @sticknpokelightningbolt @somegirlsomewhere @tinyplanet95 @samsoble @runniem @hallucinatedjosten @nburkhardt @littlewildflowerkitten @noctxrn-e @subversivecynic @larawrmonster @suikatto @platinum-sunset @imacowboy3 @tiny-enthusiast @netflixisacopingstrategymom @honorarybrit81 @manda-panda-monium @krazyperson @ninjapirateunicorns

#apo writes #stranger things #fanfiction #steddie #poor eddie #dont worry he and steve will find their way #and di and jo will get the picture too

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magicxc · 6 months

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Hills and Valleys

Synopsis: Legend has it that Halloween is strictly for the scares. With ghouls and goblins, vampires and werewolves, witches and broomsticks, who could disagree?

However, all this friend group wanted was a little trick or treat. Sprinkle in a few party favors, loud music, and a cabin in the woods, the myth was bound to come true.

Lurking around the corner is danger like never before, eager to bring this night to a bloody finish.

So join these friends as they fight to make it through a Halloween they’ll never forget, proving that "the scare" is more than just a fantasy.

Word Count: 1573

Warnings: drowning

Chapter 2 - Julianna’s POV

Series Masterlist

“Let’s fucking gooooooo,” I yell into the crowd.

I don’t know what it is about LMFAO that gets me pumped, but they’re definitely a vibe. That group was inescapable in 2012 and then they just fell off the face of the earth, damn.

But before I can contemplate it any further, a drink is being pushed into my hands by none other than the fender bender himself. Man, I haven’t seen that asshole on tv since adult swim was poppin.

“Is this that Jekyll and Gin?” I shout over the music.

“Nah, this that beetlejuice,” they answered.

Eyeing the cup for potential bugs, I shrug my shoulders and take it to the head cause lets be real, the craziest names yield the best taste.

Next thing I know is that I’m ass up face down in the middle of the dancefloor bussing the meanest of whines for Freddy Kruger. And if I hear another Megan Thee Stallion song, Imma show him why she really calls us hotties.

But unfortunately for him, inebriated me has the tendency to fake an accent or two, though I usually don’t know which one will get the chance to shine until the drunk meter hits full.

“Sacre bleu nigga, Im tryna throw this ass back on youuu. So open your arms wide, bend those knees, and catch it ohh ouiiii.”

“Girl you play too fucking much,” he retorted.

So apparently the accent of the day is French.

We dance on each other for a few more songs, my ass firmly placed in his hands while his pelvis roughly grinds into me; our bodies cradled together as we move to the rhythm of the beat. Slick comments like “get a room” or “use a condom” get thrown at us and it’s then that I leave for a breather before I fuck him there and then.

Unwrapping myself from his arms, I get ready to go, promising that I’ll be back while he smacks my ass in return. Deciding on a cup of water before I step outside for some fresh air, I make a beeline for the kitchen damn near knocking over Lynn in the process.

“Woahhh where’s the fire,” she jokes.

“In my vagina,” I yell. “Freddy Krugers big dick gave my ass two muthafucking heartbeats bitch.”

“You whore, you smashed on the first night?”

“No, but I’m about to,” I smirked.

“Shittt join the team, I smashed the first night and became a girlfriend.”

“Girl when haven't you?”

Shrugging her shoulders, she downs the last of her drink as her beefy military guy comes up and snakes his arms around her waist; an acknowledging nod thrown my way.

“Jason, right?”

“All day.”

“I’d love to stay and talk, but I’m legit burning from the inside out,” I said, fanning myself.

“I think Lorenzo left the backdoor open,” Jason pointed out. “I’ve seen people in and out that thing all night.”

“Mhmm, yeah take a breather and air that cat out before you buss it wide open.”

“Fuck you!” I laughed, middle finger high in the air. “Honestly I’m surprised I’ve made it this long at his party as is.”

“At the rate you’re going, we’ll probably have to haul you out of here,” Jason chirped.

“Y’all aren't still ‘beefing’ are you?”

“You know how he goes Lynn, if Lenny does nothing else he’ll hold a grudge.”

“Just give it some time.”

About two months ago Lenny threw a surprise party for himself, however the fuck that works, and invited the usual crew and then some. He rented out a party hall because quite frankly we were tired of helping him clean up after his usual weekend shenanigans; and it was his birthday so ideally he wanted to get fucked up without being responsible for any mess he made.

As the night goes on we’re all chopping it up and getting lit and I spy this gorgeous girl, I’m talking ten out of ten baddie. Now I’m far from shy, especially when it comes to something that I want, so I slid over to her, hit her with some of my best lines and made that shit official like a referee with a whistle. We end up clicking instantly. She’s downing drinks back to back with me, fucking up the dance floor with me, and even tried her hands at skiing the slopes for the first time.

All in all things are going better than expected, hell I'm starting to think it's my birthday. At some point, we start taking body shots and somehow her trying to wedge the lime from my teeth ends with us liplocking, that slice of citrus long forgotten as it hits the floor. Our makeout session ends abruptly, both of us yanked apart with a fuming Lenny in front of us.

Apparently she was a coworker of his who he’d been eyeing for a minute and I swooped in and ruined the possibility of something more. But the thing is, he had no chances with this woman in the first place and had he paid close enough attention through those bullshit conversations that he forced on her in the break room, he would’ve realised that sis was gay.

Truth be told, I bruised his ego more than anything. And the fact that he pulled such a stunt like that, in his drunken state, in front of friends, family and coworkers has him a little more embarrassed than he lets on.

I think Lenny is the bees knees and I would’ve never approached his crush had I known, but it still stings that he’s essentially beating a dead horse. I feel like he tolerates me these days because of the crew and quite frankly I’m over the silly nonsense. He’s my absolute fave of the bunch, our personalities being so similar and all. But after tonight he’ll hear everything I have to say whether he likes it or not.

“Anyway I’m off to, as you so eloquently put it, air this cat out,” I joke. “Later sugar.”

“Dammit, is nothing sacred?” She screams.

Chuckling, I make it to the back door, walking over to one of the nearby trees to light a joint. Bringing it to my lips, I inhale the smoky goodness, eyelids heavy from fun. Swallowing it down, I rest my head against the branch as the crunching of leaves takes me out of my daze.

Spinning around, a small smile dangles at the corner of my lips as I eye the familiar face. Exhaling, I hand over the joint, a question that doesn’t need to be asked. Hands swiping over mine, the blunt slides from my fingers and between their lips in response; a newfound sense of serenity as we enjoy the low thumping of the music.

Halloween aside, autumn is my absolute favorite season for the beautiful, warm colors that it produces - from the red tinted leaves, to the orange pumpkins, and the golden sunsets. The air is crispier and the breeze blows a little cooler and the wind tastes a little fresher. I don’t know but it’s something about the way the earth turns on its axis around this time of year that brings a newfound joy to me.

Eyes closed in blissful solace, I listen in as another crunching of the leaves ensues, only this time I’m the reason for the noise. A fist to my jaw has my face slamming against the tree trunk, body tumbling to the ground as I try my best to recover from the force of it all.

Hands desperately grabbing at the earth, dirt and debris get painfully wedged underneath my fingernails, watching the droplets of blood seep into the soil.

Trying my best to scramble up off the ground in my drunken state, a kick to my temple makes all my efforts futile, vision blurring as I lose my fight with consciousness.

|~~

My body feels cold and heavy, lungs intensely burning while my head feels an insane amount of pressure. Eyes shooting open, I see what looks to be the moon, a full one at that. Can you imagine, a full moon on Halloween? I see the universe has a sense of humor.

I feel my body sink further into the cold, wet depths, limbs thrashing against whatever has me restrained and it occurs to me that I may not be able to talk my way out of this one. The more I struggle, the more water pours into my lungs, filling my chest with a fiery ache; salty tears submerged as my nose splatters furious bubbles at my body's pitiful attempt to cough up the water and relieve my chest.

They say it takes about 40 seconds to drown and though I’ve only been down here for about half that, it feels like twice that time. I’ve always wanted to go in my sleep, peacefully and without a clue. But as I stare up at the hazy moon, surrounded by a deep blue sky, stars sprinkled in between, I figure this isn’t the worst thing to see last. Relaxing into the water, I give up my struggle and take a big gulp, ready to accept my fate. Vision darkening, I look up for a final peek at the starry night in all its blurred glory, or as I’d like to call this one “the party night” and take comfort in the fact that I got to live it up one last time.

#Emmy Writes #Emmy Tries #SpookySzn #Halloween Kills #Halloween Series #Halloween #Hills and Valleys #Original Story and Characters #Horror

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xanadontit · 1 year

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For those who asked how my brother enjoyed his little European tour the tl;dr is he absolutely loved it, 12/10, would do it again.

His favorite city (and he said he’d like to go back!) was Prague. Reasons: beautiful city and they had a lot of freedom there to explore. He said that the structured tours were pretty fun but being able to go off and get lost was the best for him. My little adventurer!

Lucerne was the “prettiest” city according to him but he caught a cold there and wasn’t feeling so hot so he’d also like to go back and “do stuff without feeling crappy.” He’s also dying to snowboard in the Alps. Well OK!

Hot goss interlude: Leo and Camryn are officially back together. But don’t tell anyone, OK?

He’d like a little more time to explore Dresden but other than that isn’t dying to go back to Germany. “We spent the most time there and I’d like to check out other places.” Fair! Pretty sure they also traumatized the poor tour bus driver, Dimitri, while there. Sorry, Dimitri!

Paris had the worst food! Sacre bleu! Per the kid, the organized dinners were underwhelming at best and straight up gross at worst. “I had a cheese crepe and I think the cheese had gone bad.” Betrayed by melted cheese… the horror. But he said the sunset cruise on the Seine was beautiful and he’d definitely go back. Also he was able to procure a non-sus crepe to right the previous crepe wrong. He also had really good pizza there for lunch a couple of days.

Speaking of food, I was curious if he was adventurous and he said “as much as possible.” They were largely left to their own devices (within reason) to get lunch. Usually kids and a chaperone would break off into a smaller group to get lunch somewhere. Dinners were with the whole group (50 kids plus chaperones) and arranged in advance and there wasn’t much choice in terms of ordering. But there was usually local entertainment so he said even if he wasn’t in the mood for the chicken being served it was still fun.

No one was sent home, no one did anything terribly insane, and the chaperones, understandably, had a drink or two each night (per my brother they “were drunk” but he’s prone to exaggeration). One of my brother’s friends got day drunk by accident and lost on his way back to the bus so he had to drop a pin and a few kids had to fetch him lol. My brother wanted to try a German beer so he did and when I asked how it was said “it was a beer” lol.

He bought me an insane purse in Paris; it’s very much like a Chanel bag in that it’s quilted with a chain strap but it’s not a Chanel. He told me the other option he found was an alligator print but he thought this was more classy for me. How much longer until he realizes his big sister is three raccoons in a trench coat and not some debutante?

