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aconflagrationofmyown · 2 years

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You go to my head, like a summer with a thousand Julys

A Sarge and lil Mama fic

Summary: THE BEGINNING of the Sarge and lil Mama universe

Warnings: fantasizing about breeding a young woman, masturbation with a stuffed animal, antiquated gender norms, slight grooming (I don’t know what else to call it even though it’s really not that and no one is under age) mentions of parental death, slightly manipulative Elvis, emotional infidelity on Elvis’ part towards his current girlfriends

Circa: 1954-57 due to playing fast and loose with the historical timeline of both Elvis’ basic training and Gladys’ death

Elvis Presley is an affectionate young man, he has a sweetness about him in all his interactions, and while he is famous and you don’t know him well he is devastatingly warm and you enjoy his attentions. He comes to your father’s studio often and he is affectionate when he does.

An affectionate acquaintance is what he is, he remains as such in a tidy little world where he hugs you during his visits and holds onto your waist as he chows down on the sandwiches you bring as refreshment for his Memphis Mafia. And there is nothing more to be said or thought. You learn to burn the bacon bound for his BLT because you like the way his eyes widen when it hits his tongue and how he groans around a bite:

“Honey, you shouldn’t’ve”.

In the coming months you learn to leave off the lettuce, too, once he’s back from touring again. Back to make another record, more juice for the machine and your father is gleeful at the unprecedented success of one of his artists. He took a chance on him and now Elvis’ life is fast, so very fast and the faces blur for him, blonde and brown and black and all of them want something he doesn’t quite feel like he can live up to.

It gets so bad he begs Wanda one night on tour just to sit with him, let him put his arm around her and just sit. When he walks back into the studio after months away and finds you there, it’s quieting. He hugs you and you smile and ask him how he is and it’s slow and steady and nice. He doesn’t have to manufacture calm with you, you are calm incarnate.

New songs mean new stages and life gets fast again. It happens like that more than a couple times. He feels older than twenty two when he’s blowing out as many candles atop a birthday cake on a movie set, his mother’s usual homemade creation missing and some fancy icinged concoction in its place. It doesn’t sit right in his belly and he tosses and turns that night wanting to be home.

Home is Memphis, the recording studio is there but he hasn’t gone yet, he takes a few days just to soak up Graceland and eat his mother’s food.

It doesn’t matter as you are not absent in his home, his mother speaks of you the first morning he is home. He shovels eggs into his mouth as she praises how you’ve grown up this summer, how you’ve been helping out at the church and took a part time job at the hospital. He’s not surprised, your father is a good fella, your mother of even better character and some kids are just born sweet -that’s how people like you get made, he figures. His mother assures him you’ve not grown into a career woman, she seems very insistent on how you’re just filling your time till you get married. She’s talked with you about it. And Elvis figures this is going down the road of how Billy and you would make a good match, and he wants to tell his mother you’re too much of a kid to be messed with by someone like Billy.

He doesn’t expect her to say, “She’s a good one Booby, the sort of girl who is bright and smart but would be happiest taking care of a man. Some gals are just built for that life, not that you’ll meet many on the road like that. But y/n? She’d make a good wife and even better mother, probably won’t really bloom until she’s had a baby. Some girls are just like that, kinda plain until they start opening up….”

The rest is lost in a blur. He is tired. It’s a perfect excuse considering he just came home. But when he goes to nap he cannot think of anything but you. You swollen and blooming with his child. You are younger in his memory, and it hits wrong. He gets angry at himself for thinking of you that way and ludicrously enraged at the suspicion anyone else might be, too.

Seeing you again will cure him, he knows that. He’ll hug you and you’ll ask him how he is and he’ll be reminded that you’re his old friend’s daughter and he’ll recall why he never bothered messing around with you. You’re steady and calm and nothing like this frantic emotion he suddenly feels at the thought of you opening up because of him… he stops trying to nap and goes to the shooting range instead.

Elvis Presley is reserved. The hug you anticipate never materializes as he steps through the door of the studio, and there is no cheeky grin when you ask him how touring was. He doesn’t smile or say much, he doesn't try to touch you at all, he is reserved. You feel cold.

But he watches. He watches you when he thinks you can’t see him, but the glass reflects and you notice his blazing eyes behind the microphone.

This has been happening to you more and more lately, men staring when they think you don’t see. Your mama says it’s because of your pretty smile. She has no answer when you tell her it happens even when you do not smile at all. You are not smiling now as you are confused, confused why he watches you like he wants to reach out to you and yet treats you like he does not, like the familiarity he usually wears like a second skin has been shed, lost somewhere on the road. Maybe he has a girl, you reason, and while that never affected his behavior before, maybe she’s a Hollywood one and a jealous type. Maybe he’s sad and tired like he says he is. He doesn’t eat the cookies you make. His voice breaks often and the session is scrapped early.

He hugs you sideways as he leaves and mumbles that he’s heard you’ve been keeping busy. You tell him you have and watch for some glimmer of approval. He stares at your lips and then flees outside to the sidewalk. Your father asks if you know what’s gotten into him. You do not.

That night, alone in his bed, he tosses and turns and refuses to touch the ache between his legs. You’d looked at him so earnestly that afternoon, trying to solve him and all he could think of was -you’re grown now. Bleeding every month, settling into a bra size, probably waking up with slick between your legs, your breasts getting sore and you don’t know why. Don’t know that all these things are happening to you so that a man can plough you open, pump you full and plant a garden inside you. He ought to be that man. He has the power to stop your bleeding, make your slick become a fountain and make you swell, filling the emptiness you register but do not understand.

He grabs the massive teddy bear sitting in the corner of his room. A fan gift, juvenile for a fellow well passed such toys, but he appreciates the thought. He appreciates the way the fur parts and rubs his weeping tip as he lays atop it and humps it miserably, pretending it’s you, pretending it’s somehow better to splatter all over synthetic fur at the thought of shocking you with his passion instead of touching himself to the thought of you swollen and dripping. He comes with a shout buried into the shoulder of the bear and registers in agony that his stiffness hasn’t gone down. He rolls over and calls up his costar. Tries to remind himself of that first, bubbly taste of a glamorous woman. She indulges him and he hates it, hates knowing what they both know: that he’s one of many, that she’d never in a million years risk her career to carry his child.

Thanksgiving morning you work alongside Gladys on the buffet line at the Methodist Children’s outreach and you ask her about her absent son. She worries for him, makes you worry in turn, is glad to have a companion in fretting, someone who understands why she can’t just “enjoy the ride.” You admit you’ve noticed a change in him. The buffet runs out of baked beans. Your mother says she’ll drive over and grab more from the market. It’s icy outside on the roads, your mother never comes back.

Your house is full to bursting that night, full of well meaning people who skip their Thanksgiving dinners to file past you and your father in a long line, awkwardly patting your arms and clasping his shoulder. They talk in subdued, measured tones about heaven and time and how they can’t imagine what you’re going through. Their restraint sets the tone for your grieving, you are subdued and rational until alone at dawn, clasping your pillow and sobbing, listening to your father do the same over the muffled noise of the TV.

When someone tells you that you’re the “woman of the house now” it feels like you’ve betrayed her again. It doesn’t sit right in your belly. You are sick with it, can’t eat from it churning in your gut, ironically you want mother to comfort you for her loss.

He comes back to Memphis in time for the funeral. He comes over to the house early, it doesn’t matter as neither you or your father sleep. Upon crossing the threshold, Elvis Presley does not awkwardly pat your father, clasp his hand or encourage him to be strong. He folds your father into a hug and doesn't let go for sometime, not until your father has wept for what he’s lost and Elvis meets your eyes over his shoulder, and he looks like he knows how this feels, like this is his worst nightmare you’re living. He is not removed from your pain, he dreads it and yet he partakes of it with you both. Gladys has brought a pot roast, she smoothes your hair back like she does her son’s before putting the meal in the oven, going back out to speak with your father.

Elvis’ eyes are watery when he approaches you, his freedom of emotion gives you courage to let loose, you sob, you wail and you babble and he cradles your head against his shoulder, swaying you in the middle of your mother’s kitchen as he mutters,

“that’s it, that’s it, you loved her didn’t ya?”

It’s the truest thing anyone has said all day.

He sits you down at the kitchen table and brushes your hair, powders your nose, brings you your black leather heels, holds out your coat for you to slip on. It’s not until years later you realize he must have taken the liberty of rummaging through your room to procure those items. It is odd that it was not his mother who took charge of such things.

At the graveside you are presentable in the manner in which he crafted you, your image is sad and tragic, but dignified and evocative.

Mother is buried in a coffin he bought, six feet under a plot of land he purchased, with a space next to it for your father when his time comes. There is no third space, and once the dirt is heaped over her you wonder where you’ll rest your bones, why he didn’t think to provide you a place in the earth, too. Your father calls him “a good boy” as the wind kicks up and the mourners disperse.

You ride back to the reception at your house, wedged snugly between Elvis and Anita. She hands you a monogrammed hanky in the back seat and it smells like rosewater. She sweetly lets you hold her hand and it’s icy from the cruel November wind while Elvis burns your right side, his arm thrown back behind your head and some thrumming turmoil roiling beneath his flushed skin. You can see the pulse thumping in his neck, above the fuzzy upturned collar of his coat and you instinctively press your free hand to it, trying to calm the flutter. He jolts at your touch and the vessel only pounds harder.

“You sick?” you ask him as your hand feels his sweaty skin. It’s wintertime and everybody at the hospital has come down with bugs and he feels like he’s raging with a fever. He doesn’t look like he’s been sleeping much either, he gets those same dark circles under his eyes as Gladys. They’ve both got them lately. Death has made you paranoid, you know.

“Nah, m’fine, it’s just from cryin.” he takes your hand down and holds it. Anita let’s go of yours, to open the car door as you arrive.

Whoever made it tradition for the bereaved family to have their house swamped by the community right after burying a loved one must've never known the bone deep desire to curl up and just process it all. Alone. So you stand again for hours and let them file past and it’s all very much the same as the other days and your stomach is in knots but you behave how your mother would’ve wanted, only occasionally sneaking off to the kitchen to load the emptying cheese trays and to just breathe. It goes on for hours, your feet ache and your throat is dry.

You escape back to the chilly sunroom to sit down for a minute and find him there, alone, sat on the wicker sofa and thumbing at one of your mother’s gardening books. If it were anyone else that would feel like a violation but since it’s him, it feels like he’s just trying to get to know her. And you appreciate that.

“Have you eaten, honey?” he asks you and nods at the apron you’ve donned as you just stand there and take him in.

“Uh, no, I’m not hungry.” you wave his frown away.

“Sit down honey, runnin’ yourself ragged like this.” and he pats the small space of cushion beside him as you think about your guests, think about how nice it would be to just relax with someone who values silence, but you can’t, you’ve gotta go back and host, it’s the right thing to do.

Except that his hand encircles your wrist and tugs and you go limply, folding into his side and he shouldn’t feel so warm, so safe, so right -you don’t know him that well. But he wears his heart on his sleeve and it’s bleeding for you and you suppose that puts you two ahead of a lot of so-called friends.

“They can eat sandwiches and make themselves feel compassionate without you hurtin those little feet any longer.” he declares and pulls you into his lap, tipping you back to cradle you like a baby, his hands running down your legs until they meet your ankles and he’s pulling off your heels with finality.

You’ve never had a boy touch you like this, you’ve never pressed your cheek against a hard chest and felt the thump, thump of a masculine heart radiate through your limbs. But he’s so final about it all, and so certain and so at ease you feel foolish for gasping and shuddering at the famillairties he takes as he rubs one hurting arch of your foot and then the other. He’s got an authority about him tonight you’d never noticed before, and you’d as soon question your pastor on a point of doctrine as question Elvis Presley on the propriety of rocking you to sleep, yards away from a substantial amount of Memphis’ most devout population.

