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prettyboykatsuki · 3 years

Text

am i warm enough for you?

➳ tags ;; soulmate au, strangers to lovers, fluff and angst but mostly fluff, some-what canon compliant, bakugo katsuki is bad at feelings, lots of Feelings™, you guys are adults but the end of the fic but the fic is sfw, alcohol, drunk confessions

➳ wc ;; 5.6k..

➳ plot summary ;; you see your soulmate in dreams - sometimes in bits and pieces and other times in full. bakugo is less than inclined to admit he even has a soulmate - and you learn how to cope with it, one day at a time.

bakugo learns that this soulmate shit is no joke. that has to be why he keeps falling for you so helplessly.

➳ a/n ;; i wasn’t even gonna comeback this early but it felt so wrong not to post on my bfs birthday so alas </3 for anyone who cares to know this is @elysianseraph but with my new url. nice to see u all <3

this was originally posted on 4/20 but im reposting cause it didn’t show up in the tags dskjds

It’s hazy.

A cloud of smoke settles over your body, permeating your lung. It smells like sugar, like burning, like smoke and a little like leather. You can feel your toes curl and your hands moving but your body is separate from you in a way you can’t describe. It’s a pleasant kind of warmth that spreads, creeping up from behind your neck till it’s soft and cradling your skull. It’s soft like the touch of a mother, like wool over your ears.

It’s a pleasant feeling, that’s all. Almost cozy but there’s a fading sense of distress that chills in your lungs as you encompass it. Your hands are too small to reach forward, and truthfully the sensation is so powerful that you’re afraid to reach out. You’re 6 years old, so all you know is how it makes you feel. You can’t remember many details, but you feel pleasant. Something about it is soft, but there’s a sharp edge right at the end that has your lungs gasping for air.

It’s a flash of colors. Red. Orange. Pale Yellow. Grey. Black. Forest Green. Red. Red. Orange. Red.

And then it fades into a feeling again. A blurry feeling. You feel conflict, then concern, then inadequacy in heavy waves almost like it’s drowning you. It’s the first time you’ve experienced such a pain, so your wailing and wiping tears away with chubby fingers and saying a name you don’t know and can’t remember.

Ka. You know the sound, Ka. But you don’t know of anything more. It repeats rhythmically in your mind like a knock on the door, rapping with urgency - but it doesn’t do anything to jog your memory. Someone is trying to be let in but you don’t know how to answer them, and you’re still crying. The distress, the inadequacy shakes you and all you feel is frustration in short simple bursts.

Your first encounter with your soulmate is written this way in your memory. A sense of urgency laced with frustration - but they’re not towards you. It’s him, his feelings - you can feel them even deeper then he can. They pierce you in a way that makes it hard to breathe, no matter how you try to escape them it’s an overwhelming feeling of helplessness. The only way to escape the feelings of a dream is either to control them, or to face them and swim through the fog.

Soulmates have an urgency to them, in general. His is different, you can tell as much. Your first soulmate dream leaves the heaviest impression and each one thereafter is like pieces of a puzzle.

Sometimes you simply share random dreams, like a split screen in a video game - the two of you witness different parts of the same dreamverse. Other times, and honestly - most times, you’re experiencing their emotions or feelings. You experience their core memories, their life, in flashes and bits and pieces.

It’s not enough to know them or who they are, it’s like know everything about them except the things that matter

Sometimes you meet too. Just barely.

MEETING 1:

The room is white. When you blink, colors flash in order - red, pale yellow, orange, forest green and you know. You blink a few more times, stretching your hands out in front of yourself. Curling your hands into fist then into stretched palms, you lean forward and stretch. You wriggle your toes - notice you're wearing shoes. Clothes from your closet. Strange.

You take a look around the room but there isn't much to see. There’s a wall in front of you with a glass divider and a mirrored empty room. The room across from yours has spiky decor littered against the walls. An orange dresser, plastic grenades and play guns. You know who it is without a second warning - and a foggy part in the back of your head tells you that it’s him, again but with more force. You don’t see anything in your room, but you figure he might. All of it is confusing to you.

Before you can blink, there’s a loud thud coming from the other side of the glass. It’s a silhouette, the outline of a face - but nothing clear. Dream logic dictates you can’t know a face you’ve never seen, yet somehow you know his outline. Spiky, he’s spiky everywhere.

“Hello?,” you call out, overly tentative. The figure pauses, seems to take in whatever they must be seeing. You’re not sure what response you’re expecting, really. There’s no expectations at all.

“...Who the fuck are you?,” says a pitchy, male voice. He sounds like he’s your same age, a highschool boy. His throat is rough, yet not overly deep. It’s almost scratchy.

“Uhm,”

You’re not sure how to reply. You can see him through the glass, but not really. Still, you take note of his shadows like they’re going to tell you anything more. You shove your hands in your pockets, messing around with something inside.

“Uh.. your soulmate, I think,” you reply.

Scratching the back of your neck as an awkward silence settles, you take a few minutes to try and figure what more to say.

“We met when we were kids once too,” you explain awkwardly. He must know, has too - this soulmate thing is a two way thing, but his silence is deafening. You just want to feel this space. Is it always this awkward?

“Red. Orange. Pale Yellow. Forest Green,” you repeat, like a mantra. You hear him take in a sharp breath, and freeze. For some reason, you’d like to avoid upsetting him. He doesn’t seem like he’s taking to the information too well.

“I don’t have time for this damn bullshit… whatever quirk you’ve got to mimic this - cut it the fuck out,”

Hostile.

You pause, not sure how to feel. Half of you is offended, the other half is confused - had you done something to upset him? You can feel how he feels - but you don’t understand it. You sit with your mouth agape, like a fish out of water. Unsure of how to proceed, you scoff a little.

“Woah.. this isn’t a quirk thing. We’re.. soulmates? That’s already a thing,”

More silence. You’ve.. he doesn’t seem upset, but you can tell he’s not all that keen to the idea. It’s a bare minimum improvement that you find yourself valuing, without your consent. He breathes again, throat even more hoarse than before. His voice is angry but it doesn’t fit his responses, his feelings - so you don’t pay attention to his madness. Something is off.

“... I’m not supposed to have a soulmate. No fucking way I have a soulmate,” he grits. You step back, stumbling. You didn’t have any expectations.. but this wasn’t what you had been expecting at all. You feel uneasy, sick. It must be a shared feeling if the way he leans against a wall counts for anything.

A beat of silence passes before you open your mouth to speak.

“... I have no idea what I’m supposed to say to that,” you admit. He scoffs.

“Nothing you damn extra. Leave me the fuck alone,”

You don’t reply, too stunned. This was your soulmate? This.. asshole? Not that you were a peach entirely either, but this was supposedly the person that the universe had decided for you?

You shake your head. Maybe you’re just being rash? He could be a nice guy behind all the chaos. You try your best to hold onto that, that this was literally someone chosen for you before you gave up all hope. You sigh, cracking your neck.

“You can say whatever you want but.. we’re here, you know? It’s more productive to just go with it.. isn’t it?,”

“Go fuck yourself,”

“After meeting you, I’m not exactly over the fucking moon about it either. It is what is,”

“You’re not my fucking.. soulmate or whatever the fuck. Leave me alone,”

Your heart both aches with anger and sadness. You don’t know what to do. What does this shit-head know about you, anyway? You know he’s been through some shit, same as you - what makes him so entitled? You swallow the lump in your throat. It hurts. It pierces. Stupid soulmate bonds.

“Yeah? Alright. Fuck you too,”

You see him pace around for a longer before he disappears in a cloud of smoke. You didn’t even catch his name, and you’re not sure you wanted too. It must be morning, but at least you're away from him. It feels lonely, but it must just be you.

Your eyes flutter open but your heart is heavy with regret. You don’t know who it belongs to, but you’ve got class in an hour and not enough time to think about it. If he doesn’t want to meet you that’s fine.

It’s fine. Not like you wanted to meet your soulmate anyway.

You don’t have another meeting with your soulmate for months. Lately your dreams have little if anything to do with him or where he is, how he’s been. You have some of those split screen ones, where you know he’s there but neither of you acknowledge each other, even in spirit, like how you did before. When you wake up feeling angsty, you don’t know how to distinguish the feeling but you don’t try.

You wonder idly if he can feel your apathy, if he cares enough too. Maybe he also mistakes it for his own? It seems likely.

It’s a weekday where you’re getting ready for remedial classes at your school. First year advanced courses were no joke, and you find yourself regretting your choice to participate in them.

Still you get dressed anyway, put your uniform on and brush your teeth - wash your face with your eyes half open and look presentable. No one's home in the morning, the house is empty of any life but you. Food becomes a last minute priority, so you make an egg sandwich with cheese and eat it on the way to the train station.

You stare down at your feet as you step outside, music drowning out the noise of your surroundings aptly. The walk to the station is long and the ride is longer, but the streets are packed edge to edge. Musutafu is busy this time of year - the U.A. Sports Festival is taking place today and everything seems to reflect that. You barely manage to squeeze past all the strangers on the subway - clearly on their way to see it.

When you get to school, you're greeted by a mostly empty classroom with a teacher. These classes were straightforward as always, do the work you need to correct, have it approved and leave. It repeats until your finished with all the assignments and you get to be done. You give a respectful nod to your teacher before grabbing your work from your bag.

It goes on and on - occasionally, you hear an excited gasp and quiet chatter from classmates. It’s about the festival, the happenings - but you’re too caught up in completing your work that day and trying to get the fuck out of their as soon as possible.

Shit like that didn’t matter to you, anyways. It’s just a festival.

You leave around the same time the festival seems to have ended, the streets flooded with people - you miss the first station and wander towards an electronics store a block away from your highschool.

It’s the winners on TV. A guy with split hair - Shouto Todoroki, Endeavors son. A guy with a bird head, and a blonde with red eyes - muzzled to the pole.

When you see them, your heart stops. You can feel anger, an unfamiliar rage and humiliation building in your chest. It feels the word has stopped as you watch from afar, through screens. Your soulmate seems upset about something, but you wouldn’t know what.

And that blonde on TV, you wonder if you know him from somewhere.

MEETING 2:

Red.Orange. Pale Yellow. Grey. Black. Forest Green. Red. Red.

You feel him before you even know what’s happening - and it catches you completely off-guard. You haven’t had a proper soulmate dream in two years. Smoke clouds your lungs, the taste of sugar burning your tongue as you cough yourself into awareness. This time, you’re not in a room but it’s a campground. In the middle of the space is a bonfire, burning warmly. This one feels more vivid, more real.

But you know it’s not, your body feel unusually light and your hands can’t hold anything for too long. You know it’s a dream, but you sit in the chair anyway. It feels like you're floating. You feel oddly warm. Dread builds in the pit of your stomach. Even though it’s been so long since you’ve spoken to your soulmate - you can’t forget the terrible first encounter. It sticks to the roof of your mouth - a bitter memory that fills you with unexplainable, irrational resentment.

But it’s not like you hadn’t been seeing him, to an extent. You’ve seen all his memories in bits and pieces - all of them tragic and painful. This time, you see people but they come in the form of small scraps. Spiky Red. Electricity. Tape. Pink with Horns. Music. Green. So much green and red - like Christmas, you’ve called it. You’ve seen disappearances, fear, anguish - so much anguish.

In the weeks after All Might’s fall, you were in so much pain - you couldn’t stop crying for days. It’s been enough time to know what feelings were yours and which were his - and these ones felt so much like him. It went on for nearly a year - you’d almost got accustomed to it. If tears showed up to blot the ink of your lecture notes, you didn’t think twice about it. You tried to keep yourself calm, steady - in hopes you could lend your soothing to him. Even if he hated your guts, you could barely believe so much sadness could exist in one person. You didn’t know what happened but whatever it was - it must’ve been terrible. At the very least, you felt sympathy.

Sympathy was enough to get by for a long time. A neutral, level-headed sympathy that helped soothe some of your own hurt.

All that said, you were hardly expecting to see him again - especially not this soon. You don’t remember the last time you thought about him in anything other than passing - actively. It’s one thing to know what's happening - you’ve felt him passively everyday for damn near two years.

But it’s another thing to see him in front of you, force yourself to acknowledge him as your soulmate even if he insists on not doing the same.

You squirm in your chair, noticing that you’re wearing PJ’s instead of clothes. Just a hoodie and sweats, none of which fit you quite right. You pull your sleeves over your hands, fiddling with the stray strand of thread loose.

“What the fuck is this shit?,”

Your stomach drops. Unsure of what to say, you opt to say nothing at all. Just let him be, sit quietly in your dreams and mind your business. Maybe he’ll wake up soon and it’ll all be over.

You can’t see him from the corner of your vision but you can hear him shuffle. The way he touches things, noticing how they make noise but don’t feel quite right in his hands. How it feels real but doesn’t, how it is real and isn’t. Surely, he’s noticed you by now. The lingering silence makes you squirm.

“...It’s you,”

You flinch, lifting your head up slightly to meet his gaze. His expression is unreadable, but it’s different from before. In a fleeting moment, something occurs to you.

You can see him. What he looks like. Blonde with red eyes, and a sharp chin and thin waist. You know it must mean you’ve seen him before - perhaps you’d even seen each other, but for your life you can’t remember where you’ve seen his face. It’s right there, on the edge of your mind, but you’re stumped.

“Hello?,”

“Oh,” your reply comes short, strained. Your eyes flutter as you press your lips into a flat line. “Uh, hi,”

The blonde sits in the chair, slumping down. His eyes go towards the flickering flames without another word and you decide it’s best not to engage. It stays like that for a while, a beat of silence - not awkward but not comfortable, passing by without another thought. It all feels real, present - not like normal dreams. This must be the special kind of soulmate thing you find yourself feeling resentful towards.

His eyes are heavy. Relief is overwhelming him, with an iron grip and he’s worried you can feel it. If you can, you don’t say a word.

“I didn’t think I’d see you again,” he admits.

The words sound tender passing through his mouth, unmistakably so - but you don’t get your hopes up. Instead, you give him a placating laugh, leaning forward towards the fire and mirroring him.

“I didn’t think so either,”

When it falls silent, it feels comfortable. It’s not like either of you have anything to say to each other right now, with no manual on how this was supposed to go. If he even wanted to go there.

“I can.. see you,” you start. He squints.

“You couldn’t before?,”

This takes you by surprise. You shake your head.

“No..Could you? See me, I mean?,”

Bakugo feels heat rise to his skin. Oh. Huh.

“Yeah,” he replies, a sharp inhale leaving his lungs “I can see you,”

There’s something tense in the air. It’s a strange sensation - to know the deepest and most intimate parts of someone without even knowing their name proper, or where they went to school, or what they normally eat for breakfast. All that connects you are these mutual feelings, shared grief that holds you two to the title of soulmates. This odd bond.

“..d’ya still think I’m a quirk wielding villain?,” you laugh, or try too - you’re doing your best to cut the tension. He can feel your hurt all the way from your sit, so deep in his gut - it’s been haunting him for years. How many nights of sleep he’s lost knowing there are soft and helpless tears coming from these suppressed feelings. He doesn’t know how to say sorry, so he sighs and rubs the back of his neck. He’s changed a lot in two years - but not enough to be good at this.

“No, I don’t,”

“Oh,”

He smiles, just a little. It’s gentle, casts shadow on his face from the light of the fire. It’s warm, everything feels warm and better and invigorating. When you look at him and his uneasy expression - you know he feels it too.

“By the way, uhm - what’s your name? Ka.. something? Right?,”

His eyes shoot up in surprise. He nods a little.

“Katsuki Bakugo,” he replies, expectantly. You seem surprised that he wants to know yours.

“Y/N Y/L/N,” comes your reply.

“Nice to meet you,” says him, Bakugo - your soulmate.

“Nice to meet you too,”

Getting to know Bakugo is unusually easy. You get the feeling it wouldn’t be, in the case that you were anything but soulmates - but Bakugo has never known being this intimate with someone other than you. Despite himself, how much he hates himself - you never seem too. Even though you feel and see all the ugliest parts of him - have since he was small enough to still be innocent, you always treat him the same.

Your conversations are short, and shallow. Regardless, he’s not used to talking so much about himself. But you’re always curious, so much so Bakugo doesn’t have the heart to see your countless questions go unanswered.

You keep a little notebook of all of your encounters. You remember them by heart but write them down too, just in case you miss something. You ask about his friends - Spiky Red and Soft Green, referring to them that way even after you’ve known their names. You ask about his work - the life of a dangerous hero, and if he ever gets nervous flying through the air.

Admittedly, he’s mean to you. He teases you so frequently, he’s lost count of all the times you’ve huffed and puffed at his sarcastic remarks. Still, you never turn away from him. You stand with your foot down and your arms crossed over your chest - insistent on making him feel flustered too. And it works, somehow - because you know all too much about Bakugou and always gets him right where he’s most conscious about. You don’t have to tease him about his feelings since you know them like the palms of your hand.

But these shallow conversations always mean a little more to him that he knows how to verbalize, and half the time he doesn’t need to do that at all. You’ve learned the masterful of working around him quietly, making all the parts of that feel too big to love - something small and fragile. Somehow, you’ve made being with him, even as friends - feel like less of an impossible feat but a dream.

Katsuki Bakugo has been in love with you since he was 6 years old. There must be some feelings we cannot share with our soulmates, because he has no idea if you feel it or not. He just knows he does, somewhere deep in the cavern of his heart, he loves you.

You never cross the barrier of romance with him, though. A paralyzing fear seems to settle in your bones when you breach too close to love and intimacy - and Bakugo understands those feelings, even if he doesn’t know exactly why they’re there. It’s not something you’ve decided to tell him yet, but he feels it in the same way he feels your loneliness. You may be kind but you’re more guarded than he is, and not fearless but reckless.

But he still finds himself aching to love and be loved by you, no matter how much he hates it. The yearning still manages to swallow him, even late into the night.

MEETING 3:

It’s been a while since your last meeting with Bakugo but not long. You were 21 now, but your dream visits were frequent. When you weren't speaking or seeing him through dreams - you were watching him on TV. You’d been yet to meet with him in real life but to you, that was okay. Seeing him like this had been more than enough.

Today was different. Normally, that bonfire was always a back-drop to these little encounters but it was a field today - a filed with rolling hills and hundreds of flowers and tall grass that made you feel itchy. The sun was permanently stuck right before it set but it was so warm everywhere. When you get there, there’s a blanket on the top of one of the hills. You sit on it cautiously and watch the wind pass. Everything is tinged orange, and red - you know he’s there with you before he appears.

When he does, he seems different. You glance over at him as he stumbles towards you in a stupor, and when he does finally sit - you get a whiff of alcohol coming from his neck and mouth. It’s strong enough to make a little dizzy. Blinking owlishly, he sits crisscross besides you, staring a little at the surroundings.

“..the fuck?,” he slurs. You can’t help but break out into a laugh. He nearly falls over, body swaying so you bring his head down to your shoulder wordlessly, a furious heat running all over your skin. Even though you can’t feel him, the gesture makes you feel something in your belly.

“Why’re you so drunk?,”

“Birthday,” he mumbles. Your eyes widen in surprise. Bakugo is seemingly unfazed, eyes drooping with tiredness. He’s completely inebriated.

You feel yourself grow tender. You’d have to wake up and remember the days date. Despite all the times you’ve met, you had no clue about his birthday or how he celebrated. You feel your heart ache at the idea you’ve spent the latter half of it together, in your own way.

“Happy Birthday, Bakugo.”

“Bakugo this, Bakugo that,” he growls, a little incoherent “We’re supposed to be fucking soulmates and you still call me by that.. damn name.”

He hiccups a little as you sit there stunned. You blink.

“.. You think of us as soulmates?,”

“Are you some kind of moron?,”

You scowl, flicking his forehead with your thumb and forefinger. He makes a noise of indignance.

“Well, how would I know? When we first met, you didn’t seem enthused about it,”

Bakugo sighs tiredly.

“I was 15 and an asshole - clearly I don’t fuckin’ feel that anymore,”

You seem surprised again.

“..You don’t?,”

Instead of swearing at you, he closes his eyes and gets closer to you. The liquor runs through his system like liquid courage and he nods a little.

“Not at all,”

“What do you..”

“What do you think I mean?,” he barks a laugh. You feel your pulse under your skin, drumming against your chest like a hammer. You can’t even breathe.

You’ve had feelings for Bakugo from the second proper meeting you’d had with him. It was clear as a day that he was your soulmate for good reason, that inexplicable draw that kept your heart from ever belonging to anyone else. You tried to - tried to go on dates and see other opportunities through but he was always so one of a kind.

Yet, you’d given up all hope that it would mean anything to harbor these feelings, convinced that Bakugo simply wasn’t interested in you In doing any of this. You didn’t want to force him into something he didn’t want - so you kept your distance with hope that he’d still be in your life. It was enough, or you’d wanted it to be.

It’d be a lie to say that you hadn’t started thinking about it more and more as the days pass. What it would be like to see him, touch him and love him and be with him for real - these passive daydreams gone vivid. If he could see your dreams, he must know about them. But you didn’t know how to approach it - how to approach love at all.

That’s the thing with soulmates. You’re told that you’ll just have the answers, destiny will do the hard work but that’s far from true. Because even now, with Bakugo leaning on your shoulder with this confession lingering in the air - you don’t know what to do.

“Stop being so nervous,” he mumbles. You stumble a little over yourself.

“Sorry,”

He chuckles.

“You really need me to say it, huh?,” he sighs. He picks himself. If he’s drunk and reckless, then fuck it - he’s gonna take it all the way. He drops his head onto your lap with a tired sigh.

“I think you’re my soulmate, you fuckin’ idiot,” he admits.

And it’s hard to say, because feelings don’t come easy for Bakugo Katsuki - but it’s the least he can do. All Bakugo Katsuki has ever known is to be lonely. It’s a loneliness that he’d forced on himself. Bottling up all the anger and sadness and swallowing it. It’s long since sunk it’s claws into him. That overwhelming, all consuming ugly feeling that lingers underneath that superiority complex.

That no one would ever, could ever love the ugliness that lingers in him. That no one who knew him for what he truly is, could care for him. Deku was the first of many disbeliefs and not much had changed.

Except for when it did. Except for when he met you - in a dream, and you were real and beautiful even at 15. That the universe hadn’t been playing some sick joke on him when he kept seeing you in his dreams, so soothing to his teenage loneliness. You were real and that was so fucking scary.

But you loved him anyway. Looked out for him when he was at his lowest - the soothing beat of your heart in the days after All Mights end . When he cried himself into sleep and dreamed of you. God, how he dreamed of you. Not especially romantic dreams, but dreams of how you made breakfast. How you watched cartoons on Sunday and read manga in your classes instead of the assigned work. How you fell asleep on the train station and always ate icecream after big tests. How you were especially mundane and how he got to be apart of that everyday routine.

After all, you see dreams of each other, but Bakugo has no clue what your dreams of him look like. His have always looked like you though.

When he was worthless and empty and unable to give you anything meaningful, to apologize or put his pride away - you had loved him anyway. Felt for him with clumsy hands and held on, not letting go. Even when he was begging for you to leave him alone, in fear of this all being nothing more than a cruel dream - you held on tightly to him. With your silly notebook questions and dumb names.