I’m so, so happy he had this experience but I’m also really happy he’s home.

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youkaiyume · 2 years

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I had a dream last night that I was house sitting in France for a lovely lady named Molly while she was out on holiday with her kids. She had a vintage mint colored muscle car that she parked outside of her house that I was admiring while looking out her front window and as I did, a tall man pulled behind it and parked his car, then proceeded to walk by and whistled at the muscle car. I poked my head out the window and said “Sir, can I help you???” but he ignored me.

He then said to himself “I bet I can open this up real easy.” took out something in his pocket, jiggled with the door lock and proceeded to just hop in the car and drove off??? I ran out and kind of stood there as he peeled around the corner in shock. I thought about calling the owner but thought TIME WAS OF THE ESSENCE and called the police instead.

The french operator on the other line was very patient with me and I explained that I was a foreigner housesitting and that my client’s car was just stolen and she responded with “SACRE BLEU! We must fix this at once, time is of the essence!” and I was like THATS WHAT I THOUGHT!! and I think I fell in love with her a little.

Anyway the guy’s car that he abandoned for the Muscle car was still there and I read the license plate and all the info I could find on it for the operator. I guess this is where a gap forms in the dream as some dreams do as maybe during that detective montage I left the house and sleuthed around and then came back to find that owner had returned!! And that the car was also sitting innocently back in in front of her house.

The operator lady was still on the phone with me this entire time and she was just as confused as I was. When I ran inside the house looked like it was ransacked, with broken glass all over that I distinctly remembered sidestepping. I thought someone had robbed the house, but Molly, the owner came flouncing out as if nothing was wrong. I asked her what happened and how did she get her stolen car back. But she was really dismissive like I was crazy and said there was a note in the car that explained everything. The operator on the other side listening was very suspicious at this point and was like ‘maybe that carnapper was her husband, mon dieu.’ and that this was all some elaborate test or setup to see how good I was of a house sitter.

Anyway, I woke up trying to find that note that explained why the fuck any of this happened. Sorry for wasting like five mins of your morning for this mildly unsolved mystery. But shoutout to that French operator who was my detective partner that entire dream.

#text post #personal #weird dreams #i could feel that french operator lady was about to ask me to hand the phone over to molly #and give her a piece of her mind #did i mention that I am in love with french operator lady lmao

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patricia-von-arundel · 1 year

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Alright, let's put on the red noses and grease paint and pile out of the clown car, because a self-appointed leader has spoken.

Men don't get to define what a woman is.

Okay. Okay. I can get behind that.

So who does, Queen Clown?

You?

Well. Okay. Let's consider. Does Her Royal Clownness hold an advanced medical degree? Let me look it up.

(Ooooh, got turned down by Oxford! Bet that one stung. Already got you beat, my friend: I was accepted to Cambridge.)

Exeter. Okay. French.

Merde, un bouffon, it seems you were not an exceptional student at all! And sadly, the British higher education system has seen fit to do away with a classical curriculum, allowing those who squeak by in sixth form to focus entirely on a single subject at university. (And your clownlyhighness, did you take O-Levels or GCSEs? Ignorant when the change happened, but I'm familiar with the system. Any idea how it works elsewhere? Didn't think so.)

Okay, so - no medical training, no biology, no genetics... I guess maybe you took French of Womanliness?

Sacre bleu! Non!

Well. We've established you weren't a great student, you studied French, and you couldn't manage Oxbridge.

I'm beginning to doubt your credentials on this.

Moving on - okay, married a doctor. Might give you slightly more credibility. Might not.

Oh, but - no. You said a man can't define what a woman is. Shame. We were on the right track.

Soooooo... you, Your Clownness, have no background which would indicate anyone should look to you as an expert on the definition of a woman. And to avoid any chance of misogyny, your husband is out.

I have a degree in psychology - closer to a medical field than French, certainly. And I fulfilled the requirements for a neuroscience minor, which included cell biology and genetics classes. And if you don't feel that's sufficient (not that I honestly care what you think), I'm sitting next to my girlfriend. Who, as it happens, is, like your clownly husband, a medical doctor. But she has an advantage: she is a woman.

To recap: we're more qualified than you. Better educated. Neither of us is a man. Relevant studies.

Then this is simple!

What defines a woman is feeling that she (or the alternate pronoun of choice)...

...is a woman.

Period. Or - full stop. Wouldn't want to confuse you with something that is not the superior standard King's English.

The chromosomes, the genitalia, the sexual proclivities, the appearance? That's not your goddamn business. It's not mine either. That is between the woman, her doctor(s), and potentially her partner(s) of choice.

Also, why the fuck are you so obsessed with what's between someone's legs? That's bizarre, lady. And... kind of gross. I don't want to ever find myself in a public bathroom with anyone that interested in what I pee out of. That's just weird. And probably illegal. If I saw you there, I'd probably go find security and make sure they were aware some creepo was in the women's bathroom trying to look through the cracks in the stall doors.

So, to sum up...

Honk your nose, shut your mouth, and find something else to do.

This woman says

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hes-a-rat-whisperer · 5 months

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"an endless game with no losers"

a quaint little Psychonauts fanfic I put together this fine evening UwU

ship: Napoleon/(rat)King

summary: a ludicrous hypothetical turns a strategic board game battle into a heated argument

a loud clack broke the silence in the room as the king made the final, deciding move of the long chess match. "ha!" he said victoriously. "I win again, Bonaparte!"

the blue emperor couldn´t believe his eyes, his mouth slightly agape as he stared at the board for a few more seconds, as if to confirm the outcome of the match for himself.

"sacre bleu!! I demand a rematch!!" he said, throwing his fist down onto his armrest. "I will personally wipe that smug grin off your face you- you chalatan!!"

the king smirked, his chuckling turning into laughter at the other´s frustration. "oh I would love to see that!" he said as he already gathered his pieces, setting them up once more.

on the sidelines, on two slightly smaller chairs than the ones the two self proclaimed warlords were sitting on, Fred and peasant were watching the countless matches the two fought. the former wearing his usual gloomy expression on his face, while the latter appeared to be bored out of his mind.

"grandpa, this has been going on for hours now!" Fred complained. "how many matches has it even been?"

peasant´s small voice spoke up rather hesitantly. "t-twenty.." he said.

"quiet!! both of you!!" Napoleon snapped, only to be backed up by his adversary "neither of you respect the importance of this feud!! this isn´t just about a simple chess game! this is war!!" the king said, his voice threatening and his glare fixed on his more timid and cowardly counterpart, who ducked away from the harsh tone.

"exactly!!" Napoleon agreed, shooting his milktoast grandchild an equally warning look, which made the lanky man sink in his chair, hiding behind his long legs. "you should really be paying more attention Fred! you can learn a lot, simply by observing the battlefield!"

king scoffed. "yeah, sure." he mocked "you should really be paying attention to me, Fred! heaven knows there is nothing you could learn from this loser across from me!" that made Napoleon throw his fist on his armrest again "HOW DARE YOU!!" he yelled. "how dare I?! how dare I?! if the last matches are anything to go by, I´d say its quite obvious who´s the better general!!"

while the two men were busy shouting at each other, peasant rose an eyebrow, looking through a little notepad. "uhm..a-actually, my lord..you two are pretty much..e-even!" he said

"WHAT?!" the king snatched the notepad away from peasant, looking over what appeared to be a scoreboard the little man wrote down. it showed clearly that from the twenty matches, Napoleon won ten of them and king won the other ten. king dismissively threw the notepad away, hitting peasant with it in the process. "PAH! you must have counted wrong! with all your failings, it wouldn´t surprise me if counting isn´t your strong suit either!! there is no way I am tied with that guy!" "for once, that is something I agree with you on! certainly, I must have won far more matches than you!" "what did you say?!"

and thus, the two were stuck in yet another argument. Fred rolled his eyes, muttering under his breath "well it´s either that, or someone is letting the other win."

those words were actually meant to be for his and peasant´s ears only, but, unluckily for poor old Fred, the two warlords heard it too.

although, instead of an imediate reaction of repulsion at such a ludicrous statement..the two were oddly quiet for a few seconds, exchanging glances with each other..

only when both Fred and peasant gave them those confused, questioning looks, did they speak up. "what?! that is- that is ridiculous!!" king said. "as if I would ever just give victory away!! let alone to someone like that!!" Napoleon agreed, giving a wave of his hand, as if to physically shove those ludicrous accusations away from him. however, judging by peasant´s surprised look and Fred´s bemused grin, neither of the two were buying it.

the two emperors continued to try and explain the situation, defending themselves from the accusations, but unbeknownst to them, their cheeks were staring to show rather prominent green and blue blush. "seriously!! give me one good reason why I would ever even consider letting this pathetic little man win!!" king said, glaring at both peasant and fred. "w-well.." peasant began, but looked at Fred for help when the king´s look rendered him mute. fortunately, Fred wasn´t quite as effected by king´s threats and simply took a shot in the dark "maybe because..if one of you wins, the game would be over?"

once more, the two board game enthusiasts were speechless, but still gave Fred what seemed to be a confused look. since all eyes were on him now, Fred felt more or less obligated to finish his thought. "I mean..maybe you enjoy the game and..you dont want..it..to end? or..something..?"

Napoleon and King were once again looking at each other, then back to Fred, then back to each other. until eventually, mocking snickers arose from both men, soon stirring up into amused laughter. "come on now!" king scoffed, barely able to say much else due to how much he was laughing. "I heard plenty stupid things from you, Fred but this?!" once their laughter eventually died down, they addressed this matter more clearly. "I would rather swallow my own sword than to willingly face defeat at the hands of this mere jester!" king snapped. "this battle shall end with you cowering at my feet, you tasteless disgrace of a king!!" Napoleon shouted.

eventually, the two of them simply dropped the dicussion "ENOUGH OF THAT!! FRED, PAY ATTENTION TO THE MATCH!!" "YOU TOO, PEASANT!! FROM NOW ON ALL I WANT TO HEAR FROM YOU ARE THE SCORES!!"

the shouting seemed to have startled Fred enough to disregard the previous topic and simply nod, while peasant quickly clutched the notepad, more tears falling from his eyes.

king and napoleon finished setting up their chess pieces in silence, only occasionally exchanging glances, before quickly focusing on their task again.

King swallowed hard in his throat and put on a smirk as he leaned back in his chair and gestured to the board. "well, loser goes first~" he said mockingly. as their eyes met, Napoleon gave a smug smile back. "oh I look forward to crush you this round" he said, his red eyes holding a look of challenge and..anticipation. "oh I would love to see that!" king replied with a scoff.

the possibility that there might be some foul play involved in this otherwise heated battle of wits and strategy was soon forgotten as the two archenemies lost themselves on the battlefield once more with their two aquaintances watching in silence.