Your last thought as you drift off is that you hope Anita understands you're just a kid to him, you hope you’re not shaming your mother on the very night of her funeral by tucking your head into his shoulder and sleeping for the first time since she died. Your stomach unwinds, your breathing evens out and your legs fall apart in your sleep, you dream of plush lips dragging along your forehead. You wake in the morning curled around a pillow, snug in your own bed, rested. Father tells you Elvis carried you up there himself before he left.

“He’s a good boy.” you agree with Father at breakfast.

He hadn’t felt boyish when he’d wrapped you in his arms. And you hadn’t felt girlish either, for all that you had been rocked and petted. Your stomach stays loose and molten for a few more hours before the grief catches up again and the newly empty house plagues you.

That’s why they invite the crowds in after a death, it takes half the city to make up for a single loved one’s absence.

You flee from the haunted space, longer shifts at the hospital and longer hours at the shelters. At night you sit and feed father your mother’s recipes, ask each other about the other’s day as if any of that matters now.

The Memphis division of the March of Dimes Charity approaches you to replace your mother on the board. Hustling you into your new position and entrusting you with the Christmas organizations all before the holiday itself is unheard of and rushed, but it all makes sense once you hear a doner put in a good word for you, requesting you be put in charge. There’s no bigger or quieter doner than Elvis Presley, so when he speaks up and asks for a thing -it happens.

Mere hours before catching a train to New York, he pops in to the event and makes the room shimmer with his presence, he kisses cheeks, chats with everyone and tosses kids who’ve been treated like glass up in the air, making them laugh for the first time in months. He signs ever so many posters and records and casts and he watches you all the while. The way you host and rustle about in your black heels and plaid taffeta crinoline as the function you put on runs like a well oiled machine. It doesn’t feel like a Christmas event without mistletoe or dancing, but it’s still a damn fine shindig, he’ll give ya that. And he notices what he suspected: when you’re busy working those grieving furrows of your brow clear and he finds he can breathe easier.

Before he leaves to catch his night train you get pulled into a photograph with him, poofy skirt crushed against his leg, arms helping balance a massive cake as he holds a kid who seems to think you want to eat globs of frosting off his fingers. You’re not about to deny a five year old boy in crutches so you slurp it off laughingly and the cameras capture Elvis watching that hungrily. The cake, not your pink tongue languorously licking white icing…

You walk him to the door and he leaves you in the warm glow of the charity function surrounded by children and folks you’re making feel welcome as only you can, and he boards the damn train that ships his ass to New York, calling Anita dutifully before slumping into the narrow bed and wringing his cock out to the thought of marrying you and keeping you full of him all your days.

You go on the date with Billy cause you figure it will get your mind off your grief and he tells you he wants one last happy memory before he leaves everything familiar and gets shipped across the world to get killed. Billy is being dramatic, as there’s no war on right now, but the draft is an atrocity all the same and you don’t mind giving Billy one last happy memory. Something in you has been curious about men since that night Elvis forced you to sleep on him by sheer masculine authority alone. You curl around your pillow at night and pretend it’s him, or someone, a man, you think. You pretend it’s a man.

You think it must be missing your mother that’s done this to you, she’d have kept you distracted but without her, and your father a reticent shell of himself, it makes sense you’re lonely and craving some stability, someone to tell you how it’s gonna be.

Billy isn’t exactly that, he can’t even decide on where to take you for this date, it’s up to you to suggest places, finally landing on the drive-in theater. It’s safe but mature enough to be a little thrilling. He doesn’t own a car so you drive in the car Elvis bought you when you became a March of Dimes board member. Father sets a curfew, and you try to soothe your nerves at the notion you might feel a man again tonight, your curiosity peaked and eager.

The theater lot is strangely empty when y’all arrive and you wonder if maybe Billy called in a favor. Halfway through the film you feel Billy’s hand on your thigh and you shudder and respond in kind, just a gentle resting on his own, but this spurs him on, soon he is ignoring the film altogether and fumbling to get under your velvet skirt and that’s a little surprising. You’re processing whether you like this or not when he leans over, pulls down your fur collar and glues his mouth to your neck like a pufferfish to the side of a tank. It’s not very romantic but it makes you flush and it shocks you and you like that. More shocking still is the blinding light that suddenly pierces the nighttime seclusion of your car cab, and there at your window is Elvis Presley wielding a police grade flashlight directly into your eyes, smiling like a shark against the glass.

“How’s it goin kids?” he grins, his breath frosting the frigid glass.

“Elvis, I-I- I’m on a date.” You laugh while stating the obvious.

“I know, I know,” he nods, opening your door and sliding in next to you, gently shoving you till he’s in front of the wheel and you're wedged in the middle, “Bill here told me you were handin out free dates to poor drafted boys, so I’m here for mine.”

“You’ve been drafted, too?” you cry out, Billy quite forgotten, “They’ll not make you with-“

-with his career you mean, but he gives you a pout and nod and that’s that. So is the way his arm slides around you and pulls you closer and you feel like you’re in the middle of a contest you didn’t sign up for. “I’ll miss you boys.” you sigh.

“Aww, you’re sweet honey, ain’t she sweet, Billy? She taste sweet, too?”

Billy mumbles something under his breath about not getting the chance and you realize Elvis has his hand gripping the poor kid’s neck.

“Elvis you're being rude.” you chide meekly.

“Nah, it’s rude to kiss a lady’s neck with so little finesse as Bill was yours, that’s what’s rude.” Elvis declares and you get that feeling again of being unable to question him. You just hush and stay put until the credits roll and he offers Billy a ride home which the kid accepts. He drives your car and you don’t bother protesting when he drops Billy off with a:

“See ya in the barracks, bucko!”

It’s rude and cocky and no one’s ever fought over you before and while you don’t appreciate him interrupting your exploration of a male specimen, it’s rather nice to matter a little to Elvis Presley. It’s heady and makes your heart thump and your legs feel heavy and you wipe your sweaty palms on the velvet of your skirt.

“How’d you know that, that I was there?” you ask him, timid now you’re alone with him and the gentleness he once showed you isn’t present, he is gnawing on his bottom lip, leg not pressing the gas is jiggling like it does before a performance and it attracts your eye by instinct.

He’s wound up and you feel a little suffocated from the warmth rolling off him as he drives you through the dark streets, back to your home. “He asked me to clear the lot out.” he confirms your suspicion, “Then your daddy asked me to look out for ya, make sure all was right and proper.”

You are surprised and a little hurt that your father wouldn’t trust his child who has been as unfailingly upright as yourself on a movie date, more strange still that he’d trust someone as, well -loose might be a unkind word- but someone as loose as Elvis Presley to enforce morality on such a night. “I don’t believe you.” you admit barely above a whisper.

Elvis’ foot slips at your little whisper and he revs over the curb outside your house with a thump, before he curses and backs up, head cranning to look out the rear window and you wanna touch his throat.

He kills the lights and turns to you and you're so ashamed by your craving thoughts you fear he can sniff them like blood in water, figure out that you wanna run your finger down his cheek, that you wanted to touch Billy cause you’ve been curious of him. “Now honey,” he admonishes you in the still dark and it’s all you can do not to shrink against the car door under the weight of his stare, “I don’t wanna have to report to your daddy what I saw in this here cab, so why don’t you tell me why it was you were lettin’ that boy touch on you so. You was leanin in, I saw ya, you was leanin in and you liked it.”

“Elvis,” you plead, face aflame and it makes him twitch in his seat to see you squirm so, “you, Elvis you know I haven’t -this was my first date! I didn’t do nothin wrong. It was exciting, that’s all.”

He looks at you sternly and it makes you angry, you're about to resume a defense when he takes his hand off the wheel to clasp your thigh, higher up than Billy ever dared. “This feel exciting, lil one?”

Your lungs feel crushed and your thigh trembles under his hot palm, “What’re you doin?” you gasp, feeling very, very wrong and near starving for it.

“This feel right to you?” he presses, unrelenting, hand rhythmically squeezing your soft flesh and you can see father’s silhouette in his usual chair by the window, reading and oblivious.

“I said exciting.” you cleared your throat, “And I said it was when Billy did it. And he never went that- that- that high up.”

“Oh nah? Hmm, well, now that I’m there, how’s it feel, honey? Hmm?”

You squeeze your eyes shut after a moment, watching his hand creep higher and nearer to where you feel your heart beat thudding between your legs proving to be a bit much.

“Ain’t right or fittin for Limp Dick Billy to be gettin a quality girl like you excited.” he shakes his head, “Save your bosom heavin for better stuff.”

“Limp Dick -what’s that mean?” you repeat him, bewildered as your world narrows to his lush lips and the searing heat of his hand near that place you’ve grown to notice more and more lately.

“Aww that’s just, that’s nothin, just a bad name we use for fellas whose uh, well, whose hair won’t uh, won’t stand up right.”

“Not everybody can have hair like you, E.” you mumble and watch the way the lamplight makes his rings glitters against the velvet of your skirt.

That’s an admission on your part that he drinks in like a dying man, happy to have some glimmer of superiority in your mind over his fellows, and he rubs his thumb soothingly over your twitching thigh as your skirt folds dip between your legs, highlighting them perfectly. He can see the outline of your little cunt between your pressed thighs and he feels rash, feels like spreading his hand a little further and brushing his pinky there against that place he’s imagined so many times.

“Elvis,” you whisper into the silent cab, “what’re you doing?”

That’s a question for the ages and one he hasn’t got a clean answer for. “Tryin to make you excited.” he admits.

“Why?” you puzzle and you’ve heard that this is why he’s called trouble. It isn’t fitting for the sexes to know too much about each other, and Elvis knows too much about women, that’s the talk anyways.

The motion of his thumb against your thigh makes you agree, he knows a little too much and you know too little.

“Tell me,” he leans in further and you feel trapped and your heart is bounding from being the object of his droopy eyed assessment, “does this feel like doin nothin?” he demands and then he’s pressing a fluttery kiss to your pulsing throat and the catch of your breath is audible in the small space.

“Don’t.” you beg, confused and wanting it to never end.

“Why not?” his breath chills the damp little spot where he pressed his kiss.

“You’ve got a girl.” you protest.

“Thought you said this weren’t nothin.” he growls.

“Alright maybe it is.” You squirm away from his touches until your back is pressed against the glovebox. “I-I don’t know. I just - I don’t think you should be doing this with me.”

“Alright then.” he smirks, “You'd best not give me reason to tell your father bout any future such nothin’s with boys, alright honey?”

“If you stop behavin in a way that would make Miss Gladys inclined to whoop you, then I will.” you fire back and he thinks he’s in love. Cause you’re right, his mama would be livid at him flustering you and trying you out without making it honest. Your supreme capabilities in social matters, mixed with your utter dumbness in regards to the slick sliding down your legs with each swipe of his thumb against velvet, makes him nearly primal in his wants.

“Deal.” he smiles, “I’ll be gone away to basic training soon, anyhow,” and he notices your little frown at that, “won’t be here to bother you or protect ya, either way. So you’d best just swear off men, ya hear me? Just for a little while till I can come back and vet ‘em.”

“You’ll be gone in the army for a couple years!” you protest his sentencing you to a nunnery.

“Yeah, yeah, and your eggs will keep a couple more years.” he laughs at what must’ve been a good joke that you missed while you were occupied trying to breathe after he patted your lower belly and got out of the car to hand you out by curfew.

On the front porch he tells your daddy a version of the truth. A version that paints you as quite blameless, himself in a starring role of protector and Billy as a no good kid who ain’t quality enough to be hanging out with nice girls like yourself. You are forbidden from seeing Billy again, Elvis is commended, your father goes upstairs to bed and leaves you alone with a young man whose lingering fingers and bitten lips make you lightheaded -you think maybe Elvis has the right idea, your father is blind as a bat when it comes to threats.