Bakugo Katsuki has never known what it means to love someone who isn’t you. Even if you found someone else and there was someone better than you for him, he would grit his teeth and bear it. He wonders if he’ll ever believe he deserves you. He wants to believe you’re his soulmate - to believe you wont ever leave. To believe that he did something right enough that the universe could give him someone like you.

And he wishes he could say all this, but he can’t - he just closes his eyes and hopes you can feel it.

“You’re so mean,”

“Isn’t that why you like me?,” he grins.

And you can feel his sincerity. He should feels yours too.

“I love you, actually,”

He gasps, a sharp breath that stabs his lungs. He feels sober from the confession.

His voice is gravelly when he speaks.

“Yeah, shit - me too,”

Your heart beats rapidly in your chest. The address is correct, it has to be with the way this place looks. Only a hero could live here, with the floors that lead up to skies. He lives on 3rd floor, so you swallow your fear. You give yourself a thumbs up in the glass window pane of the building before entering through the doors.

When you get there, a box sits. You press the button next to his place, bouncing on the balls of your feet until you answer.

“Hello?,”

His voice feels different in real life. You cough.

“Uh, hi,” you greet awkwardly “I’m here,”

“Oh,” he says. You hear something buzz and then him again. “Come on up,”

And you do. The elevator ride feels like it stretches mild, classic piano echoing against the empty walls. You feel yourself feel sick but you’re not sure it’s from the movement. All you can do is fidget and wait.

When the doors open, you peak your head out into the hallway. He’s the first one on the left, just as promised. You can see a welcome mat - forest green, and something in you knows that it’s the right one.

You step up and knock, three times precisely. Your heart is all the way in your ears and everything in you is filled with unease and excitement.

When the door swings open, the world stops. You gape like a fish out of water in disbelief. He’s tall and big like he promised he’d be, but you’re unprepared. His chin is scruffy, eyes full of sleep. Strong chest and arms that seem to crowd your vision, you don’t know what do.

His expression is full to the brim with feelings you’ve never seen. He steps aside with his head ducked down.

“Come in,”

“Ah.. right,”

You take your shoes off and place them in the slippers meant for you - they fit you just right, and it can’t be a coincidence. Your heart swells up a little as you take your coat off, hanging it on the rack. You can feel his eyes as they linger on your silhouette.

“So -,”

Before you can get a word out, you feel strong arms wrapped around your waist. His scruff brushes against the skin of your neck as he holds you tightly too him. The warmth of his breath lingers on your neck - and he hiccups, a sob stored in his rib cages let out with a howl. The tears blur your vision too. You can feel his drip onto your shoulder as you snivel into his neck. Your legs feel weak, but he holds you up at the door - the only thing keeping you standing.

You cling around him tightly, your nails digging into the meat of his shoulders. It’s him, your soulmate, Katsuki Bakugo. He’s real and holding you - and he smells like leather and sugar and a fireplace. He’s warm and strong and overwhelming and your crying into his shoulder with so much feeling you don’t know what to do. You hit him weakly, unsure of what do with yourself and he laughs.

“Damn you, shitty woman - makin’ me fucking cry,” but his voice is strained. It’s like something connected, how you feel each other so intimately in that moment. Not only because you’re soulmates, but because you love each other so deeply. Your heart feels heavy.

When you pull away, you manage to give him a warbly smile.

Your hands cradle his face - so handsome and wonderful. You lean forward, emboldened, and peck him. He melts into your touch like he’d been waiting for this moment his whole life. It makes you grin.

Maybe you don’t realize that he had.

He’d been waiting for you all this time.

#bakugou x reader #bakugo x you #bnha x reader #bnha x you #bnha imagines #bakugou imagine #bakugou imagines #PLEASE SHOW UP IM BEGGING

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bothcreativitybois · 3 years

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TMST Chapter 8

I was freaking out because no one was commenting on Chapter 8... turns out I hadn’t posted it... 🤡 I am so sorry. Ao3 link Wordcount: 2507 Ship: Intruality TWs: Food, hospital, crying Chapters: 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 Taglist: @crazydemigod666 @star-crossed-shipper @newtnotfound @3amthebitchinghour @idont-freaking-know @someoneiwasnt @crownofrats @the-sympathetic-villain @cute-and-angsty-princess @lonelymuffin @bloodyjay-0666 @im-an-anxious-wreck @fantasticallytired @obsessive-fallen-angel

“What do you mean I can’t bake?!” Patton shouted. “It’s a bakery!” Remus put up his hands to try and calm the angry man. “Janus just needs a day or two to get some of the painting done with spray paint.” Remus explained, his truck behind him filled with tarps and paints. “You said you wanted all the paint done for the Valentine's Day class, right?” “Yeah I know…” Patton huffed. He really didn’t like the idea of being locked out of the kitchens for two days. “Well it’s later this week. He can do brush for most of it but he wants to do this one part with spray paint.” Remus continued. “Consider it a vacation.” Remus tried to help Patton see the bright side. Patton sighed. “Just two days?” Patton asked. Remus put his hands on Patton’s shoulders. “Yes, that’s all. You deserve the break anyway.” Remus comforted. Patton looked up at the sign Remus had hung yesterday, the one he’d been waiting months for and Remus had it up in only about a week. Remus was doing so much to help him. He trusted him. “Alright.” Patton finally agreed. “But please have it done as soon as possible.” “Of course. You can trust me.” Remus said, Janus scoffed behind him. Patton laughed. He looked up at the sign again. It reminded him of something. Something he hadn’t done in a while. “You’re okay doing it all with just the two of you?” Patton asked. “If Remus touches my paint’s I’ll stab him in the hand again.” Janus shouted from the truck. “Again?” Patton turned to Remus who just shrugged. “We’ll be okay. Go do whatever you want.” Remus assured again as he pushed Patton towards his car.

An hour later Patton was in the city. He had stopped at a florist to get some flowers. As he walked in he was almost floored with all the scents that hit him at once. As he looked over the pots and shelves full of colourful flowers a worker came up to him. “Anything I can help with?” The lady asked in a friendly tone. Patton looked up quickly. He glanced quickly at the name tag that read ‘Charlie’. “Believe it or not I’m looking for flowers.” Patton joked, Charlie offered a polite laugh. “Anything in particular?” Charlie looked around at the mounds of flowers. Patton thought for a moment. He knew the answer to this. The same he always got. “Carnation and Peruvian lily.” Patton answered. The worker suddenly had a realisation. “You must be Patton.” Charlie said after a moment. Patton laughed. “I come here that much, huh?” He joked. Truthfully it wasn’t his first time here, but he’d never met Charlie before so he didn’t want to act like he knew the shop. It’d been a while since he came here so he thought maybe the staff had forgotten him anyway. “There’s a note behind the counter on your usual bouquet.” Charlie clarified. “I can make it for you right now.” She walked off and began gathering flowers. Patton looked around as she worked. He was drawn to the back of the store. A shelf without flowers, just small bottles. Most seemed to be perfumes or flower oils but one stood out. “When did you start stocking rose essence?” Patton asked as he plucked the bottle off the shelf. Charlie didn’t look up from arranging the flowers. “Just got it last week.” She shouted from her workstation. Patton turned the small bottle of flavouring over in his hands and inspected the clear liquid inside. “You a baker or a bartender?” Patton turned and began walking to the counter, bottle in hand. “Baker.” He said proudly, although he wasn’t sure how much longer he would be able to call himself that. “Those are the only two kinds of people we get looking for that.” Charlie said as she taped up the paper around the flowers. With Valentine's Day coming soon he knew he could find some way to use it. He paid for the flowers and also got a bottle of the essence. He dropped his essence in the car and looked across the street at his next stop. It was really convenient that they had a florist across from the hospital. He walked into the reception and was greeted with a familiar face this time. “Patton! Long time no see.” The nurse said. “Here to see Moe?” The nurse already knew the answer but asked nonetheless. “Of course.” Patton responded. The nurse typed a few things on the computer before looking up again. “She’s still in the same room. You can go on through.” The nurse smiled. Patton nodded. “Thanks Kait!” Patton called as he walked away. He began humming to himself as he walked. A small song he made to remember the way. “Third hall left, up two flights, fifth room right. Third hall left, up to flights, fifth room right.” Patton hummed this all the way until he reached the right room. At this point he didn’t really need the song to remember but it had become a habit. It helped calm his nerves. He took a deep breath and knocked gently on the already slightly open door. He didn’t know why he was so nervous, she was the one who asked he visited less. She wanted him to focus on the bakery. “Come in.” A voice answered. Patton pushed open the door the rest of the way. He looked over at the bed to see his mother, she smiled as soon as she saw him. “Froggy.” She cheered. Patton quickly walked over and hugged her. “Hi Mum.” He whispered as she squeezed him tightly. He didn’t realise how much he missed her hugs until he was having one. He leaned back and gave her the flowers he was carrying. Even though she got this same bouquet each time he visited she was still excited and sniffed it deeply. “Thank you, dear. It’s lovely.” She said caressing the flowers. “How have you been?” Patton asked finally as he pulled a chair close to the bed. His mother sat up quickly and turned to him. A wide proud smile broke across her face. “They’re saying if the inflammation stays where it is then I should be out by the end of the month!” She announced excitedly. Patton smiled. He wanted to get excited, he really did, but the doctors said the same thing last month. “That’s great!” Patton praised with as much excitement he could muster. “I can’t wait to have you back.” Patton reached out a hand and his mother took it in hers. He really meant that. He missed having his mother around to handle business while he baked. He missed having her hug him each morning. He missed her doting over every new recipe, how she lit up when she tried it, how she would smile proudly as he baked, how she would poke his cheek and tell him everything will be okay. He missed her. “How’s the bakery?” Moe asked. She knew it was in bad shape when she left, but Patton hadn’t visited in nearly a month. She was blissfully unaware of everything happening. Patton wasn’t and fidgeted at the question. “Well… there was a bit of a mix up.” He began. As he looked up he saw her face change. She was so happy a moment ago but now she looked scared. He hated seeing that. “Uh but don’t worry! It will all be fixed by the time you get out.” Patton misled. It wasn’t completely untrue, the problem would be over by then. It was just a question of how that would happen. “Are you sure you don’t need my help?” Moe stressed. Patton waved a finger. “You know that you aren’t supposed to work.” He reminded her. “Besides I actually have some people already helping.” He admitted. Moe looked over curiously. “People as in worker people or as in friend people?” Her voice sparkled mischievously. This was the first time Patton had seen her since he had met Remus and the others, she’d not heard anything about friends.

He explained everything that had happened, omitting the part where the bakery may be shut down. Moe listened closely, it was so long since she’d seen him and each day she just wanted to hear his voice again. As much as it hurt her to not see him as much as she used to, he needed to focus on the bakery, on making friends, on everything being normal again. She noticed something about the way he talked about this ‘Remus’ guy. The way he described him and the face he made when he spoke about him. It was more than just friendship. So when are you going to stop messing about and ask Remus on a date?” Moe said after Patton was done his story. Blunt as always. Patton blushed. “Wh-what?” Patton stuttered. He didn’t know why he felt so embarrassed about it. It wasn’t like he was a closeted high school kid anymore. “I don’t think he’s interested in me like that.” “Are you?” Moe asked quickly. “I don’t have the time to think about that.” Patton gave the same answer he’d given Janus. Moe gave him a hard stare. “Great. Now try again but tell me the truth.” She pressed. She could see right through him. Patton sighed. Perhaps it would be good to get it out. Especially with someone he trusted. “It’s a lot of things. Remus is the first guy I’ve been interested in since the break up which is a little startling. His friend has said he has an issue with boundaries and honestly I can see it. He doesn’t seem like the kind of guy that would date someone like me and even if he did I doubt we’d want the same things from it. He doesn’t seem like the guy who wants more than a hook-up or maybe a few dates.” Patton finally let out. He’d been holding it all in and it felt good to say it. Moe took a minute to process everything Patton had said. “I can think of one cure-all solution that might work.” Moe suggested after a while. Patton leaned in eagerly. “Just talk to the damn guy!” She shouted. Patton leaned back and sighed. He knew that was what he needed to do, but it was also the thing he was avoiding. He finally had someone, he had friends, and that could all be ruined if he said anything. “But what if it goes badly?” Patton said sadly. Moe took her son's hand once again. “Then it wasn’t gonna work out anyway. It might be better to get an answer now before it is too late and it hurts someone’s feelings very badly.” Moe soothed. Her son was so timid, she didn’t want him to miss out on something special because of it. But more so he was sensitive. And he made connections quickly. It was a perfect recipe for a crash and burn.

Patton stayed late at the hospital. Talking for hours with his mother, playing games in the visitor lounge, catching up. Until visiting hours ended and he had to leave. He clung to her one last time, knowing he wouldn’t get the chance to again for a while. When his mum was first brought to hospital when he was a teenager they had made a rule. No crying until after the visit. They had always stuck to this rule, even subconsciously. That’s why the tears didn’t hit until Patton was home. It wasn’t until he stepped into that cold night air that his eyes suddenly began to blur and his chest felt like it was disappearing. In that dark and silence he realised just how lonely he felt. He braced himself against the railing as he walked up the stairs to his apartment. As he got to the door he saw Remus sitting in front of it. He tried to wipe his face before Remus saw him but it was already too late. Remus didn’t say anything, he just ran up to Patton and hugged him. Patton fell into the hug without hesitation. He cherished the feeling of Remus’ arms wrapped around him. He suddenly didn’t feel as lonely. “You aren’t hurt, right?” Remus finally broke the silence but kept the hug. Patton laughed sadly. “No. I just…” Patton began. His mum’s words ran through his head. Just talk to the damn guy! “My mum is in the hospital and I went to visit her.” Patton admitted through sobs. It was the first time he’d told Remus about it. “She has an inflammatory disease and at the end of last year she had some problems with it that affected some of her organs, she’s been in the hospital ever since.” Remus tightened the hug. Patton felt himself nuzzle closer into the larger man’s chest as he heaved. “You don’t need to explain. I’m here for you.” Remus whispered. Patton gripped the back of his shirt. He was shaking like a baby foal on it’s first steps. “I felt so guilty at the picnic for having fun while she was stuck there.” Patton wheezed. Remus felt his heart break from Patton’s words. He didn’t know how to comfort people like Janus does, he wasn’t good with words like Roman. But none of that mattered. He just wanted Patton to be happy again. “Is there anything you want me to do that can help?” Remus asked. Patton looked up at him, eyes larger than the moon. “Just stay. Please.” Patton begged. As a response Remus pressed a kiss to the top of Patton’s head. “As long as you need.” Remus promised. And he did. He made Patton dinner while holding his hand, he waited just outside the bathroom as Patton showered, he turned off the lights and tucked Patton under the blankets. As Remus stepped away Patton grabbed his hand. He wasn’t ready to be alone again. “Not yet. Please don’t go.” Patton whispered weakly. Remus wasn’t sure what to do, but if Patton needed him then he would stay. He kicked off his shoes and climbed into the bed. Patton immediately clung to his chest again. Remus gently placed his arms around Patton again. He could feel each sob and catch in Patton’s breathing. “I’m sorry.” Patton choked. “Don’t be.” Remus reassured as he buried his face in Patton’s hair. “I’d want to sleep with me too.” He joked. He felt Patton giggle sadly at him. He smiled proudly at himself and pulled Patton closer. He kept track of every sob and heave until eventually they all became steady and the small man’s grip weakened. He knew he should leave, but he didn’t want to. He didn’t want to abandon Patton. Or the calming feeling of their bodies pressed together in the darkness. He talked circles in his mind debating whether to stay until finally sleep made the choice for him.

#roman took over #the mayor's sweet treat #sanders sides small town au #sanders sides fanfiction #sanders sides fic #intruality au #intruality #sanders sides #remus sanders #ts remus #patton sanders #ts patton #janus sanders #ts janus #tw food

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theunconcernedembalmer · 3 years

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Toko! I was thinking of creating an ask the character blog for IDV or Genshin Impact and wanted a few tips on how to start off. Anything you can share?

ey yo my dude!! thank you so much for this question, now im lowkey tempted (again) to make a genshin ask blog sjadhlkshgkahshglsaj anyway my 1.5 cents is under the cut, yall know how much i talk here HAHAHAHAH

uhhhhhh so i guess we start with picking a character u really Vibe with tm? I KNOW THIS SOUNDS LIKE COMMON SENSE BUT LIKE ive been considering making a genshin ask blog for a while now but i never really got to it cos i couldnt really decide on a character (plus the fact that their outfits are. so intricate. is also a hmm since i try to follow details to a t) (at first i wanted to do zhongli, but i feel like to be able to muse him well u need to know the lore super super well, which i dont n im too lazy to research on that aha. n u know how much i respect characterizations, especially for such a complex character like him. i also considered xiangling for a period of time mostly for guoba but also like i have 2+1 blogs here n having one more might not be a very good idea aha) (as for aesop he was my Hyperfixation Character tm also cos i looked at his kit n went Yep i could work with this. probably)

so assuming ur not a dumbass like me n u kinda know who u wanna pick, id actually say to snoop around here for other ask blogs n kinda get a feel of the... scene? is that the word? or like u know, other blogs that u can potentially vibe with. ive run a couple of ask blogs before this current one (both that have died for different reasons) n from my experience interacting with other blogs (if theyre okay with it, i think most should be) is pretty fun. it also kinda helps get ur blog around to other ppl on other blogs so they can go Oh whats this cool shit n check u out, n its also a reason why we kinda reblog promo posts for other blogs (also cos we’re always excited when someone new comes on, its really the more the merrier. we see all :eyes:). interacting with other blogs is also an option when ur inbox is looking real roomy too

another reason why i havent exactly done a genshin blog is that idk i cant actually seem to find genshin ask blogs around (i have seen rp blogs, or those that answer asks with mostly text instead of art, but thats. not my thing since i hate my own writing aha) (i did find one aether blog some time ago, but for some reason i hardly see them around anymore??? idk man i might be wrong). its not like im trying super hard to find them ask blogs, so im sure they exist out there (hopefully?? im not sure but im being optimistic). i mean theres nothing wrong with just starting an ask blog without others around, but for me i do find a difference when i interact with other ask blogs n when i dont, n i prefer when theres others to have fun with (unfortunately i couldnt find any ask blogs to interact with in my previous fandom. i tried, but the blogs i approached seemed to go inactive shortly afterwards...) plus u get to meet friends that way too :D (i made a lot of friends via idv askblogs n its really been a joy vibing with others)

as for the idv scene. gestures around me. unfortunately there are a lot of ask blogs that arent that active anymore, but theres still some of us who are alive n kicking empty inboxes, n im sure everyone would love to see a new face around. winks at u. also there seems to be a lot more blogs popping up lately, which is really heartening to see.

then u kinda just. make ur blog? n a starting introduction post so ppl can reblog it n spread the word XD n yay u have a blog i guess??? XD

i gotta say tho. dont expect ur blog to take off immediately (especially for smaller fandoms like idv, tvbh i didnt think my blog would even get half this far when i started cos of how non existent idv tumblr seemed to be) n ur inbox will probably be looking pretty empty a lot of the time (or at least filled with some that u havent quite thought of how to reply to yet aha) (but also like empty inboxes happen pretty often, im sure most of us here have experienced this problem)

in the case of the first ask blog i ever started, it never really took off at all. ngl it was kind of demoralizing n depressing but to be fair i had picked one of the more obscure characters in the series, so obscure that many ppl in the fandom would have never heard of this character before. if u wanted to know, i took a character that only appeared in the 2nd musical of the series, who also made a very brief cameo in the manga to acknowledge his existence within that universe. thats how obscure my character was, but i went with him purely because he was my favourite character. i will say though i did enjoy it while it lasted n i learnt a lot from the experience, n i think thats whats important really.

i guess this kinda leads on (not really but let me digress) to the whole uhhhh thing where if u choose a more popular character, u get more attention. which is fine i guess? if u really vibe with the character, i mean theyre popular for a reason. n choosing a more popular fandom (like genshin) would objectively also get u more viewers n numbers. but like honestly i believe that ask blogs are meant for u to have fun with, n like trying to get popular gets tiring pretty fast (this shouldnt be like a main goal, but u know sometimes u subconsciously also want that gucci follower count n bomb ass notes or something. i used to be guilty of this until i realized it isnt worth it) especially if ur not enjoying yourself in the process. (case in point: my previous fandom was considerably larger n my blog got about 700 followers within a year or so, but it got very tiring n stressful to maintain after my interest in it died, n no one was really interacting with the blog even though i tried which kinda made it even more depressing despite the so called success n popularity of the blog)

anyway on a less serious note, theres a lot of fun stuff u can do with the ask blog, like some ask blogs have really fancy tags that i really like n try to do but also like not really HAHAHAHA. i kinda just channel what i want to see in an ask blog into my own ask blogs (good art is one, i try very hard for it to be good :,DD another is characterization, n others is just extra miscellaneous arts n stuffs like au ideas or memes. these are also somethings u could work on during ask box downtimes perhaps)

uhhh another side thing is like a posting schedule i guess? like ppl would be more likely to interact (i think) if ur blog is relatively active, n this is usually determined by the last post u made (i think XD). but like generally for blog maintenence id say try to kinda find a frequency that ur comfortable with?? cos i know my once a day posting is kinda insane if i wasnt so hyperfixated on all of this n fight the urge to dump all ur replies when u finish them XD (though ive seen some blogs do that n they do it pretty frequently so its pretty nice to know once u see their post u can spend some time going through the latest batch of posts XD) the queue function is pretty useful here even though i truthfully have never really used it, i kinda just post from my drafts really but it also helps to space out ur content to seem somewhat active especially when u dont have the time to be working on replies sometimes. i hope u know what im trying to say here aha

ANYWAY that was like my 1.5 cents cos i dont even think its worth 2 cents HAHAHAHAH these are just my thoughts from running all my blogs up till now, some that are still running n the others that have just died a natural death. i wouldnt actually delete them (theyre still around actually XD) cos theyre kinda like archives n i can look back at what i did last time. cos ngl i made some high quality stuff back then, n i dont even know how i managed to do that aldhflhdsgk. also ppl do look at archive blogs every now n then for the content thats there yknow

BUT YES anyway if u do decide to join the idv ask blogs hmu, ill be sure to give u a lil shoutout here. winks

#its me the mun #unconcerned ramblings #i know ive said that there are a lot of new blogs popping up #but uhhh i dont really dare to interact with them #considering they kinda did come in just when shit had hit the fan n idk i might have been known as The Problematic Blog tm #so i understand if ppl dont want to interact with me n im fine with it. so for now i wont be initiating anything #like dropping asks into inboxes unless i know the mun n theyre comfortable with me doing this #i will interact with everyone who drops by my inbox tho!!#i also tend to get to replies for other blogs faster than general replies cos i feel bad if i kept the other person waiting for too long #I DO forget about rp replies sometimes tho. sometimes #i try my best to get to every one of them tho. even when im kinda busy this period aha #also starting off is actually easy. its about maintaining thats difficult i feel #which is also why i havent done up a genshin ask blog yet HAHAHAHAHA #i really hate to give up on something ive already started when it comes to art projects so

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simplybakugou · 4 years

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The Villain - Ch. 7: The Unsolicited Attack

A/N: Not even joking, I have like 20 things in my drafts because I have so many ideas to write about but I’m also too lazy and unmotivated to execute them omg. Also, because all of my classes are online now, that means I have literally 5 months of doing nothing so expect more updates because IM SO READY TO FINALLY FINISH THIS FIC. THE FACT THAT I STARTED THIS FIC AT THE END OF 2018 AND NOW ITS 2020 AND I STILL HAVEN’T FINISHED IT DJIFJEWBEHFOJEWVQOJ

Remember, if you want to be tagged in future chapters, comment below and I’ll add your username to the list!