#psychonauts #alistair connor #rat king #peasant #psychonauts ocs #fred bonaparte #fanfic #fanfiction #uwu

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monsterhighdiaries · 2 years

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Rochelle’s Between Classes Diary - 2 novembre

I went to the maze today to skate. It is what I like to do when I want to think about nothing else. It is relaxing for me. I did not turn on the obstacles because it is not safe when one skates alone, except I was not alone. I thought I was the only ghoul in the maze, and then I heard another skater coming from behind and coming quickly. I heard, "Passing!" I barely had the time to move over when I was passed by Robecca. I saw the little flame from her rocket boots, and she was gone. The race, as they say, it was "on." Robecca is a great skater and fast, but I am fast as well.

I was catching up when I realized the obstacles were on now. Sacre bleu! I barely made it past a giant spider that was webbing off a section of the track. I still got some of the thick spider silk tangled in my wing, but I did not take the time to stop and untangle it. I wondered if Robecca skated with the obstacles on all the time, or was it because I was skating too? I saw her ahead, and she was stopped. She was looking down, and I thought something was wrong with her skate, and I said to myself--"Ah-ha!" I shall pass her. As I went by, I heard her shout, "Arrêtez!" But it was too late. I was falling, and I could not fly because of the spider silk on my wing. It was a deep pit, and I could see water at the bottom. I cannot swim. Then I heard, "Got you!" and I stopped falling and started rising. I could hear the firing of the rockets in Robecca's boots as she pulled me out of the pit. We rested for a bit as she helped me pull the web from my wing. I asked her why she skated with the obstacles on, and she says to me, "I thought you turned them on!" Then from somewhere in the maze, we both heard a laugh that ended in a purr.

#fromrochelle #rochelle goyle #robecca steam #toralei stripe #between classes diaries #rochellebc #year02 #all

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claire-starsword · 2 months

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Bloodline of the Sacred Dragons - Chapter 2-3 & 2-4

"You're Gong's pupil!?"

Bleu freaked out when Karna introduced herself. Because he thought his huge Master Monk ally from the Shining Force and that dainty girl made a weird combination.

"It shouldn't be that shocking…" Karna pouted, her cheeks glowing by the bonfire's light. Her hair, silver with a rosy tint and in a tall updo, looked like it had an orange glow to it when against the night scenery.

"Also, I'm not officially his pupil yet. That's why I'm chasing after a master as great as him, I want to be accepted properly."

She put her chartreuse shawl back on, and hugged her knees within her white robe with golden embroidery.

"Gong never stays in a place for long. Looking for him must be tough."

Bleu gave a wry smile as he reminisced of Gong, who always had a serious look on his face as he walked in silence. He was a strange man, who preferred to be under the stars than having a roof over his head.

"Yeah. I had a loooot of trouble to find out he's in Manarina. And after aaall that… I did hear that the mages there use monsters to protect their country, but I didn't think they'd be this bad."

"That's not it," Krin rebuffed loudly from the other side of the fire. Cerberus, laying down on the ground, perked her ears at the sudden shout of her master. Both of her heads stared at Krin with worry.

"We're a whole day away from reaching Manarina. Who knows how many monsters you'd need to protect a radius that wide. They wouldn't do something so absurd no matter what. Or attack people without mercy like that. And most of all, Manarina has no reason to be on lockdown…"

She cut herself off.

"Or there might be one now," Karin completed her sister's dark thoughts.

"But, I never saw a fog-like monster like that at Manarina. There's no summoning magic capable of bringing something like that."

"Indeed. Those demons are Dark Smokes, malice given shape," Camallia told them after being silent so far.

"If you know them, does that mean they're from Parmecia?" Bleu asked, and she nodded.

"Clearly, something has come to this land of Rune."

Camallia narrowed her emerald green eyes, as if thinking of something.

"We'll be fine as long as nothing has happened to Manarina. Let's set out as early as possible tomorrow."

By Bleu's suggestion, they all went to sleep.

Save for Bleu and Karin who stood doing watch, everyone wrapped themselves on their traveling cloaks and laid down. It was a warm night. With the thick cloaks and bonfire, the night air didn't help the girls cool down one bit.

The firewood cracked occasionally, making Cerberus' ears twitch. Save for those noises, the night went on silently.

"Karin…" Bleu whispered, turning to the girl at the other side of the fire, who had her back turned to him. They had been staring in opposite directions to watch over the whole area. The others slept quietly next to them.

"Karin…" he whispered again. No answer.

"Why are you angry?"

"I'm not angry," she replied this time. "I might be looking like it because I'm sleepy. Once the moon rises a bit more, I'll let Camallia take my place."

She still had her back turned on him as she answered, but, as if suddenly thinking of something, she looked at him.

"Never mind that, are you okay without sleeping?"

"Haha, that's because I'm different from you all. It's no problem for me," he laughed.

"Yeah… Of course. You're different from us. You're a Sacred Dragon. Sorry, I'm tired so I'll switch with Camallia now."

She went to wake up Camallia without giving him time to reply. With drowsy eyes now opened, Camallia nodded in understanding without saying anything. Karin wrapped herself in the cloak next to her and curled into sleeping position, her conversation with Bleu ending there.

The embers reflected in Bleu's eyes danced weakly to the wind.

The following dawn came. The group hurried to Manarina, with Karna having joined them.

Karna had said that, with a Sacred Dragon by her side, she could surely get to Manarina safe and sound. Bleu allowed her to come along. He only meant to protect her until they arrived. He and Karin had no clue just how deeply grateful and interested in them she had become.

Bleu went flying to survey the way ahead. With his wings spread out horizontally, and his head and tail stretched out, he looked like a beautiful cross.

The group crossed the desert region surrounding Manarina. Krin had done just fine by being smart and riding on Cerberus' back, but Karna dragged things out quite literally by getting her legs stuck in the sand.

Though it wasn't just her; Karin and Camallia also struggled for having never traveled through a desert before.

At last, they could see the walls surrounding Manarina. It was a beautiful construction, covered entirely in reliefs of geometrical patterns. Spells and magic stones were placed in strategic points. This magical wall powered a strong barrier that protected the town.

Once they arrived, the group went straight to Otrant's mansion, taking no time to rest.

Within the walls were a bunch of houses of many different shapes crammed together. It looked like an architectural exhibition. Otrant's mansion was in the very center of that agglomeration.

The mage who welcomed them only wanted to let the Sacred Dragon and Krin inside, but Bleu rejected that.

"These girls have information that needs to be discussed with the Great Wizard Otrant."

His words carried weight as a Sacred Dragon, so the mage with a dull green beard reluctantly let them all inside.

They all entered the majestic place, with even Karna coming in last, seizing the opportunity as no one would stop her. She threw a mischievous and smug grin at the stern bearded mage at the doorway, then quickly got inside.

The mage made a displeased face, and closed the door without a sound.

Surrounded by many silent mages, the greatest wizard of Manarina was laying down on a bed.

"I'm sorry, Sir Bleu," was the first thing Otrant said.

"What happened?" Bleu asked, "I did not hear that an illness had befallen you."

"No, it is no illness. It is shameful, but I fell to a monster attack the other day. Please forgive me for the discourtesy of receiving you in bed. No, more important than that, forgive me for letting the Manual be stolen."

"What did you…"

Surprised, Camallia approached the great wizard. The feelings that had spurned her on were written in her creased eyebrows.

"Tyrin, I told you to not let anyone uninvolved come in…"

Noticing the girls behind Bleu, Otrant questioned the stern mage from before.

Vexed, the mage named Tyrin apologized. Bleu hastily intervened for him. Though it was late to do it, he introduced Camallia and the other girls.

"So, you say you came from a distant continent to Rune, seeking the Manual?"

Camallia nodded at Otrant.

"Yet, the Manual can be a great danger depending on who possesses it. We intended to get Sir Bleu's approval here to seal it forever."

"Certainly, the Manual should not be used for the resurrection of things such as the Demon King Darksol, and the Dark Dragon that received his soul. We must avoid this. However, in my land to the north, the Manual is urgently needed. The Sacred Dragons who protect the power of the earth need its power. Should they fall, the uncontrolled earth will run wild, and bring meaningless destruction."

"There is no destruction with meaning anywhere in this world… Also, could you explain what is this 'Power of the Earth'?"

"It is power within the earth. Used well, it brings great blessings to the people, but used by evil, it will tear the earth apart and swallow everything. It is clear that evil creatures who desire this power have come to this land. The ship that brought me here was assaulted, and monsters of Parmecia attacked us on our way here as well, likely trying to delay us."

"Monsters attacked your party and stole the Manual. It might have been the same group, or they might be allies. From a distant, foreign land…"

Otrant's face contorted with growing anxiety.

"Then, wouldn't all of this be the work of people trying to revive Dark Dragon?"

Tyrin spoke from the row of mages gathered in the room. The others chided him for speaking without being asked.

"The monsters went from Rindo to Shade Abbey. If they wished to revive Dark Dragon, they would head straight to the Gate of the Ancients to the south. They seem to be heading to the opposite direction. If their aim is a continent to the north, they must get a ship. But our forces extend to both Rindo and the western bay. Given that, there's only one place where they could get a ship."

"Uranbatol, or perhaps Waral," Krin answered Otrant, "that's where they're headed."

"Camallia, can't you pinpoint the Manual's location again?" Bleu requested, remembering what she had done back at Rudo Village.

"No, it's impossible here. It seems to be because of the barrier, so unless I leave the town for a moment…" Looking a bit scared, she touched her circlet's jewel.

"So, chasing after them will be a bit complicated…"

Bleu mumbled to himself. Karin immediately complained.

"Don't tell me you want to chase after them. That's impossible, you won't reach them in time."

"But we can't just stay still here, can we?"

"Those devils should be past Shade Abbey already. It's too late, there's no way we would catch up to them."

"If I fly, I can definitely catch up to them as they enter the Pao Plains. Besides, I shouldn't take you all to something this dangerous anyway. I'm going, by myself," Bleu told her like she was an unruly child. Perhaps looking at her like that was an excuse to justify his idea.

"There's no point in going alone, what do you think you can do by yourself?" Watching Karin raise her voice, Krin and Karna frantically got between the two.

"Sir Bleu, Lady Karin is correct," Camallia stated plainly, supporting Karin. "The Manual is not something that belongs to you only."

At a loss for words, Bleu stared blankly at the two girls, moving his head to one and the other multiple times.

The one who lent him an unexpected helping hand was none other than Otrant.

"The Manual has been under the Sacred Dragons' control for a long time. The responsibility and rights to it now fall upon Sir Bleu as one of them. He was destined to be part of the Shining Force since the beginning, just as the hero Max and the robot Adam. Protecting the Manual is his duty as Sacred Dragon. We have no right to intervene."