Not that Elvis is a threat, he just lounges against the kitchen counter and watches you put up dishes like it’s the most fascinating thing he’s ever seen.

“You don’t think Anita would mind you hanging around like this?” You ask him after his lip licking stare gets a little too heavy and you feel somewhat dizzy from being so closely watched by a guy who you know doesn't mean anything by it.

It’s just Elvis’ way of things, he makes people feel and it’s not his fault.

You’ve tried to not blame him for that building feeling you get when he’s around, the one like your lower belly is made of molten lead. That’s a physical abnormality, not his fault in the slightest.

You just do worry about how people might see this, seeing him walking home from your house late at night. You've heard the older ladies on the board whispering about you and how you haven’t got a protector, how your father can’t see what’s right in front of him. You presume they mean about Billy and his straying hands or the old donor who tried to tug you into a closet with him. Elvis is just trying to fill in the slack your father’s grief has left. Anyone with eyes could tell he’s just looking out for you. He had to be pulled off the old doner before he murdered him after he heard. It’s only that you notice Anita has turned a little cold towards you, and mama always said to be careful about letting a taken man take too much interest in ya. And Elvis does seem very interested in something about you, maybe just cause people stare and he thinks it’s rude, thinks getting pulled into closets is ungallant. He does plenty of his own staring, though.

“What about Anita?” his head snaps up and he takes his eyes off your shiny little leather belt to ask you to repeat yourself.

Something about having his focus back on your face makes you feel dumb about your worries and you change the question slightly. “Y’all gonna get married?” you ask instead.

“I dunno.”

“But with you going into the army, what’s gonna happen, what’ve you two sorted out?” you press, scooting him to the side so you can put a dish away behind him.

“She says she’ll wait for me.” he replies, sounding like her faithfulness is an imposition and you get a little mad for her, “she’s always tryin to nail things down I-I-I’ve told her, I just d-d-dunno.”

“She’s been very accommodating of you, Elvis.” you plead her case the way your mother used to plead yours to your father about dance lessons.

“Yeah, sure, sure.” he agrees dryly, leaning on the counter again and staring at his feet, “Gonna put a pause on her damn career and everything, least for a year or two. Big whoop. Who's gonna take care of the babies once she goes back to work, that’s what I wanna know. No children of mine’s gonna get raised by some passel ‘a mamies like a bunch of Wall Street brats while their mother is off kissin men for a living.`` By the end of this tirade his voice is close to a shout and you think he’s shockingly worked up over a rather hypocritical grievance.

But it makes sense, “Guess a career woman isn’t the best mother.” you agree tentatively and his eyes shoot up to your face. You’ve no more dishes to dry and your hands hang uselessly by your side.

“Oh hell, look at us ruinin our evening over her,” he shakes himself, “don’t mind her she’s just being an ole biddy about it all.”

“With some reason!” you laugh, “ And the point could be made that you’re actin a bit like an ass.”

“Oh hell not you, too!”

“It’s not nice to lead a gal on like that -or two in the case of Dixie and June- and then get mad at her when you decide she isn’t what you want after all!”

“Didn’t realize you were so invested in my private life.” he sneers.

“I’m not. But the Evening Herald is.”

“Don’t let the papers turn ya onto a nagging puss, lil girl, doesn't suit your sweet temper.”

“I’m not turnin into anything, just stating facts.” you murmur and clasp your hands before you anxiously. You swear you can feel the heat coming off of him, anger you presume, “And I’m a little tired.” you add sheepishly.

“Course you are.” he murmurs, visage smoothing like magic and he comes up to you, cradling your face in his hands as you back away and bump into the stove, “Been a big day and a lotta new feelin’s, hmm?”

“Yes.” you gasp, your chest hot and his hands are so large and warm and it’s like he blocks out the rest of the world full of his girls and your father and what’s right or wrong, cradling your cheeks with his thumbs running along your cheekbones, “You gonna be good and do what I asked ya?”

Your mind is so fixated on the plump curve of his bottom lip that you surface with a frantic splutter, trying to recall what he’s referencing.

“You gonna lay off the datin’ till I get back, yeah?” he reminds you helpfully as his fingers work the back of your neck to jello, your core pulsing in a strangely distracting response as he tells you how it’s gonna be, gives the very direction you’ve been craving.

“Yes, yeah.” you breathe and your voice sounds like those gals on the screen when they’re overcome by romance, but here is none that you can find, just Elvis looking out for you and patiently bearing with your stupid naïveté when it comes to boys. He’ll make sure you land the right one, start house with a fella who’ll give you security and direction. It’s just your loneliness with father being so mellow that has you going on stupid dates with boring boys. Elvis is right. You admit it to him.

He smiles in response and it looks like the kind he gives before he punches someone in his films. It’s a promise.

You shiver against the stove and grip the dish towel hanging from the handle.

“And you’ll let me know if anybody is botherin, ya while i'm gone, right?” he rewards your obedience with the promise of security, just like all those knights in fairytales.

Women obey and men provide, it’s the natural way of things and your heart swoops at the first taste of a married dynamic. You feel like you should offer him some favor, some reward for giving you his defense. You’ve heard stories about girls who feel the way you do, who get overcome by gratitude to a fella before getting married and they are ruined. You grip the dish towel harder, unsure of what motion you might make which would ruin you, what touch it is that seals your fate, puts a baby in a girl before it’s time. It can’t be a hug, surely not just a kiss, but you wouldn’t know as you’ve never dared. You’ll wait for Elvis to come back and make sure the fella you date and marry won’t get you in trouble in any of these ways. It’s complicated and confusing being a woman, and since that night of the funeral he seems to have taken the place of your mother, and you trust him in this.

“I’ll let you know.” you swear earnestly.

He kisses your cheek gently in response. Just a dry peck. That must not be the ruinous action in question, he wouldn’t do anything to tarnish you. It’s Elvis.

Elvis is a sullen but brave boy as he boards the army bus to ship him down south where it’s more Mexico than truly civilized but the world just calls it Texas. Or that’s what you hear from Gladys. You were not there to see him off, why should you be? You are busy and you have sworn off men and there’s a great deal to do in those dismal post holiday weeks. You do not pine for distractions, you don't have much energy to lie awake at night for long and rehearse the way his hand felt on your thigh, or his lips against your throat, or his fingers grazing the little swell of your belly where your womb is housed. These are passing, fitful and frantic thoughts, that pass through your mind before sleep takes you.

And Elvis is much the same, basic training is unkind, even to a man whose performances required much stamina. He crawls into his bunk and collapses most nights, staring with hooded eyes, at the newspaper clipping of you licking that damn icing, the picture he’s shown his new army buddies while announcing to them proudly “that’s ma girl, no, no, not the sort to fool with. The one I’m gonna have carrying my babies. Soon.”

Soon.

It’s a waste in the meantime, the way he spews his seed over the panties he stole from your room that morning he dressed you for the funeral, it’s a waste of precious fuel— fuel for his dream as it impotently coats and drips from the silk and makes him angry that he can’t find it in him to tamp down that restless heart of his, just settle down. Marry you already. Be a little respectable— sounds relaxing, sounds satisfactory. Sounds like something the Colonel would love for this whole “new image.”

That sours it all and he rolls over in his bunk with the sodden scrap of silk that no longer smells of you but of him and his wasted desire.

Soon, he tells himself, soon. After a little while.

It’s tragic really, the way we postpone snagging those things we know we want, the ones our gut lurches for, our soul craves as our conscience whispers “just do it.” Put off because life is too exciting to tone down, fun and girls are in abundance, and time seems very plentiful until it runs out in a great big whoosh of sand from the hour glass, taking with it those steady, stable, sure things we’ve counted on being there for an endless little while. Like your Mother. Just gone, and the universe doesn't pause to acknowledge your world is fractured, for everyone else it’s just tomorrow. Tomorrow is here and they’re not.

The shock of it jolts you, the regret nags you, the grief strips you back down to the bare bones of what you want and need. Elvis only knows one other person who he thinks gets how this feels as his train hurdles homeward to a coffin and a future that doesn't make any sense. Mama should have gotten to see him out of the army, gotten to see him do more, hit thirty, marry. Mama shoulda been able to meet those grandbabies she’d pestered him about but he put off for tomorrow.

Tomorrow is a bitter pill and he wants to spit it out, start over, refashion it just so. No more regrets, no more fighting his gut. He’d like to dig a shallow grave for a little while, fold himself into it and just rest a minute, learn to forgive his stupid ambition, catch a break. Wake up some thawed spring morning to the sight of you beside him in the daffodil covered earth, find the reason in your eyes that makes him choose to live again.

Still, he finds it in a little fur trimmed peacoat standing and waiting forlornly for him at the station.

You’re not a girlfriend, you’re not a fan, you’re just someone who lost their mama too, somebody who knows there’s not much to say, just a hug there on the crowded platform and “she was the reason for everything you ever did, wasn’t she?”

Was. She was. Now is about what is.

#reposting for masterlist purposes #since the other links are deactivated #cheers #elvis fanfiction #sarge and lil mama #the beginning #elvis imagine #elvis fanfic #elvis x reader #elvis x you #austin elvis imagine #elvis presley #Elvis x Elaine

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maysrinn · 7 months

Note

District AU (Im bias towards this au now with all the added lore it’s getting + the meadow art piece ✨✨)

1. What is Rosie like as an older sister since she’s no longer the youngest in the district au (she’s a middle child)

2. What are the kids favorite pass time in the district au (since they have to stay hidden, I’d assume they’d have down time to do whatever) (the twins just set things on fire)

3. Which kid(s) give the covey the most stress

1. Not much changed beside the pride of no longer being the youngest, She's still the same hyperactive little snake-loving menace to society, but now with the right freedom to do so. Sure, now she isn’t spoiled rotten anymore, capitol style, but Coriolanus still brings her trinkets as much as he can. Still ✨daddy's little girl✨ next to Clementine, who's ✨daddy's pain in the ass✨ but now she has two little sisters who follow her everywhere. Aubrey and Aubree are glued to her; everywhere she goes, they waddle too. The little snake probably didn’t even realize she was the middle child now because, unlike Xanthos, she doesn't care.

Xanthos tries to learn to play with his mother's guitar so he is mostly in the meadow (he can now let his inner covey out)

Sejanus spends most of his time trying to learn the things the other kids learn in school. He was already a smart fella in the capitol AU and now he tries to teach it himself with Coriolanus giving him assignments and correcting them after coming back from work. His favorite “class” would be algebra.

Rosie ….snakes, snakes, snakes, snakes, snakes. She doesn’t have the patience to go fishing or read but she loves running around trying to find new things that keep her busy. She’s the definition of the kids who come back home at dawn doing all sorts of things. But she loves collecting flowers and herbs with her mother, specifically mushrooms in the fall.

The twins waddle after Rosie or Lucy gray and in-between naps they have each other to keep themself busy under constant supervision. They are 3 after all.

Cedar being the youngest, sleeps and eats if awake. Mostly strapped to Lucy Gray's back or chest.

Clementine oh my darling Clementine…she keeps herself busy doing exactly what she is not supposed to do, for example interacting with girls her age or going to the hob, wandering around the edges of 12, or observing from afar. To be fair she doesn't know better and she is 15 at the time she starts disobeying her father and 17 when she learns about the reason why the rules were set.

3. Clementine is a constant concern, 24/7, 365 days a year, for obvious reasons. If it's not about playing cards with the devil's advocate, provoking every string that keeps her safe, it's her recklessness with Nathan that has them worried about another Lucy Gray case of being a young mom (though that won't happen).

The second concern is Cedar Fern; at just 2 months old, he has entered the risk zone for sudden infant death, something Sejanus warned them about when Clementine was born. Once that phase passes, Clementine becomes their only problem again.