Pairing: villain!bakugou Warnings: swearing Word Count: 3,703

LINKS TO NEW CHAPTERS

✐posted 04.10.2020✐

“Man, I really just bombed that exam,” Kaminari groaned, burying his face in his hands.

“It’s okay, Mina and Sero are probably going to join you in your failure,” you teased, earning yourself some glares from Sero and Mina. Kirishima laughed and you looked at him. “Don’t laugh too hard, Eijirou, you’re not that far ahead either!”

Kaminari, Sero, and Mina took their chances to make fun of Kirishima this time, the boys fooling around while Mina rolled her eyes. The sun was beginning to set as you and your friends waited outside of U.A. before walking back home.

“Where the hell is Katsuki?” You muttered.

Mina heard you over the sound of the boys arguing and put her arm on your shoulder. “Aw, look at you worrying about your boyfriend.”

She made kissy faces at you and you rolled your eyes, pushing her face away. “You know it’s not like that. He just seems down lately.”

Mina raised her brow. “Really? If I’m being honest, I haven’t really noticed. Then again, you’ve always been observant and see things I would never even think about noticing.”

You sighed, shrugging your shoulders as Kirishima waved at you and Mina. He showed you his phone, revealing messages between him and Bakugou. “Bakugou said that he’s going to see us tomorrow. Apparently he has to talk to a teacher about one of his assignments.”

“Alright, come on let’s go home,” Kaminari said as the group began walking away.

You stayed back. “I think I’m going to wait for him out here.”

“Are you sure? I can wait with you if you want,” Mina suggested.

You shook your head, smiling. “I just don’t want to leave him alone so I’m going to annoy him a little. I’ll see you guys tomorrow!”

The four of them waved good-bye to you as they walked away. You turned back around, leaning against the gates opening up to U.A. You had a feeling in your gut that was telling you to stay back and wait for Bakugou and low and behold, Bakugou came walking down the entrance. When he saw you, you could practically hear him groaning despite the amount of distance between the two of you.

As he came closer, you pointed your finger at him. “I knew it, you’re trying to avoid us!”

Bakugou rolled his eyes as he continued walking. You caught up to him, walking beside him. “Whatever. If you knew I was avoiding you shits, why’re you here?”

“‘Cause I’m worried about you,” you said truthfully.

Bakugou scoffed. “I’m not a kid, I don’t need you to fucking worry about me.”

“Just because you don’t need me to, doesn’t mean I’ll just stop.” You stood in front of him, causing him to stop walking. “You need to talk to someone about the Kamino incident.”

Bakugou’s eyes widened slightly before he gained his composure once more. “There’s nothing to talk about.”

This time it was your turn to roll your eyes. “There’s nothing wrong with feeling upset about what happened. No one blames you or thinks you’re in the wrong.”

There was a long pause before the corners of Bakugou’s lips turned upwards into a small smile. He placed his hand onto your shoulder as he walked forward. You stood dazed and confused before being able to recollect yourself and catch up with him.

“Where are you going?”

“I’m walking you home. It’s only been a few weeks since what happened to your mom and I’m still going to follow you around to make sure you’re not gonna do anything stupid.”

***

The walk was quiet, but it wasn’t awkward. Bakugou seemed to be deep in thought and you couldn’t help but study and observe Bakugou, attempting to decipher what was going on through his head. His hands were in his pockets and his lips were almost like they were permanently down turned. Once you got to your house, you could see your dad peeking through the window and sigh in relief once he saw you. Bakugou looked over there and looked back at you. “Your dad must’ve been worried about you. You need to take care of yourself for him.”

You sighed. “I know and I am taking care of myself now.”

Bakugou nodded, walking in the other direction to go to his own home. He lifted his hand to you to say goodbye. You stood in front of your driveway and called out to him. “Katsuki!”

Bakugou turned around and narrowed his brows at you. “For the last goddamn time, you’re the only one I know who calls me by my first name and I swear to god—“

You cut him off quickly, knowing he was going to continue rambling on. “I’m going to beat you.”

Bakugou was taken aback. “What?”

“I’m going to beat you and become the number one hero. I’m going to beat you, Midoriya, and Todoroki.” You paused. “You know what that means?”

“What?”

“It means that you’re still a hero to me. What happened in Kamino wasn’t your fault and that shouldn’t be a reason for you to want to stop pursuing your goal. You’re still the same hotheaded Bakugou Katsuki who is loud, driven, and the one who saved me a few weeks ago. You’re a hero, Katsuki.”

Bakugou’s eyes widened but he turned back around so you couldn’t see his expression. “Whatever. Go inside, your dad’s waiting.”

And after all this time, you always wonder what kind of expression he had on his face then.

***

Your eyes shot open and you sat up immediately in bed. You rubbed your eyes, groaning. It was a dream... But it also wasn’t. It genuinely happened and you can recall that day so easily despite how long ago it was.

The door in your room opened and Mina sighed in relief. “Thank god you’re awake, I thought I had to wake you up.”

She threw a few envelopes at you, indicating that it was some mail that you got. You went through them, most of them being bills. However, one of them was from a famous agency you had heard of. Many old heroes were signed under this agency and you immediately ripped open the seal. The letter was addressed specifically to you.

Dear (H/N),

I hope you’ve been well and that this urgent letter reaches you. I’m going to get straight to the point; I know that you’re the number one hero and that you deserve to be involved in every important villain issue there is.

But, I don’t want you to interfere in any issue related to Ground Zero unless we need your help.

The reason for this is that I’m afraid your personal connection to him will make you biased and refrain you from stopping him if the chance that you meet him ever comes again in the future.

I know you’re a strong hero, which is why you’re number one, but my agency will take care of him if needed.

I understand that this is maybe unfair and I may be intruding, but I’m doing what is best for the world and for you. I’m asking you to step back, not forcing you to.

I hope you can trust me to do this.

—Hawks

You sighed, shoving the letter in your pockets and getting up to get ready. Once you were done, you checked your phone to get a text from Natsuya to stop by his place. You went into the kitchen as Mina set a plate of breakfast for you.

“You look worn out,” Mina commented, sitting down in front of you.

“I just have a feeling something’s going on.” You sighed, eating the food Mina made you. “I’m stopping by Natsuya’s before going to the agency today.”

“Okay.” Mina narrowed her brows in confusion at you but didn’t bother to question you further. “You’ve been at Yamashita’s place more than you’ve been here. Are you sure there isn’t something else going on?”

Mina nudged your arm and you swatted at her. “Absolutely not. I just want to hang out with my boyfriend. Sue me.” You got up to put your plate away, grabbing your coat from the rack in the process.

“But you’re hanging out with him at his apartment. Where his bed is.”

“I’m not going there for his ‘bed.’” You rolled your eyes at your best friend, bending down to tie your shoelaces.

“Hm, then again you don’t need a bed, you can have sex pretty much anywh—“

“Okay, see you later, Mina!” You exclaimed, quickly leaving the apartment only to hear Mina’s snickers as you left.

***

You knocked on the door, patiently waiting for your boyfriend to answer. Once he did, Natsuya’s face broke out into a smile as he was genuinely happy to see his girlfriend.

“Hey, you,” he said, kissing your forehead as he opened the door wider to let you in.

You smiled, walking in and he closed the door. “Why’d you call me here?”

“What? A man can’t see his girlfriend or is that a crime?” Natsuya joked and you playfully rolled your eyes at him. “I just wanted to check up on you before you and I headed out for work. I have a feeling that everything is going to escalate from here, especially since the League hasn’t done anything and it’s been three weeks now.”

You plopped down onto his sofa, letting out a loud sigh. It was evident that something was bound to happen and lately, it felt as if you were just sitting back and waiting for something to happen. It didn’t sit well with you that you couldn’t really do anything during this time. But there wasn’t anything that you could do, for now at least.

“You’re right, which is why I’m glad you called me over. I need to show you something.” Natsuya sat down beside you as you pulled out the letter from Hawks from your pocket. You handed it over to him, allowing him to read it over briefly. “What do you think about it?”

“If you want my honest opinion, I’m happy you’re not involved with all of this anymore,” Natsuya said, earning a sigh from you. You knew how he would react but nevertheless you wanted to see for yourself what he would say. Natsuya chuckled at your expression. “Don’t give me that look. You get reckless when anything Ground Zero related is called and it’s because you’re biased. Otherwise, you’re a great hero. But I’m glad Hawks stepped in and is taking care of this.”

You groaned. “I know but I’m still worried. What if I can help but it’s too late or if someone gets hurt instead of me?”

Natsuya wrapped an arm around you, rubbing your shoulders. “Y/N, Hawks is an amazing hero. He was number two back when we were still in high school and he’s still strong. Have some more trust in him, I’m sure he’ll have everything under control.”

You nodded, knowing that he was right. You felt guilty for not being able to decide to deal with Bakugou by trying desperately to understand that he’s not a villain and by trying to reprimand him because of his villainous actions. Natsuya sighed, kissing your head. “Don’t beat yourself up over this. I know you want to help but you don’t have to save every single person in the whole world. You’re not the only hero here. There are so many heroes, your colleagues, who are here for you and will support you.”

You nodded once more, wrapping your arms around his torso. “I know. Thanks, Tsuya.”

“Well, as much as I’d love to stay here like this, we’ve still got to go to work.” He patted your back as he got up, extending his hand out for you. You took it and he pulled you up, the two of you leaving to go to your respective jobs.

***

“It’s finally over!” Jirou cheered loudly, raising her arms into the air.

You sighed, rubbing the sweat from your forehead. You were asked to patrol areas that were considered “critical areas” that were most likely going to be attacked by the League by the Hero Public Safety Commission, the center that is run my non-heroes and it is involved in investigating the most criminally dangerous cases. Jirou was also in the area so she decided to tag along and help you out, just in case there was a scenario in which the League actually did attack.

“Are you headed home?” You asked.

Jirou nodded, stretching her arms out. “Yeah, this has been one of the longest days of my life. I’ve never felt so worked up. The League really needs to be stopped.” You nodded in agreement.

The two of you made your way back to the Commission Center, having to send in reports of what you had seen and the areas that you patrolled. The two of you waved to passerby’s, especially to the children who were ecstatic to have run into two major pros. Your phone rang in your pocket, continuing to vibrate uncontrollably as you fished it out. It was from the police station.

“Hello?”

“Y/N?” A female voice asked from the other line. “This is Tsubaki from the station. Yamashita’s really busy right now but he wanted to make sure to make me tell you that you need to get to the Commission Center immediately.”

You began to worry. “Yes, I’m on my way now. Did something happen?”

“It’s awful, please hurry. Bring as many people as you can, I don’t know how much is left of it.” Tsubaki hung up.

Jirou read your facial expression. “That doesn’t look good.”

“We have to get to the Commission Center now!” You exclaimed, shoving your phone back in your pocket. You began running towards the Center, Jirou following suit. “Something’s going on there, and we have to check it out. Call as many pros as you can, I’ll do the same.” Jirou wearily nodded, wanting to know what’s going on just as much as you want to.

Dear god please let everything be okay…

***

The bar was quieter than usual, only the bartender keeping Bakugou company. But he liked it that way, finding the crowds of people who usually come to be intrusive and bothersome. Thankfully there weren’t any women trying to hit on him like most nights as they try and become the girlfriend of the most wanted man alive.

“Man, you didn’t have to yell at everyone to leave like that. You know it’s bad for my business,” the bartender, Watari, complained.

Bakugou rolled his eyes, setting his glass down on the table. “Oh, please, I’ll pay you triple my fee if you quit your bitching.”

Watari laughed, being used to his number one customer’s prickly attitude after the years he’s spent with Bakugou. Watari was the only man Bakugou fully trusted, someone he turned to when he was asked to abandon his family, friends, and his old life. Watari was also the only one who’s aware of Bakugou’s true identity, understanding that he had to become a villain to help out the pros.

Watari studied Bakugou, the now grown man that he saw as his own son. He set down the glass he was wiping. “You know every time I look at you I keep seeing that hopeless kid that came to me all those years ago.”

Bakugou scoffed. “Tch, I wasn’t hopeless. And I didn’t come to you, you saw me and came to me.”

“Yeah, ‘cause I’ve never seen a kid with such a defeated look in his eye.” Watari chuckled at the memory, running a hand threw his gray hair. “I know the pros are the good guys, and I do trust them. I’ll just never understand what they were thinking asking a child to give up his dreams and his friends and family to help them out.”

“It’s not like they fucking forced me, I agreed to it, you know.”

“I know but I can’t stop thinking about that look on your face. You had to say goodbye to your classmates, to your dream of becoming the number one hero. Hell, if you ask me, you basically handed your dream over to (H/N) without any fight at all! And don’t get me started on you having to abandon your parents, your mother was pissed when you just disappeared all of a sudden.”

Bakugou’s lips turned upward, staring down at his glass as he reminisced with Watari. “That old hag was ready to fucking kill me, calling radio stations and news channels to find me. Must of surprised her when three years later her only son ‘murdered’ the leader of the League to become the leader himself.”

Watari laughed, shaking his head as he recalled the numerous amount of times he saw Bakugou Mitsuki stampeding through the streets to find her son. “You think you’ll ever talk to her? Once you’re done being the bad guy and can go back to your normal life?”

Bakugou sighed, leaning back on the table and staring at the ceiling. “That’s the thing, Pops, I don’t think I can go back. Not to the old hag, to my friends, to being a hero. I haven’t heard from my folks in fucking years, but I don’t blame them since they don’t know the truth. The minute I accepted this job, I knew that I wouldn’t be treated as a kid pursuing heroism like I was before. I’ve been in this shit for over seven years now, no one’s gonna accept me with open arms like that.”

“You’re wrong.” Bakugou turned his head to face him, confused. Watari smiled. “(H/N) would accept you. She’s been accepting you for all these years and she hasn’t been quiet about it either. Also, don’t forget that you have me, kid.”

Bakugou smirked as Watari patted him on the shoulder. “Yeah, it seems like you and that shitty girl are the only ones who believe in me.”

Bakugou turned his head back to the ceiling, closing his eyes and taking a breath in. He stills remembers being a broken down mess, agonizing over the decision he had made. Although he didn’t regret the decision he made, the initial reaction to being given the offer by Hawks was one that he could never forget. He was a high schooler, a teenager, a kid being asked to work with adults to help them out. He was a kid asked to become a double agent and he had to sacrifice everything for it, too. But he didn’t regret it. The minute he got abducted by the League during the Kamino incident, he knew he wasn’t the same fifteen-year-old U.A. student anymore. No matter how many times anyone told him otherwise, Bakugou couldn’t help but blame himself for the incident. And no matter how hard he tried to conceal how he was actually feeling, mostly everyone bought his act, believing that he was fine, believing that he was a tough kid that could put up with the aftermath of the incident.

That is, everyone except you. You saw straight through him and didn’t hesitate to call him out on his bullshit either.

As much as he had missed seeing his friends and his parents, he couldn’t describe the loneliness he felt when he realized he wouldn’t have the shitty girl who he saved from the rooftop of U.A. High nagging him everywhere he went. He couldn’t describe the feeling inside of him when he first saw your face after ten years those few weeks ago in that flower shop. He couldn’t describe the relief he felt when he heard you spew out your drunken yet supportive words for him. You always believed in him, you always cheered for him, and here you were ten years later continuing to believe in him.

Bakugou opened his eyes, shaking his head. It happened again; he couldn’t stop thinking about you.

His fingers subconsciously, like it was practice now, typed your name in the internet browser on his phone. He looked at the images that popped up with the search result. He internally wanted to puke at the picture of you beside your shitty police boyfriend on the day you were announced as the number one hero. What a fucking tool…

“Katsuki.” Watari broke Bakugou away from his thoughts. “Turn the volume up.”

Bakugou looked over to what he was looking at, getting concerned over the news reporter covering what was read as “BREAKING NEWS.” He turned the volume up.

“This is breaking news and I’m coming to you live from the Hero Public Safety Commission. As you can see, the building is completely burnt down, exploded from the inside. Police have been investigating all night, concluding that the explosions from the inside were not caused by notoriously wanted criminal, Ground Zero,” the woman on the screen said to the camera.

Bakugou stood up from his seat, his eyes widening. He had no idea what was going on. “What the fuck?”

“Officials have confirmed that the villain known as Kurogiri was involved in the attack. However, as he is a part of the League of Villains, he does not have a fire type quirk that would cause such an explosion. Officials have also confirmed that there was another figure involved in this atrocious attack, concluding that it was not villains Ground Zero or Dabi.

“To make matters even worse, the only pro hero that was able to get to the scene before all of this unfolded was Hawks. Kurogiri and the second individual involved managed to hurt Hawks so badly that he is currently critically injured and is in intensive care. Officials have confirmed that they do not know when or even if Hawks will be able to recover from this—“

Watari turned the television off, looking over at Bakugou who was absolutely furious over the events. Kurogiri had worked independently, taking orders from someone else, most likely the true leader of the League, and had hurt Bakugou’s actual boss. “Katsuki… Don’t do anything irrational.”

Bakugou grabbed his coat, slamming the bar door open. “I’m gonna kill that Warp Gate fucker.”

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

Tagging: @chims-kookies @bokunoheroes-stories @iamthe-leaf @simplysymphonic @mylittlesunshineblog @imyourliquor-youremypoison @sxperhuman @sunflowerchild27 @miraculouskatsuki @geesshoku @ghoularaki @katsukiwonu @mochirecipe @kotakingly @giornouh @tyongflight

#the villain #katsukibakugou #bakugo #katsuki bakugou #katsuki bakugo #bnha bakugou #katsuki #kacchan #my hero academia #my hero academia imagines #boku no hero academia #boku no hero academia imagines #boku no hero imagines #bnha katsuki #bnha imagines

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minyoongijjangjjangmanboongboong · 6 years

Text

Arranged Drabble

Request: you know how Im all hung up over Arranged? May I please request a Yoongi POV of any part you like of the story? as a one shot?

Description: This drabble is entirely linked with the first fanfic I wrote on this account, Arranged. So if you haven’t, I’d highly recommend reading that first before reading this drabble so it makes sense to you! For those of you who are familiar with the story, this occurs after Yoongi and Y/N have met at the music shop! This explores his motivations in asking Y/N to marry him that night, and what drove him to such a strange, sudden decision.

Word Count: 1.8k

Pairing: Yoongi x female reader

Tags: Arranged Marriage!Au, Non-Idol!Au, Chaebol!Au

Genre: Fluff

Warnings: None

A/N: HELLO MY DEAR! I have your request here! As funny as it is, I actually had this prewritten long before I ever opened requests. I wrote this chronologically before the second chapter of the story, and it’s saved in my Arranged document as Chapter 1.5 haha. I hope you like it! I’ve been looking for an excuse to post it for ages, so this is perfect for me!

Also! If you’d like to support me on Ko-fi, I recently set up a page for it! Of course, absolutely no pressure and no expectation! I just figured I’d give the page a little plug at the end of this intro. Anything is appreciated! Here’s the link: https://ko-fi.com/mercurywriter

- Mercury

Masterlist

Boring.

That’s the only word Yoongi could use to describe his evening. He sat across from the woman his mother had set him up with, the woman she was hoping he would finally finally accept as his bride. Of course, this woman felt no different from the others. She stared at him through her lashes, the low lighting of the bar casting shadows over the planes of her face, the planes of her chest. She laughed at the things he said that weren’t even funny. She talked about her education, her pedigree. She mentioned Yoongi’s salary, and how it was impressive to her. He felt like an actor who had performed this specific scene so many times he had it memorized by heart. He’d ordered a drink only to abandon it since this particular date seemed very keen on talking, or rather getting him to talk. He sat at the bar, twiddling his thumbs, looking for any reason to call the meeting early and go home to his apartment and his Holly.

And that was when he got a call.

“I-I’m so sorry, Sir! Holly has-,”

“Holly what?” screamed Yoongi into the receiver. Panicked, he grabbed his things and shoved them into his pockets. “Is he okay? Is he sick? What happened?”

“Sir! Please let me finish!” whined his assistant, Jaehee. The young guy had always been a bit of a disappointing assistant, and he was often scattered. He came from an excellent family, and was only given the job because of that. But Yoongi often longed to have someone more qualified fill the role. “He got off the leash.”

“He what?” bellowed Yoongi.

His date stared up at him with a dainty hand on her lips, eyes wide. “What happened?” she asked quietly, placing a hand on his arm.

He jerked it away. “In Gangnam? Where?”

“Right outside your apartment,” he said, though his voice was pitiful and weak.

Yoongi’s heart raced and he turned on his heel to rush out of the bar. “Wait! What’s happening? Is someone in your family in trouble?” asked the girl, trailing behind him.

Yoongi nodded and turned to her. “My dog.”

At this she stilled and her face went slack. “Your…dog…,” she said.

“I’ve gotta go,” he said. “I’ll send you a gift in the mail to apologize.” And with that, he was gone.

It had been an hour of searching his whole neighborhood for his small Min Holly, and Yoongi was beginning to become really panicked. But, luck seemed to be on his side that night. When he spotted his beloved dog, Holly was half a block away from him, sitting obediently beside a girl in a smock, that girl crouching in front of him and examining his collar. Relief washed over him. Not only was he safe, but he seemed to really like that girl. The yellow street light washed over the two of them, just enough for him to see the girl carefully lift Holly off the ground and take him into the convenience store.

Well, what in the hell did she think she was doing with his dog?

He jogged down the sidewalk, frantic to save his Holly from the dog-napper, but as cars rushed by on his side he felt his worry subside just a little. It seemed the girl was just trying to get him off the busy street. His pace slowed, only slightly.

He threw open the door to the convenience store and, panting, called out for someone, anyone, to return his dog to him.

And that was when he’d seen her. The girl from the instrument store. On particularly hard days, Yoongi often made his way to music stores around Seoul, lingering there for hours at a time to settle his mind. Today was no different, except that he’d been pestered by another employee, asking if he wanted help.

No help that you can provide, he’d said to himself, but not to her.

But this girl, she was the one that had left a real impression on him, which was rare. Everything from her posture to her demeanor to her voice and the way she spoke was calm and relaxed, like a comfortable grandmother. Although, to be fair, Yoongi’s own grandmother wasn’t the most comfortable…

This girl, however, was. And when she’d taken him back to see the Steinway, his heart had begun to sing, just a little. That piano…

Then he noticed that Holly was not only sitting and eating well, but he was wagging his tail too. He wasn’t a disobedient dog by any stretch, but he could be a bit shy or slow to trust a stranger. It came as a bit of a shock to see that girl beside Holly, the two of them having made fast friends.