"But we shouldn't put up with a right that forces one to do the impossible, or throw reason away," Karin argued head on with Otrant. Brushing away Krin, who tried to keep her quiet, she took a step forward. Krin was stuck in a big dilemma, her sister's unyielding spirit being a terrible headache at the moment.

"Then, it would be great to have a possible, reasonable, well planned pursuit."

Surprising everyone in the room, Tyrin spoke. The other mages all scorned at his impertinence. Otrant quelled their ire, and let him continue.

"A dwarf acquaintance of mine knows a way through the northern mountains. Crossing that path and going through the Pao Plains, how about we enlist the mercenaries at the Pao Train to ambush the devils? A safe, necessary strategy."

Otrant showed interest in Tyrin's suggestion.

"It is not a bad idea. Around this time of the year, the Pao Train should be staying at the west. It things go well, we might be able to surround them with the pursuing party we sent earlier, or with the soldiers of Bustoke. But, this quick path over the mountains that you speak of, does it really exist?"

"It is not over them. The dwarf path goes through the mountains. In either case, we cannot send a force bigger than this one from here. It would take too much time to ask Shade Abbey or Bustoke for reinforcements. I believe relying on the people of Pao is the wise thing to do."

"True. Do you agree? Sacred Dragon Bleu, and, Karin of Rudo Village."

If they could depart right away, Bleu had no objection to it. He could decide between heading to Pao or taking a detour to Bustoke depending on how things went.

Karin reluctantly agreed with the plan as well. There was no reason to continue to be stubborn there. At least she could stop Bleu from running ahead and obsessing over the Manual so much. She held the edge of his wing like she would never let go.

She had made it clear that she would be coming along, and Bleu didn't want to fight on that there. On the contrary, without freeing himself from her grip, he opened his wing slightly in her direction.

"Then, I leave to you, Tyrin, the choice of who will go along Sir Bleu. I will prepare you provisions and a proof of your identity to Queen Koron. As a representative of Manarina, go with Sir Bleu until the Manual's fate is decided."

Tyrin bowed in reverence to Otrant.

"Sir Bleu, is it fine for you to take Tyrin along?"

Bleu nodded slightly when asked. No reason to refuse it then and there as well.

"Should you successfully reach the monsters, retrieving the Manual takes priority to defeating them. Once the Manual is recovered, you decide what should be done with it. We can lend our power to seal it back in Dragonia, or you might destroy it immediately, do as you wish."

"What did you… Destroy it, that's…"

Bleu looked shocked at the bedridden great wizard. Everyone else did as much. Camallia remained quiet.

"Should it fall on evil hands once more, unsealed, there will be no choice but destroying it. I believe only you can do it. Should the time come, if you may, do not hesitate," Otrant said severely, and then took a deep, tired breath. Just talking seemed to have exhausted the great wizard significantly. Pretty much everything had already been discussed. All that remained was to decide what to do. Prompted by the mages, Bleu and his group left Otrant's mansion.

"Well, shall we go then?"

Tyrin, who had left with them, did a light stretch. He must have been holding it back to keep a proper stance in front of Otrant. And there was someone else who had been patiently holding back on speaking all this time.

"They finally let us go. That kind of uptight place isn't my thing."

Karna took an exaggerated deep breath, then abruptly called Tyrin.

"Old man, old man."

"Hey, hey, who are you calling an old man. I'm still young, I'd rather you don't treat me like an elder. You seem to have elf blood as well, you could be quite old," Tyrin threw back at her, looking terribly upset. Though to Karin, who was in her twenties, he really looked like the perfect image of an old man and nothing else.

"But I'm just about to be seventeen…"

Hearing that, Tyrin was speechless. To a long lived elf, that was basically a baby.

He sighed, and Karin and Krin laughed awkwardly at that. Though Bleu and Camallia didn't make a sound, their lips quivered as well.

"So, I just wanted to ask you something, do you know a monk called Gong?"

Karna brought up her main question, unconcerned for the mental damage she had just inflicted on him.

"A monk? I do have the feeling I've seen one around," Tyrin answered, scratching his beard as he recalled a faint memory. Karna's face brightened up at the answer.

"Where where where, wheeere is he?"

"In the place we're going now," Tyrin jumped away in a panic from the girl who had grabbed him with plenty of strength.

"And where are you taking us?" Krin asked, pushing him away with her arms as he came flying at her all of a sudden.

"I believe you know that better than anyone. Come, let's not waste time."

He winked at her, and hurried off.

To next part>

Translation notes:

Karna has a quirk of dragging out her vowels a lot, mostly when she's complaining, but also when excited as well. I did include it in the translation as much as I could where it didn't look weird, but it's even more notable in the og text, where it's also more consistently at the very end of her sentences. Also, this is a novel only quirk, she doesn't speak like that in the game. She does sound pretty different in the JP version compared to the localization though, so I've retranslated all her scenes for your convenience if you want to compare all portrayals of her.

Lots of color descriptions confuse me in this book, such as Karna's hair being "silver with rosy tint" and Tyrin's beard being "dull green" (though i can kinda buy this one a little more). It's worth mentioning that, in the afterword, the author mentions playing the games by borrowing as he did not have a Mega Drive. So I'm unsure how much reference he had to work with. Also, Karna does have pink hair in the overworld due to palette limitations.

The monsters are usually called 魔物 (mamono), a word that can also translate as demon/devil (though slightly different from the one used for the demon kings, 悪魔 (akuma)). Since they seem tied to the devil kings anyway, I've been using all possible translations to not make the text repetitive.

The monster types are usually presented with kanji describing them at first, and furigana giving the english name they have in game. For example, the Dark Smokes were presented last chapter as "fog-like monsters" in kanji, and "Dark Smoke" in furigana. After that the text just referred to them as Dark Smokes. But since it's revealed here that no one except Camallia recognized them, I avoided using the name in the previous part. It felt weird to add narration clarifying the name there only to have this conversation here later.

Max is not referred by name here, Otrant simply calls him "the hero". That flows very weirdly though, especially next to Adam's name, so I added it in. I find it a bit weird to pretend these heroes don't have canon names.

Adam is referred to by his promoted class name, 機神 (kishin), something like "mechanical god". I put it as robot only to not stand out too much people who only know the english version (I refuse to call him a cyborg though, that's just wrong).

As I said before, Max is referred to as "hero", which is also his promoted class, but I can nerd out a bit more about it. The exact word used is 勇者 (yuusha), which means "hero", "brave person", and to my knowledge is the most common word for jrpg heroes in general, so of course it is the word for the class in Shining games... except the first one! There were quite a few changes in japanese class names after the first game that went unnoticed in the english version due it adapting them as the same. In the first game, the hero class is 英雄 (eiyuu), which to my knowledge puts more emphasis on the person's deeds, as in "someone who has gone down in history". Since the character are still in the middle of their great adventure when they promote, this might be why they changed it, but that's just my speculation. Either way, Max would show up in another game eventually (Final Conflict), so he does get the 勇者 class like everyone else there. None of this has any bearing in this novel but now you know.

For all his protests about not being an old man, Tyrin uses the わし (washi) pronoun, associated with old men. This is different from the game, where he uses the more regular and formal watashi.

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darklingichor · 5 months

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Sacre Bleu by Christopher Moore

I love this book, it's one of my go tos when I'm not in the mood for anything. I tried writing about it previously but was a tad stymied on how to do it without spoilers. Well, I figure I would try again.

I saw the author speak when he was on tour for this one and he said that he basically decided he wanted to write about the color blue, and went from there.

And generally, that's what this book is about. Specifically, it is about art and the use of ultramarine blue, the color closely tied to the mystical for various reasons.

We start out with the death of Vincent Van Gogh. This book has the great painter not committing suicide, but rather being murdered by a twisted little man we will learn deals in color. Peddling paint to artists.

We then are taken to Paris wherein we meet Lucian Lassard, a painter and baker, who grew up being tutored and befriended by the impressionists. He was a friend of Vincent's and was dismayed at his death. He and his close friend, the painter Hanri Toulouse Lautrec, discuss Vincent, and art, and eventually women. And that brings me to one of the lines that starts the book: Blue, she is like a woman.

Because what this book is really about is inspiration and so much of art has been inspired by love, lust, and desire.

As I have said before it's hard to write about the plot without spoiling the whole thing, so instead, I'm going to talk about the characters.

Lucien is our main character and he is a tad out of the ordinary for a Moore protagonist, he's not a rascal, he's actually fairly quiet and if not introspective, than thoughtful in his personality. It's almost as if he is buffeted about by everything in the story.

The narritive goes back and forth through time, both in Lucien's life and in history, and everything is sort of chosen for Lucian. He was born the youngest child and only son of master baker, Lucian Lessard Sr. And his wife, in Paris.

The elder Lessard loves art and paintings, he helps keep the starving artists from starving. He guides his son into art, from his early years. Though, Lucien loves painting and has a great talent for it, as time goes on, he is also trained as a baker, and works in his family's bakery. By all accounts he is talented in that regard as well. All through the book, I get the feeling that if his father would have been as passionate about baking as he was about art Lucien would have happily been a baker and continued in the family business.

Lucien 's mother is probably one of my favorite characters, sharp tounged,creative with an insult or a threat, she's the one who keeps the business running, while Mr. Lassard dreams and helps the artists. Lucien is much more like his father, but does get some quick wit from Madam Lessard.

Lucian's sister Ragine helps the plot along more than once and is much like her mother.

Lucien was raised with the impressionists, but is friends with many of the next generation of Paris artists and is friends with not only Van Gogh but also Gaugain, and Hanri Toulouse Lautrec. It is the last that is the biggest presence in the story.

Moore says in the afterward that he has seen Toulouse Lautrec portrayed as a sad character, setting up his drinking and relationships with sex workers as something he did to drown pain.

However, he said in his research he thought that Toulouse Lautrec, seemed like he just really liked being drunk. And so, in this story, Toulouse Lautrec, is a mostly happy man who cheerfully describes himself as a Libertine and a whoremonger. He is the funniest character in the book. He of course is more than just the humor, he's written by Moore, after all, so he is layered and has some truly heartbreaking moments.

Juliette is Lucien's love, ideal, and muse. It is clear early on that there is much more to her than meets the eye, and the journey into finding out just what that is, is one of my favorite story archs.

The Colorman is our villian, but it's odd, you find yourself wondering if he would have been, or, if he, like Lucien was shaped by circumstance. If, his life were to have played out differently, would he have become the monster of the story? And what does his transformation mean for other characters? He is also hilarious in a way that only villans can get away with.

The structureof the story also has the flavor of time travel without actually having time travel, which is a lot of fun.

One of my favorite comfort reads.