_________

#tbosas #snowbaird #alternate universe #The daily life of the kids #menace to district society #lucy gray baird #the hunger games #coriolanus snow #thg

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puckpocketed · 2 months

Text

19/07/2024 - Tory Pitner joins USHL in Focus: 2024 NHL Draft Edition

My transcript of Tory Pitner's interview with Paul Allan for the USHL. Lightly edited where unavoidable for clarity. Extra context in (round brackets) and adjustments for ease of reading in [square brackets]. Text in bold are all my highlights, stuff I thought was very interesting.

There's so much to say about how talkative he is. It's rarely useless chatter, it's always answering the question and on topic, and it's clear that anything he says is informed and well-considered.

I love how much he seems to think about his long-term development goals, and how his entire junior career up to the draft (and now beyond) has been about pushing himself in the right ways, finding people who he can learn from, working and working and chipping away at his goals. It feels like he could tell all the scouts exactly what they're writing about him if they asked him to break down his own game. I get the feeling he knows exactly what kind of player he is and where he needs to improve. He says, with such certainty, that his hard work will pay off. Like he knows exactly what trajectory he's on and that all he has to do is work to get there.

I like the way he thinks about leadership and responsibility, how he simply wants it, and how when he sees leaders he admires he does everything to take lessons from them. I am not surprised he's worn letters for so many teams he's been on. He's had the C twice; during his U-15 year and for the Hlinka Gretzky Cup. He craves challenge. He studies the game and loves it dearly. He can name just about every person who has ever helped him get to where he is, and he attempts to do just that. He is so, so smart. I don't know how else to sell people on this guy - I think maybe one day he's really gonna be something, whether it's as a player or a coach, or who knows. But I think I'll leave it at that and let him speak for himself.

Paul Allan: Well we’re joined now by a very busy young fella named Tory Pitner, former Youngstown Phantom who’s about to start his college career at the University of Denver. We’re excited to talk about a couple things here with Tory, it’s been a busy two years for Tory… You’re from Greenwich Connecticut, you’re an East Coast guy, but it appears to me that before you ended up in Youngstown, you spent some time on the West Coast with minor programs there; with the LA Junior Kings, the San Jose Junior Sharks, and then prep school.

So let’s talk about your path to Youngstown first, and then we’ll talk about the rest of the time here. It looks like you’re in a dorm room there at the University of Denver, so we’ll talk about that in a bit, but let’s talk about your path to Youngstown. How did you end up playing for the Phantoms and how was that — playing in the USHL [United States Hockey League] — [as] a place for you to develop as a young player?

Tory Pitner: Yeah, for sure. [It] started out like you said, I was born in Greenwich Connecticut and then I moved to Northern California when I was pretty young, and then played pretty much there in the LA Junior Kings growing up before COVID hit. So I was in that kind of system in the West Coast. Really great spot out there, with great coaches — Brett Beebe, Derek (inaudible, unable to find him on any backdated staff lists) — a bunch of great coaches I had out there.

And then Covid hit, and I made the decision to go and play prep school at South Kent, which is a school in South Kent, Connecticut, and basically that decision was a combination of being able to be on the ice every day, guaranteed ice, being able to have my academics and my athletics all in one place on the Hillside. I went to South Kent, played for [Jamie Russel (Director of Hockey Operations, Head Coach)] there. Really loved my experience, I thought it was great for me. That was the first time I was able to get on the ice every day and I think it was big for me, both for my development and maturity. Being able to figure out a schedule that works for me, because the schedule we had at South Kent was pretty similar to the one we had in Youngstown, and now the one I have here at D.U. So, great stepping stone for me into junior hockey.

And then, that year while I was at South Kent, I was drafted into the WHL [Western Hockey League] with the Edmonton Oil Kings and then I was also drafted into the USHL, after the year was done, with Youngstown. And kind of made the decision shortly after the draft there to head to Youngstown for a [variety] of reasons. Being able to play U.S. college hockey was something that was always a dream of mine. When talking to both organisations, both teams, I thought that the USHL and college in general was just the route for me to go. Looking at myself as a player I [felt] like, ‘I’m gonna need more time to develop,’ and I think the USHL is obviously an unbelievable league for development, being able to go in there and play against guys that are three, four years older than you when you when you’re 16 is something that I really looked at, and I embraced that challenge and I loved that opportunity.

I thought that the travel for us in Youngstown was a bit different than everyone else, but I thought that was good for me to learn how to navigate the roads. And, you know, going through junior hockey now into college hockey, there’s always going to be travel, and then when you get to the NHL level there’s going to be a lot of travel — granted, they travel a little differently — but I thought we did a pretty good job in Youngstown at that. So just, ultimately, the decision came down to; I wanted to play college hockey and I wanted to play in the USHL because I thought that was the best development league for me to get to college hockey.

So I was drafted by Youngstown after my U-15 year, and then decided to head back to South Kent for what would’ve been my U-16 year, but I ended up going and playing up — playing U-18 for the first [part] of the year. I wanted to go and I wanted to be over-ready to go to Youngstown, and so I thought that going back to South Kent, it was still a great situation for me. I went back and then went and played my affiliate games with Youngstown, and through my affiliate games talking with coach [Ryan] Ward and coach [Andy] Contois and coach [Brandon] Gotkin and the whole staff they have there, and based on how I felt in the games — I felt a lot more ready than I thought I was going to, so it didn’t really feel like a jump to me up to the USHL, it felt more like a transition. And that was something that — you know at the beginning of the year I didn’t wanna make the jump prematurely, but after going and playing those games I really found that it was a league that I could compete in and one that would be best for my development moving into college.

At Christmas I finished my semester of school and decided to transition to Youngstown and it was the best decision I could’ve made honestly — ended up finishing the year with them. I think I played around 40-something games with them at the end of the year. And it was great, being able to be in the locker room with guys like Chase Pietila (PIT), another USHL guy that just got drafted, and Chase was kind of a role model for me — I still talk to him to this day — but he was someone who really showed me the ropes, showed me the league.

And Youngstown in general; Andy Contois did a great job of teaching me how to defend at that next level which I feel like is something that, for me, moving on now looking back on my career is something I’m super grateful for. Even though it was only a year and a half ago, it’s something I feel like is now a staple in my game that, before coming to junior hockey, you never would’ve known certain nuances about defending that you do now. Andy’s a great coach, he’s worked a lot with me, I’ve worked a lot with him about certain things I need to develop and will continue to develop. We still talk pretty regularly, too.

Just being able to go up and play those games and be in a locker room with those guys — like Shane Lachance (EDM), being our captain, there isn’t enough to be said about Shane Lachance. He is probably one of the best captains I have and will ever have had. Seeing him as a leader and being around him and seeing his ability to connect with every guy in the room is something that I really tried to take from and emulate. That was really great for me. And ultimately being able to play with the group of guys we had my first year in Youngstown was great. [Being] in practice every day was the best thing for me, because you have [William] Will Whitelaw (CBJ), who was going a million miles an hour on you on a gap drill, that — you’re stuck in mud — so being able to learn those things and play against those guys… I think my first year there we had five NHL draft picks; I roomed with Jacob Fowler (MTL) so I got to see excellence right down the hall. That was really something that, for me, was a great experience, and kind of threw me into the fire a bit with junior hockey, and was the best thing for me and I loved every second of it.

And those guys, after winning the Clark Cup with them, it can’t be understated how much of a bond everyone had there. We were together — you know, everyone could’ve gone home after, but we all decided we wanted to stay together and just hang out, because we knew we were gonna miss each other as a group, and we still — our group chat’s still active. We still talk pretty regularly. I talk with a few of those guys that I got pretty close with pretty often. And you know, [them] taking me in as a 16-year-old and really showing me the ropes led me to being able to jump into my next year, my 17-year-old year, my draft year, and have an idea of how it’s going to look; because I saw Stratty [Andrew Strathmann (PIT)] and Whitey [William Whitelaw], and Brandon Svoboda (SJS), [Matthew] Perkins (VAN), Fowler, I saw them all doing NHL interviews last year, I saw how that whole process went. It kind of eased my nerves going into my next year, because I’d seen it, I’d known what it looks like.

Being in Youngstown, they do a great job of bringing in high calibre players to have that experience. Me and Luke Osburn (BUF) went along with that process together this year and I thought it was great for me and Ozzy to push each other all year, being able to play games. We had another good team, we had another great group of players, great group of guys. Obviously, it wasn’t the end result we wanted, we ran into a great Dubuque [Fighting Saints] team and we just weren’t able to get it done. But ultimately I thought that this year was a great learning experience for me, too. Having to take on a bigger role with the Phantoms was something that I really embraced, and loved the challenge of, and loved the opportunity to do. I’m super grateful for the coaching staff and coach Contois for giving me that increased opportunity. Being able to wear a letter for them is something that I was really proud of. They looked on me as a leader in the locker room to kind of show the other guys the way; I thought that was really great for me.

The [other] opportunities I had this year as well, like being able to captain the Hlinka Gretzky team was something that was a dream of mine. Whenever I found out about the tournament, I wanted to go, but I didn’t just want to go; I wanted to be a leader on the team and make an impact. And, you know, we were able to do that; win our first medal — since 2016 I think it was — with the United States. Hopefully the team this year can follow that up and bring home gold. Then, continuing into the season playing for USA again at the World Juniors — didn't get the result we wanted but that was another great experience. To be around the top guys in the USHL and play with other guys that have been drafted before, and talk with other guys, talk with the coaching staff… They brought some of the best coaches from the USHL along; to be able to pick their brain every day, we have guys from that coaching staff, like Mike Leone, he’s now coaching in the AHL and I got to be on the ice with Leo every day for two weeks, which was something that I thought was great for me. Being able to be around those guys, too, who are now going to step into college and be great college players before going on to having great pro careers.

So those opportunities coming back in my second year was something that was really great for me. And I was super fortunate to have that, and then getting the call to come into Denver this year, and now being able to take all that experience and transition it into college. In our first [skates (?)] here, I feel pretty confident, so that’s something that definitely prepared me and I’m really grateful for.

A bit of a long winded answer, but yeah.

PA: That’s awesome. I do have a couple of questions for you though, and a couple of observations that I always… Everybody who’s involved with hockey over the years talks about the small world and you mentioned Jamie Russel there. Of course, Jamie Russel is a former coach at Michigan Tech. and Chase Pietila is from the — I mean, I don’t know how many Pietilas have played at Northern Michigan and Michigan Tech. of the the years. There's a bunch of them.

TP: So many. And Adam is on our team again, he’s [Chase’s] cousin.

PA: But what a whirlwind for you, and I know the Youngstown organisation is extremely proud of you, a 2-time All-Academic kid, too. And I know, Tory, as you were making your — one of the things you sort of left out there was the recruiting process, and what you were juggling there, and how that went along for you. We’ll get to Denver and how you ended up deciding to go play for the Pioneers here in a sec, but I want to talk about this past year going back to the Clark Cup Championship season.

During your minus-1 draft year you end up playing for Youngstown, and what a great time to jump on board with them and contributing to a Clark Cup Championship, the first one in the organisation. That’s pretty cool, but then you touched on the Hlinka Gretzky invite and the World Junior-A Challenge invite, and then you get to go to the NHL draft, get selected by the Colorado Avalanche; and then you get an invite to the USA Hockey World Junior Summer Showcase. And you’re oh, by the way, starting summer school at DU with workouts and [getting to know] all your teammates. How are you able to juggle everything and keep a clear head with all this stuff, Tory? For an eighteen-year-old kid, that sounds like a lot of things to consider.

TP: Yeah, yeah no, it’s definitely a lot. But like I said to you before we hopped on the call: I’d rather be busy than bored. So for me, I always want to push myself. Instead of just sitting in bed and watching Youtube or something, that’ll be the time I do my homework from my summer school courses and everything like that. Being here, I really love the schedule because we’re up early, we’re working out early, and then we go to class and then we get to come back, we get to skate with all the pro guys out here. And then you come back and you do homework and you get to do it all again the next day. You’re really fully immersed in the whole culture.