Naturally, Yoongi wanted to allow his Holly time to finish his meal, and didn’t want to rush him, so he came to a seat at the bar by the window, watching him eat fondly. He’d tried to give the girl money for the dog food, but she’d steadfastly refused, even going so far as to pry open her own worn wallet and produce a few small dollars to put into the register. He found himself quietly admiring her. Not in the way in which men admire women, but in the way in which one human admires another. Her hair was askew and messy around her head, restrained in a loose bun at the nape of her neck, her eyes slightly wild, and her smock was ill-fitting around her waist, a garish shade of bright yellow. He’d noticed it before at the store, but she seemed very sure-footed, very certain as she talked and sat and thought. It had unnerved him quite a bit when that strange girl had bowed her head and accepted a punishment she didn’t deserve for his sake. There had to be a reason why her eyes had gone glassy at her boss’s scolding, why she looked so terrified. How could a girl who seemed to possess about her an air of quiet, calm determination so easily crumble at the feet of someone above her? The image stuck with him throughout the day.

He’d found himself speaking a great deal more than he normally would, and the way that girl had just thoughtfully listened made him more bold. She was certainly something different, and after the hundreds of disastrous marriage meetings he’d had over the past year, it was reassuring to him to know that at least there were women in the world who weren’t after his money, weren’t so predictably boring and predictably perfect. He liked the loose hairs that hung around her face, he liked her wild eyes, and he even liked that horrible smock. Those things just proved to him that she was a real human.

“It’s good though, don’t you think?” she’d asked after he had explained about his horrible meeting. “You should marry someone whose lifestyle is compatible with your own. If she couldn’t accept the part of your life that belongs to Holly, then maybe it’s for the best that things didn’t go well.”

He thought for a good long moment about this, then took a glance down at the girl and was struck, once again, by how effortlessly she sat beside him, how her eyes were trained on Holly and not on him, how she seemed to barely even mind that he was there at all. He found it easy to sit beside her, whether they were talking or existing in a peaceful and total silence. He’d noticed it at the instrument store too, this feeling. She was an unpretentious person, someone who was too scared to play a nice piano because she didn’t think her skills matched the instrument. He’d found that somehow charming, that doubt. Because if she hadn’t mentioned it, he never would have guessed that she had any insecurities at all. She seemed like the kind of person he would like to spend time with. The kind of person he would like to have as a friend.

And perhaps that was why, when she rushed to save Holly from cutting his tongue and instead cut herself, an idea came rushing to him very suddenly and recklessly. If he couldn’t find someone he matched well with from his family’s picks, then perhaps he could pick his own. Truthfully, he’d never met someone with whom he could so easily connect like he did with this stranger. If the circumstances were different, and oh how he wished they were, maybe he would have asked her to go on walks with him and Holly, maybe they would get to know each other slowly, maybe they could become real friends.

But the circumstances weren’t different.

So, when he offered to help the girl and, resolutely, she’d replied that she could, “handle it herself”, that crazy thought bloomed into a full-blown idea, and that idea nestled into his brain. The more he thought about it, the more perfect it seemed. Marry a penniless stranger, gain positive media attention, raise her from poverty and set her up with a secure future, and then divorce in two years so she can live the rest of her life freely. That would sate his mother and father for the time being, get his neck and his place in the company off the line, ease tensions in the family, and help this girl in the process. Of all the things that contributed to this horribly strange idea, he found the prospect of helping the girl to be the most appealing. The way she’d shaken as she stood bowed before her boss proved to Yoongi just how badly this girl needed money. He didn’t want to exploit her, but rather to give her a hand. A kind, genuine person like her had to deserve some help.

For the small price of her hand in marriage…

He almost didn’t say it. Instead he’d voiced his thoughts in a different way, telling the girl how she’d somehow managed to be involved in the two things that meant to most to him: Music and Holly.

The thing that tipped him over the edge was when she’d exhaled slowly and, while petting Holly’s small head, gently said, “Well, I think both of those things are very worthy things to care about.”

She was right. Someone who couldn't accept where Yoongi’s priorities lied in his life was not a good match for him after all. Someone who couldn’t understand him, and understand the particular way in which he liked to live would only make Yoongi miserable.

But here was someone who met his qualifications. She was kind, calm, reliable, and Min Holly really liked her.

So he took the leap that he knew might change his life, and he did it blindly but with all the certainty in the world.

“Wanna marry me?”

#bts #bts reactions #bts fanfic #bts fanfiction #bts scenarios #bts imagines #bts drabbles #bts one shot #yoongi fanfic #yoongi fanfiction #min yoongi #yoongi drabble #bts yoongi #yoongi fluff #arranged bts fanfic

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xtswifts · 6 years

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in all my years on tumblr, this is still one of my favorite gifs of tay in existence, so i shall use it now on my mega ooc appreciation post.

i am still on hiatus — it has been a ROUGH 36 hours my dudes — but i did want to drop in and post some ic/ooc appreciation things while this week is still here because i am all in the business of sharing the love. it’s one of the many reasons i absolutely adore this group. this group has always been about love, for me, and would probably be the singular word i’d use to describe my experience here.

i joined this lovely bunch back in july, i do believe? i had actually just finished up writing and self-publishing my third book which wound up being a behemoth (seriously it was a lot) and while i was absolutely and completely braindead when it came to writing, i still wanted to write. i’m a writer. that’s who i am and that’s who i’ll always be. i wanted something a lot more low-stakes, kind of go-with-the-flow, no real pressure and more collaborative than the isolating fun of novel-writing, so i turned back to roleplay. hollywood rps have always been my absolute favorites in the rpc for whatever reason; i have such fond memories in hollywood groups and it’s a fun and creative way for me to just project the love i have for my faves. after a few experiences in groups during late 2017 and early 2018 i was pretty sure that i was done with roleplay. it just wasn’t the same for me, no matter where i went. priorities had shifted and it was no longer about writing because you loved to write. but, me being ever the optimist, i decided to dive back into the tags and see what was still around or had recently popped up. i found this group and i saw that they had just had a taylor swift removed from the group, and hi hello nice to meet you i am taylor swift trash no. 1!!!, i felt like it was all Meant To Be or something like that (plus, she was taken in every other group and that’s who i really wanted to put a hand at writing). so i put in an app for her, got accepted, and i have been plaguing your dashes ever since :~))

in the four-ish months that i have been here, so much has happened in my life. i started my (outrageously stressful) junior year of college, i lost my grandma, i went to go see queen swift in atlanta and meet my baby princess camila, i have had major friend complications and doubts about my career track and i have had just really boring, empty days where everything was going seemingly okay. this group has been there for me through every high, low, and in between. this group has been my escape to run to when i’m stressed or up late at night and can’t sleep or just really looking to be social or want to write something. this group has been so welcoming, warm, and fun; i have had the opportunity to explore my character any which way that i please and form awesome plots with people, and even more awesome friendships ooc. some of you send really, really kind things my way which, fyi, i’m super grateful for and have probably cried over because this was the first time i not only felt welcomed in a group as taylor, but felt welcomed in a group as me. i am so grateful that i get to call this place my internet home and there is absolutely nowhere else i would rather be spending my free time writing. i stand by what i say: this is the best group in the tags, hands down. you could not ask for a more inclusive, diverse, welcoming, creative playground to spend your time on. to all the lovely admins over on main @hollywoodfamerp thank you for doing the heavy lifting and giving us a safe and warm place that we can call home. the work you do never goes unnoticed. you are appreciated and you are so, so loved. ♡

some ~personal~ shoutouts:

@nhxran — peyton, you are without a doubt one of my best friends both in this group and just in general. we had an immediate chemistry as writing partners from that very first starter reply and nothing about that has changed. you are the writing partner i always hoped i would find in a group due to how generous you are in every reply, the way you are willing to headcanon and brainstorm (even at the craziest of hours) and i still remain in awe of you as a roleplayer with the way you juggle such diverse characters, all of which have their prominent voices that never seem to overlap. you are the roleplayer i wish i could be. even though we might sometimes be ships in the night ic, ooc i know that you are always there and you always have my back, and i truly hope you know that the same goes for you. i love you, you intelligent, creative, witty, beautiful, heart-of-gold woman you. i would not have stayed in this group if i had not met you. you are one of my favorite people, period. thank you for being one of my dearest friends.

@cara-x-delevingne — mickey, the first person to ever pop into my ims and say hello (and you were FAST about it too, lol), you have been one of my favorite people to write with! the way you breathe a life into your characters is almost unparalleled to any writer, much less any writer in a hwood group. you have such a talent and not only that, you are funny and kind and inclusive and i am so glad that there are people like you (and you) still out there in this world. we need more people like you. thank you for one of the most epic friendships i’ve ever written in a group and always challenging me to step up to the plate and bring my a-game with taylor. you inspire me and i love you. never change.

@armiehmmer�� — graaaaace, the law to my swift! you were actually one of the reasons i joined this rp; before i joined i stalked a few blogs and as i have told you (and you have probably seen via my wildin’ ass on twitter) i love jen, so much. i saw how dedicated you were to your jen and how included she was, which i thought was amazing because like my girl t, some people just aren’t about. i figured if you could put in the effort and grind hard enough with her and get positive results, i could do the same for taylor. and here we both are, killin’ it. you are such a lovely person who has always been nothing but kind, i am still endlessly jealous you were in pasadena for rep tour but we’ll let it slide for now, lol. i love you, thank you for being the epitome of grace in this roleplay. you’re a pure light and the dash is dimmer without you on it.

@jstntimberfake — nicki, or should i say, GOD, i don’t know where to begin with you. you are the reason i almost took home a jt standup from 2nd and charles. i love everything that you do on both of your characters. you become them, they stand so far away from the person that you actually are and i think that is the testament of a true, talented writer: they are able to convince you that they’re someone else. and you do, every time. i’m just really, really happy that i get to say that i’m in the same rp group as you because it makes me feel like a Cool Kid on the playground who has light up sneakers. you are so cool and it sometimes lowkey intimidates me, how amazing and talented you are. thank you for always putting a smile on my face. love ya love ya

@itsscarjo — aria, my magnificent love. you are so well spoken and kind and as my clumsy twin, i have no choice but to love you dearly. it’s so nice to just have somebody to talk to sometimes and every time we’ve talked, it’s like being all bundled up in a warm fuzzy blanket. you are so easy to talk to and i cannot wait for the things you and i do on all of our people now that our lives have calmed the heck down and we can come on and write. thank you for being such a spectacular, inviting person. i had several other people sing your praises to me when you joined the group and i can wholeheartedly agree with them. you are one of a kind. big love

@aubreycplaza — marissa, i mcfreakin’ adore you. i’ll be honest, i have not had the best experiences with aubreys in the past but that all goes out the window with you. i’m obsessed with you and all of your people, and to know you and get to write with you is an absolute pleasure. thank you for being so much fun to write with, thank you for giving me so much quality stuff to stalk while i’m on the dash and feeling like trash, thank you for being so understanding of me constantly feeling like trash, i adore you. can’t wait for tay and aubrey to finally go on their fuckin girls trip and become little jetsetters together (forevaaaa)

@jamesrodriqez — hello stranger idk you but i think you’re pretty cool! and i think that you have been one of the most entertaining, fun people to write with in these last couple of weeks when i feel like i’m barely able to write two sentences that haven’t been written onto a powerpoint that i’m copying off of. you just give me so much excitement about writing and plotting and that excitement is something that can be difficult to find again after you’ve gotten comfortable in a group. thank you for keeping things refreshing and new for me and taylor. i’m excited to get back to all of our fun shenanigans (and to love on your new people bc yes amen) #jandrea forever

@jarpadking — nikki! first of all, i’m in awe at how fast you can come up with replies on TWO characters that are so well-crafted and authentic to that person’s voice. i struggle just writing a single coherent reply on taylor half the time, lmao. you are one of the hearts in this group, the way you make it an effort to branch out and talk to every single person and create connections with both the mun and the character. you’re one of the unsung heroes and if we could all be a little more you like you, we’d be the best roleplayers around. love you so much, my dear, and of course, thank you for being so warm and inclusive. people like you are rare

@itskeeoone — i have spent all day binging pll because that is how i choose to veg out and every time i see keegan on screen now, i think of you, em. you just write him so wonderfully and truthfully and i don’t ever want to let you go (please don’t ever leave this group or i’ll cry). taylor and keegan have given me all the life, they are very similar people and i’m happy that my 15 year old self’s dreams are coming true by their worlds colliding here in the group. i’m so excited to write even more with you now that the holidays are coming and i’ll actually, y’know, BE AROUND, but yes. love you.

@goddamnjade — lucy, you know anybody that is as big into the dance scene as i am HAS to get a spot on this appreciation post ;) but also, you have just been one of the loveliest people ever? i think you’re one of the hearts in this group, the reason that it is why it is and the reason that it’s so warm and welcoming. you are so inclusive and fun to write with and i really hope that i get to talk with you more ooc because i adore youuuu!

@yosebstan — rileyyyy, gotta admit, sometimes you intimidate me but it is only because you are an absolute fuckin’ legend in this group, and not just because of your admin status. your characters have something that a lot of people try hard to encompass but can’t ever capture, and that’s longevity. your characters never feel stale, they always feel new and fresh and like real people, not just tropes or over-concentrated personality traits and i get so excited every time i see one of your people on the dash. i’m lucky to be in a group with you, so so lucky. i sometimes hope your natural inclination for rp will rub off on me and make me a better writer. love you, and i really hope we get to do some fun stuff in the future!!

@jpgsasha — cami, you and i clicked so fast when we started replying to each other’s stuff back when you still had camila and i cannot WAIT to write with you as my honey sasha (seriously, a fuckin’ plus switch). we had some of the LONGEST replies on the dash at one point but when you’re inspired, you’re inspired! thank you for inspiring me and being one of the most down to earth people in this group. you deserve all the fuckin’ love. please love me so i can give it to you.

@avycias — katieeee!! it legit surprised me to find out how close we are to one another #hurricane watch friends, lol. you are so sweet and your alycia is absolutely legendary, i was biting at the bit to write with you from the minute i joined this group. i hope we get to do all of the things with taylor and alycia because writing with you makes me so happy. you are wildly talented and the way alycia comes to life every time you type something is magical. you write her with a conviction and you make her your own and i think that’s why i adore her so much. thank you for being you. love you much babes

@milesdominic — marie! miles and taylor had one of the cutest friendships ever and it needs to make a comeback asap, because 1) that, and 2) writing with you comes so naturally (*plays naturally by selena gomez and the scene*). i barely have to think about what i want to reply to you with because there’s a chemistry there that is hard to replicate; thank you for keeping me on my toes and my brain alert and being such a fun person to write with. you give me the chance to explore sides of taylor’s voice that other people look over and that i love, and that’s all anybody could ask in a writing partner, someone who allows them to run wild!

@blccmtroye — fiona, i fuckin’ love your troye. he is too much fun to interact with, and i am thankful that you gave this group a shot (and that you gave me a shot). i couldn’t imagine this place without the wit and the charm that you supply with every single post you make.

@flynnpls — marie, i’m just in love with all of your people and you. you’re one of the people i feel like i admire from afar because i stay in awe of the way you write and how effortless it seems to come to you. you balance all of these different personalities with finesse and i really do feel like i’m talking to or reading the words of the actual celebrity in every single reply. i am crossing my fingers that i get the opportunity to write some really incredible things with you here in the future because i have such mad respect for you.

+ to everyone else that i either forgot to mention, have not really formed connections with outside of replies or haven’t had the chance to talk to you/your babies due to my super fun hiatus: i stalk so many of you on the dash and keep up with your plots and where you take your characters and it really and truly is such a privilege to be in the same group as you. they say that birds of a feather flock together and if that’s the case, i am simply a reflection of all the things y’all are. kind, funny, clever, creative, welcoming, intelligent, and a part of something, and i could not ask for more. i love all of you, whether we’ve talked or not (believe me i probably stalk you and just love you from afar) and any time you ever need a friend, call me beep meeeeee. i’m always game to do things with taylor and explore her more through whatever plots or connections we could create, and i promise that if i don’t respond to an im, it’s because i’m off on hiatus or it got eaten. i want to do ALL the things with ALL of you. come hit me up! let me love you! k thanks!!!

obligatory thank you note to my queen taylor alison for existing. love u bitch.

xx, caroline

#hfrpappreciation #♚ ; tswift and tpain.#i spent 2 hours typing this so if you'll excuse me i'm off to get food and start throwing shit in a suitcase since i'm leaving tomorrow at 7 #yay for early mornings #said no one ever

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obsidianarchives · 6 years

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Ashley Romans

Ashley Romans started her formal acting training at Pace University School of Performing Arts. She moved to Los Angeles immediately after graduating in 2015. Los Angeles theater credits include: Celebration's Charm (Beta), Rotterdam (StageRaw and LADCC award recipients). Film/Television credits include: "I'm Dying Up Here" and "Shameless" (Showtime), "Are You Sleeping?" (Apple TV), "Hermione Granger and the Quarter Life Crisis" (Sunshine Moxie), "NOS4A2" (AMC new series).

Black Girls Create: What do you create?

I’m an actor. I create by acting. Collaborating with writers, directors, designers, and visionaries in whichever medium possible to hopefully create an honest reflection of a being’s life experience.

BGC: How do I create?

I suppose my entire creative process begins with healthy self trickery. Not quite deception but more healthy, playful, self manipulation. Naturally as creators we have a way of resisting and fearing whatever it is we most want to bring about into the world. Similar to a mother’s fear of giving birth or raising a child, we think “what if the world doesn’t receive my creation well? What if people are mean? What if it’s not healthy or ready?” I often find myself trying to bribe or trick my way out of this fear. I trick myself into going into my next audition as confidently as I can, or preparing for that day on set when I really don’t want to, or finding some connection with a character trait I find reprehensible.

I also think it is very important to stay relaxed and loose so one can reach a playful and spiritual place of creativity. So I try and keep myself healthy; mentally, spiritually, and physically by reading, eating healthy, journaling, praying, meditating, and exercising.

BGC: How did you get into acting?

I would say my professional pursuit officially began when I went to study theater at Pace University in New York City for my undergraduate degree, but for as long as I can remember I always had an interest in acting. I loved watching ‘90s action/drama movies with my father and “I Love Lucy” reruns with my mother as a child at all hours of the day. I became even more interested in theater and performance through high school choir, joining community summer camps, and doing the spring high school musical.

Even as an adolescent I felt it was best to keep my professional aspirations to myself in fear of naysayers. In retrospect, I understand now that high school is a time a lot of young people are dealing with self doubt and insecurity. Considering that I was far from the funniest, smartest, or most talented individual in the theater department, I, unconsciously, kept my performing ambitions quiet even from the people closest to me because I didn’t want to risk someone rubbing their self doubt on me. I worked up the courage to audition for a couple of acting schools but I told no one except my acting teacher Douglas Hooper and a few very close mates.

I still abide by this privacy philosophy even now and it hasn’t steered me wrong to this day. I still feel that speaking one’s dreams and aspirations among chaotic or unsupportive energy environment would most likely dissipate or poison their own source.

Eventually after graduating from Pace University through a couple months of tumbling I landed representation for acting with a management company and I moved out to Los Angeles. I’ve been able to land some great acting opportunities and gain a supportive team of people and I could not be more grateful.

BGC: What has been your favorite role so far?

I have so many favorites. The roles that stand out to me as my favorite are the ones that have most challenged me and allowed me to explore a different aspect of life, and explore and connect to the full range of the human experience. I’ve received some of my most valuable acting lessons in various roles in the theater. I played Inez, a red dressed-vixen-leading lady with a passionate, deep-seeded hatred for her ex-husband in Stephen Adly Guirgis’ Our Lady of 121st. Two years ago I played Beta, a young teenage gang affiliated boy in Chicago with a secret in Phillip Dawkins’s play Charm at Celebration Theater. This coming March I will be part of the Kirk Douglas’s production Rotterdam by Jon Brittain. Set in the Netherlands, I will play Fiona/Adrian, one half of a modern London couple who decides to make a huge change in their life. My experience acting in these productions specifically has been positively nurturing. Throughout our rehearsal process, I learned what it means to be not just a more nuanced and skilled actor but also a more supportive and capable teammate in the creative process.

In terms of film/television world, my work as Hermione Granger in Sunshine Moxie’s Hermione Granger and the Quarter Life Crisis remains my greatest acting lesson in the film/television/on-camera discipline. Eliyannah Yisrael, Megan Grogan, Alice Pierce, other writers and producers leveled up my game up. I’ve never before been number one on the call sheet and I’m not sure if I ever will again, but having that responsibility was so enlightening. It was also an invaluable learning experience getting to work with those amazing creators and seeing those women just get shit done. It was truly an honor being chosen to play such an important and monumental literary character in this version. I remember reading the Harry Potter series as a little girl in London and thinking how much I wanted to be part of and live in that magical world. Playing Hermione in the HGQLC series was by far the best artistic adventure I’ve ever had. Exploring moments, scenes and how far we can bring characters all felt like adventures. Even our trip to Dublin, Ireland this past year felt like one big adventure. I’ll be forever grateful for that experience.

BGC: Why do you create?

I enjoy acting because I love being seen and getting to disappear. It’s a paradox but it’s my truth. I enjoy exploring the range of human experience. I love that I get to feel connected to people in the safe incubator that is pretend. I love that I get to feel and say all the things I’m afraid to feel and say in my real life. I still never get bored of going to the theater, movie or stage, sitting in a dark room with other people and watching performers simply tell us a story. I hope to serve God and the people around me through my creativity and acting. I always hope to truthfully represent a human experience no matter how high or low the stakes it might seem to us at first. Losing your phone and frantically trying to find it can be as exciting and dramatic a story as losing one’s job or finding out your spouse is unfaithful. It’s all in the storytelling and truthfulness of the moment and I love as an actor I get to explore that.

BGC: Who do you hope to reach through your work?

Honestly, the most important people I aim to ultimately reach and impress are my nieces and nephews. Yes the public, my agents, and producers are all important but I feel as though they are a means to an end. Right now my oldest niece is 10 years old and she loves the Hermione series and is always pretty excited to see me act on TV. At the moment she still thinks I’m pretty cool and I hope to keep it that way.

If this was a decade ago and you asked 16-year-old Ashley the same question I probably would have said something like “I want to be a voice for the voiceless and the underrepresented… blah blah blah.” Truthfully, I don’t think I ever really knew what that meant. I mean, I knew what it meant on a superficial-runner-up-in-Beauty-Pageant kind of level but now that answer doesn’t resonate with me as the gutter truth. Whenever I’m working on scripts, deciding on content to create or post etc, I ask myself “Is this something I would be proud to let my niece see? Is this the kind of work that can help make the world even the tiniest bit better for her?” Eventually, she’s going to grow up and have a voice in this world and I hope that her seeing me embrace mine will give her the courage to embrace hers. My nieces and nephews and all the children like them are who I hope to reach.

I really love seeing how the world is changing now. Representation in the media was so limited even 10 years ago but now it’s getting more and more beautiful by the day. With so many platforms, works such as Pose, Glow, Fresh Off the Boat, Chewing Gum, Masters of None, Eighth Grade, and more, so many beings who have been underrepresented for years are getting a chance to reach their audiences and tell their stories. And we all get to identify and see ourselves in each other. I don’t have to reach out and save the world because it kind of starts with myself and our own backyard.