#Book #books #book blogging 2023 #Sacre Bleu #Christopher Moore

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eurydie · 2 years

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some sort of love poem

by artist grendelmenz // deactivated (original post)

#strongly feel this poem belongs on this blog but without the stupid extra comments about people misunderstanding it lmfao #did I write myself as gentle instead of hungry #i wrote a poem about eating a girl bleu #i'm sorry you read that in a way that made me out to be romantic #sorry you fell for a version of me that does not exist #the act of beating words into stains doesn't make the blood or bat sacred #the soap by the sink is milk & honey scented it doesn't make this apartment jerusalem #it doesn't make our hands holy #when I said i have a lot of theories on bodies - our bodies are meant to hold other bodies #I meant that we have canines for a reason #carnage #love #desire #lust

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palmofafreezinghand · 3 years

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little thing where Esme greets Carlisle after his first day back to work as a married man.

on ao3 here.

“Welcome home!” Esme called from the front door, she enthusiastically waved to him as she stood on her tiptoes. “Did that sound too eager? Welcome home, Doctor. I hardly noticed your absence.” She tried her best to feign sincerity but it was clear Carlisle’s first day back at work post-honeymoon had been a long one for both of them.

Carlisle laughed as he locked the automobile, “I’m offended, Ms. Pl- Mrs. Cullen.” He tried to make his way over to her at a human pace but failed desperately. “Good evening, Mrs. Cullen.”

“I’ve been Mrs. Cullen for two weeks now, aren’t you sick of that?” Esme asked as she leaned against the doorframe.

“I believe this will still be thrilling thirty years from now, Mrs. Cullen.”

“Thirty years? You’ll be bored of me in thirty measly years?” Esme asked as Carlisle finally climbed the front porch steps. “How was work?” She wrapped a hand around each side of his scarf and pulled him closer.

“Alright. Happy to be home.” He kissed Esme’s forehead hello and moved around her to enter the house. He made it halfway up the staircase to their room before stopping mid step, “what am I doing? I can kiss you now.”

“I’d encourage it even.” Esme beamed as her husband ran back down the stairs, catching her in his arms.

“Where’s Edward?” Carlisle asked when he finally pulled away, minutes later.

“That’s who you’re thinking of?” Esme laughed.

“I don’t wish to drive him away.” Carlisle glanced into the front sitting room but didn’t see the boy.

Esme’s eyes darted down as she whispered, “he may be out hunting for the evening.”

“You were that insufferable?” Carlisle laughed.

“I did my best! Changing a mind reader was not one of your brighter ideas!”

“You’re supposed to be a proper lady, Mrs. Cullen,” Carlisle teased as she tried to push him away.

“It’s not easy! I thought about fossils, which is the most unromantic topic in the world! But then I started thinking about how we’ll never be fossils and we’ll be here for eternity and then what we could spend eternity doing… so then I thought about baseball which is the second least romantic topic...”

“You take that back.”

“But that was unsuccessful as well. And every other topic seemed to be just as disastrous.”

“You’re terrible.” He chastised but his descending kisses did little to prove his point.

“I truly thought we had it all out of our systems.” Esme pouted as she poked Carlisle’s chest and suddenly the world was upside down. He had hooked her over his shoulder and was quickly climbing the stairs three at a time. “Put me down!” Esme laughed, trying to flail out of his grasp.

“I’m sorry I thought we had something to get out of our systems?” Carlisle held her tighter as he struggled to open their bedroom door with one hand.

“I hate you!”

“That’s not what you said last night.” Carlisle grinned as he plopped her on the bed.

“Carlisle,” Esme scowled as he crept closer, still listing off the events of their honeymoon.

“Or the night before, or the night before that one, or the morning-” Esme interrupted his tallying of their dalliances with a kiss.

“It’s a pity our marriage is over so soon,” Esme sighed when she pulled away from him.

“Fifteen days? That’s all I’m good for?” Carlisle asked as Esme climbed off the bed and made her way to her vanity.

“You weren’t even good for all of them.” She sighed, he could see her smile in the mirror as she unpinned her hair.

“You haven’t given me a chance.” He moved from the bed to stand behind her in less than a second. He wrapped his arms around her waist, she squirmed when he lightly squeezed her sides and buried his nose in the curve where her shoulder met her neck.

“Third husbands are quite fashionable these days. Maybe I’ll go for a French man?” She shot him a coy smile in the mirror.

“Sacre bleu! You wouldn’t dare.” He gasped against her shoulder.

“Why? Men with accents are quite hypnotic, don’t you agree?” She grinned as she turned in his arms.

“This is bait, I am not going to fall for this.”

“You really were a good husband, such a shame you’ve ruined this all,” she said as she undid his tie.

“Will you ever forgive me?”

“No.”

“Mm. That’s too bad. Word on the block is, I’m the best someone’s ever had.”

“I don’t recall saying that,” she frowned.

“One of us did,” he said between peppering kisses on her face.

“Perchance I’ll keep you around as a paramour.”

“So you forgive me?”

“Just for tonight.”

“Then I live for tonight.”

#this is probably ooc but i rewatched barefoot in the park last night #and needed to write something sweet #will i ever learn the proper time to post? no #esme cullen #carlisle cullen #twilight #twilight fanfiction #twilight renaissance #my stories

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fallout4reactsblog · 3 years

Text

A Very Commonwealth Christmas: Year Two

“Are we seriously doin’ this again?” Gage griped from his place beside the window. “It sucked last year.”

Ada shook her head. “Actually, by my calculations, the endeavor was a great success. Sole’s enthusiasm and overall happiness was far above predicted values. As such, it is only logical to repeat the exercise.”

Cait (who still refused to even look in Gage’s direction) huffed. “So long as we do somethin’ fun this year.”

Preston smiled gently, showing his infinite patience once again. “Of course. I wouldn’t ask you to do the same thing twice, so we’re switching things up a little. Is everyone familiar with the concept of Secret Santa?”

A mixed bag of responses came back.

“Well, it’s simple. I’ve written down everyone’s name on a piece of paper and put them in this hat.” He tipped the hat to show them the neatly folded squares of paper. “Each of us will draw a name, and you’ll get a gift for whoever you draw. Sole was worried that we didn’t exchange gifts ourselves last year, so this year we’re going to make that happen.”

“And what if we don’t like whoever we get?” X6 asked, not looking directly at Deacon, but the subtext was clear.

“You’ll just have to pretend. Remember, for the next few weeks, we’re all good friends as far as sole is concerned. We all get along.”

To Preston’s credit, he did manage to not glare at Gage, X6, or any of the others that were deemed “troublemakers,” but they got the message. He’d made plenty of threats last year if people didn’t get along, threats that were not empty and, undoubtedly, very much still on the table.

“But what about sole?” Piper asked. “Is their name in there?”

Preston shook his head. “They’re not playing. According to them, the effort of us playing is enough.”

Ada took the hat from Preston’ hands. “We will go in alphabetical order to draw names. Cait, you will draw first.”

Cait was at least kind enough to wipe her hands off, freeing them of the looser flakes of dried blood, before snatching out a name. It seemed that the reading lessons between her and Piper had been going well, because she didn’t ask what it said. That, or she was too proud to admit it.

Slowly, they passed the hat around. Some people were better at concealing their reactions than others; Deacon might as well have been wearing a mask for the emotion he showed, but Curie didn’t even try to hide her distaste for whoever she’d drawn.

“Alright, people.” Preston clapped his hands. “Because of the game, I’ve called in some extra help from the settlers to get the other preparations done. You should have plenty of time to get your presents. You’ve got a week.”

Ada

It was a pleasant surprise to have drawn MacCready, in her opinion. Though he wasn’t someone she’d spent much time around, he was a fairly easy man to understand. Plus, it was unlikely he’d be expecting much from her. After all, he would put more effort into his own family celebration than this one, and wouldn’t expect her to do anything but the same.

Still, a part of her wasn’t content with just getting something easy and moving on. That wasn’t the spirit of the game, now was it? But she couldn’t well talk to MacCready directly, so she hunted down the closest person to him.

“What would I want?” sole asked, wiping their hands off on a dirty rag. “Ada, you know that I’m not playing.”

“Of course. But you know all of us the best, do you not? And you have quite a lot in common with my partner.”

“Well, alright.” They leaned back against the workbench to think. “I mean, anything at all is enough to make me happy. A new coffee mug would be nice, though. I’ve been looking for one that’s shatterproof so I can just toss it in my bag on the road and not have to worry about it getting chipped or anything.”

“That is a helpful insight.” Already, her mind was working, thinking about things that could make life on the road easier. “Thank you.”

“Sure, anytime.” They turned back to the workbench. “Good luck.”

Cait

The evening found Cait curled up next the fire, beer in hand, bitching with Hancock about the whole thing.

“How am I supposed to know what Deacon wants?” she said, glaring at the bottle in her hand as if it was to blame. “I don’t know shite about him.”

“No one does. That’s his whole gimmick.”

“Makes him a shitty person to find a gift for, then, doesn’t it?”

“Just get him a box of ammunition or something. It’s a good, generic gift.”

She glared at him. “Do you even know if he uses a gun?”

“Well, now that you mention it, no. But there’s gotta be somethin’ like that that’ll work. Rad-X, or RadAway, or RadSomethingElse that he needs.”

With a sigh, she took another drink. “You reckon sole’ll mind?”

“They’ve gotta know how he is, right?”

She shook her head. “Who did you get, though?”

He crinkled what was left of his nose. “Guess.”

“Someone you don’t want, by the looks of it.”

“I’ve got the ol’ tin can himself.”

She snickered into her drink. “Bad luck.”

He let out a long sigh. “Anythin’ for sole, right? I’ll dig up a gift for crew cut, you find somethin’ for shitty James Bond, they’ll be happy and we’ll move on.”

“Yeah, sure. Anythin’ for sole.”

Codsworth

Of all the people that could’ve drawn Hancock, it had to be him.

Most people, of course, would take the easy way out. A box of chems would be more than enough to make him happy, and would be easy to procure in the Commonwealth. But it just didn’t sit right with him. It just wasn’t his style, so he needed a new idea.

“And you’re sure you don’t want to just get some drugs?” Farenheit asked.

“Positive.”

“Shit.” She blew out a long trail of smoke. “That makes things harder. Do you mind gettin’ your hands dirty?”

“I’ve been known to get into the occasional scrap.”

She nodded. “A while back, John lost his lighter to some punk, a raider or somethin’. He said it wasn’t a deal, never went and got it, but if you could get it back, I bet he’d like that.”

“And where is this hooligan now?”

“Last I heard, he was hiding out in Dunwich Borers.”

Not the safest place, but he could probably talk sole into going with him. After all, if they heard raiders had moved back in, they’d want to take care of business.

It was better than any plan he had, at least.

Curie

She wouldn’t have called herself a mean person usually. She liked to think of herself as someone who was generally kind and understanding, someone who was forgiving above all, someone who wouldn’t judge others based on rumor alone.

Porter Gage was her one (and only) exception. Which made her current situation awkward, to say the least.

Worse was that there wasn’t anyone to ask, was there? Except for sole, no one knew much about Gage, and those she was closest to happened to hate his guts on principle.