And I’d really say, just, how I’m handling it is; it’s the preparation I had before, from South Kent, getting to see what that model would look like — having school and hockey in the same place. And then being in Youngstown and travelling as much as we did; some of our bus trips, like when we went to Fargo for the Clark Cup, that was right in the middle of finals season, too. We’re busing 23 hours, we’re busing out to Fargo to play the [Fargo] Force.

You learn to prioritise different things. You learn how to manage your schedule pretty well. You know, it does suck. You can’t call your buddies as much. You can’t text, Instagram — none of that stuff really comes into play too much anymore just because you’re so busy. I really embrace it. And I think that it’s something — if I wasn’t busy I’d probably be a little more upset, if that makes sense. Like, I’d rather have this schedule where I’m constantly going and, you know, I think it’s pushing me. It’s a bit of [overload] training here in the summer, just with how much we’re actually doing, how much of a course load, how much lifts we have. Skating with the pro guys, too. Being out here at D.U., we have a great setup where a lot of the pro guys come back and skate. Being drafted to Colorado is great because you see Colorado guys coming into the locker room, you get to meet them, you get to meet guys in the NHL club and you get to skate with some of them sometimes. That’s really great for me in my development going into my freshman year here and ultimately to making the Avs.

But like you said, it's been a long summer, but it’s one I’m super grateful for, and I wouldn’t trade it for the world.

PA: Before we talk [about the draft], I do want to talk about your decision to go to Denver and play for the Pioneers, and the commitment process. How did the process — how did you decide that going to Denver was the best place for your development as a player and as a student?

TP: Right before the USHL Fall Classic, I actually started talking to a bunch of teams. I was previously committed (to UMass Amherst), but decided to decommit for reasons — just coaching change reasons, everything like that. So, I decided to decommit and the fit really wasn’t there anymore. Decommit, and then open up my recruiting process before the USHL Fall Classic, then go to the Fall Classic. And honestly don’t really focus on it too much. Just try and play my best hockey for my team, because that was my goal, that’s what I’m there for. It can’t be a distraction. But after the Fall classic I had a little bit of time off and I talked to a couple of schools, had a couple of Zoom calls. Right when I talked to D.C. [coach David Carle] and the Pioneers, I knew that it was probably the place I was going to end up.

Being a West Coast kid growing up there, they were the furthest West team before A.S.U. [Arizona State University] became a college hockey program. So growing up, you go to tournaments in Colorado, you always want to go to the D.U. games. You grow up like — I watched Will Butcher play (2013-17), and Will Butcher’s in the locker room now (25/07/2023 - Butcher has signed with Barys Astana, a KHL team; link, archive link). That’s so cool for me, and hearing those guys talk and what they see is the plan for me, what I see is the plan for myself, and both of those kind of aligning; it really just made the perfect sense. And obviously they have an unbelievable track record of developing NHL defensemen here at Denver, like if you walk through our locker rooms you look at the walls, NHL players are on the walls. You look at them and go, ‘they’re in the same shoes. I am there doing the same workouts. They were doing the same skate. They were doing the same schedule.’ And that really gives you confidence to keep working hard because you know that someone’s been through your path before, and if you keep working and you keep staying your path… and — not keep your head down — but if you just put your head down and work hard, then you’ll be able to achieve what you want to achieve.

After talking to them and hearing those things from the coaching staff — Ferg does a great job with the [defensemen] — Dallas Ferguson. Travis MacMillan does a great job recruiting, great job with the boards. All the staff here, there’s — I could list them all, but it really doesn’t do justice how much of a fit it really felt like, talking to them on the phone.

Once I really had that conversation, I felt that it was the best thing for me and kind of a no-brainer decision when you pull in where I grew up, how much success they had… And so I made that decision shortly thereafter, and I’ve been thrilled with it ever since. Kept in touch with them pretty much all year. Had a great open line of communication development-wise and just personnel-wise, just checking in and seeing how I’m doing as a person off the ice, how I’m handling that schedule that we have in Youngstown, just being that [travelled]. They were great with me, and now that I'm here, I couldn't be happier. All the guys here on the team are great guys and I’m really excited to be here and can’t wait to get started.

PA: You’re a two-time USHL All-Academic pick in your two seasons with Youngstown. Tory, have you thought about what you’re going to take for classes and what are you going to major in?

TP: Yeah, we just actually had that conversation with our academic advisor last week, so I’m kind of torn right now, but I’m leaning towards psychology. So what I’m going to do is my first quarter, I’ll take Intro to Psych and Intro to Business and Into To a bunch of those courses, because no matter what, they're all going to count for common core courses, so I kind of get to feel it out and see which one I’m going to take. Right now I’m probably leaning towards majoring in psychology. I’ll make that decision, we’ll all declare officially after our freshman year, so I have the year to figure it out.

But I’m really excited. I have a good course load, a lot of good challenging courses, a lot of fun courses, too, interesting ones. So it’ll make it easy when you're interested in the subject to be able to go in and learn and go to class. And it’s nice to be in an actual classroom again after two years of online school with the Phantoms. It’s something that you don’t really think about, but it definitely helps. And it’s nice for me as a kid that always wants to learn. I think that’s my mentality on and off the ice. It's just always wanting to learn, always wanting to get better. So I’m really excited for it. I think that summer school so far has gone well — knock on wood — grades are coming out pretty soon, but I feel pretty confident about it. So yeah, I’m just looking forward to it. And I think it’ll be a great experience off the ice in the classroom and both on the ice.

PA: Let’s wrap it up with your draft day experience in Vegas, Tory. Of course, you’ve alluded to it already; you were picked in the 6th round by the Avalanche and [inaudible]. That’s pretty cool. What were your thoughts, and tell us about the excitement that you experienced there in Vegas a couple of weeks ago?

TP: It was a long day, I’ll give you that one. Got there with my family. We actually — we had a test on Thursday, so I took my test and I flew out Thursday night into Vegas and the draft obviously started Friday. And going into it, you kind of have an idea of a few teams that you thought could pick you, but you don’t really know where with how the draft’s going to shake out. You hear some things, but they don’t really hold true just because everything is crazy. You saw the draft. It went nuts after that third pick, pretty much everything changed. Just going in there, no expectations, just be grateful for the opportunity you have to be there and being able to be there with my family and my friends and some coaches, just people I hold close to my heart, was something that was super cool for me.

Busy week with everything we had, like dinners, breakfasts, meetings; everything like that with teams or with whoever — with your advisor, with your family. But it was ultimately a good time, you get to throw on a suit, get to go to the draft. The Sphere was obviously unbelievable; I don’t think I’ve ever seen anything like that in my life. I was probably cranking my neck to see who the next pick was at the top of the board there. It was a pretty cool experience being able to sit around all those great prospects. And then, you know, I talked to Colorado quite a bit throughout the year, stayed in contact with them, and so I felt that they were one of the teams that I could have gone to, and so every time they were picking I was on the edge of my seat a bit.

And then finally you hear your name called after a long day, it was something that — a lot of relief, and just joy, gratitude. It was an unbelievable feeling. Really grateful having the Youngstown guys there. I wasn’t able to go and say ‘hi’ just because of how busy it was, which I was frustrated about, but it was good to see people that you hadn’t seen in a little bit and really share that experience with everyone that helped get you there, because that’s what it’s all about. I wouldn’t be here without all the people in my corner, all the people that have coached me going up, my mom; like everything, they’ve all been there for me in the past. I wouldn’t be there without them and being able to be there and celebrate that and going to the Avalanche is something that is super special for me, especially being here in Denver growing up.

They have an unbelievable D-core right now, and so you know that, going into it, they have a high expectation. And then going to Dev Camp and meeting the staff, you understand what that high expectation is. You just go and you work your hardest and you try and improve your game and adapt it to whatever they need so one day you’ll be able to play at the NHL level. And being here at D.U., I said it before, but having them right down the road and having some of their guys come back and skate and lift here and train here is something that’s super cool for me to get to see. Then obviously D.U. had Sean Behrens last year, who’s going to the Avs now, so getting to hang out with all the D.U. guys that were at Avs Dev Camp was great for me, especially all the defensemen.

It was really a perfect situation because even though we had summer school we were still able to go, and we wouldn’t have been able to go to dev camp if it wasn’t in Colorado, so that was awesome for me. I couldn’t be more happy. I’m really grateful for the organisation for taking a chance on me. And now it’s my opportunity, and pretty much all I have to do right now is go and prove them right. Prove to them that they got a steal and just make sure that they made the right decision, and go out there and work as hard as I can. [I’m] happy that they feel — they like me as a prospect, and I really enjoy [being] in an organisation like that. Obviously they have a great track [record] for success and I hope to get out to a few games this year and watch and cheer them on.

PA: Alright Tory, thanks very much for joining us on your busy schedule. Looking forward to seeing your career progress. You still got a lot of stuff to do this summer with the World Junior Showcase in Plymouth. I was thinking about Zeev Buium being there, William Whitelaw, Jake Fisher, all guys that you…

TP: All guys I know, yeah.

PA: And then the rest of the way with the Pioneers this winter with your schedule, and then after that. So best of luck and thanks a lot for joining us, and enjoy the rest of your summer, okay?

TP: Thank you. I appreciate that. Alright, bye.

#truly SO interesting. such a fascinating draft pick #a fit for the avs if the people in my tags for that one post are correct?#Tory Pitner #puck!script #colorado avalanche #puckscouting

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witchcraftandburialdirt · 15 days

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progress and humanity for your fellas

✧ ━━ 𝐇𝐄𝐀𝐃𝐂𝐀𝐍𝐎𝐍𝐒 𝐅𝐎𝐑 𝐌𝐔𝐒𝐄𝐒 𝐖𝐈𝐓𝐇 𝐀 𝐃𝐈𝐅𝐅𝐈𝐂𝐔𝐋𝐓 𝐏𝐀𝐒𝐓 𝙻𝙴𝙰𝙶𝚄𝙴 𝚅𝙴𝚁𝚂𝙴

Progress // Have they made any significant progress since their past deeds? Are they currently progressing? Do they want to progress? ━━ I would say so. Robin's time in Zaun was a really difficult trial that had a lot of things stacked against him from the moment he was born. Social status made it impossible to climb and lofty dreams along with his insatiability made him do some pretty intense things, and the grief. And maybe the demon but whatever. Either way, Robin has found quite a bit of peace in Ionia despite his even worse social status and repetitive lifestyle. He's met and made a lot of connections, and has even made friends and found that he's still able to care about people depite everything. @aquatic-hybrid had a massive influence on his way of seeing life, if I'm being honest, and this has led Robin to try and actually forgive himself and break out of whatever crypt he's buried himself in. He wants to leave, and eventually with the help of @hemoplagued, he does. Robin has actually gotten quite a bit healthier since I started writing him; he's still extremely unnerving and calculating, but emotionally and in turns of stability ━ he's in a way better place.

Humanity // If they're asked what 'humanity' means to them and how they would describe it, what would they answer? Do they love or hate humans? ━━ I know this is going to sound wild given how Robin is in other verses, but in his main timeline in League Robin doesn't really have any resentment towards humans? He's one and he has relationships with them. Even when he was working with Miss Glasc in Zaun he had friendships and happily went out with them! He loves the arts and tries to take as much as he can in, and art is the heart of humanity in a way. That being said, Robin isn't an idealist and he never will be, and he's well aware that for all of the good humans do they do an equal amount of bad; like - duh he was literally reviving torture victims for money? Robin, a human, made every one of his decisions; Abel simply supported those decisions, the demon never actually made of those dark choices for Robin. And Robin's well aware of it, he's also aware that none of it was personal ( or not all of it ). ━━ I think if I had to sum it up, Robin finds a majority of people very very boring. He's attracted to chaos and people smart enough to keep up with his mind games; and a lot of people just don't fit in that narrow space. Granted there's a small part of him that's extremely fond of generally good people ( looking at you @steel-and-fire ) with well meaning hearts. Which, unfortunately, are also a rare commodity.