BGC: Who or what inspires you to keep creating?

Oh geez, that’s a loaded question. My peers are my first and foremost inspiration and motivation. Again Eliyannah Yisrael, Megan Grogan, Alice Pearce, Jessica Jenks. It’s remarkable to watch those ladies do what they do. I love being in acting class and witnessing breakthroughs or being in a really great rehearsal with a cast mate. That’s always promising when you get to be part of the creation of something honest and true. Even if it is just a great moment in a scene. Actors who inspire me are endless. Octavia Spencer is a fantastic actress and creator who I adore. I had the blessing of working with her once and she’s an even better human. Lovely doesn’t do her justice. I love watching Regina King. There’s a great example of an honest to God creator and storyteller. She’s accomplished so much in acting, directing, writing, and producing. That’s also how I feel about Shonda Rhimes, Boots Riley, Jim Carrey, Maggie Gyllenhaal. There are many more. I’m sure as soon as you publish this interview I’m going to think of more.

BGC: Why is it important as a Black person to create?

As Black people, we have such a specific and loaded way we walk through the world. The Hermione Series has such a beautiful tag line. It says “HGQLC - Write Your Own Ending.” I’ve always loved that because it gives power to the subject. As Black people it is our responsibility to take control of our story the best way we can. We must feed our communities the best and most honest images of ourselves to ourselves because images and representation matters. In the area of cinema, for years non-Black people have told their version of the Black experience and it has left us misrepresented.

BGC: How do you balance creating with the rest of your life?

It’s always a struggle to keep a balanced life. I have a tendency to obsess and quickly lose perspective but when I want to regain balance I plan my day to make sure I get everything I need in. Luckily for me in my particular art form, acting is about living so I know I can’t be a good actor if I’m not allowing myself to experience life and fun.

BGC: Have you been able to build a support system around yourself? What does that look like?

I feel so grateful for my support system. I have amazing representation, an amazing day job with super awesome and motivating coworkers who are actively pursuing their life goals. I also have super supportive family and friends who tell me they’re proud of me just for being myself. My sister is also a great support system, someone I can speak and think out loud with no fear of judgment. I could not be any luckier.

BGC: Any advice for young creators/ones just starting?

It takes 10,000 hours to be a professional at anything. So just put in the hours, however that may look. Either do it, read about it, watch a YouTube video on it, whatever you have to do to learn about your craft and get better.

BGC: Any future projects?

I’m going to be doing a remounting of the stage production Rotterdam at the historic Kirk Douglas Theater in Culver City. It’s a short run, performances run from March 28 - April 7th, but it’s such a blessing to revisit this work with such a remarkable group of people. It’s a super funny and insightful play about gender and love.

In the television world I just finished wrapping a new AMC series starring Zachary Quinto and Ashleigh Cummings called NOS4A2. I don’t know the exact date it is to be released but it’s happening soon. The series is based of the hit novel by Joe Hill and it centers around a teenager (Cummings) who uses supernatural abilities to track down the seemingly immortal Charlie Manx (Quinto), who steals children and deposits them in “Christmasland.” I play a Detective Tabitha Hutter trying to suss out the truth. This series has supernatural fantasy, horror, action/adventure, procedural, and family drama. Everything you want to see.

#actress #Harry Potter #theater #actor #New York City #London #Los Angeles #Black Woman Creator #create

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mommydragon-of-all · 6 years

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OC Interview Meme

This looks fun. Also some answers drastically differ depending on around what time this "interview” takes place. So i got thinking and since I was tagged by@sakurabunnie who’s getting to know my pre-inquisition Soren, i choose to time this before Inquisition. Then i was tagged by dear @hadiden-lavellan too, but by then i was halfway through his post, and hey why not, some looking back :) Thank you both!!!! :3333

For Soren (Lavellan):

1. What is your name?

“A lot of people have called me by a lot of names. You can call me Soren.”

2. What is your real name?

“It is actually Soren. Yep, just Soren. I lost my original belonging and i didnt take any of my families surnames. Not permanently nor in any way official.”

3. Do you know why you were called that?

“Oh well, my parents wanted a pair of short and strong names that ring together, even if they had to get a bit creative. Also, as i learned, a pair of names that can be lilted and growled equally well haha “

4. Are you single or taken?

“i am free like a bird. Does your nest have some extra space on a cold night by the way?”

5. Have any abilities or powers?

“Im a highly trained assassin, among … other things. If you ever get in trouble… *slides over a strange little object* flash this around the shady parts of any city. They will take care of the rest. But for your lives sake, do not try to lie”

6. Stop being a Mary Sue.

“ I dont think i ever used that alias… “

7. What’s your eye color?

“Oohhh you are welcome to gaze into them closer, yes ;) no low light excuses, they have their own, so just lean over… “

8. How about your hair color?

“ Oh yes that is harder to tell in different lights. Its dark red, like good wine or blood from the liver .”

9. Have you any family members?

“ I have tons. If you meant blood relation… other than my twin sister i have some distant family. Literally distant even, like few and far between, out in the world. Some of us exchange awesome birthday gifts some years though, regardless of the exact date. Who has time to time that. “

(Scattered by the wind, but firmly standing like the trees)

10. Oh? What about pets?

“ Sadly animals are deadly afraid of me. It takes just a sniff to run for dear life… Even predators… it takes a special blend of proud and crazy to befriend me it seems. I would kill for such treasures. Like that Hart i once fought for an apple in that deep forest and lately rode to far destinations… i think it starts to get even attached!!! If he sticks around im gonna call him Captain. But remember, Dont go close to him! For your dear life, please dont. He is easy to recognize. Big as a mountain and looks like “Oh, Shit”. “

(’Where to, Captain?’)

11. That’s cool I guess, now tell me about something you don’t like.

“ Those things are about to change. Or drop in numbers significantly in the world. Just wait. …as truly as i want to mean that, unfortunately some things never change. Like the darkness in people, festering hearts. There will always be things like betrayal, prejudice, hatred, discrimination, envy, greed, cruelty,... i could go on. People who mostly keep themselves above those shades of their nature are all worth to be protected.“

12. Do you have any hobbies/activities you like doing?

“ Oh there are so many awesome things in the world and so many exciting things to do! I cant even count them. Like there’s hunting dragons for one! Speaking of hunting, there is also treasure hunt and demon hunt and manhunt and wyvernhunt and countless others, the bigger and meaner the better! But then theres also MAGIC! Do you have any idea how awesome that is? Everything magic and everything it touched. Putting together and using magic objects for so many things! And spells??? Potions, lotions, weapons... And there are also PEOPLE! The most magical thing is the warm light in ones heart. And they are so various and unique! There are different languages and codes and symbols and oh the stories! And dance and music and pleasures and laughing and caring and helping and…. oh … haha… im sorry, are you awake? Please ask away. “

(’Ah, what a beautiful day!’)

13. Ever hurt anyone before?

“ I think you snoozed off and forgot about my profession already. :) “

14. Ever… killed anyone before?

“ Hahaha oh these sharp and pointy things and stuff arent for chopping and cooking vegetables either.”

15. What kind of animal are you?

“Pfffft i am my own species! Hehe! A unique hybrid i guess! But definitely a big animal, yes. Sis’ won that argument long ago, so there you have the answer. “

16. Name your worst habits.

“Hmm? What?” (*Muffs out with one of the interviewers -already leafed through-notebooks between his sharp teeth, booth on table...*) Hey! That is… how did you… *sigh*... nevermind

(exhibit 99: ‘”I’ll go straight there!”)

17. Do you look up to anyone at all?

“My sister, definitely. She is the best. She is indestructible in every way i swear! Gotta be the strongest person alive. She is also really cool. But hot. I mean explosive! Not that shes not hot, technically... she is my female version after all haha. And caring for me with great big sister love (*mumble*:even if i am like 5 minutes older), but dont spread that ;) Might harm her notoriety. I also look up to several of my tutors and many other people for many different reasons. People can be so many kinds of amazing.”

18. Gay, straight, or bisexual?

“You can not expect me to label my interests in a world full of so many differently beautiful people with warm hearts.”

19. Do you go to school?

“Yes. Life. 24/7. Got less intense since i learned how to survive and sustain myself, and grew a strong body to back up my needs and will, but there are always new things to learn and lessons you never asked for too. I had some actual teachers along the way too, but lately mostly i just teach myself what i dont just encounter by diving into new things. Which is not only fun by the way, you are bound to learn a few things. Then there are books, theories, researching, digging, honing instincts and reflexes, combining and refining techniques or theories, trial and error... Life is a bottomless school “

20. Do you ever want to marry and have kids one day?

“Wow, wow, you mean like.. babies? Sweet Fade, i wouldnt dare breathe their way, they are so fragile... little young PEOPLE, persons who arrived so recently and understand so little and cant even tell whats up just cry and i cant understand them, i understand every language but i can not understand babies for my life and ... and... thats terrifying! And do you have any idea how EASY it is to kill someone? And then there is that small bundle of vulnerability, my proximity could be lethal to it! And .... *sigh*... sorry just... It all would depend on that special person i might find who would want to keep me for life, for better or worse, and if they wanted kids... even if babies, i would be on board. I would do anything for that special someone. Even learn baby care... Bigger kids, well, i already have :D . In good care. If any of them were to be taken under my constant and indirect care, would depend on a lot of things. Right now they are much safer otherwise.”

21. Do you have any fanboys/fangirls?

“Most certainly ;D.But none of them know much about me, of course. With that comes a transformation of those feelings”

22. What are you most afraid of?

‘Im not afraid of ANYTHING!” *eyes instantly betraying* “Fine, fine, gotta be loss. Ironic, isnt it, for i have but what is on my person. Replaceable come and goes. Im mostly afraid of losses that arent even really “mine”, but others. Loved ones or even barely known ones loosing their lives or their light. Loosing my sister, myself, my heart... that is all i am. The only thing i cannot live without is my heart, i AM my heart, and loosing pieces of it or have it broken or freezing through a hole... I hate how selfish that is. But yeah. There you go. I still tend to leave pieces of it everywhere, and it only grows with that, funny how that works, but it also tends to get wounded on every turn. I fear the numbing cold. I fear the day when i cant hold it together and go on anymore.”

(from “When you are away”)

23. What do you usually wear?

“What you see is my whole wardrobe, hahah. But i shift and change to blend in from the dirt of Orzammar’s dust town to the shining halls of Orlesian palaces. Its fun. What i like to wear mostly are well covering clothes, that allow a great scale of mobility, but not baggy to catch on things. Made of high quality materials only. My clothes MUST be of great quality materials, more for comfort than durability. Heightened overall senses arent always fun. Oh and for outer wear i like leather, especially dragonskin stuff for light armor, and long boots are the only footwear i acknowledge, some with high heels, and a matching pair of long gloves from soft fine leather are necessary too. Long coats from mostly leather and all the necessary leather straps and harnesses and pouches and belt too of course. If it counts, all my current favorite necklaces with magical pendants and bracelets are a constant wear too. It also doesnt hurt if my clothes look great. But fine materials tailored to my body and my needs usually bring that effect without further touches.”

(*his gear gotta let his smooth ass move*)

24. Do you love someone?

“I love all good people. ...and some others”

25. When was the last time you wet yourself?

"Bahahahhahaa now thats some blunt question! It deserves to be answered truthfully. I wish i could say when i was a baby, but truth is i think it happened a few times during the wilder rides of intense poison training with blood magic assistance, but im not really sure, i was barely conscious through those parts from pain and all kinds of nasty sensations, i came to my senses naked and tucked in after them. I never do extreme limit pushing training alone. There were also times when i was subject to some blood spells and experiments unwilling too. I have some suspicious blurry memories that i have made all sorts of messes. Egh. Lets move on to more fun questions”

26. Well, it’s not over yet!

“Perfect!”

27. What class are you? (High class, middle class, low class)

“I live outside of such systems. But i took part in every class during my life, thanks to current families or goals.”

28. How many friends do you have?

“Plenty, but one cant have too many. Helping each other goes a long way. I tend to make some friends everywhere i go, but i have few close friends. The closest one is my sis’. She knows me more than i know myself, and she is always there for me, at any cost.”

29. What are your thoughts on pie?

“Pie? One of the most fun cakes. It was invented for throwing i swear!”

30. Favourite drink?

“Hmmmm... old, red wine, hot and seasoned, spiced with a nice kick of that special antivan poison blend. I dont recommend you trying it, but you dont know what you’re missing out.”

31. What’s your favourite place?

“Wherever i am welcome.”

(*one favorite place example. It is not Where, it is Who*)

32. Are you interested in someone?

“I am interested in everyone. Are you fishing for some special interest?”

33. What’s your bra cup size and/or how big is your willy?

“Hahahha oh you never disappoint! Well, it was a long time ago when i last i wore a bra, back when i could still pull off the young girl appearance, to get in paces and so on. I always made sure to have a proportional but quite evident bosom. Oh it was such fun, my long hair helped too, and i dished out that act spot on! Like that time in Val Royeaux, when the heads i turned waltzing in as part of a rich antivan court were spinning all around in frantic search in the chaos, while i walked right out as a male servant. Oh sorry, i got distracted. You also asked about my “willy” if i recall correctly. If you would like to measure it so badly we can discuss that later ;) “

34. Would you rather swim in the lake or the ocean?

“Hmmm.... whichever promises more sunk treasures and secrets. Some lakes hide quite the surprises let me tell you.”

(’Looks like a perfect place for some diving..’)

35. What’s your type?

“My type of what, exactly, dear? ;)”

36. Any fetishes?

“I am very flexible in many ways, let me tell you, in case you are planning to bend me to your will. And if id have some suggestions, well, let it remain a little mystery for now ;p”

37. Seme or uke? Top or Bottom? Dominant or Submissive?

“Depends. What would you like me to be?”

38. Camping or indoors?

“Nothing beats a warm bed and a well secured resting place. Especially with my... condition, and experiences”

39. Are you wanting the interview to end?

“Are you kidding me? You have such awkward, uncomfortable questions... Let me get a new round of drinks for us and lets do this till morning!” “What do you mean new round... when did this cup of hot wine get here? It has my name on it??? What the... I better go i think.”

40. Now it’s over!

“What? Oh come on, we just got to some really “embarrassing” parts! Talking about “embarrassing”, would you like to hear the story of my encounter with this qounari dreadnought captain and ended up on board to Ostwick? Maybe you can tell me some stories yourself too in exchange..” *puppy eyes+shining grin combo* “Well, im not exactly in a hurry...” “Excellent!” *shifts closer and pours more wine*

I tag @quizzikemen @pelle-lavellan @hadiden-lavellan @sakurabunnie @elalavella @nipuni and everyone who wants to do it! For those who already did this consider this a tag for another OC! Gotta love them all :D (if you feel like doing it. I always feel like reading it)

#finally i got around to finish this post #soren lavellan #oc meme #dragon age inquisition #dual wield assassin #male lavellan #screenshots

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bexlynne · 6 years

Text

Drivin’ Me Crazy Part Two

(A/N): This is the end of this story, but I have some more I’ll probably be posting soon! Thank you to everyone who’s given me feedback on this story, you’re so sweet and you made my day yesterday. :) Let me know if you want to be tagged in future stories!

Jack glanced at his watch for the twentieth time. Forty-five minutes. I can get through forty-five minutes. That's just fifteen minutes, three times. I can do this.

"...and an order of mashed potatoes on the side," the customer finished.

Jack snapped back to the present. "Uh, sorry, could ya repeat that?" he said sheepishly.

The man looked annoyed. "Again?"

"Sorry 'bout that," Jack said, shifting his weight from one foot to the other. "I'll get it this time, I promise."

Get it togetha', Kelly. Race ain't talkin' ta ya, so what? Quit worryin' about it and do your job.

"What's with you today, Kelly?" Jacobi asked as Jack brought the order back to the kitchen.

Jack kicked at the ground. "Problems with the boys," he admitted.

"Ah." The man nodded in understanding. "Well, try not ta let it affect your work, alright?"

"Yeah, I know," Jack said, scratching the back of his neck absently. "Mr. Jacobi, you'se got kids, right? Can I ask your advice on somethin'?"

"Sure," the man said. "As long as you ask it in the next..." He leaned back from the grill, checking the clock on the wall. "...thirty seconds, before table four's order is ready."

"So yesta'day I took Race's car keys--" Jack was cut off by his phone ringing. He froze when he saw the caller ID. Race. His boys knew better than to call him at work... unless it was an emergency. "Sorry boss, gotta take this," he said, his heart already beating out of his chest. He flipped open his phone. "Race? What's goin' on?"

"Jack?" a small voice said.

"Romeo?" the seventeen-year-old said, slightly confused. "Is everythin' okay? Where's Race?" The younger boy let out sob, and Jack felt his blood run cold. "Rome, what's goin' on?" he said, forcing himself to remain calm. "Are ya okay? Talk ta me, kid."

"Race crashed the car," Romeo choked out. "Jack, I'm scared! Race yelled, he said ta get outta the car quick--"

"Are ya okay?" Jack interrupted, dreading the answer.

"I... I think so," Romeo said hesitantly.

"Where's Race, is he hurt?" Jack asked next, starting to pace back and forth.

"I don't know," Romeo sniffled. "He's helpin' Crutchie."

Crutchie. No, no, no, he's got Crutchie. As soon as I know Race ain't hurt, I'se gonna strangle him. "I'm on my way," he told his brother, trying to sound reassuring. "Where are ya?"

"The roller coaster hills," Romeo answered. "Jack--" The line went dead.

Jack cursed under his breath. "I gotta go," he called to his boss, throwing his apron at a peg on the wall. He didn't wait to see where it landed. "Family emergency!"

Jack drummed his fingers against the steering wheel anxiously, glancing at the time. What's takin' so long? Just my luck I get stuck at the longest red light in 'Hattan... The light turned to green, and he sped off without a second thought. Romeo's panicked voice kept playing over in his head. What would it take ta make that kid scared like that? Did somethin' happen ta Race? No, he said Race was helpin' Crutchie... Wait, what happened ta Crutchie? Romeo said he ain't hurt, he didn't say nothin' 'bout the otha' two. The car crashed, anythin' coulda happened. They could be dead. Please, God, don't let them be dead.

Glancing at the speedometer, Jack pressed harder on the gas. Three minutes. It's been three minutes. So much can happen in three minutes. Images flashed through his head, one after the other. One or more of his brothers hurt, their bodies mangled in some horrible accident. Hospital bills he couldn't pay. The thought of losing one of them... How am I gonna tell the otha's? That one a' their brothers is dead? Jack shook his head, a sharp pain building in his chest as his breathing sped up. He couldn't get enough air. The car swerved dangerously as he choked back a sob, and then logic took over. Pulling over to the side of the road, Jack rested his forehead against the steering wheel. Breathe, Kelly. You got this. Nothin's happened yet. Get outta your head an' quit thinkin' the worst. Your boys need ya, and they'se gonna need ya ta be calm in case one of 'em's hurt. You got this.

Taking a deep breath, he started the car. He pushed it as fast as he dared, knowing at the back of his mind that he had just lectured Race for doing the same thing. Race could be hurt. Race was in an accident, and our last conversation was a fight. It can't end like this. He's gotta be okay, he's just gotta! Crutchie, he's already been through so much. I'se listened ta that kid cry ta me 'cause he can't run an' play with the otha' boys, if somethin' happens ta him on top a' that bad leg I ain't neva' gonna forgive myself. Can't he just have a shot at a normal life? And Romeo... the kid's only twelve! He can't be hurt. There's so much he's still got ahead a' him. Kid ain't even in high school yet! All of 'em, they're just too... too young.

Jack forced himself to use caution as he rounded the next corner. Every fiber in his being screamed at him to go faster, but the last thing he wanted was to wind up in the ditch. Why'd Race hafta go an' choose this road? How am I gonna search 'round every curve for five miles? Hang in there, boys. Please, just hang in there...

Some kind of luck must have been on side, because just around the next bend he saw them. The were huddled together at the edge of the road, the two younger boys crowded in close to Race. None of them looked badly injured. Jack breathed a sigh of relief, feeling his fear start to ebb away. As he unbuckled his seat belt and threw open the door, he made brief eye contact with Race. The younger boy's eyes widened, and he looked away hurriedly. Jack immediately felt a surge of annoyance, but he pushed it back. C'mon, Kelly. Your boys need ya.

He bridged the gap between them in two seconds. As soon as he was in arm's reach of his brothers, Crutchie clung to him, burying his face in Jack's shirt. "Are ya okay?" Jack asked anxiously. His arms went around the gimp boy automatically as he turned toward Romeo. "Romeo, are ya okay?" The little boy nodded shakily. Satisfied with the answer, Jack pried himself out of Crutchie's grip. "Ya okay, Crutch?"

The blonde boy nodded, his face still pale. "I'm fine, Jack," he said.

Jack let out a breath he hadn't realized he'd been holding, hugging all three of his brothers tight. For a few moments, all he felt was a deep sense of peace. His brothers were okay. They were safe. But a nagging feeling at the back of his mind reminded him that this wasn't over yet.

"Racetrack, what the hell were you thinkin'?"

Race blanched. "Jack, I--"

Jack shook his head. "What'd I say, Race? I said not ta touch that wheel if I wasn't there!" One thing, Race, I told ya one thing! Why do ya hafta do this every-- single-- time?! "This is the worst thing ya coulda done, Race, and ya went ahead and did it!"

"Jack, I'm sorry!" Race squeaked.

"Sorry don't cut it anymore, Race!" Jack said, his voice shaking with frustration. "Crutchie and Romeo coulda died today! Didja even think of that, or were ya too busy showin' off?" Always. You'se always showin' off, and I'se the one stuck cleanin' up your mess! Ya went too far this time, Race. This time I could've lost you all. Jack took another deep breath, closing his eyes against the tears that threatened to fall. He wouldn't cry. Not in front of his boys. Someone had to be strong, someone had to be the leader, and that someone had to be him. That was just the way things were.

"Get in the car," he instructed. "All of ya, get in the car." Crutchie succeeded in prying Romeo off of his older brother, and the two of them headed obediently to Jack's pickup. Race stayed where he was, so Jack walked away, pretending to examine the car as he tried to get a hold of himself. With shaking hands, he slid his cell phone out of his pocket and dialed a number he knew by heart.

Spot answered on the first ring. "Hey there, Jackie-boy," he said, sounding out of breath. "Ya miss me or somethin'? What's with --hey! Get down! What'd I just tell ya?-- what's with the phone call?"

"Hey, Spot," Jack said, smothering a grin in spite of himself. The Brooklyn lodging house was chaos most of the time, and a phone call with Spot was always entertaining. "I need a favor."

"You'se askin' me for help?" the Brooklyn boy said, amusement evident in his voice. "What's the occasion?" There was a loud crash in the background, but Spot ignored it. "Betta' make it fast, Jackie. I'se got about five minutes 'fore someone breaks a bone or loses an eye."

"Race wrecked his car," Jack said, getting straight to the point. "Could ya tow this mess back ta the lodgin' house?"

"The car me an' him slaved over?" Spot swore under his breath. "Why can't you do it? You'se gotta truck."