But for the next few weeks, that wasn’t allowed. She could harbor no ill will toward Gage, and instead had to consider him as just another friend of sole’s. Of course, usually that meant she would go straight to sole, but they were off-limits for direct questioning. They didn’t want to know who had drawn whom, which left her with only her own critical thinking to figure this one out.

While her critical thinking had not failed her, it seemed her own ability might.

“Sacre bleu,” she swore under her breath, staring down at probably half a dozen mirelurks. This area was supposed to be peaceful, and she’d hoped to track down some pre-war bug spray. It was no secret that he was no fan of insects, and as much as she hated to agree, these mirelurks were really starting to get on her nerves. Damn giant water bugs.

At least she had found the spray, and she was safe hiding up here in the rafters for the moment. How she was getting down was uncertain, and how she was going to dodge the mirelurks without losing a leg was also up in the air, but she’d gotten what she came for.

Danse

At least he had luck on his side. Of all the people to get a gift for, Cait had to be the easiest for him. She may not have liked him, necessarily, but he understood her better than he understood most of the others. The only better pull would have been Preston, but he wasn’t about to complain.

“I’m glad,” Preston said over breakfast. “Maybe it will help her warm up to you a little.”

“I wouldn’t be certain. I understand her hesitance; it’s a wonder to have been so widely accepted by your Minutemen.”

“Our Minutemen, now.” Gently, Preston tapped his shoulder with a fist. “But speaking of the game, I don’t suppose you’ve spent much time around Ada?”

Danse turned to him, surprised. “I would have thought you were more than equipped to be paired with Ada. After all, she has been the other primary organizer for the holidays around Sanctuary.”

“Yeah, but that’s all business.” Preston sighed. “I don’t think I know much about her as a person.”

“She seems to have affinity for the same kinds of junk that sole does. Perhaps something related to that?”

“Good idea.” He glanced up from the fire and smiled. “Thanks, Danse. I bet you’ll get a great gift for Cait.”

“I hope so. You’ll undoubtedly make an excellent selection for Ada as well.”

Deacon

“You’ve known sole a long time, huh?”

“But of course!” Codsworth says, dusting off the top of the fridge. “I have known sir/mum since even before the war. Before young Shaun was born, even!”

“And you’ve just stayed here this whole time?”

“Certainly. A Mr. Handy never abandons his post!”

“Must be hard.”

“It’s certainly not the easiest work, but I am happy to do it for sir/mum. It was easier before the war, when we had such modern amenities as vacuums and indoor plumbing, but I will endure for their sake.”

“That kind of loyalty’s hard to come by,” Deacon said, leaning back. “Sole’s lucky.”

Codsworth made a noise akin to a scoff. “They’d be luckier if they ever remembered to bring a new feather duster as I asked. I’ve been waiting months now.”

He shrugged. “They’ve got a lot on their mind. Little things lost in the mix. Happens to the best of us.”

It’s the nature of Mr. Handy’s to be talkative, which only gets worse when left alone for a couple hundred years. Still, at least it’s fun to stretch those interrogation muscles again. It’s been a while.

Gage

He knew this was rigged. It has to be. His luck wasn’t bad enough that, of all people, he drew Preston fucking Garvey out of that hat. Even worse, no one would trade with him; they said that it’s not the nature of the game. It was fuckin’ stupid.

So he was stuck with the one guy that hated his guts more than anything. Fuckin’ great. Worst part was, he would have to actually make an effort, because sole had been so thrilled he’d played nice last year, and the last thing he wanted was to get on their bad side. The Overboss’s anger was a dangerous thing, after all.

He hadn’t had much of a choice but to ask sole, despite their insistence on not knowing the pairs. An exception had to be made. After all, he wasn’t sure who else to go to, and they knew Garvey well enough to put him on the right track. Which left him here, digging around the catacombs in the Castle.

“Back in the day, there was a sword that the leader of the Minutement carried around,” sole had said. “Ronnie told me about it. I bet if you tracked it down and polished it up, he’d like that.”

So here he was, choking on dust, searching for some rusted-out piece of junk that probably didn’t actually exist.

“You’re doin’ this for sole,” he muttered, rummaging through a shelf that seemed to only have bags of cement.

Anything to dodge the Overboss’s wrath, even playing nice with fucking Garvey.

Hancock

The worst part was that he knew exactly where to start. He didn’t like it, oh no, in fact he hated it beyond belief. But he prided himself on giving good gifts, tin can or no, and this was a real easy one, if he could just make it work.

At least it was easy to convince sole. They’d gone out for a little bartering, he’d volunteered to come along, and from there it was easy enough to suggest they swing by the Prydwen to barter with Teagan and get paid for those technical documents. Both very time-consuming items, and both things that tended to draw attention once sole had their nice clothes on for bartering.

The nice thing about the Prydwen was that sole had keys to everything. All he had to do was “borrow” their key ring, find the right key, and he could stroll into Maxson’s living quarters like he owned the place.

His prize was easy to find. It seemed ol’ Arthur hadn’t moved on as well as he pretended; Danse’s holotags were sitting right on top of his desk, beside his terminal. They clinked as he picked them up. Sole had mentioned they’d had to turn them in to Maxson when Danse got exiled, and he’d noticed the former Paladin often reaching for a chain around his neck to find only empty air. Which made this gift the best anyone would be giving, hands down.

“Hey, there,” he muttered, turning them over to check the name. “We better get out of here before somebody sees us, huh?”

The nice thing about sole was that they were far too engrossed in bartering to even notice he’d been gone.

MacCready

What were you supposed to get a man that already had everything he needed? It wasn’t like coursers were supposed to want things anyway. Heck, did he even have use for anything except fusion cells?

Sole’s time being a precious commodity, it seemed, left him with three options (three fellow synths, if he was honest). One: Curie, the sweet scientist who had been a synth for about five minutes and had as little in common with X6 as anyone could, save for being a synth. Two: Nick, who didn’t like X6 and probably never would. Both bad choices which, tragically, left him with lucky number three.

Admittedly, since last years mutfruit disaster, he and Danse had upgraded from “I don’t like you, you don’t like me, and that’s fine by us” to “your presence around me isn’t the literal worst” which was a marked improvement. Still, he made the effort to catch Danse while he was working on his power armor, which meant he was probably in a half-decent mood and less likely to try to kill him.

“You sought me out for advice because I’m a synth?” Danse’s tone was not pleased. Surprise, surprise.

“Well, it’s not like you don’t have other stuff in common. You had your whole heart in an organization, too, and it gave you everything you needed.”

“When I was a Paladin, you mean.”

“Yeah. What would you have wanted?”

Danse sighed and shook his head. “As much as it pains me to admit, both Curie and I have observed that Generation Three synths seem to have a terrible fondness for Fancy Lads Snack Cakes. They were forbidden on the Prydwen due to their lack of nutritional content, and I would suppose the Institute is no different. If there is anything that X6-88 wants, that’s my best guess.”

“Snack cakes, huh? That’s... surprisingly easy.” He nodded. “I bet I could get my hands on a bunch in Diamond City, I bet. Thanks, Danse.”

“Of course. Happy to help.”

Nick

It seemed to be his lucky day, because his partner was someone he knew well, and had already planned on getting a gift for: none other than Diamond City’s favorite reporter. He’d gotten Piper a gift probably every year, and already knew exactly what he wanted and where to find it. Lucky him.

“Do you think I should do rose this year?” he asked Ellie, crouched to peer into the bottom drawer of a filing cabinet. He’d stowed away at least twenty years of perfume in there, specifically for Piper.

“You went floral last year,” she said. “Do you want to repeat yourself?”

“That was more lilac than rose,” he grumbled, but pushed the perfume in hand to the back.

“I don’t think we’ve tried anything citrus-y yet.” She hopped off the desk where she was sitting to look, too. “There’s a nice one somewhere in there. What’s it called? Fresh something?”

“Fresh Citron de Vigne.” He pulled the bottle out of the back. “This one was pretty popular before the war.”

“It might be nice to switch things up for her so she doesn’t smell like a florist all the time.”

He nodded. “All that’s left is to wrap it.”

“I’ll take care of that.” She plucked the bottle from his hands. “All you’re going to do is make yourself frustrated when you rip the paper.”

He glared down at his metal fingers, which tended to wreak havoc on anything delicate, especially wrapping paper. “Thanks, Ellie.”

“You can thank me by giving her my gift while you’re up there.”

Piper

The only real question was black or brown, but that was rapidly turning into one hell of a dilemma.

“He’ll like either of them,” Nat said from the couch. “That’s why you got them.”

“I know. I just don’t remember if I gave him a black tie last year.”

She couldn’t see Nat roll her eyes, but she could feel it. “Just ask Ellie. She’ll tell you.”

“Maybe I should give him the blue one to be on the safe side.”

“The one with the little cats on it?”

“Ugh, I forgot about the cats.” She tossed both ties onto her desk with a heavy sigh. “Why did I even get that one?”

“Hey, you don’t know that he won’t like it until you try.”

She shot her sister a scathing glare. “I’m not going to embarrass him in front of everyone with the blue kitty tie. If it was just us, maybe, but now it’s a whole event and I don’t want to make him uncomfortable. Which means it’s black or brown.”

Nat was unfazed by her sister’s glare. “Well, which one do you like better?”

“The black one.”

“So give him that one.”

“But I might have given him a black one last year.”

"So give him the brown one.”

“But I like the black one better.”

Nat sighed dramatically. “He’s not gonna care, Piper. It’s Nick and a tie. He’s gonna like it no matter what.”

“I know, but I don’t want him to think I can only get one color of tie.”

“You’re overthinking this. Here, give me both ties.”

Reluctantly, she handed them over and watched them disappear behind Nat’s back.

“Okay, right hand or left hand?”

“Right.”

“Brown it is.” Nat handed over the tie. “There, problem solved.”

She took the tie back and looked at it a moment.

“You know what, I think I’ll do the black one.”

Preston

Sewing was a nice, therapeutic exercise. After a long day of working on putting up lights and assembling trees and assigning cooking duties, it was nice to be able to come home and return to a project. Sole had told him about jigsaw puzzles once, and he figured this was probably a lot the same.

He’d designed this backpack specifically for Ada, less as an independent bag and more as something that could function in conjunction with the bags she already carried. It had been a uniquely challenging idea, and he’d spent quite a few nights on it before finalizing his pattern and beginning to actually cut into some leather.

Overall, it was coming along nicely. He figured it would be done well in time for the celebration. He hoped everyone else was progressing on schedule; if one of them showed up without a gift, well, he didn’t know what he would do. The idea that one of them would disappoint sole had crossed his mind more than once, and he swore to himself that if anyone failed to perform this year, they’d suffer the consequences. He just wasn’t sure what those consequences actually were.

He shook his head. No use in worrying about it before it happened. The best he would probably get would be a stern talking-to anyway, and maybe the chance to punch somebody in the face. Sole wouldn’t want him hurting any of their friends on their behalf.