Progress // Have they made any significant progress since their past deeds? Are they currently progressing? Do they want to progress? ━━ I don't think that Haruko necessarily thought he'd end up at the forefront of a Darkin worshipping blood cult, or being in a symbiotic relationship with one; but here he is. Haruko doesn't feel the need for any sort of redemption for his deeds, he kills any and all Noxians to keep Ionia clean and in his eyes that is a good thing. At the beginning of the Noxian invasion he lost most of what made his life worth living, and since then he's found reason to keep going, has fallen in love, has made friends, raised his beautiful and strong daughter @deathdxnces, and all of this is a huge plus to him. He's really content where he is, he still has nightmares about the war but he has a new family around him to hold him and provide him what he needs.

Humanity // If they're asked what 'humanity' means to them and how they would describe it, what would they answer? Do they love or hate humans? ━━ Haru's feelings on humans are sort of all over the place. For the most part his view of them is pretty negative, he think's they've messed up Ionia's magical grid, he knows they're what separated his family and poisoned the Wuju temples, and a majority of them are pests and cowards. However he has met his fair share of humans who have earned his respect and even his affections; but he still views them as the less common aspect of their species. He doesn't want to eradicate them, but he would prefer them to keep their distance and keep their petty wars to themselves and away from his beloved homeland.

#── 𝐘𝐎𝐔 𝐍𝐄𝐄𝐃𝐍’𝐓 𝐂𝐎𝐍𝐂𝐄𝐑𝐍 𝐘𝐎𝐔𝐑𝐒𝐄𝐋𝐅 𝐖𝐈𝐓𝐇 𝐀 𝐂𝐎𝐑𝐏𝐒𝐄 … 【 ᴀꜱᴋ ᴍᴇᴍᴇ 】#✧ ── 𝐑𝐎𝐁𝐈𝐍 𝐀. 𝐁𝐀𝐔𝐃𝐄𝐋𝐀𝐈𝐑𝐄 ... 【 ᴛʜᴇ ᴍᴏᴏɴ-ᴇʏᴇᴅ ᴍᴀɢᴇ 】#✧ ── 𝐇𝐀𝐑𝐔𝐊𝐎 𝐍𝐀𝐊𝐀𝐒𝐎𝐍𝐄 ... 【 ᴛʜᴇ ꜰɪʀꜱᴛ ᴄʀʏ ᴏꜰ ᴅᴀᴡɴ 】#── 𝐋𝐄𝐀𝐆𝐔𝐄 #burntscars

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notdrifting · 26 days

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stubborn || cont. from here w/ @ser-brienneoftarth: Brienne stood there with her hands on her hips. "How exactly are you trying to help?" She asked. Hearing his next comment, she could only imagine what idea was going through his head. "Oh. What would that idea be? Because I am sure no one but me would have the best idea what I need."

the wilding ginger fella with the beard smirked, chuckling at her defensiveness - stopping on his tracks and raising his hands up in mock surrender, holding her gaze. she was a bit taller, but he was boarder and in a way he did find it interesting to find a woman like here here on the south of the wall; she would be highly chased after if she had been born in the other side of the wall.

as it is, however, he doesn't say so - she's defensive enough already, so he decides not to mention it. instea, he motions at her fancy armour. he likes it, makes her look dangerous and important, but in the north it was not the best wear.

"its the armour, y'know, that's freezing you up like two blocks of ice in your chest." tormund replies, a grin on his face - clearly happy she replied to him with actual words and not just a scowl; far better than his first try... "we free folk don't walk around here with these not cos we can't smith, but cos it's impossible in this cold - even the crows are smart enough to wear leather."

"chill, woman! it's not a trap!" he retorted as he stepped closer once again and seeing how she reacted. "since you're taking first watch, here--take my furs." tormund removed his heavy furs and placed them on brienne's shoulders unceremoniously, as if he had done so many times before and it wasnt the first time they shared more than a few words. "tis a cold night here in the wall."

#ser-brienneoftarth #TORMUND 「interactions」

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shinader · 4 months

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Takeshi Nakagawa

Hey fellas back at it again with the OCs. Like before I'm gonna ramble about the name and why I chose it, show some art I drew, and then go on and on and on under a read more. If you're confused about what I'm on about, my OC tag is "#ced ocs" so look there for more on my other OCs!!!

So this guy is Takeshi (武) Nakagawa (中川). Originally I was thinking of naming him Shiro as that means fourth son, but since "shi" or the part that means "four" in this case sounds like "death" the name could kinda sound like "son of death" but ALSO "Shiro" is like white. And it's like a fun high level pun. But I scrapped the idea because 1) I do not have an understanding of Japanese to let me know if I'm an idiot or not for thinking of this and 2) Shiro is the name of a kid from Morning Glory and I didn't want to have doubles from the canon series.

So, I just went through lists of names till I found a name and meaning I enjoyed that sounded good in my head (while also keeping that "shi" sound!). It wasn't until later I learned there are characters in the Yakuza/Like A Dragon series who have that name but I already grew attached + those characters go by their last names so I feel I'm in the clear.

And for Nakagawa, I just thought it'd be funny to use a last name with the 川 character because he is born and raised in Sotenbori. Because haha river. Yeah. Uh. That's the big reasoning.

Of the story I've written for my OCs, this guy is the main character. All of my OCs stemmed from the Cedric Miyazakis, and, well, when creating him I was really just like "haha what if Ceddy had a scary boyfriend" so I thought up an assassin-type character. And that guy became Takeshi. And he took over the whole narrative because he was pretty much the most active guy. And, of course, to become boyfriend material he must go through some shit and go through a sort of redemption arc!

To become protagonist material, Takeshi did go through a lot of growth from just "scary assassin boyfriend bait" lmao. First of all, since this story is meant to be somewhat like Judgment or Kurohyou. It takes place in the Yakuza/Like A Dragon world, has similar themes and vibes, and the characters don't interact with those in the main series (at least, not in any meaningful way). What this also means, is I want Takeshi to sort of fit the vibe of an RGG protagonist. He needs to have the whimsy to do substories, for one. He also has to respect women & be generally tolerant in a sort of way. And also he has to avoid killing people no matter what. Funny restriction to have on a character I meant to be an assassin but hey! I can work with it.

So, taking the base of "queer assassin guy" guy and infusing him with Essence of RGG Protag I ended up with. Well. A very traumatized young man.

Takeshi Nakagawa was raised from a young age to do one thing, become an assassin. His father figure, Kuro Nishimura, took him in as his own after Takeshi's biological father died on the job. Takeshi idolized the Yakuza as his father was one himself. Nishimura, being his old Patriarch, felt he owed it to Takeshi to try to raise him up right as best he can. Of course, with a father like that, it's impossible to avoid falling into the criminal underworld. Not that Takeshi ever actually tried to avoid it. In fact, he actively worked toward it. And at the age of 23, Nishimura finally gave him his first real job. A hit on a rival clan's patriarch, Cedric Miyazaki.

Now those from the last post know exactly why Miyazaki & Ceddy share a name, Takeshi was sent to kill Miyazaki, ends up finding Ceddy instead. And he doesn't look at him like "I've definitely got the wrong guy" because who in their right mind would genuinely believe there's TWO Cedric Miyazakis? Maybe someone a lot smarter than Takeshi, perhaps, but this man isn't very smart. He's trained in killing not thinking.

In continuance with Yakuza/Like A Dragon's overarching theme of Found Family, Takeshi's story also covers a bunch of family dynamics. He's got family dynamics unique to himself yet eerily similar to his deuteragonist/love interest. Raised by criminals, how fun! Takeshi's idea of family is consistently poked and prodded at, and we'll get to watch as he gets to know a different dynamic and deconstructs his own.

Along with exploring Family Identity, Takeshi explores his own Queer Identity, as well. Albeit in a minute sort of way. Takeshi begins his story fully believing he's straight, but later he falls in love with a man. He doesn't really push back on this idea, just corrects his identity to mean he's Bisexual. Perhaps we'll meet a character that helps keep him open minded...? (The answer is yes, her name is Asami Iwasaki. She will be expanded upon in a later post but she'll have to wait her turn). Anyway, overall, Takeshi is one of the simplest characters when it could to his sexual identity, second only to the straight characters, as he puts very little thought or care into it. He fell in love with another man? So be it. (Good for him, good for him)

There's nothing I hate more than a poorly done romance subplot. So I put a lot of thought into Takeshi's dynamic with Ceddy. All relationships will be further expanded upon in the future when I talk about the relationship chart. For now, though, I'll talk a bit about them two now since it's an important part of their story.

First off, they love each other. Really and truly. That's the most important part. Even if you missed any romantic undertones (or overtones lol) I'd want the audience to look at them and be like "these two truly love each other." And that bit is something I see missing from a lot of romance. And in a similar vein, they are definitely friends, best friends even. These are people who actively *want* to spend time together.

To get into some specifics, remember in my previous post I mentioned Ceddy is autistic (undiagnosed) and he has no friends because of it. Now there's Takeshi, who has almost no friends due to his lifelong obsession with the Yakuza (creepy!) and his general asshole way of speaking. These personalities generally create conflict with whoever they try to speak with but anything "wrong" with their speech just rolls off of them. Ceddy's blunt way of speaking tends to unintentionally cause insult, but Takeshi can take insults thrown his way as long as they're just the truth (plus Ceddy speaks in such a cheerful way he doesn't even clock them as insulting most of the time because Ceddy's just too damn friendly!). Takeshi just has an overall rude manner of speaking that people are uncomfortable with but Ceddy was raised by criminals, he's more than used to it, it feels like home. Just being able to communicate easily is a big way they're able to grow so close.

Hmmm... I won't talk about specifics of the story unless people are interested, but I will say that Takeshi is dumb in a fun way. He has to think and plan things, and he'll come up with ways to brute force things rather than truly strategize. No men allowed? Well, then he'll simply pretend to be a woman (poorly)

I feel a little dumbassery is necessary.

Umm hmm I guess that's all for now!! Next rambling I think I'll go with his teacher, Yoshie Koda!

#bc i ced so #ced ocs #ced:takeshi

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freyatarotreadings8 · 1 year

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Freya, who would you date based on astro signs?

Interesting question. Let’s do it.

Just for a note. My big 6: Sun in Aries XII, Taurus rising, Venus in Taurus I, Moon in Aquarius X, Mars (retrograde) in Scorpio VI, Mercury in Pisces XI.

Aries ♈️ it’s a bad idea to date the same sign as yours. it could be fun and so passionate, but eventually I don’t think it would work. We would argue a lot.

Taurus ♉️ we’d have lots in common. Both are stable, sensual, romantic and hedonistic. Nice wining and dining. But, I’d wait way too long for him making a move and I am impatient.

Gemini ♊️ lots of talk and so few of action. I’m a type who judge people for their actions not gratuitous speeches. I’d have some difficulties with trusting him. Two faced fella. Also I’d be satisfied intellectually. We’d enjoy adventures together. Good with his hands.

Cancer ♋️ such a homey cutie. I like that he’d be so protective and caring. However, his emotional ups and downs would make me roll my eyes. Take a chill pill or something. Cancer has a tendency to be manipulative and I don’t like such mind games. Gives a vibe of a guy with mommy issues.

Leo ♌️ oh, Lord. Yes, please. Any time! It’d a wonderful match made in the heaven. We’d understand each other so easily, so many things in common. Passionate lovers. I’d appreciate his kindness and generosity. Okay. His bossy nature is annoying. Also this thing “you’re only mine, but don’t possess me ever” is so meh.