Jack glanced up at his boys. "I need some time," he said. "An' some space."

"Yeah, I get it," Spot said. "I'll be there in half an hour-- kid, whaddaya want? Look, that ain't my problem. Soak 'im and take it back. Maybe more like an hour," he added to Jack.

"Sounds great," Jack said truthfully. Honestly, that was the best news he'd had all day. "I don't know what ta tell ya as far as where we are. It's the freakin' middle a' nowhere--"

"I'll swing by your place," Spot said. "Race can show me where it's at. Try not ta kill the kid, Jackie."

Jack grinned wearily. "I'll try."

"Good," Spot said, apparently satisfied with the weak promise. "Look, I'se gotta go. Tricks is about ta set fire ta somethin', I think it might be one a' his brothers."

"Uh... good luck, I guess?" Jack said. Most conversations with Spot left him confused. As he hung up and started back to his truck, he noticed Race still standing by the roadside. So it's one a' those days, he realized. Any little thing I say, he's gonna do the opposite. Just what I need. "Spot's comin' ta tow the car," he informed his brother curtly. He motioned toward the truck. "Get in. I'se gotta help Crutchie."

He gave Crutchie the boost he needed to hop into the car, storing his metal crutch down by his and Romeo's feet. Checking that the younger two were safe, he slid into the driver's seat and waited for Race. The Italian shuffled his feet, taking his own sweet time getting into the vehicle, and Jack tapped his fingers against the steering wheel in annoyance. 'Kay. Race in his his seat and buckled in, Crutchie's safe, the crutch is taken care of, Romeo's all good. Everyone's good. Everyone's safe. Let's go.

Just as he turned the key in the ignition, a police car whipped around the corner, lights flashing furiously. Please don't stop, please don't stop-- The car parked next to what was left of Race's car and Jack groaned, banging his head against the headrest. Can this get any worse?

"It ain't my fault!" Romeo said suddenly. "Race said ta call for help!"

"I didn't say ta call the bulls!" Race retorted, glaring at the younger boy.

"Ya didn't say anythin'!" Romeo protested, his voice rising in pitch. "Ya just--"

"Quiet!" Jack thundered. "Shut up, all of ya. I'll be right back. None of ya move, ya hear me?"

Race muttered a response, and Romeo folded his arms over his chest, pouting and kicking the back of the seat. He stilled at a glare from Jack and and toyed with the edge of his shirt instead, avoiding eye contact. Jack sighed, readying himself to go talk to the police officers. "Sorry," he mouthed, making eye contact with Crutchie in the rearview mirror. The crippled boy shrugged wordlessly, making Jack feel even worse. Time ta face the music, he thought bitterly, getting out of the car.

That ten-foot walk was the longest Jack had ever faced, he was sure of it. A million thoughts ran through his head on the way. If these bulls know what Race's been doin' he'll go straight ta the Refuge for good. I can't let that happen. I can spin a sob story, lie my way out, take his place, beg if I hafta. I'se just gotta keep these bastards from gettin' their hands on him. The police car was parked on the side of the road, both front windows rolled down. He had never seen the driver before, but he recognized the man in the passenger seat. Officer Bixby had showed up at the front door of the lodging house some half a dozen times, always with at least one of the boys who had been caught doing something they shouldn't. He was a good guy, always making sure he got both sides of the story, stopping to say hello to Kloppman, wishing Jack good luck with the troublemakers. Yeah, but he's still a bull, Jack thought warily. And this is a lot worse than one a' my boys stayin' out too late or skippin' school. I can't expect him ta go easy on us this time. He stuffed his hands in his pockets to hide their shaking. I know what I'se gotta do.

"Jack Kelly," Bixby greeted. "Fancy seeing you here."

Jack hitched one shoulder up in a kind of half-shrug. "Hey, Officer Bixby."

The man in the driver's seat raised an eyebrow. "You know this kid, Bixby?"

"Oh, Jack and his brothers are old friends of mine," Bixby said lightly. "How many ya got now, twenty?"

"Sixteen," Jack said, shifting uncomfortably under the other officer's gaze.

Bixby nodded to the wreck in the ditch. "One of them do that?"

"Nah." Jack rubbed the back of his neck, managing a rueful smile. "This one's on me."

The man didn't bother to hide his surprise. "You? I wouldn't know you to be so careless, Jack."

Jack dropped his gaze to his feet, kicking absently at the ground. "I took my eyes off the road for just a second, I swear, ta talk to Romeo in the back. He was kickin' my seat-- y'know how kids are."

"Kids?" the other officer snorted. "You're a kid yourself."

Jack merely shrugged, biting back the retort he wanted to throw at the man. Who's he callin' a kid?

Bixby took off his sunglasses and tossed them on the dashboard, reaching for the door handle. "Let's talk, Jack," he said, coming around the front of the car. Jack felt heat rise up in his face, and he crossed his arms over his torso, intent on studying his shoes. "Why were you driving Race's car?"

"He just got his permit, y'know," Jack said. "We was practicin' on this road for a bit, and when we decided ta head home I switched with him. He ain't that great at parkin' yet, and I didn't want him messin' up our driveway or plowin' through the house or nothin' like that. I had Race chatterin' away on one side a' me, and Romeo kickin' my seat in back, an' I slipped up."

"Uh huh," Bixby said, raising his eyebrows. "And how did your truck get here?"

"That's kinda a long story," Jack said, stalling for time.

The man in the driver's seat snorted, and Bixby shot him a glare. "Shut up, Bolger. Try me," he added to Jack.

"Well, ya see..." Jack said. "I landed Race's car in the ditch, right? Me and Race are helpin' Crutchie out, and I hand Romeo my phone and tell him to call help. I mean for him ta call Kloppman. I had no idea he called the bulls, not 'til you'se showed up. No offense," he added hastily. "We get back ta the lodgin' house, and I get my truck ta come tow Race's car home. The younga' ones were kinda shaken up, wouldn't let go a' me, so I brought 'em with. We'se had just pulled up when you guys joined us."

Bixby turned back to the car. "What do you think?" he asked his partner.

Bolger shook his head. "Kloppman, Crutchie, lodging house..." he said. "I don't know half of what this kid's saying."

Bixby rolled his eyes. "Kloppman is the boys' foster father," he said. "The lodging house is what they call their group home. And most of the boys there have nicknames they go by. But what do you think?"

"I dunno," Bolger said, scratching his chin. "I see the possibility of a ticket here, for reckless driving. And the fact that he's in foster care changes the whole situation. We really should bring Warden Snyder into this, as much as I hate the guy."

Jack felt his heart stop and the blood rush out of his face. C'mon Kelly, ya always knew that was a possibility, he reminded himself. Swallowing hard, he fought to control his expression. From the way Bixby was watching him, he didn't think he was fooling anyone.

Bixby turned his head, purposely directing the attention away from Jack. "Yeah, that guy's a bastard," he said, agreeing with his partner. "That's usually for second-time offenses though, right?"

Bolger shrugged. "For any foster kid who breaks the law, technically."

"That's cruel," Bixby complained. "If an adult got into a wreck like this they wouldn't go to jail. And anything relating to Snyder is a hell of a lot of paperwork."

"True," Bolger said, turning the information over in his head. "How 'bout this? We write the kid a ticket for reckless driving--"

"But then he'll have a record!" Bixby interrupted.

"If he didn't want a record then he shouldn't have done it!" Bolger snapped. "We write him a ticket and have him take a couple traffic courses."

Jack held his breath. He hated this --having them talk about him like he wasn't standing right there-- but he was too relieved with the direction the conversation was going to say anything. 'Sides, ain't this like any otha' day? Grown-ups pretendin' they know ya, standin' around decidin' your future like ya ain't pullin' the same workload as them.

"Alright," Bixby consented. "I'll swing by your place later, Jack, and help you fill out an accident report and sign up for the class. Off the clock, keep your shirt on," he added to his partner.

Bolger grumbled under his breath as he filled out the ticket. "You're too lenient on these kids," he muttered. "One more kid in the Refuge means one less brat in the system making our lives harder."

Jack tensed, and it took all his willpower to keep his mouth shut. "Thank ya, sir," he said, folding the ticket and slipping it in his pocket. He started back to his truck, when Bixby's voice stopped him.

"I trust you, Jack," the man said. "I know something like this won't happen again." He gestured to Jack's truck, and the three restless boys inside. "You're a good brother to these kids. Go on and take them home."

Jack nodded, his gaze flickering up to meet the other man's eyes. "Thank ya," he said again, hunching his shoulders as he walked back to the car. He tried to ignore the sick feeling in his stomach as he glanced at the ticket, mentally counting how many extra hours he'd have to work to pay it. And traffic school. How am I supposta find time for that, in between the extra hours I'se gotta work and all the homework I'se gotta catch up on? Maybe I can take it at night... He shook his head, wishing he could shake off the bad feeling as well. Come on, Kelly. It was worth it for Race. He glanced up, frowning when he saw Race lounging in the front seat, his feet propped up on the dashboard and his hat over his eyes. Oh, yeah, he thought bitterly. It was all worth it.

"Get your feet off the dash," he said brusquely, getting in and starting the car. The younger boy stared at him, his big blue eyes unreadable. Jack snatched the cap off his head and tossed it into his lap. "I ain't in the mood for this, Race. Buckle up. We don't want two accidents today." He didn't miss Race's scowl as he did so, but he chose to ignore it. The kid's in enough trouble already. If he wants ta throw a fit, I ain't gonna stop him.

"Jack," Crutchie said hesitantly, glancing back and forth between his brothers.

Jack shook his head, starting on the road towards home. "Like I said Crutchie. I ain't in the mood." Crutchie backed off at that, and they rode the rest of the way in silence. When they got to the lodging house, Jack paused to help Crutchie out of the car. "Can ya take the little guy upstairs?" he asked quietly. Crutchie nodded, shooting a glance toward Race in the front seat. "He'll be okay," Jack said, sensing his younger brother's doubt. He didn't get angry often, and he knew it was putting the gimp boy on edge. "I'se'd neva' hurt one a' you boys, ya know that, right?"

Crutchie grabbed onto Jack's arm, using his older brother to steady him as he positioned his crutch. "I know, Jack," he said. "I trust ya-- with my life and any a' theirs." He nodded to where Romeo was plastered against Race's side, his little arms around his brother's waist in a tight hug. "C'mon, Romeo," he said louder, holding out his hand.

It took some doing --and a little intervention from Jack-- to get the kid upstairs, but finally Jack was alone with his brother. "Jack, I can explain," Race said quickly once they were inside.

"You'd better explain!" Jack snapped. He had been angry before, but the run-in with the cops had sapped the strength out of him and left him touchy and irritable. He was terrified --of losing Race for good, of being taken to the Refuge himself-- and he hated that his boys had seen him like that. A leada' ain't supposta let anyone know he's scared. A leada' ain't supposta be scared! Spot was right, bein' in charge is exhaustin' as hell. "Race, what were ya thinkin'?" he asked, an edge of frustration creeping into his voice. "Why did ya think this was a good idea?"

"I don't know," Race muttered, not making eye contact.

Jack threw his hands up. "Ya don't know. Ya don't know." He fished in his pocket for Race's keys, waving them to make a point. "I'll tell ya what I do know, ya ain't gettin' these back any time soon!"

Race shook his head, still not meting Jack's gaze. "Jack, I..."

"No, Race!" Jack said, stronger than he meant to. "It's my turn ta talk now, and it's your turn to listen." His mind gave him no reprieve, reminding him instead of all the times he'd almost lost Race due to some stupid scheme. A half-baked plan to sneak into a bar or get the girl's attention or get a free lunch. Something that would undoubtedly land Race in the Refuge and lost to Jack forever. That stops now. He may not a' listened ta me before, but God help me he'll listen now. "For once in your life, Race, just listen ta what I hafta say!"

"I listen!" Race protested, and Jack shook his head. Does this kid hear himself?

"No, ya don't listen." he corrected. "If you'se'd listened ta me yesta'day we wouldn't be in this mess now!" Why, Race? Why do ya gotta push everythin' I say? I'se tryin' ta help, ya ain't ya figured that out by now? "I'm startin' ta think ya actually like causin' trouble."

"Just stop, Jack!" Race ordered. "Ya ain't my pa. Ya ain't in charge a' me! We ain't even real brothers!" Jack recoiled, fighting hard to make sure Race didn't see how much that hurt. "Ya don't get ta tell me what ta do, an' take my car, an' make me do whateva' ya want!" the Italian went on, growing more and more agitated with every word.

"Racetrack!" Jack said, his voice rising. Not real brotha's. He ain't serious. He can't be. "Who the hell took care a' ya all these years? Who convinced ya ta run away, leave your deadbeat dad behind?" His voice shook with anger and emotion, and he fought to keep it steady. "Who let ya in when you was knockin' on my winda at three in the mornin'? Who is it that does nothin' but protect ya, day an' night, from all the trouble your stupid self gets into--"

Race shoved him hard, startling Jack out of his rant. "I ain't stupid!"

His voice cracked, but Jack ignored it. He grabbed his brother's wrists, fully intending on pinning the kid to the wall until he stopped fighting. They'd done this a thousand times, both familiar enough with each other that no one ever got hurt. So when Race let out a cry of pain and wrenched himself away out of his brother's grasp, stumbling backwards and landing on the floor, Jack knew something was wrong. "Racer?" he asked, his face white and scared.

"I take it back!" Race yelped, sliding backwards out of Jack's reach. He shook his head, tears running down his pale face. "I shouldn't a' said ya ain't my brother! Let me up, I'm sorry!"

"Race, I ain't touchin' ya!" he protested. The boys upstairs have gotta think I'se murderin' him. I'se known Race ta act up ta get outta trouble, but he ain't neva' done this.

"Stop, please!" Race pleaded. "I'll be good, I promise!" His choice of words and wide, frantic eyes struck a chord, an Jack's eyes darkened as the realization hit. How many times had he heard the same thing, years ago through the thin apartment walls?

Stop, please! Daddy, what'd I do? Stop, I'll be good, I promise!

"Racer," Jack begged, hoping the nickname would snap his brother out of it. "What hurts, kid?" He dropped to his knees beside his brother, giving him a quick onceover. He noticed the younger boy's wrist, pressed tight against his heaving chest, and reached for it. "Can I see?" he asked.

Race didn't react, not until Jack's fingers brushed against his arm. "Get offa me!" he yelled, shying away from the touch. "Jack, help!"

Jack pulled away, tears in his eyes. Snap outta it, Race, he begged internally. He had heard those words too many times. Heard them years ago from the tiny kid knocking on his window or sleeping in his bed, and days ago from the room down the hall. Jack, help! Jack, he's comin' ta get me! I don't know what ta do Jack, help me please! "Racer, look up," he pleaded. he gently lifted his baby brother's chin and barely caught a glimpse of his teary blue eyes before the younger boy pulled away.

"Don't touch me!"

Jack's hands flew up in a gesture of peace. "I ain't touchin' ya," he said, trying to make his voice calm. "Look inta my eyes, kid." He stayed where he was, barely breathing, as Race's sobs slowed and the wild look faded from his eyes. "It's okay, kid." he breathed, pulling his brother into a tight hug. "I've gotcha." Race held tight to Jack's shirt, letting the fabric soak up the last of his tears. Jack seized his chance to rub his own eyes, clearing away the tears he hadn't let fall. "C'mon, kid," he said softly, lifting Race up off the floor. He brought his baby brother into the kitchen, setting him down on a chair as he searched for something to use to wrap his wrist.

"This might hurt," he warned, coming back with a first aid kit. Race nodded, biting his lip and saying nothing, as Jack ran his fingers down his forearm, probing for breaks with his steady artist's hands. Jack didn't miss his wince as he grazed over his wrist. "It ain't broken," he noted with relief. A break meant a trip to the hospital, and a hospital meant forms had to be signed, questions would be asked, and he wouldn't have the answers. "Just sprained, I think. I'll wrap it up tight ta be safe."

He stayed quiet as he tied the bandage around the gambler's wrist, allowing him a chance to talk if he wanted it. When the silence stretched from seconds into minutes, he couldn't take it anymore. "Racer, what's really goin' on?"

Race stared at the floor. "I... I don't know," he said. "Ya looked like my pa, Jack. Ya didn't look like you." His pa? I ain't nothin' like his pa... am I? What'd I say, what was it that made him see me like that? Shaking his head, Jack made a vow to find whatever it was and put an end to it fast. "I freaked out, didn't I?" Race muttered, ducking his head.

"Kinda," Jack said absently. His mid was still preoccupied with Race's father. "Racer, I'm so sorry." He held out his arms, half-fearing Race would flinch or pull away again. A surge of relief filled him when the Italian threw his arms around him and held him tight. He pressed a kiss to the top of Race's head, managing a shaky smile. "I love you boys, y'know that, right Race?"

"Yeah, I know," Race said, separating himself just enough to send Jack a grin. "I'se pretty great, ain't I?"

"Yeah, I'd say so," Jack laughed. Thank God, he's back. His phone buzzed in his pocket, and seconds later he heard loud pounding on the front door. Right on cue. "There's Spot," he said, letting go of Race completely.

Race stood up and stretched. "I'll let him in," he said. "L... love ya, Jack," he added shyly. "See ya in 'bout half an hour?"

Jack paused in wiping down the table, a smile spreading across his face. Love ya too, kid. He let out a deep breath, feeling some of the tension leave him. "Let Spot drive!" he called after Race. "We'll finish our talk when ya gets home. No yellin', just talkin'."

A beat of silence followed, and then he heard Race yell back. "I can't hear ya, Jack!"

The Manhattan leader shook his head with a grin, sliding his phone out of his pocket.

One new message from: SPOT

SPOT: knocking on ur door in 2 seconds. good job on not killing race. text me wen its safe 2 bring him home.

Rolling his eyes, Jack tapped out a reply.

Cowboy: im not gonna kill my brother

SPOT: good 4 u. ive thought of killing mine a few times

Cowboy: dont text and drive

SPOT: killjoy

Jack stood up and stretched, trying to get rid of some of the tension. It was times like this when he wished he had someone to talk to, to confide in. Yeah right. I'se'd neva' do that ta my boys, an' Kloppman's got better things ta do than listen ta some foster kid complain about his problems. You'se the oldest, and you'se the leada'. There are some things ya just don't get ta do, Kelly. Jack hooked a chair with his foot and dragged it towards him. With a sigh, he settled into it and rested his elbows on his knees, clasping his hands behind his head and wondering what to do. Well, there is one place ya can go...

"Crutchie?" he called, getting up and taking the stairs two at a time. When he didn't get an immediate answer, he started searching bedrooms. He found the gimp boy on the third try, in the room Albert, Specs, and Elmer shared. Crutchie was sitting on one of the beds with his back against the wall while Albert helped Romeo with homework. All three boys looked up when the door opened.

"Everythin' okay?" Crutchie asked carefully.

"Yeah, everythin's good," Jack said, stuffing his hands in his pockets. "Crutchie, can ya hold down the fort for a little bit? I'se thinkin' of takin' a walk."

"Sure," Crutchie said, still looking a little worried.

Jack managed a half-grin. "Thanks, Crutch." On his way out the door her ruffled Romeo's hair and flicked Albert's cap off his head. "Love ya, boys."

"Love ya, Jack!" they chorused.

Jack hunched his shoulders as he headed down the stairs and out the door. He paused for a second in the driveway, fingering the keys to his truck in his pocket. The very thought made him feel a little sick. With a shrug, he started off down the road. His mind was distracted, but his feet knew the way. Besides, he was pretty sure that he could find the theatre from anywhere in Manhattan.

His mind kept playing over the moment he got the call, the moment he found out his brothers might be in danger. Scared don't cut it. I was terrified. It felt like I was on my own again, worryin' about some skinny blue-eyed kid who can't get himself outta his own mess. Yeah, that ain't a time I wanna live through again. He couldn't stop himself from remembering, though. Remembering that night years ago, a night that changed his life forever.

The new place was okay. Not good, not bad. Just okay. The couple who had taken him in were new to the foster care system. They were out of their depth. They didn't know how to talk to a kid, let alone raise one, but Jack wasn't about to protest. Not when they had given him a room and a bed. Given time, he could come to like this place. Not that he thought he'd be here long.

There was a boy next door, about his age. The kid was smaller than him, maybe a little younger, with tangled blonde curls and the biggest, bluest eyes Jack had ever seen. He had seen him once or twice, in the hallway or on the way to school. But he heard more than he saw. Through the thin apartment walls, sound carried. Sounds that shouldn't be familiar to a nine year old kid, but they were. Raised voices, breaking glass. A man's rough voice, slurring his words and spewing insults. A smaller voice crying out, the slam of a door, a child's sobs. Jack just clenched his jaw, turning over in bed and using his pillow to block out the sounds.

But one night was different. One night, the man didn't stop. He yelled his words and profanities, he drank his whiskey, but when the kid ran away he followed. Jack could hear them, right on the other side of the wall, like the wall wasn't even there. "You're worthless. Like your mother. Godforsaken woman wasn't good for anythin'. And when she died all she left was you."

The child choked out a sob. "That ain't my fault, Dad!" he yelled back, with shocking bravery in spite of his tears. "None a' this is my fault! Quit blamin' me just 'cause your life sucks!"

Jack winced, silently begging the kid to stop. Sure kid, it feels good ta tell him off. But it ain't worth it, ya know it ain't!

"Don't talk back ta me, boy," the man growled. "Are ya stupid, or what? Ya know what backtalk'll getcha."

Jack clamped his hands over his ears, not wanting to hear the blows fall. Finally, after what felt like an eternity, he cautiously let his hands drop. Silence. No man yelling, no sobs. Tap tap tap. Just a quiet tapping at his window.

There were a thousand things he could have done. He could have ignored it, gone back to sleep. That was what his foster parents always did. He could have told himself it was just the wind, or told the kid to go away. But none of those even occurred to him as he swung his legs over the edge of the bed, padding quietly over to the window in his pajamas and bare feet.

"Lovely night for a walk, ain't it?" he said, examining the stars. The kid blinked in surprise, balanced precariously on the fire escape. "Kinda chilly, though," Jack continued, rubbing his arms. The blonde-haired boy looked down at himself, as if suddenly realizing he was only wearing a thin T-shirt and sweatpants. "Ya should prob'ly get inside, 'fore ya get pneumonia or somethin'," Jack finished off, holding out his hand to the kid. The new boy took it without a second thought.

That was the first of many nights. They became fast friends after that, Jack and Anthony. Except he never called him that. "I hate that name," the Italian complained. "Me mudda always called me Race. I like that better."

It was refreshing-- finally having a friend who understood. They didn't talk about Race's dad. They didn't talk about Jack's parents. They just had fun. They walked to school together, even though they didn't go to the same one. They did their homework in Jack's room, helping each other out with the hard parts. They ate dinner at Jack's place, ignoring the raised eyebrows and questioning looks the grownups exchanged over their heads. Some nights Race went home, but most of the time he stayed. He always fell asleep first, curled up against Jack's side as the older boy carded his fingers through his unruly curls. Jack liked it when that happened. It meant his friend felt safe. Safe was hard to come by these days.