Besides, depending on whoever their partner was that this hypothetical asshole had wronged, he might not have to do anything. He couldn’t see Cait letting it slide, that was for sure, and Danse believed so heavily in being a person of honor that he wouldn’t tolerate it either, no matter who had gotten screwed over.

In the end, he probably wouldn’t have to do anything, and that put a smile on his face.

“You want what?”

He tried to not let his face betray him as he stared down Dr. Holden in the corner of the Bioscience division.

“A full lab kit for above-ground experimentation. Orders from the future director.”

It wasn’t exactly a lie; sole wanted him to participate in this silly game, which meant they had essentially “ordered” him to get a gift. What could a scientist want more than a full, top-of-the-line lab kit from the Institute?

“But not Father.”

He peered down at the doctor. “If you are refusing, Dr. Holden, I will report back to sole. I’m certain they will be happy to come themselves, or send word along to Father of your refusal.”

Dr. Holden huffed, and he saw the tiniest spark of fear in his eyes. “I didn’t refuse. I just wish they’d go through proper channels when requesting equipment, that’s all.” He scratched a few words on a piece of paper and handed it over. “There. That’ll get you everything you need.”

He said nothing, just took the paper coldly. Not for the first time, he appreciated that sole had authorized him to act on their behalf. For one, it showed trust, and it also made getting around much, much easier. All he had to do was mention their name, which carried the full force of the director’s office, and everyone was willing to acquiesce.

All he had to do now was make sure nothing broke. Glass was a difficult thing to transport, after all. He could relay straight back to Sanctuary, but Curie might see him, and the point was that the gift was a secret, hence the name “Secret Santa.” He could relay to the nearby Red Rocket, but that left him further to go, and more at risk of things breaking.

Decisions, decisions.

The Exchange

Shockingly, everyone had managed to get their gifts wrapped. Granted, some were better than others; Deacon still dominated with his perfect, sharp creases and hand-folded bow, where X6 might as well have just put his gift in a trash bag, but in the end it was the thought that counted.

Everyone had gathered in the newly established meeting hall of Sanctuary Hills, where sole had spent the last few days placing enough chairs and tables for everyone to be comfortable, as well as a few rugs to make the place feel cozy. They’d even made a fireplace appear out of nowhere, no easy feat, and with the settlers’ decorations it really did feel festive. Sole themself was seated by the fire, curled up with Dogmeat at their feet, and their eyes sparkled to see the gifts their friends had brought.

“Well, go on.” They waved their hands encouragingly. “Let me see what you did. I might be more excited than all of you are. Who’s going first?”

“It will be alphabetical,” Ada said, standing. “I will go first.”

She made her way to MacCready, who looked honestly surprised to see a gift appear in his lap.

“Ah, thanks. I’ll just, uh, open this.”

He tore into the paper and opened up the generic cardboard box, furrowed his eyebrows, and pulled out a series of small plastic jars.

“I have noticed you have an affinity for cooking,” she said. “I thought you might appreciate some new spices to try while on the road. It will be very difficult for you to break or spill them while traveling, as they are all in childproof containers.”

“That’s... surprisingly thoughtful.” He shook a container of dried parsley as if trying to figure out what it was. “Thanks.”

“Okay, my turn.” Cait clapped her hands and stood up. “Thanks for not changing your look again, Deacon. I’ll at least be able to find you.”

She dropped the box in his hands unceremoniously. “Don’t complain if it’s not somethin’ you want. You’re not the easiest guy to get a gift for.”

“Well, I appreciate the effort at least,” he said, peeling away the practically mangled wrapping. “If you ever want some lessons on wrapping paper, though, I’m happy to- oh.”

He pulled out a leather jacket, turning it around so that sole could see Cait had made the effort to track down the Atom Cats. A smile quirked his lips.

“Actually been looking at one of these for a while.” He gave Cait a real smile, this time. “Thanks.”

“Don’t mention it,” she huffed, clearly embarrassed. “I mean it.”

“Which brings us to me! Here you are, Mr. Hancock. One present, as promised.”

“It’s light,” Hancock commented wrily, shaking the box. “You didn’t get cheap on me, didja?”

“But of course not. I simply went for something more personal.”

“Personal?” He raised what was left of an eyebrow as he unceremoniously tore through the wrapping paper. “How did you manage that little trick?”

Codsworth waved an arm dismissively. “I have my ways.”

“Well, shit, I guess you do.”

He pulled the lighter out twirled it in his fingers and gave it an experimental light. It flicked on with ease.

“I guess you refilled it too, huh? That’s really somethin’.”

“So that’s why you drug me out to Dunwich Borers,” sole said, laughing. “I knew something was up.”

“Certainly not,” Codsworth replied, but his tone betrayed that if he could have laughed, he would have.

“Ah, I suppose that means it is my turn, non?” Carefully, Curie picked her way over to Gage. “Happy holidays, Monsieur.”

“Thanks, I guess.” He took it uncertainly. “This isn’t a bomb or anything, is it?”

“Of course not!” She sounded genuinely offended. “It is a gift, and not one that is easy to procure.”

“Just bein’ careful.” He still shook out the can more carefully than was probably necessary.

“Bug spray,” she explained. “It should repel the overly large insects you so dislike.”

Gage actually looked surprised. “I.. shit. Thanks.” He turned his head to the wall, obviously embarrassed. “Whoever’s next...”

“That would be me.” Shockingly, Danse had actually ditched his power armor for the day, at sole’s request. “Here you are, Cait. I hope it proves useful to you.”

She seemed hesitant, but accepted wordlessly, peering into the box. There was silence for a long moment, then she said, “I thought you only knew how to mod energy weapons.”

“I made an exception. That should provide you with exceptional damage and a better rate of fire for your shotgun.”

Cait could only shake her head, say, “Thanks,” and wave for the next person to go.

Deacon took his cue and handed his gift off to Codsworth. “There you go, buddy. Happy holiday.”

“Mr. Deacon.” Codsworth sounded all too pleased. “I should have known.”

Deacon shrugged. “Don’t beat yourself up. At least you know you got what you wanted.”

“How thoughtful!” Codsworth turned to sole. “You needn’t search for a new feather duster any longer sir/mum.”

They nodded, impressed. “I had forgotten I was supposed to be looking for one. Good work, Deeks.”

“Hey, you’ve got a lot on your plate boss.” He shot them a quick set of finger guns. “I’m just helping out with the little stuff.”

There was silence for a long moment before sole said, “Gage, I think it’s you.”

“What, already? Alright.”

He stood up, and when he paused in front of Preston, the room froze. No one even dared to breathe as he handed off the box, waiting for the other shoe to drop. After all, Gage was the only person Preston seemed actively willing to shoot at any time. This could only mean a fight.

“Happy holidays, Garvey.” He almost sounded genuine.

Preston accepted, understandably cautiously. “Thanks, Gage. Happy holidays.”

But when the paper was off, and the box was opened, Preston’s hesitation vanished into thin air.

“How the hell did you even find this?” he breathed, slowly pulling the sword from its sheath. It glinted in the firelight.

“Ah, it was no big deal.” Gage’s face was smug, and he leaned back in his chair with confidence. “You guys shouldn’t leave important relics just sitting around.”

And to everyone’s surprise, especially Gage’s, Preston rose from his chair to offer Gage a handshake.

“Thanks,” he said. “For real.”

For a second time, Gage was stunned into silence before taking Preston’s hand and breathing, “Don’t mention it. That’s the game, right?”

Sole shot Gage a discreet thumbs-up as Preston settled back into his seat, and the poor guy could only nod.

“Well, ain’t that touching?” Hancock leaned over to pass off the small box to Danse, who had somehow ended up seated directly across the circle from him. “There ya go, crew cut. Don’t get your hopes up.”

Danse nodded. “I won’t.”

Sole shot Hancock a warning look as Danse carefully unwrapped it, and he winked in reply, as if to say, “Trust me.”

Danse quite literally choked.

As he pulled the chain out, the box fell from his hands, leaving the holotags in the open air. Sole gasped from their place by the fire, realizing exactly what Danse was holding, and Hancock let his smile widen.

“These should be on board the Prydwen,” he breathed, turning them over in his hands. “They should have been destroyed.” Teary eyes turned toward the mayor of Goodneighbor. “How did you...”

Hancock leaned closer to Danse, clearly enjoying his moment. “Well, it didn’t make much sense that they were on Maxson’s desk if they’ve got your name on ‘em. After all, they’re yours. What does he need them for?”

Danse leaned forward, too, pulling Hancock into a bone-crushing hug. “You could have died. If you had been caught...”

“But I wasn’t.” John Hancock truly looked like that cat who’d eaten the canary. “Happy holidays, Danse.”

“Thank you, John,” Danse replied, and his tone was sincere, without the hint of malice that usually accompanied any of his interactions with Hancock. “Happy holidays.”

Preston patted Danse’s shoulder as he let go, but still managed to shoot an impressed look across the circle at Hancock. Hancock made a peace sign at him, still grinning.

“Well, shoot,” MacCready said. “That makes me next, but I feel kinda stupid about my gift, now.”

He opted to deposit the clearly heavy box at X6′s feet instead of in his lap. It was by far the largest gift, and shockingly neat in its wrapping. He dusted his hands, said, “It’s heavy,” and returned to his seat.

“I admit that I have no clue what this is,” X6 said, prodding the box gently. “It looks too large to be fusion cells, which is what I thought it would be.”

MacCready smiled, just a little. “Maybe it’s a lot of fusion cells. Why don’t you find out?”

X6 carefully unwrapped the gift, and only just managed to open the box before his head shot up.

“Is this whole box full of them?”

“You betcha.”

“Holy shit,” he breathed. “I didn’t even know that was possible.”

Sole protested from the corner, “I can’t see what it is.”

“It’s snack cakes.” X6 held up a box indicatively. “They’re difficult for me to acquire, due to the Institute’s strict supervision of my diet, but a vice among gen three synths. I’ve never seen so many in one place.”

MacCready, to his credit, managed not to look too smug at the courser’s apparent wonder.

Nick stood. “Here you go, Piper. I suppose you know what it is. Here’s Ellie’s, while we’re at it, but you can open it later.”

She laughed and held out a hand to stop him from returning to his seat. He looked at her, bemused

“What’s so funny?”

She shook her head and reached under her chair to hand off her gift to him. “Some luck, huh? Happy holidays, Nick.”

He chuckled and shook his head. “Some luck, indeed. Happy holidays, Piper.”

They opened at the same time, Piper saying, “Oh, this is a new one,” at the same time Nick said, “Well, how classy.”

They held their gifts up in sync for sole to see, though Piper was still reading the label of her perfume.

“Citrus, huh? This’ll be nice for a change of pace. I haven’t had anything citrus-y before.”