Virgo ♍️ I don’t know how would I get interested in such guy. Sorry. Mr perfectionist would play on my nerves and vice versa because I don’t have a syndrome of being a good/perfect girl. I was born and raised as a rock start. Although I like smart cookies.

Libra ♎️ it’s the only air sign that I’m positive about, so yes! Honestly, I’d marry a Libra guy. Romantic, artistic, affectionate, great taste. We’d complete each other so well. Probably he’d be slightly intimidated by me. Also all Libras have a thing over love and relationships, so I like this part.

Scorpio ♏️ since I’m Taurus rising and my 7th house in Scorpio I’m attracted to such type. I’d love his intense nature. Fantastic sex. However, his secrecy and stalking tendencies would piss me off.

Sagittarius ♐️ such a lovely match. Free spirited and spiritual. We’d travel a lot and discover so many new things. However, Sag doesn’t have a vibe of being faithful.

Capricorn ♑️ kinda boring, but I’d give a try. I love entrepreneurs, I’d learn so many useful things from him. His dedication, leadership and stoic attitude would be inspiring.

Aquarius ♒️ I guess I’m done with this sign, however, I have 3 planets in this sign. I’d enjoy intellectual debates. His rebellious nature is so unique. He isn’t romantic at all, but dependable and unfortunately, there is a tendency to ghost others.

Pisces ♓️ hmm, way too sensitive as for me. I’d need to make the first move. I’d enjoy him being spiritual, intuitive, artistic. I don’t think that he’d proper articulate his needs and feelings.

#astro notes #astrology #astrology observations

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hungry-tum-stuff · 1 year

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Introducing: Bix and Tahir!

These are the fellas from my most recent writing piece on this blog, and I just wanted to write up a little post with some background information on them as well as some fun facts!

Bixita “Bix” Meliaki

Credit to BrightGoat for the picrew!

Bix is a harpy! He’s a humanoid, but there are some key differences. Most notably his wings that are just about as tall as he is, his feathered ears, and his talons that he has instead of feet.

In addition to how different he looks, he’s a bit different internally as well. Harpies are smaller creatures (standing about 5’2 on average) seeing as they have to remain small enough to fly. So naturally have small stomachs, but they also have fast metabolisms so they can digest food quickly both to give them energy and ensure they’re never too full to fly. (Unless they seriously overeat) So in order to stay healthy, harpies need to eat more often than a person would.

Bix is an amputee. He lost his right leg when he was a child, and he has a prosthetic made from a vulture’s leg that he has enchanted with necromancy to act like his own. However, the enchantment breaks when Bix is under too much stress, and it costs a lot of energy to recast. So if he’s too tired or hungry, he simply won’t be able to recast the enchantment and get his leg working again.

Bix is also a trans man. He doesn’t like how ‘feminine’ his full name sounds so he prefers to go by his nickname, and there was no need for top surgery either because. Birds don’t have tits ✌️

He is a huge grump, and he’s got quite the temper and dirty mouth despite his ‘angelic’ features. Tahir likes to think this is because the harpy is ‘perpetually hangry,’ which is mostly true because he seems to calm down quite a bit after a good meal.

Tahir: Crown Prince of the Undercommons

Tahir is a Drow: or a dark elf. He was born and raised in the Undercommons: The land beneath the surface. And due to his title, he’s slated to rule it one day. He’s still quite young, (Only 23) and he’s spent most of his life just learning about the world and how to rule a kingdom. He has very little practical knowledge.

The one real special racial feature that he has is his night vision: His eyes are adjusted for dark environments so he can see very well at night or without the help of a torch or fire!

However, he is very book-smart and he’s naturally curious. He likes learning, and he approaches life with a very open mind. He’s not naive though, the harsh environment of the Undercommons taught him that much growing up. He was also trained to use a sword and a bow to protect himself if the need ever arose, so he’s pretty dexterous and quite good in a fight.

He has a very gentle nature. Despite being trained to fight, he doesn’t like fighting and he’d rather avoid conflict as much as possible. At the end of the day, he believes actions speak louder than words. Sometimes this can create an issue when he fails to speak up for himself. Bix evens him out in that regard, because the harpy is absolutely not afraid to speak up.

He has a surprisingly good sense of humor. While Bix relies on vulgarity, Tahir makes quick-witted jokes that usually take Bix a second to process.

That’s all for now I think!! If you’d like to know any more about them, please feel free to send me an ask!! Otherwise, I’ll try to put out some more writing for these two before classes start back up. <3

#original characters #harpy character #drow character #high fantasy #writing

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the-delta-42 · 2 years

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Wings - A New Day Part 1

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Wings

A New Day Part 1

If you were fortunate enough, you were born with wings. If you weren’t, you’d hope a child in your family would born with wings. Lee and his younger brother fell into the former camp, their parents were in the camp with them. Centuries ago, people with wings were once treated as deities, then were hunted, and then treated with the utmost respect.

That wasn’t to say they were above the law. Criminals with wings had them amputated when they reached prison. Which Lee was on his way to.

A fact about wings, despite being feathered appendaged that could be incredibly fragile, they were sharp. If done correctly, a wing would be able to slice through reinforced steel, hence why criminals had them amputated. Not all criminals, just those who had committed serious offences, like rape, murder and so on and so forth.

Lee found himself thinking more on Sam than his wings.

“Alright, I reckon you didn’t do it then.” Said the police officer driving him to the prison.

“Why do you say that?” asked Lee, looking at the man.

“Y'know, I've driven a buncha fellas down to this prison. Lord knows how many. Usually is 'bout now I get the ‘I didn't do it.’” Answered the Police officer, “Had one of your kind try and tear the seats up with his wings while doin’ it.”

“Not from me.” Sighed Lee, looking back out the window.

“'Cause guys in your position already said it enough?” Asked the Police officer, as the radio said something, “I followed your case a little bit, you being a Macon boy and all.”

Lee looked at the Officer in the rear-view mirror.

“You’re from Macon then.” Said Lee, adjusting himself in his seat when he felt his left wing cramp.

“Yep. Came up to Atlanta to be a city cop in the seventies.” Responded the Officer, smiling wistfully, “Always wanted to work a murder case, like that senatorial mess you got yourself mixed up in, with all due respect. A real shame, that is.”

A Police car shot past them, heading towards Atlanta. Lee frowned, wondering what it was heading to.

“Hell, the whole family used to be regulars at your folks' drugstore right in downtown. Still there?” Said the Officer, glancing back at Lee.

“Sure is.” Answered Lee.

“Good.” The radio sparked back into life and said something that Lee didn’t catch.

There was a moments silence between the two, before the officer started speaking again, “I got a nephew up at UGA, you teach there long?”

“Going on my sixth year.” Said Lee, ‘Or I was.’ He thought.

“You meet your wife in Athens?” Asked the Officer, passing a couple of cars.

Lee froze, internally panicking, before he turned and looked out the window.

The officer quietly looked at Lee, “You wanna know how I see it?”

Several more police cars shot past them, along with a SWAT truck, all of them heading towards Atlanta.

Lee looked away from the window and at the rear-view mirror, “Sure.”

The Officer went to speak, before catching sight of Lee, before deciding against it.

“Regardless, could be you just married the wrong woman.” Dismissed the Officer, making Lee open his mouth to speak, before deciding not to.

“You'll have to learn to stop worrying about things you can’t control.” Continued the Officer, as a helicopter flew past them and towards Atlanta. The radio started making noise again, Lee couldn’t understand what they were saying.

Another helicopter flew towards Atlanta, followed by two SWAT trucks and several police cars.

“I'm driving this man once, he was the worst one. He wouldn't stop going on about how he didn't do it. He was an older fella.” Said the Officer, either unaware of, or ignoring, the other police vehicles heading towards Atlanta, “Big, soft eyes behind a pair of smart folk glasses, and he's just wailing back there, says it wasn't him. Crying and snotting all over, right where you're sitting.”

Lee tried not to wince at that piece of information.

The radio made some more noise, before the officer turned it off.

“Then before long he starts kicking the back of the seat, li--like a fussy baby on an airplane. And I tell him he's gotta stop, that's government property, and I'll be forced to zap him otherwise.” Continued the officer, “So he stops, and having exhausted all his options, he starts crying out for his Mama. ‘Mama, it's all a big mistake! It wasn't me!’”

“So, did he do it?” Asked Lee, curious.

“They caught the fucker red-handed! Stabbin' his wife, cutting her up as the boys came through the door! He sits in my car screaming bloody murder that it wasn't him!” Spat the officer, “I think he actually believed it himself. It goes to show, people will up and go mad when they believe their life is over. Oh, I got another good one for ya. This one's a little bit less depressing and a bit more hilarious if I do say so.”

The Officer looked away from the road and towards Lee, just as something stumbled across the road and into the path of the police car.

“WATCH OUT!” Yelled Lee, his wing flaring out and breaking the binds on them.

“This other time-” The Officer was cut off when the car crashed into the thing in front of it, making it veer out of control, through the guard rail, off the road and into the forest.

Lee hit his head on the seat in front of him, half-conscious, he saw figures moving outside of the car, before hearing screams and growls before passing out.

Lee woke up some time later. He didn’t know how long he’d been unconscious, but the sky had started to change colour, so he assumed it’d been a few hours at least.

“Ugh... Ow, shit.” Groaned Lee, his head was pounding.

Lee tried to take his handcuffs off, the object unyielding against his hands.

“Thirsty...” Groaned Lee, rubbing his throat, before he shifted and felt a stabbing pain, “Ahh! Fuck, my leg.”

Lee looked down at the large, bloody gash on his thigh. He looked out the back window and spotted the officer lying face down on the ground with blood streaks leading up to him. Lee turned to look at the door window and growled, before positioning himself with his wings facing the window. With one swift movement, Lee’s wings cut through the metal and glass. He grunted as the remains of the door fell on him. After carefully turning around, Lee hauled himself out of the police car. He grunted again as he fell to the ground.

Lee unsteadily got to his feet and hobbled around the car, stopping before spotting the officer. He glanced down and spotted a shotgun and a shell. Lee frowned, before stumbled over to the shell, he picked it up and slid it into his pocket. He briefly considered picking up the shotgun, before deciding against it. He needed to get the handcuffs off, he considered using his wings on them, but dismissed the idea, he didn’t want to run the risk of accidentally cutting his hands off. Lee hobbled over to the Officer.

“Officer?” Rasped Lee, looking down at the older man, “Officer, are you alright?”

The Officer didn’t respond to Lee. Lee felt a pit of dread form in his stomach, he hoped he was wrong but, he thought the Officer was dead.

“How did this happen?” Muttered Lee, frowning at the body, “He wasn’t ejected from the car.”

Lee leant down and took the handcuff keys off the Officer’s belt, he swore when he dropped the keys, leaning back down, he grabbed the keys again and unlocked the handcuffs. The metal restraints fell to the ground, as Lee rubbed his wrists.

The Officer then groaned. Then he growled, before his head snapped up and looked at Lee with cold, dead eyes and lunged at him. Lee acted on instinct, swiping his wing at the Officer, cleanly separating the head from the body. Lee shuddered as he felt the blood soak into the feathers, before limping over to the shotgun. He picked it up and loaded it, sighing through his nose, Lee looked around. He spotted a figure standing on top of a hill.

“Hey!” Yelled Lee, waving at them, “Go get help! There’s been an… incident.”

The figure turned and ran away, Lee caught a glimpse of a small pair of wings before they vanished. Groaning reached Lee’s ears, making him swear and look around.

More of those things were heading towards him, taking a deep breath, Lee limped up the slope as fast as he could and, as soon as he reached it, hopped over a fence and landed on his bad leg in some stranger’s garden.

“Fuck.” Wheezed Lee, checking his leg and making sure he still had the shotgun.

He quickly looked around, before placed the end of the shotguns barrel to the ground and pushed himself to his feet. Looking around, he noticed he was in the backyard of a house in a small neighbourhood. He hoped that no one called the police on him.