Safe didn't mean perfect. Jack could hear his foster parents talking late at night behind closed doors. They didn't sign up for this, he knew. They signed up for one child, and they only received money for one child. There were still days when Race showed up with bruises, a black eye he can't explain. He always laughed it off and made excuses, but Jack never believed him. "I walked into a pole" only worked so many times.

But safe couldn't last forever. They were sitting around the table eating dinner when the bomb was dropped. Jack's foster father had been laid off from his job. They would be moving into a smaller apartment within a week. And they wouldn't be taking Jack with them.

Jack's eyes hardened, and he pushed his chair back from the table. His finger curled around Race's wrist, taking him with him as he stormed out of the room. Race sat on the bed, silent and unmoving, as Jack stomped around his room and threw clothes into his backpack. He muttered to himself angrily, and Race respectfully kept his distance, until suddenly Jack sat bolt upright, his eyes sparkling.

"Why don't ya come with me?" he said, dumping his school books on the floor to make room. "You an' me, the families we was born into ain't much. But we can be our own family. We could be brothers!" Race hesitated, but Jack plowed on, excited by his own idea. "Ya can't come official-like, 'cause then there'd be paperwork an' we'se'd end up halfway across New Yawk from each otha'. But if you run away and happen ta end up at the same place I do..."

"No one could stop us!" Race finished eagerly, a spark of hope catching in his chest. "Jack, let's do it!"

The older boy grinned, throwing an arm around Race's shoulders. "You an' me, kid," he said. "Things are lookin' up."

Things were looking up, for a while. But junior high was hard. There were more classes, more homework, and less time with Race. Honestly, that was the hardest part. For three years now, Jack and Race had shared everything. The same room, the same clothes, the same school. But Jack was twelve now, and in seventh grade. He got out half an hour after Race did, which meant he walked home alone, to where Race and their foster father were waiting.

Well, that wasn't entirely true. He was Jack's foster father. Race was still a ghost in the system. Anytime Jack was moved, he mysteriously disappeared, too. The Italian kid was street-smart. Given a few days, they'd find each other again.

Things were okay here. The two of them lived with a man, a man who didn't nitpick them for the things they did and didn't care that Race was an extra mouth to feed. Jack was too stressed out by his new school schedule to notice anything bad. In fact, if he didn't know his brother as well as he did, there was a chance he might have missed everything, even the signs that were practically screaming in his face.

Like the way Race buttoned his coat up to his chin and tugged his sleeves down to meet his wrists, carefully avoiding Jack's gaze. He stared at his shoes when their foster father talked, wrapping his arms around his body and examining the toes of Jack's hand-me-down sneakers that were a size too big. He was usually asleep already when Jack finally turned off the light and got into bed himself, so he never had a chance to ask him about it.

One day after dinner, Jack and Race were washing dishes. That was something their foster father insisted on. "I put food on the table and a roof over your heads," he said. "The least you two can do is help out now and then." Jack tried his best to make a game out of it, trying to coax a smile from his little brother. Race had been so withdrawn lately, the sparkle gone from his blue eyes and dark circles below.

Maybe he was just tired. Maybe he needed more sleep. Maybe that was why he didn't notice the plate Jack handed him to put away, watching as it fell through his fingers in slow motion, shattering into a thousand tiny pieces on the floor. The color rushed out of the Italian boy's face, leaving him pale and shaky as he backed against the wall. Jack frowned, trying to place where he'd seen that face before.

Their foster father stood up, his features distorted in anger, and Jack remembered. On the fire escape, outside his window. He'd seen that same terrified face then, begging for someone to notice him and help. "It- it's just a plate," he said, putting himself between his brother and the angry man before them. "Ain't a big deal. I'll... I'll find a way ta pay for it, I promise." He swallowed hard, feeling Race trembling behind him.

The man still scowled, but he just kicked at the shards on the floor. "Clean this mess up," he said gruffly. "And don't let it happen again."

The two boys worked in silence after that, Jack sweeping up the glass shards while Race finished the dishes in record time. As soon as they were done, Jack grabbed Race's wrist and dragged him into their room. "Show me," he ordered.

Race flopped down on the bed, snugging his arms around himself. "I... I don't know what you'se talkin' about."

"Race, don't lie ta me," Jack warned. "I know he's been hittin' ya. Show me."

Race's chin nearly touched his chest. Finally, he stood up and hiked his shirt over his head. Dark, hand-shaped bruises marked his arms, and a few purple marks stood out on his chest and back. "There, ya happy?" he asked bitterly.

Jack's eyes were fixed on his brother's skin. Gently, he laid his hand on a handprint a good three inches bigger than his, a lump forming in his throat. "Racer, why didn't ya tell me?"

Race averted his eyes, his own hand on top of Jack's on his upper arm. "Betta' me than you," he said in a low voice. "I can handle it, I'se had worse. Nothin' ya coulda done," he added, quieter.

"Just 'cause you'se had worse don't mean it's okay!" Jack burst out. "You'se ten years old, Race! This shouldn't be normal, I won't let it be normal. 'Cause there's still one thing I can do." Race glanced up as Jack withdrew his hand, crossing over to the closet and yanking clothes off of hangers. He dumped his backpack out on the floor, his stack of clothes beside it. "Put your shirt back on," he instructed. "And get your stuff togetha'. We'se leavin', tonight."

"Jack, we can't do that," Race protested, pulling his hoodie back over his head with a slight shiver. Sure this place was bad. But he'd had worse. He could take it, why didn't Jack get that? "We got nothin', no food, no money, not a nickel to our names."

"Yeah." Jack paused in his packing to sit back on his heels, staring intently at his brother. "But he hurt ya, Race. I ain't lettin' no one hurt my baby brother, not again." Race flushed, staring down at his feet as he scuffed his toe against the carpet. "Hey, is that a smile?" Jack asked with a grin.

Race smothered it immediately. "No."

Jack's grin widened. "I think it was," he said, bounding across the room.

"Jack-" Race broke off abruptly as Jack tickled his sides, falling back on the bed to shield himself from the attack. "Jack, stop!" he yelped, laughing too hard to get the words out. "Jack, you win! I smiled! J- Jack!"

"Hey!" a voice yelled from the living room, making both boys sit up. "Quiet down in there."

Race's smile faded as he pushed himself up off the bed and started to gather his things. "Hey," Jack said, earning the blonde-haired boy's attention. "We got this. 'Sides, we don't need nothin'. We'se got each otha'."

Race actually did smile at that, allowing his brother to pull him into a hug and ruffle his curls, feeling a quick kiss pressed to his temple. "Yeah," he said. "We'se got each otha'."

They had each other, yes. But Race's first year of junior high was also Jack's first year of high school, and then they were apart again. And adjusting to high school was hard enough without all the trouble Race called. Jack had put his own cell number down as Race's emergency contact-- Race still wasn't registered in the foster care system, and the last thing Jack wanted was for some nosy teacher to find out and call child services. It seemed like it was every day he got a call saying Race had gotten detention, or cheated on a test, or started a fight with some kids twice his size.

He wasn't any better at home, either. He snapped at Jack and their foster parents, and the smallest thing set him off. This family was nice. They treated both boys well, they accepted Race's presence from the start. They even took both boys back-to-school shopping, providing them with more clothes than they'd ever owned at one time in their lives. They didn't deserve to be shouted at by a moody twelve-year-old, or to have doors slammed in their faces when they tried to talk to him.

Jack assured them he'd take care of it. "I'll talk to him. He'll listen ta me, I know he will." Weak promises, he knew. Race would stay quiet and sullen for a few days after Jack had scolded him, but it never lasted long. "Race, you'se gotta stop this!" Jack pleaded with his brother. "Whateva's buggin' ya, kid, you'se gotta tell me! I can't help me if ya won't talk ta me, Racer!"

"I'm fine, Jack!" Race would insist. "Ya wouldn't get it, anyways!"

Jack was on edge at every moment. These people were nice, sure, but even nice people had their limits. He just knew that one day at breakfast they'd break the bad news, saying they couldn't take care of the boys anymore. They wouldn't give the real reason- no, of course not. They'd make something up.

"It just costs too much. You know how prices are rising these days."

"We just don't have the room. This house really is too small for four people."

"We're pregnant. We'll have kids of our own now, we don't need to pretend anymore."

Jack could only hope that was what would happen. Being sent away was far better than the alternative. Every time Race mouthed off, or brought home another detention slip that had to be signed, Jack was afraid it would happen. One day their foster father would snap, and he'd beat Race up good for all the trouble he'd caused.

The teachers had already labeled Race a delinquent. The kid seemed to be doing everything he could to get out of going to school. He faked sick, claiming that the thought of going made him nauseous. He seemed to close himself off once he walked through the doors, sitting by himself and barely saying a word to anyone. More than once at night, Jack glanced over at his brother's sleeping form and saw tear stains on his cheeks.

As the year went on, the teachers began to worry. Race rarely turned in his homework --even though Jack made sure he did it-- and hadn't passed a test all year. His label changed from "delinquent" to "troubled child." They asked if everything was okay at home, and they wanted to schedule a meeting with his parents, but Jack knew he couldn't let that happen. As soon as it got out that Race was not only a delinquent, but a foster kid? He'd be off to the Refuge before Jack could do anything to stop it. At the Refuge they'd check for a record, and he wouldn't have one. So on top of having to endure the horrors there, Race would either be returned to his father or placed in another foster home by the state-- one far away from Jack. At all costs, Jack couldn't let that happen. He couldn't let his brother go to that place.

But some things even Jack couldn't control. The day Race started the fire was the day it all went to hell. He was hanging out behind the gym, messing around with a box of cigars. He knew Jack wouldn't be happy if he found out-- he had gotten detention twice already for smoking on school grounds, the threat of suspension hanging over his head, and Jack had properly threatened him on what would happen if he was caught with a cigar again. So when Race heard someone coming, he hastily dropped the cigar on the ground, stamping at it a few times before ducking inside through a back door.

Fifteen minutes later the fire alarm went off. The dry grass behind the gym was up in flames, but luckily the fire department got there before it could spread to the building. The school let the kids go early- most of them were hysterical, anyways. As soon as Jack heard the news, as soon as he got the text from the school saying that all the kids were safe, he knew Race had to be involved somehow. He left early that day, skipping his last few classes, and managed to get the truth out of his brother.

There were so many things he could have done. He was happy here. These people were good people, and this seemed like the perfect place to age out of the system. Only four more years until he was eighteen-- why shouldn't he spend them here? In a place where he had food and clothes and a bed, caring foster parents who didn't nag or yell or hit, and a school that he could go to for all four years of high school. But as he looked at his brother, the messy-haired, blue-eyed kid standing in front of him and crying out of shame and fear, the truth hit him. Race was miserable here. All the stress of the lives they led --changing schools every year or two, the pressure of starting junior high, the loneliness of not having any friends, having to rely on a boy only two years his elder to keep him safe from everything the world had in store-- had finally caught up to him. He was upset, he was suffering from anxiety, he was confused and he was scared. And Jack knew what he had to do.

He stole answers to the final from a teacher's desk. He got himself expelled, labeled a troublemaker. And before he knew it, he and Race were off to a group home- the Manhattan Home for Troubled Youths, nicknamed the lodging house by the boys who lived there. It was embarrassing. It was new and it was scary. But Race thrived there, surrounded by kids his own age who loved his jokes and his stories and all his quirks. So Jack pasted on a smile and easily slipped into his role of big brother to all. He got a job, he helped old Mr. Kloppman pay the bills, he ignored the mistrustful looks he got when people found out he lived in a group home. First and foremost, he was a big brother. And he'd take any challenge that came with the job, no matter how big. He helped the younger boys tie their shoes, he gave Crutchie piggyback rides down the stairs, he lied through his teeth to the bulls to keep them out of trouble. As long as his brothers were happy, he would be, too. He'd find a way.

By the time Jack made it to the theatre, tears were running down his face-= tears he didn't bother to wipe away. His boys weren't around. He was under no obligation to be Jack Kelly, fearless leader. Medda was one of the few people he knew who didn't look to him for guidance-- it was often the other way around. Her theatre also doubled as an artist's studio, a place to talk, a hidden getaway... whatever he needed, this building was it. No matter how often he moved around, the theatre had always been home.

Jack slipped in through the back entrance. The building was empty, as he knew it would be. He knew the show and rehearsal schedules by heart, there was only one person who would be around this time of day. He heard singing from somewhere in the theatre and he suppressed a smile. Medda was singing to herself again. She always claimed that it helped her think. "Miss Medda?" he called, his voice wavering slightly.

The singing broke off abruptly, and Medda Larkin appeared in the doorway. "Jack Kelly, man of mystery!" she cried out, just like she always did. Her smile faded into a look of concern when she saw his face. "What's wrong, honey?" she asked.

Jack opened his mouth to answer, but his mind filled with images of Race --his baby brother, knocking at his window and hiding bruises and begging him with those big blue eyes to get him out of trouble just one more time-- and he just shook his head, closing his eyes against the tears that threatened to fall.

"Oh, Jack," Medda said, pulling him into a hug.

"I don't know what ta do, Medda!" he said in frustration, holding onto her as tight as he dared.. "I'se tryin'... I'se tryin' ta keep my boys togetha', unda' one roof, and Race seems so set on gettin' takin' away! I can't keep doin' this, Medda! I can't lose 'im!"

"I know, honey," the vaudeville singer said, gently extracting herself from Jack's hug. "Follow me, hon. And get ready to tell me all about it." Her pink skirt trailed behind her as she swept into the main room of the theatre, pausing in front of the stage and glancing back at Jack. "Don't just stand there," she said. "This dress is long and I ain't as young as I used to be. Gimme a hand!"

Jack hopped up onto the stage, holding out his hand with a trace of a smile. "You know where the paintbrushes are," Medda said, smoothing out her skirt and finding a seat. "You can paint while you talk, and I'll just listen."

So Jack poured out the whole story, the words spilling out of him as his brush moved with a mind of its own, painting what it always did-- a place with clay buildings as rusty red as Albert's hair, blue skies that matched Race's eyes, and wheaten fields like Crutchie's messy blonde hair. Santa Fe. For a place that was supposed to be his escape, an awful lot of it reminded him of his brothers.

And Medda sat through it all, watching him work and listening intently. She was a good at that-- letting him talk like he was a person with a problem, not some kid who didn't know what he was doing. She let him pour out all his doubts and worries and fears, everything from losing Race to struggling trust him to wondering how he'd pay for the ticket and still stay in school. He finally stepped back, his chest heaving and the story finished, Santa Fe stretched out before him. It almost looked like he could step right through... like he could pass through the canvas and wake up in his dream world.

"First things first," Medda spoke up, breaking the trance. Jack flinched, looking up from his painting and whirling around to face her. "You don't need to worry about that ticket, honey," the vaudeville singer told him. "You did a brave thing, taking the fall for your brother, and in a way I think you did right. But he needs to learn from his own actions. A few chores will settle him down a little, and there's no shortage of jobs around this place. He can work for me and pay off that ticket. And as for traffic school, you just painted me a beautiful backdrop to use in my next show. And I believe that all artists should be paid for their work." She said the words firmly, her dark eyes sparking with excitement.

"I ain't gonna take your money," Jack protested, but Medda held up a hand.

"Now hold up a minute," she said. "I ain't done talkin'. Don't you worry none 'bout Race's little episode today, okay hon? Raised voices remind him of his daddy just like cheap perfume reminds you of your mamma. Your boys mean the world to you and you'd never hurt them intentionally. And at the end of the day, Race knows that. He knows that better than anyone." She rummaged through her purse for a minute or two, coming up with a wad of dollar bills that she held out to Jack expectantly.

As soon as he gave in, Jack felt a weight slip off his shoulders. "You're a saint, Miss Medda," he said, slipping the cash into his pocket. "I don't know what I'd do without ya."

Medda touched Jack's cheek, wiping away the last of his tears with her thumb. "Sweetie, you'd do just fine," she said with a smile. "Now, you'd better get on back to the lodging house. Don't want your boys to worry."

"Yes, ma'am," Jack said, grinning slightly. He turned to go, and was halfway out the door when he heard Medda calling after him.

"Have Race come by on Saturday," she said. "I'll have a few odd jobs ready for him by then."

"Will do, Miss Medda!" Jack called back, starting his long walk home.

When he got back, he had a text waiting from Spot.

SPOT: ready or not, here we come. i need 2 get back 2 brooklyn, hot shot says the boys locked riddle in the attic.

Jack stared at his phone for a few seconds, wondering how anybody who went through Brooklyn ever made it out alive.

Cowboy: good luck with that. and go ahead and bring him back, everythings good here.

SPOT: just a warning, hes in a weird mood.

Jack didn't have long to wonder what that meant. He barely had time to check on the boys upstairs and get started on his homework before he heard the front door bang open.

"Jack?" Race yelled. Then, barely a second later, "Jack!"

Jack pushed up from the table, crossing into the living room to see what was wrong. "Geez, Racer, I'm here," he said. "What's all the yellin' about?" Race didn't answer with words. He threw himself at his brother, tackling him in a hug as his arms tightened around him in for dear life. Jack wrapped his arms around the younger boy automatically, his concern growing into a panic. "Hey, it's okay!" He squeezed his brother tighter, reassuringly, but Race didn't loosen his grip. "It's okay," Jack said again, softer. "Race, what's wrong?" Talk ta me, buddy. You'se gotta talk ta me.

"I don't wanna go ta the Refuge, Jack!" Race cried, his voice muffled by Jack's shirt.

The Refuge? No. He ain't supposta worry 'bout that, that's my job. "Kid, who told ya that?" he demanded, trying to get a good look at Race's face. His brother didn't budge, and in that he found his answer. "Conlon," he muttered. 'Weird mood,' he says. With the threat a' that place hangin' ova' his head, 'course he's in a weird mood. "I swear, if he's still here..." he threatened, glancing to the door, but Race shook his head. Jack sighed. "Racer..." he said, managing to pry himself loose. "Look at me, kid." Race barely glanced up, and Jack lifted his chin so he could look him in the eye. "I ain't lettin' ya go ta that place, kid," he said firmly. "Ya don't gotta worry 'bout that."

Race jerked backwards out of Jack's reach. "I'm such an idiot, Jack!" he said, tears running freely down his face. "This whole time I thought ya were just bein' a jerk, but ya was tryin' ta keep me outta the Refuge!" He shook his head, wrapping his arms around his torso and falling back another step.

He looked so small and lost, and Jack felt his heart twinge. "Kid," he said firmly. Race didn't look up, until Jack caught him by the shoulders and gave him a light shake. "Look at me, Race," he pleaded, gaining his brother's attention. He waited a second, making sure the Italian's eyes were fixed on him before continuing. "If bein' a jerk is what it takes ta keep one a' my boys from bein' dragged off ta that livin' hell..."

No way in hell am I gonna let any a' my brotha's go through that nightmare. They don't deserve that, no matter what stupid stunts they pull.

Jack cursed under his breath. Race's face right now was the exact reason he hadn't wanted him to know the risks. "I'm gonna kill Spot," he muttered, letting go of his brother and pacing back and forth. "The whole point was that ya weren't supposta find out. If he don't have the brains in his head ta figure that out..."

"No," Race said, surprising him. "I'se glad he told me." The gambler gave a watery smile, the kind he gave when he knew he was in trouble. "Now I can apologize for bein' stupid all week. I drove because ya told me I couldn't, Jack."

"I know," Jack said mildly, suppressing a grin as he moved into the kitchen. Am I supposta be surprised...? C'mon Race, ya know I'se smarter than that. "You'se an idiot sometimes, Race."

"And I took Crutchie with me so ya wouldn't get mad," Race continued, following him as he searched through drawers. "I thought that if I got caught I could say I was just givin' him a ride."

Jack raised an eyebrow. "Ya really thought Crutchie bein' there'd help your case," he stated, finally finding a clean washcloth. He shook his head, running it under cold water. "What goes on in that head a' yours, kid?"

Silence. "I don't know," Race said in a small voice. "Ya still mad?"

Jack beckoned his brother over to him. "Nah, not mad," he said truthfully. His talk with Medda and his little trip down memory lane had cleared his mind of anger, but that didn't change the facts. Race stole the keys, disobeyed him, and betrayed his trust, not to mention he put Crutchie and Romeo in danger. He could still feel the cold fear in his bones, and he had to grip the edge of the counter to steady himself. "Still disappointed, though."

Race's gaze flickered downward with a soft "oh," but Jack didn't take it back.

"Close your eyes," he said instead. Race's blue eyes snapped closed, and Jack gently scrubbed away any trace of tears from his little brother's face, pausing to place a kiss on his forehead.

Race pulled backwards again, pain etched across his face. "Jack, stop!" he begged. "I hate it when you'se mad at me, but this is worse. You'se all... disappointed at me... and you'se still helpin' me and stoppin' 'em from takin' me ta that place!"

"Racer!" Jack said, hoping the familiar nickname would make his brother understand. "Ya lied ta me, broke my trust, and put our brothers in danger. Ya screwed up, kid." The blonde-haired Italian flushed red and looked away, but Jack brought him back to reality. "Race, do ya really think anythin' ya do is gonna make a difference ta me? We'se brothers. Brothers look out for each other, no matter what."

The boy's blue eyes widened, and Jack leaned back against the counter. He gets it. He unda'stands. "I'm tired, Race," admitted. "Ya think I don't want ya ta be able ta drive? It would be so much easier if ya could. If it wasn't just me drivin' the boys around? But doin' stupid stuff is just gonna make it longa' 'fore ya can get your license. I know that when we'se was younga' we'se'd fight all the time, an' we really didn't mean it, but I just can't do it anymore. I'se got school, and work, and twenty-somethin' boys ta look out for, and half a dozen classes I'se afraid of failin'." He sighed wearily, feeling another headache coming on. "I thought it'd be quicker ta skip the whole fight and just take the keys right from the start."

"But it wasn't," Race said quietly, realizing. "Jack, I'm sorry I started a big thing. I just..." He hesitated, and Jack looked up. "I wanna be like you, an' drive the boys cool places, an' have Romeo tell me how great of a big brother I am," Race admitted earnestly. "Stuff that you gets ta do every day!"

"Racer, you'se their big brother, too!" Jack said incredulously. "What's more, you'se the fun one. I'se gotta make all the rules, be on ev'ryone's case all the time. You just get ta be... Race. And they love ya for it."

Race merely shrugged, not meeting Jack's gaze. "Hey," Jack said firmly, tipping Race's chin up with one finger. He knew that look. He wasn't about to let Race convince himself he wasn't wanted, wasn't needed.

"Get outta your head, Race, and stay with me," he instructed. Then he gave a lopsided grin. "Let's just stick with you bein' you an' me bein' me. 'Cause kid, it's you who Romeo looks up to. That kid looks at you like ya hung the moon, Racer. Ya should be proud a' that."

Race grinned slightly at the mention of Romeo. "Yeah," he said modestly. "Kid sees somethin' in me, who knows what. Speakin' a' Romeo... I should prob'ly go check on him," he added sheepishly. "I, uh, kinda scared him earlier."

"Yeah, prob'ly a good idea," Jack agreed, pulling the gambler into a headlock and ruffling his hair playfully. "He was upstairs with the boys last I saw 'im."