“It’s been a while since I got a new black tie,” Nick replied, examining it. “I like the pattern. It’s subtle.”

“I can’t believe you both drew each other,” sole cut in, though they didn’t seem disappointed. “I bet you’d already planned to do gifts anyway.”

They nodded in unison.

“This does make things a little easier, though,” Piper said. “We didn’t have to set our own date this way.”

Sole shook their head. “Preston, we’re to you.”

“Sure. Here you go, Ada.”

“Thank you,” she said. “I have tried to predict what this would be, but had some difficulty, especially in the situation where you were the gift giver. I am curious, to say the least.”

“Well, I hope you like it.”

She cracked it open, albeit with some difficulty, before declaring. “This was not among the options I predicted.” She drew it from the box to examine it better. “How thoughtful. It even appears to be designed to work in tandem with my current storage.”

“That’s the idea. I know it’s not much, but I hope you can at least get some use from it.”

“To the contrary. You designed this yourself, and took the time to create it. I can see you’ve even stitched my initials along the straps, as well as the initials of those formerly in my caravan. The details and the effort make it quite touching.”

Preston knew Ada well enough to know that he had gotten the best possible response, emotion-wise, and turned to X6 with everyone else.

“Well, you all already know who this is for.” He carefully passed the box over to Curie, who beamed.

“Merci.”

He nodded, not entirely coldly, and she began to remove the paper with a surgeon’s precision, letting out a gasp when she’d opened the box.

“Oh, Monsieur! This is- I have not seen such fine materials since before the war. Where did you find them?”

“They’re top quality, designed for Institute scientists.” A hint of pride lingered in his voice. “I knew you would like them.”

“Yes, I like them very much! I cannot wait to work with new glassware again, it has been so long.”

Sole sighed contentedly from their chair, drawing their attention. “I’m so proud of you guys. I knew it was a risk asking you to do this, but I’m glad you could put aside your differences, at least for a while. Honestly, this has gone better than I could have ever imagined.”

“Anything for you, General,” Preston replied. “You’ve been more than helpful in putting us on the right track.”

They shook their head. “I was happy to do it. It showed me you were all really trying, when I thought we’d be seeing nothing but boxes of ammo. You all went above and beyond, and for that, I salute you.”

They picked up their glass and raised it to the room, smile still lingering on their face. “To all of you, for taking the time and energy, both physical and emotional, to indulge me. I’m beyond proud to call you my friends, and more proud to call you my family.”

“Happy holidays, everyone.”

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anotheronechicagobog · 4 years

Text

Crockett Marcel x reader D’accord (Oneshot)

Written by: @anotheronechicagobog

Warnings: Mature themes, America has HORRENDOUS gun laws, seriously as a Canadian I get second hand anxiety about your gun laws/judicial system (even though Canada’s is far from perfect)/healthcare system, April is not written well here but I’m gonna do a nice fic for her soon, pardon my French (literally, quite a bit of this fic is in French with translations)

You’d been surprised to find another Francophone in Chicago. After you’d moved there from Quebec, you weren’t expecting much. Only a couple of “Oui, oui,” and “hon, hon, hon”’s from some unintentionally insulting Americans. So when, during your fifth shift, you swore in your native tongue “merde!” you’d been pleasantly surprised when Crockett had responded without missing a beat.

You’d shown him French-Canadian food, he’d shown you Cajun food, and you had each gained a confidant at med. And you’d both needed it. You were in a new country with very different social customs and laws, and April had kissed him while Choi was deployed leaving him a magnet for gossip. You’d both just needed someone to talk to, and speaking French with each other was just an added comfort.

“What did Doris say this time?”

“I don’t care that people are talking about me, I really don’t. Gossip is just part of hospital life and that’s fine, but I am so tired of being glared at and avoided. People aren’t even bothering to get to know me. I am just so tired about having to fight for a basic level of confidence in my colleagues for something that I didn’t even do! She kissed me, she just walked up and kissed me, how is this my fault?”

“I’m sorry Cherie.”

“I know. How was your day?”

“Anderson pretended to shoot at me again.”

“Seriously? You should report him to HR.”

“I don’t know, I don’t want to be overreacting.”

“He is pretending to have a gun and waving it at you on a daily basis because he knows that you are from a country with decent gun laws. What about the day he comes in with a real gun? And loaded? What if he actually shoots you? You need to report him, Cher.”

“Okay, I will. At the end of the day.”

-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

You sat at Molly’s away from the main group, shunned by your colleagues. “It was just a joke, Y/N, can’t you take a joke?” But it didn’t feel like a joke. Not to you. You already felt like you should be wearing a kevlar vest on a regular basis; you didn’t need to be made fun of for your very real fear. You were busy moping when someone plopped down in the stool beside you. “Mon journée a sucé. Dites-moi que le vôtre était meilleur.” (My day sucked. Tell me yours was better)

“Voyez-vous la foule de gens qui me regardent et qui parlent de moi là-bas?” (Do you see the crowd of people looking at me and talking about me there)

“Zut. J'espérais vraiment que ça irait mieux.” (Damn. I was really hoping it would get better)

“Moi aussi.” (Me too)

“The hell are you two speaking? Swedish?”

“... It’s French, Hermann.”

“If you say so Y/N... You guys want another round?”

“Yes, please, kind sir.” Trying to make a joke with the man everyone said had a heart of gold and a belly full of laughs at all times.

“Well, okay then. French people are weird.” Both you and Crockett sucked in a breath. Explaining was always the hardest part. “We are not French people. Crockett is Cajun, and I am French-Canadian.”

“Okay, I don’t know what Cajun is, but isn’t French-Canadian just a Canadian who speaks French?”

“Mon Dieu.” (My God)

“Sacre bleu (Damn it), Hermann. No, a French-Canadian is not just a Canadian who speaks French, and unless you want to start a war in a country you don’t even live in, I advise you to refrain from speaking in that manner again. And just for the record, a Cajun person is someone descended from Acadia settlers in Nova Scotia who left for Louisianna to flee the British.”

“... Okay. I’m sorry I asked.” You just held your breath as Crockett swore under his breath. You opened your eyes, grabbed your glass over bourbon and downed it. “Je sais que je viens juste d'arriver, mais je veux déjà partir.” (I know I just arrived, but I already want to leave)

“Allons-y alors.” (Let’s go then) Marcel threw cash down on the bar before you could argue and helped you put your coat on. “Avez-vous déjà mangé des tapas? J'ai entendu dire qu'il y avait un super endroit à quelques pâtés de maisons d'ici.” (Have you ever eaten tapas? Heard there is a great place a few blocks from here)

“Montrez le chemin.” (Lead the way)

-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

There was a new hot button topic of gossip the next day at MED. You and Marcel. Of course, no one was that cordial. ‘He couldn’t have a nurse so he went for an intern?’, ‘What, she thought being an intern is too difficult so she’s hooking up with a doc so she doesn’t fail?’. None of anything they were saying was true. First of all, April kissed and then rejected him all while she was dating someone else, second, he wasn’t even your attending. You did your ED rotation before he got here. You were on your pediatrics rotation, and kicking ass at it. Third, he didn’t know anyone here besides you thanks to April, so who exactly was he gonna say ‘give her a pass for me’ to? You just rolled your eyes and continued working. At the end of the day, that was what would speak for you.

You hadn’t been very close to April, or anyone in the ED really, they’d all had their own drama going on the entire time you were there, so you just faded into the background. But now, April was making an effort to talk to you. You would have found it odd, had it not been at the time the rumours were really flying, and if you hadn’t seen the burning question behind her eyes. She was jealous. She damn well wouldn’t admit it, but she was. And you were angry at her, and at least you were grown up enough to admit that. She had hurt Crockett. Damaged his work relationships and reputation before he’d even started. So you acted like you enjoyed her company. You talked about literally anything that wasn’t Crockett Marcel. You watched as her questioning eyes grew more and more desperate. If she was going to come to you acting like a jealous girlfriend she should have had the decency to be honest. But she wasn’t. And Crockett was paying the price. So you tortured her a bit. It wasn’t that bad, honestly. Plus, what made her think she had any right to know about relationships you may or may not be in? But her feelings did become noticeable. To the other nurses, doctors, interns. Suddenly everyone was aware that she had kissed Crockett, and that Ethan wasn’t the only doctor she had feelings for. You felt bad for Crockett, he’d gotten sucked into a wormhole before he even knew his feet were leaving the ground. The same thing could be said for Dr. Choi’s fist.

You pushed back the curtain and marched over to Crockett who was too busy arguing with Maggie to notice you at first. “Have you gotten a CT done yet?”

“Oh- Dr. Y/L/N. Uh, let me check. Uh... Here.” Maggie handed you and a skeptical Will the tablet with Crockett’s head CT already loaded. The black and white image should have comforted you. It looked good, no injuries or anomalies. But you kept looking, you kept gripping the tablet no matter how much your knuckles, and fingers, and wrists were starting to hurt. “Cher?” You slowly looked up, Maggie and Halstead had left the room at some point. “You seein’ something Halstead didn’t?”

You didn’t answer. You didn’t have the voice to. Instead, you regarded his face intently. Choi had only gotten in a single punch, thankfully, so there was only bruising around his right eye. You moved to stand in front of him, standing in between his legs which were dangling off the side of the bed. “Cher?” The bruise was already purple, the section around the forehead turning black. Your lips pressed into a firm line. After setting the tablet on the end table you gently took Crockett’s face in your hands. Ignoring the rest of him, you gently drifted your fingers around the bruising. Your stomach sunk the more you looked at it. It wasn’t inflamed, there wasn’t any bleeding, his CT was clear. But you just couldn’t shake the weight in your gut. You didn’t even know what you were looking for. But you kept looking. “Cher.” No inflammation. “Cher.” No bleeding. “Cher.” Clear CT. “Cher.” Keep looking. “Cher.” Crockett delicately grabbed your wrist, finally grabbing your attention, bringing more than the bruise on his eye into your focus. “I’m okay, Cher.” His eyes were boring into yours, pleading for you to listen to him. He moved his hand from your wrist up overtop of your hand before intertwining your fingers together and leaning his face into your clasped hands at the side of his face.

“D’accord?” (Okay?)

“D’accord.” (Okay) He smiled gingerly. Still looking at you with soft eyes that made you melt he opened his mouth, you could tell that words in his native language were on the tip of his tongue, when the curtains in the room were pushed back suddenly. April stood, tall, strong, and with a look of utter betrayal on her face. No one in the room said anything, no one in the room breathed. Slowly, as if she were avoided a cornered coyote, April backed out of the room, her chest starting to shake, her eyes watering. Soon you were left alone in the room, your hand still wrapped in Crockett’s. Now in full view of the entire ED staff and gossip mill.

#One Chicago #chicago med #crockett marcel #crockett marcel x reader #april sexton x Crockett Marcel #april sexton #maggie lockwood

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