“Hello?” Called Lee, deciding to throw caution to the wind, “Anybody?”

He heard some distant gunshots and the monsters on the other side of the fence wandering away.

“I can't go back out there.” Muttered Lee, turning away from the fence and looking around the garden. There was a covered-up swimming pool and a patio that led up to a front gate, a wooden porch that led up to a sliding glass door and a patch of grass that had a big tree with a tree house. Lee contemplated checking the tree house, but dismissed it, if there was someone there, they wouldn’t’ve been able to climb all the way up a tree, get into a tree house and close it all up to appear that no one was there. He looked at the door.

“I wonder if anybody's home.” Wondered Lee, before walking up to the door and knocking on it, “Hello? Anybody home? I need a little help.”

There was no reply, Lee glanced at the tree house, before looking at his leg, “I’m not getting up there with this.”

Lee looked at the door again, before sighing, “Screw it. I’m just going in.” He went to open the door, before he paused, what if someone was hiding and they thought they were being robbed? What if the door was locked and he set off a burglar alarm? He knocked again.

“Hello? There’s something going on.” Called Lee, as he looked in through the window, “Doesn’t seem like anybody’s home.”

Lee banged his fist on the door again, hoping to coax someone out of hiding and open the door for him.

“Maybe it’s unlocked.” Muttered Lee, when no one appeared. He gingerly gave the door a tug, wincing as it opened slightly. Reluctantly opening the door, Lee called out, “Coming in. Don't shoot, okay?”

Lee entered the house and closed the door behind him, he felt a sudden stab on pain from his leg, making his wings flare out, then grabbed his leg.

“Ahh, shit.” Winced Lee, almost falling to the floor, “Hello? I'm not an intruder... or one of them.”

Lee silently chided himself, of course he was an intruder, you just can’t go up to someone’s door and let yourself in.

Lee then noticed that the furniture in the living room was knocked over and there were bloodstains on the floor and wall of the kitchen.

“These people might need more help than I do.” Muttered Lee, looking around the ground floor. He considered looking around, before he spotted a bowl of fruit on the table. Reaching out, he grabbed an apple, “It’s fake. Damn.”

Turning away from the table, Lee limped into the kitchen and slipped on a pool of blood. Grunting, Lee hauled himself back up and hobbled over to the sink. He filled a glass up and took a drink from it. Feeling the dryness disappear from his throat, he sighed, before looking through the draws. He came across a note that had a hotel name and a Savannah area code, before he opened a drawer and found a radio. Lee frowned, before placing the radio in his pocket. He checked the other drawers, but found they were empty. Lee paused, tilting his head slightly, he could hear something. Looking around, Lee couldn’t find the source of the noise, but it sounded like beeping. He slowly made his way out of the kitchen, before he finally spotted a phone and an answering machine.

Lee approached it, turning it on and making the beeping stop.

“Three new messages. Message one. Left at 5:43 PM.” Said the automated voice of the machine.

“Hey, Sandra, this is Diana. We're still in Savannah. Ed had a little ‘incident’ with some crazy guy near the hotel, so we had to get him back to the ER and have it checked out.” Said a woman’s voice, “Anyway, he's not feeling well enough to drive back tonight, so we're staying an extra day. Thanks so much for looking after Clementine, and I promise we'll be back in time before your spring break!”

“Message two. Left at 11:19 PM.” Said the machine.

“Oh, my God, finally! I don't know if you tried to reach us; all the calls are getting dropped.” Said Diana, sounding panicked, “They're not letting us leave and aren't telling us anything about Atlanta. Please, please, just leave the city and take Clementine with you back to Marietta. I've got to get back to the hospital. Please let me know that you're safe.”

“Message three. Left at 6:51 AM.”

“Clementine? Baby, if you can hear this, call the police.” Diana sounded like she was near tears, “That's 9-1-1. We love you...we love you...we love y—"

The machine beeped after the last message. Lee picked up a picture near the phone and looked at it, which showed a young girl and her parents. This must be Clementine, mused Lee, before the walkie-talkie activated.

“Daddy?” Came a little girl’s voice.

“Huh?” The voice jerked Lee from his thoughts, he took out his walkie-talkie from his pocket and walked over to the glass door, flaring his wings as he did.

“Hello?” Asked Lee, looking around the garden.

“You need to be quiet.” Said the girl, making Lee frown.

“Who is this?” Asked Lee, trying to spot her.

“I'm Clementine. This is my house.” Said the girl, sounding indignant.

“Hi, Clementine. I'm Lee.” Said Lee, only noticing that his wings were still flared and folding them.

“You're not my daddy.” Stated Clementine.

“No, I'm not.” Responded Lee, as he walked into the living room, “How old are you?”

“Eight.”

“And you're all alone?” Lee frowned, who’d leave an eight-year-old girl alone?

“Yes. I don't know where anybody is.” Answered Clementine, “How old are you?”

“I'm, uhh...37.” Answered Lee, starting to question how he entered a game of 20 questions with a child.

“Okay.” Said Clementine, as Lee entered the kitchen, avoiding the puddle of blood, and stopping and looking out of the window.

“Are you safe?” Asked Lee, trying to find where Clementine was hiding.

“I'm outside in my treehouse.” Answered Clementine, “They can't get in.”

“That's smart.” Said Lee, looking at the treehouse, as Clementine appeared in the doorway of the structure.

“See?” Asked Clementine, looking at the window, “Can you see me? I can see you through the window.”

Clementine waved at Lee prompting him to wave back. Clementine suddenly let out a scream and disappeared back inside the treehouse, closing the door behind her. Lee turned around and saw one of the monsters behind him behind him. It growled and tried to attack him, making him push it to the ground. As he tried to escape, he slipped on the puddle of blood, making him fall and hit his head on the counter and landing awkwardly on his wings. His vision was blurry, but he could vaguely make out the creature crawling toward him, making him kick it away.

Lee screamed as he felt pain course through his leg, reminding him that he was still hurt. Lee got back on his feet and tried to run, only for the creature to grab his leg and trip him. He punched it away as it tried attack again. Clementine ran up to the glass door and opened it, holding a hammer. The creature attacked again, making Lee push it away, continually kicking it in the head and crawling backwards.

“Here...” Said Clementine, holding the hammer out to Lee. Once Lee reached Clementine, he took the hammer from her shaking hands and looked at the creature. He felt his heart plummet, realising that this creature, that was trying to kill him, was what remained of the babysitter.

Lee yelled as he violently bashed the creature on the head with the hammer, deforming her face in the process.

“Man...” Gasped Lee, taking a step back and placing his hands on his knees, before remembering about Clementine, “Hi there.”

Clementine took a step back as the creature's blood oozed across the floor, her small wings quivering slightly as she stared up at Lee.

“Did you kill it?” Asked Clementine, as Lee’s wings twitched.

Lee looked down at the deformed corpse, before regretfully saying, “Yes.”

“It's okay.” Said Clementine, making Lee look at her, “I think she was a monster.”

“I think so too.” Mused Lee, before kneeling in front of Clementine and looking her in the eye, “You've been all by yourself through this?”

“Yeah. I want my parents to come home now.” Clementine nodded, making Lee frown.

“I think that might be a little while, you know?” Said Lee, as gently as he could.

“Oh.” Said Clementine, looking down sadly, making Lee move closer.

“Look, I don't know what happened.” Said Lee, gently making Clementine look up at him, “But I'll look after you until then.”

Clementine gave a small smile and nodded, her wings giving a little flutter. Clementine looked around, before looking up at Lee and asked, “What should we do now?”

“We need to find help before it gets dark.” Answered Lee, standing back up and looking down at Clementine.

“Yeah, it's not safe at night.” Agreed Clementine, reaching out and grabbing Lee’s hand.

“Let's go. Stay close to me.” Instructed Lee, folding his wings against his back.

The two then left the house, Clementine closing the door behind them and then going ahead of Lee, leading him to the front gate. Lee approached the gate and noticed two men in the street trying to push a car out of the road.

“Aw, man... I ain't never getting home to Mama at this rate.” Bemoaned one of the men, looking at the other man.

“This sucks.” Agreed the second man, making Lee frown.

“It's hot dish night.” Continued the first man.

Lee reached to open the gate, before pausing and turning to kneel in front of Clementine, who looked conflicted about something.

“What's the matter?” Asked Lee, gently placing a hand on Clementine’s shoulder.

“Should I stay?” Asked Clementine, quietly.

“What?” Frowned Lee, confused.

“I don't want to sleep in the treehouse tonight,” Continued Clementine, “but I don't know if I should leave. What if my parents come home?”

Lee sighed, “I won't leave you alone.”

Clementine smiled at Lee, getting a smile from him in return.

“Let's go somewhere safe that's close, okay?” Suggested Clementine, trying to take the lead.

“That's a good idea.” Lee smiled, before getting up. Clementine opened the gate. They approached the two men, the two still somehow unaware of their presence, “Hey, man!”

The men turn around, startled.

“Holy shit!” Swore the second man.

“Don’t eat us!” Pleaded the first

“We're not gonna hurt you.” Said Lee, frowning in confusion at the two men, “Why would we eat you?”

“Phew, thought for a second you and the little one were both gonna give us the chomp.” Said the second man, only furthering Lee’s confusion.

“What are you doing?” Asked Lee, his wings flicking slightly.

“Trying to get home, this neighbourhood's a disaster.” Said the second man, “Are you trying to get outta here? Because you should be. Those things are all over the damn place. I haven't seen anything as gnarly as this neighbourhood since downtown Atlanta, fifteen miles back.” Before adding, “I'm Shawn, by the way, Shawn Greene.”

“Lee.” Responded Lee, before gesturing to his side, “This is Clementine.”

Chet knelt down and waved at Clementine, “I'm Chet.”

Clementine smiled at him, making Chet get up.

“We shouldn't be out in the open like this.” Said Shane, looking between Lee and Clementine, “How about you help us clear the way, should be easy with those wings of yours, and we'll take you and your daughter out of here, and down to my family's farm. It should be safer there.”

“I'm not her dad. I'm...” Started Lee, before pausing, unsure what to say, “...just some guy.”

“Some guy?” Shawn frowned, looking between Lee and Clementine.

‘Great,’ Thought Lee, ‘now he either thinks I’m pervert or I kidnapped her.’

“Yeah.” Said Lee, awkwardly.

“She's alone?” Asked Shawn, frowning when he got a nod from Lee, “Let's get going. Staying put for too long is a mistake. Even for a guy with wings.”

Lee nodded and turned to Clementine, “What do you want to do?”

“I...” Clementine trailed off, looking at her house, then back at Lee. The growls of the creatures reaching their ears.

“Them monsters comin'!” Gasped Chet, crouched down, “We gotta go!”

Shawn started pushing on the car, trying to move it out of the road.

“Lee, quick! Let's go!” Yelled Shawn, looking at Lee, making the winged man rush over to him. Lee and Shawn pushed on the car, Clementine joined in helping them push after a few seconds. Chet crouched behind the truck, hiding from the approaching creatures. Once the car was out of the way, Shawn got into the driver's seat, and looked at the others.

“Get in!” Commanded Lee, hauling Chet to his feet.

Chet jumped in the truck bed, while Lee got in the front passenger seat, after making sure Clementine was sitting in the middle looking out the back window. Shawn drove the truck away from the approaching herd.

“For just ‘some guy,’” Said Shawn, glancing at Lee, “it seems like you've saved a bunch of lives today.”

Lee sighed and closed his eyes, the sound of the creatures fading away and being replaced by the sound of the truck running, he carefully adjusted his wings against the seat, with Clementine mimicking him.

#the walking dead game #lee everett #clementine #twdg clementine #Shawn Greene #Chet #Police Officer #Sandra #TWDG Wing AU #delta writes #Walkers #telltale the walking dead #the walking dead #twdg

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