Race laughed, pushing against Jack's chest to free himself. He was halfway to the stairs when he hesitated, his back to Jack. Whirling around, he crossed the room at a run and threw his arms around the older boy, catching him by surprise. "Love ya, Jack," he said in a voice barely above a whisper.

A smile burst across Jack's face as he wrapped his arms around his brother. "Love ya too, kid," he said, dropping a kiss to the Italian's messy blonde curls. The familiar sharp scent of tobacco smoke hit him and he frowned, grabbing a fistful of Race's shirt and bringing it to his nose. Dang it, Race. "Have ya been smokin'?" he asked, already knowing the answer.

"Gotta go, Jack!" Race yelled, breaking away and dashing up the stairs. "I'll check in on Crutchie too, while I'm up here!" he called down.

"Hold it!" Jack ordered. "Back it up an' bring it here, Racetrack." He folded his arms over his chest, waiting for Race to obey. "Gimme the cigars," he said sternly once the younger boy stood in front of him.

"It ain't fair, Jack," Race protested as he fished the box of Coronas out of his pocket.

"It is too fair," Jack said, taking them off his hands. Can't leave this kid alone for a minute... "You'se comin' with me ta the diner tomorra afta' school, too."

"Noooo!" Race complained, stretching the word out comically. "Just tomorra, right?" he added hopefully.

Let's see how tomorra goes, first. "We'll see," Jack promised. Race let out an over-exaggerated sigh, and the leader couldn't help but grin. "Love ya, kid!" he reminded him.

"Yeah, yeah, whateva'!" Race waved him off. He quickened his steps, calling for Romeo as he took the stairs two at a time, but not quite quick enough to hide his smile from Jack.

Jack laughed a little, dropping the Coronas into his pocket. His fingers brushed against a piece of paper, and he sobered quickly as he brought out the ticket. He set it on the table next to him as he settled into his chair, staring blankly at his history textbook. He glanced back at the stairs, catching bits and pieces of Race's conversation with Romeo, and he made up his mind. Oh, yeah. It was all worth it.

Jack's head snapped up, catching himself just before he nodded off. C'mon, Kelly, focus! he scolded himself. Leaning back in his chair, he rubbed his eyes. He'd been staring at the page so long, the words and numbers had turned themselves into a jumbled, blurry mess. I can do this. Thirty-two problems left. I can do thirty-two problems. That's just... eight problems, four times. He sighed, taking another sip of his long-cold coffee. Screw this. I'se failin' anyways.

Today had been long. And to top it all off, his little meeting with Officer Bixby had taken forever-- which was why he was up doing chemistry homework at ten past midnight.

He was just about to turn out the light and call it quits when a small voice made him freeze. "Jack?"

The leader whirled around to find Romeo in the doorway, wearing pajama pants and one of Race's T-shirts. The shirt hung on his thin frame and made him look so small. Paired with his pale face and wide, dark eyes, Jack didn't stand a chance. "Hey, buddy," he said, holding out his arms. Romeo ran into them, throwing himself at his brother and burying his face in the crook of his neck, his unruly dark hair tickling Jack's chin. "Bad dream, kid?" Jack asked softly. He felt Romeo nod against him, and he hugged little boy tighter.

"Why didn't ya go ta Race?" he asked. He knew that Romeo woke Race up most nights. Nearly every morning when Jack went in to get them up for school, Romeo was snuggled up against his big brother's side. Race had yet to complain, so Jack figured he had it handled. "What's up, kid?" he asked.

Romeo just shook his head, tightening his grip. "Race was in this one," he mumbled, his voice muffled by Jack's shirt.

Jack felt a pang through his heart, at a loss for what to do. Don't tell Race. Whateva' ya do, just don't. "Tell ya what, kid," he said, prying Romeo off of him. "How's about ya sleep in here tonight? I'se..." He glanced at is desk. "I'se still got some homework ta do. I'll stay up and keep ya company." He tossed back the blanket and lifted Romeo up onto the bed before taking a seat at his desk.

Romeo hopped right back up and climbed on Jack's lap, leaning back against him with a sigh. Jack glanced down at him with a grin. "And just whaddaya think you'se doin'?" he asked, ruffling Romeo's hair.

The kid shrugged, making himself comfortable. "Just sittin'."

"Just sittin', huh?" Jack said, tossing his pencil onto the desk. "What's up, kid?"

Romeo messed with the hem of his shirt, humming quietly to himself. Jack wrapped his big hands around Romeo's, making the kid look up. "I don't know, Jack," he admitted. "I feel like... like my tummy hurts. But it ain't like when Race spins me around. It's like... I feel like I'se forgot ta do somethin', and like evr'rythin' ain't okay, but I don't know why! And I don't wanna eat and I don't wanna sleep. Can ya fix it, Jack?"

Jack sighed. "That's called anxiety, buddy," he said. "It ain't fun, is it?" Romeo shook his head silently. "Okay, kid," Jack decided. He scooped his baby brother up and carried him over to the bed, pulling the blanket up around him. "I was feelin' some anxiety today, and ya know what helped?"

"What?" Romeo asked, snuggling under the blanket. His wide dark eyes were fixed on Jack, waiting for his answer.

"I went down ta the theatre and talked with Medda," Jack said. "So how's about ya talk ta me?"

Romeo nodded. "I can do that," he said. Jack dragged his chair over to the bed, rested his elbows on his knees, and listened. He listened while Romeo told him everything from hating pre-algebra to feeling left out to being the youngest to being scared of driving with Race again.

Jack was quiet for several moments after Romeo had finished. "Today scared ya, huh?" he said.

"Yeah," Romeo whispered, picking at a thread in the blanket.

"It scared Race, too," Jack told him.

Romeo's head shot up. "Race don't get scared," he said.

"'Course he gets scared," Jack said. "Just like I get scared. We was both scared today. And I think Race might be scared that you'se mad at 'im."

"I ain't mad," Romeo said, his eyes wide.

"Didja tell Race that?" Jack questioned.

Romeo shook his head. "I told him I don't want his help," he said quietly, averting his gaze from Jack's.

"Hey, it's okay!" Jack said. "Tomorra, how 'bout ya tell him ya do want his help? I bet he'd like that."

Romeo smiled. "I can do that," he said. "Can I come ta the diner with you and Race?"

Jack grinned. "I bet he'd like that, too," he said. He glanced at his bedside clock, and his eyes widened. 12:57. "Time for you ta get ta bed," he said. "And time for me ta finish up this mess." He downed what was left of his coffee in one gulp, dropping into his chair to labor over chemistry equations.

"Love ya, Jack," Romeo said sleepily.

Jack smiled slightly. "Love ya too, Romeo."

Jack sighed wearily, dumping a load of dishes into the sink and glancing at the time. Just an hour left 'til my shift ends. That's just fifteen minutes, four times... aw, forget it. Afternoon shifts always seemed to drag on forever, and having Race there complaining about homework wasn't helping at all. Neither of them wanted to be there. All Jack wanted to do was go home and sleep, but he knew he couldn't. He had his boys to take care of, that online traffic course to work on, and of course, more homework. It neva' ends...

The bell over the door jingled, and Jack could hear a familiar voice yelling even from back in the kitchen. "Race!"

Romeo. Jack smiled, hearing his brothers excitedly chattering away. Last night's episode had had him a little worried, but it looked like everything was going to be okay.

"Hey, Mr. Jacobi?" he called to his boss. "Can I bring my brothers a couple sodas?"

The older man looked up, taking in the scene of the two boys working at the counter. His mustache twitched, concealing one of his rare smiles. "Go ahead," he said. "On me, just this once."

Jack's grin widened. "Thanks, Mr. Jacobi," he said sincerely, heading back out to the dining room.

"A-tro-cious," Race was saying, sounding the word out. "Jack's cooking is atrocious."

"You two," Jack told them, setting two sodas on the counter. "You'se gonna be the death a' me."

Race laughed it off. "Thanks, Jack," he said.

"Thank you!" Romeo echoed.

"Suspicious," Race said, reading from the list again. "Jack bein' this nice ta us is suspicious."

Jack shook his head, heading back to the kitchen with a smile. These kids, he thought fondly. They're drivin' me crazy.

Tag list: @newsieswearingheelies , @smart-alecc , @purplelittlepup , @killmebroadway

#drivin me crazy #newsies #fanfic #racetrack higgins #jack kelly #romeo #spot conlon #crutchie morris #medda larkin #albert dasilva #tw: abuse

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thisisa-knife · 6 years

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How I Run My Blog

SPEED: Well considering I’m currently on a hiatus I’m HELLA slow right now. Usually though I’m able to do 1-3 replies every other day. Side note though, considering the fact that my clinical responsibilites are picking up more and more through my studies I most likely won’t be on very much this next year. (( for my new lovelies don’t stress - I’ve been here since 2013 I’m not going anywhere anytime soon. ))

REPLIES: Speaking about replies I try to be considerate of my partner. I will try to match your response, whether it’s a literary masterpiece, stunning coding-art, or just a plain dialog - I’m going to try my best to catch whatever you’re throwing at me! This directly correlates with my speed though. Because I want give everyone the same amount of effort as they give me. If you’re going to bang out a quick reply and we’re in a groove with our thread it may progress a little faster than someone who writes a novel on a day where my imagination is in a temporary coma.

STARTERS: wELP, truthfully I hardly ever do starters -or starter calls for that matter. Mostly because I have like 3-4 faves that are the only people that consistently favorite / message me for starter calls. More than that, due to my class load and temporary hiatus, I haven’t been in the right head-space to post starters because I’m severely lacking in spontaneous imagination. However if you would like to thread with Mays ( or any of my other available muses ) I will 10000% plot all day long. I love being able to bounce ideas off of someone else’s, and my inbox/dm’s are easily accessible for me while I’m in clinic or lecture.

INBOX/IMs: Already touched on this for the most part. In case you’re a first time follower who’s nervous about reaching out - please don’t be! I’d like to think that I have a personality that sounds a lot like Castaway by Zac Brown Band ( aka easy going and free-flowing my dudes ). My inbox/IM’s are literally open for everything except hate. Did you have a shitty day and need to tell someone? HIT ME UP! Did you see a really cute cat on the way to work/school and want to show someone? SLIP AND SLIDE YOUR WAY OVER HERE! Have a (n- apocalyptic ) wishlist plot that you’ve been dying to try out? SLAP THAT SUBMIT BUTTON! I love interacting with my followers! Doesn’t even matter if we’re mutuals or not ^.^ ( but also please don’t be mad if it takes me a little to respond -IRL is whooping my ass rn LOL )

SELECTIVITY: Honestly I’m only selective over a few things. I want to make sure I’m following you for the right reasons. Doesn’t matter how “cool” or aesthetically pleasing your blog is if your links aren’t set up, you’re missing a rules/bio/verses page or just generally have poor writing skills - I most likely won’t follow. I’m sorry but that’s just brutal honesty. I don’t want to have my dash cluttered by a stream of confusing graphics. I’m here to write and continue to push myself as a writer. My selectivity comes down to this: can I see myself writing with you and your muse? Because to me that’s all that matters.

WISHLIST: x My Wishlist x is a mile long - let me tell you. I even have a few posts about the threads I’d like to do with canon-chara’s from twd, z-nation, book of eli, and a few other apocalyptic verses. But I haven’t been lucky enough to explore most of them, so it’s always open to anyone if they’re looking for a good conversation ice-breaker!

HONEST NOTE: Ahh...a few things. If you are new, I will know pretty quickly whether you read through my blog or not. No shame if you didn’t get a chance to! just please don’t lie to me and say you did! That’s one of my BIGGEST pet peeves. right alongside call-out culture and dashboard drama. I have zero-tolerance for it. I will always be honest and upfront with my followers, if you have a problem please come to me on the side and let me know. I don’t bullshit people, and I do my best to be kind and understanding to everyone. I’m a firm believer in treat people how you expect to be treated.

Tagged by: @daryliisms Tagging: @dementedbeautyqueens , @cara-faye-stewart, @carolinecrybabyjackson , @zenofrping, @fissarsi , and anyone else who’d like to give it a go!

#ooc #about the mun

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airoasis · 5 years

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'Good Luck, Father Ted' | Father Ted | Series 1 Episode 1 | Dead Parrot

New Post has been published on https://hititem.kr/good-luck-father-ted-father-ted-series-1-episode-1-dead-parrot/

'Good Luck, Father Ted' | Father Ted | Series 1 Episode 1 | Dead Parrot

Proper that is a Tuesday dealt with let’s take a look at Wednesday no half 7:00 mass i can take that and probably could you take the 8 o’clock at all proper i will be able to take that as good no um the 1/2 6 evening Mass on Sunday night mass too early no predicament i can take as well I just make an observation mornin Ted Barney Google Google there may be a there is some shaving cream simply there no there may be now not that no your gran no on you oh where precisely Ted simply there beneath your ear right here sure and there’s a there’s slightly extra long past no there may be nonetheless only a contact two minutes it can be far and wide the location Oh God how on the planet did all that get there I did not even shave this morning so what are we doing at present Ted confessions and mass and things like that I feel sure to huge things like that it can be nice being a priest is not it Ted god it can be beautiful out oh wait let L you Ted fun lands come to craggy Island it is going to be right here Saturday oh yes this is the fairground thing oh i might no longer a lot curiosity in that type of factor myself to be sincere they’ve acquired a spider baby what a spider baby you realize it’s kind of a freak show factor you comprehend it’s received the body of a spider nevertheless it’s honestly a youngster how is that this a child does it have a nappy on us or something no when does it have the head of a little one no good if it appears like a spider and it does not truely gurgle at your anything how do you understand it’s in reality a little one to hold it in a pram Dugan are you definitely definite about this you’re now not complicated us with a dream your head or whatever no truthfully I saw it on the information truthfully oh oh wait no clearly no did you say it it was a dream yeah have you ever been finding out identical to I informed you Bob Ted i have yeah yeah sorry about that however we should go anyway Ted come on it would be excellent last 12 months I had to go together with the horse-using and it used to be simply great I did not understand you could trip horses well it wasn’t an actual horse Ted adore it it was once this ancient fella with a saddle on him go it have to’ve been about eighty you already know of direction he could not go very speedy like you know I was once form of lashing him with the weapon all could not get a lot of a response out of him you realize and how long have been you up on them i would say it used to be about but an hour so that you were upon an eight-yr-ancient man riding him round and deciding upon him for 60 minutes you realize that picture will stay with me for the leisure of my lifestyles I all said yeah it is satisfactory is not it come on we should go no i don’t think I could take the thrill to be honest believe I just say if there may be something on the television soap a style of jumper is basically but they’re simply going learn the historical diagram good day father Ted Kelly speakme howdy father sorry to disturb you my name is Terry McNamee i am producing the software religion of our fathers for small screen television Aaron at the second doing a designated on priests who work in isolated communities and i was questioning for those who’d be all for speakme to us good that is that’s very um that’s an awfully enjoyable fifth of Our Fathers is my favourite software you already know well you we’re the first individual we suggestion of address that I could come over and we would offer you a small rate in your drawback support a ailing ok nobody no have got to be anybody Ted only a second Oh rapid query how precisely do you get to craggy Island father it would not seem to be on any Maps no what wouldn’t be on any Maps no Terry we’re now not precisely new york now the pleasant way to to find it’s ordinarily to head out from Garlin or relatively north till you see the English boats with the nuclear image on the facet even very nearly the island when they’re dumping the old glow-in-the-dark one factor are there every other monks dwelling there with you our researcher would not mention any person else um good no there isn’t any one else right here i’m going to see what Saturday then i will provide you with a call after I get there I the reply back Ted certainly not activate the television when father Jack’s asleep you know how he is but he is normally asleep sure well any person who served the church as long as he has deserves a leisure simply particularly an honor for us to shield in his old age you recognize yeah look at him dreaming of earlier glories indubitably girls pay attention now we have received a certain deal with in these days it is very kindly volunteered to take him all by means of volleyball practice and he is simply reminded me that it can be very heat at present so there will be no need on your tracksuit tops hi there father Dougal McGuire right here and welcome to this week’s prime of the Pops after which at number 45 this week is father Ted Crilley when I’ve obtained the vigour and the quantity 15 for the 16th week in a row his father Jack Hackett with IMS Sleepy breeze how does that cup shake get on the tv is the tv broken once more father yes we have now an concern manner there may be nothing flawed with that that are not able to be fixed with the visual you understand chortle within the head to park and now then who’s pretty me please mrs.Doyle T sec I find mr. Doyle you need to have a cop i know thanks mrs. Doyle truthfully i would like have a cop are you definite an hour tart no i’m no longer in the mood types all right so like a while but you’re no longer have a drop oh thanks mrs. Owen oh i am satisfactory Noorie they take apart father and significantly no and what do you say to a cup take off cup this cup of tea take off oh gosh there was once a phone name prior from a Terry McNamee all correct who’s that Ted I’ve never heard of him anything to do with there wasn’t at the tv sure he is coming to Vic’s tv yeah good you’d be right here tomorrow or 12 grand yeah that’s good you called someone Ted nonetheless not working you are effortlessly the quality doo-doo-doo-doo better than the entire rest penis god Ted you nervous the life out of me they are doing the ancient pop megastar thing undergo dougela I was once Ted yeah it used to be fine being on television today I suppose I’ve caught the historic television tube guide with the mattress canine get some sleep you do not get overtired do you ever want to get into television you’re unhappy Ted annoy i would not imply to send that form of factor fairly yeah yeah i do not believe you’d be so much just right at it definitely why no longer well you realize you are a bit critical are not you and your eyes are bit crossed yeah they may be a little wonky tag you recognize the cameras can decide upon that up you recognize i’m not cross eyed Dugan you’re a bit of no Ted certain half the time I don’t know if you’re talking to me your father Jack dude why do not you just get some sleep right just must say the ancient prayers our Father who art in heaven hallowed hallowed be thy name Papa do not preach doodle you recognize that you can reward God with sleep flip your head a vegan for a tiring day God there’s tons of ways that you could praise God isn’t that head like that point you instructed me to reward Him by way of you recognize just leaving the room that used to be a just right one sure Ted mmm Ted yes knock-knock who’s there father Dugan McGuire goodnight Doga right here you bit better than others that’s it you made it then I consider so there isn’t a indication that it is craggy Island there is no indicators or whatever it is there a man looking at you with the t-shirt saying I shot junior ahh you are here so what the line could be very dangerous father you’re a giant muffled i am on a portable cellphone you caught me by using shock while you phoned me you know how i am on the toilet so the place will we meet at any place we can get just a few excellent photographs any nearby landmarks no what no there are no landmarks here now Terry no no longer all comprehend although the island itself is a kind of landmark relatively the general rule is if you are heading away from it you are going in the right course correct there’s the area feeling well that sounds good it’s not a discipline fairly nevertheless it has much less rocks in it than most areas father i’ll meet you on the area now how do I get there ask Tom there he’ll aid you out correct father Thanks Holy Mary mom of God content material i’m so sorry it was once just a shaggy dog story try to avoid doing that once more dougela hello idea used to be particularly herself it’s the final thing i need you are proper there Ted anyway it can be time for Jax walk time in your walk father Jack the clips can i convey up the mobile land head he’d love that no he would not take him around the cliffs and this time if you’re going close the edge placed on the brakes he was only simply lucky the final time and you are no longer coming your self i know I suppose i will stay here and pray for a at the same time Oh what are you after Ted i’m not after something dude it is now not unknown for contributors of the clergy to hope every now and then it likes more than to get out the fresh air that’s it now in your go is that bill however man this is given each single whatever once he is out thirty is a first-rate time he is aware of they will not kiss when I’d be half that father what you as much as your self well I suppose i will simply stay here and have a little of an historic pray all correct fill in the power it is to the weekend buyers are reminded that our services are at a reminder of the unavailability I don’t even was once on here hi there fatter hey Tom inform your nuts and did you get them listed below are made it EJ i might like to film a discuss with the island Faust I imply quality correct so I just wait within the field noticed her Farah this time I’ve killed him in newcomer i might have got to talk to about that later i am doing an interview for the television maintain your arms on the perimeters what’s rather cows database you could have a face like a parrot it well is he is got some unfair between us ah no fatherhood good day John Oh Paquito his father your thanks I’ve acquired to satisfy any one now actually i’m going to be interviewed for a tv software really are that’s first-rate you understand father i will kill you outstanding on tv well thank you I say you’ll be greater than a fit for a homosexual Borden or Terri Morgan or any of them give me a couple of weeks to get to their stage I have got to go now i’m trying to track down this film you’ll be able to they usually most often wish to do just a few shut-united statesof master shots and Nadi’s and that such thing we will be late onset get a popularity is the form of Marilyn Monroe variety see you soon don’t bother Ted get them i could not run cheese out of it over here at present come here look at me oh howdy Ken what are you doing right here anyway Ricky was once interested on this form of factor you are speculated to be taking Jack for his stroll well i am are the cliffs had been closed in these days i might kiss be shut doodle hope you are aware of it wasn’t that they had been long past you kissed forgot how could they just disappear corrosion come on off that me straight to the youngsters with you there may be just another cop returns to head with him you are straight house to you right here i might wish to hear to any extent further nonsense each person else is right here do just right you’re a priest you are purported to show some decorum this wasn’t a priest don’t you say that so he advised me one time he doesn’t even think in God take all the credit at head however what the crater demise it is called out considering it was a younger fella killed on it last yr come on i’m sick and worn out York dead appear there’s a fortune-teller come on we will have one go in there do not rest your money on that stuff – we’ll take you on no account comprehend there probably whatever in it it’s rubbish how might any one suppose any of that style of nonsense simply no extra ordinary than that stuff we learned in the cemetery you realize heaven and hell and eternal lifestyles bitch take it severely Ted well you are so two men to take it seriously oh yeah yes having had an everlasting life yes of direction I let you go in you go residence straight after that good i will I promise that every one correct whats up let’s go Ted cuts on one scared off favored i will do it and that you can watch hey there sit you have got to move my palm with silver silver i don’t elevate massive luggage of it around supply me a pound now i’ll interpret one card at a time please I wasn’t concentrating and perhaps it might opt for an extra no no this is a long-established misunderstanding the Grim Reaper doesn’t mean loss of life in a literal sense rather it’s going to imply the loss of life of an ancient culture and the beginning of a brand new one i do know what that is it can be regularly a couple of new lamp i am getting for my bicycle good it’ll not become clear at the subsequent auto that is really weird there’s simplest presupposed to be one in each % hiya Tom it can be as a substitute Crilley round but he’s yeah he is in Dale that is a foul scar you might have acquired there tongue the place did you get that it was a in an argument oh i am hoping you is not going to say anything II did Lester I’ve had worse than that i will weed past anteed that to me appear like a deer faux thank you my father jacket electing some residence it can be virtually 5:00 in time for his ingesting goodbye that is where I acquired this okay Shema Israel has lower back to me come on no father we higher be off come on there you might be father we obtained here at last yet another father’s useless to the arena do you don’t know what’s going on gende nevertheless it’s time Kiran come on yeah you heard from from from the tv well yes we simply asked you a few questions Wow am I going to be on the small screen television good sure we’ll off with a historical past of the island and then transfer on to how lifestyles has converted for the Islanders economically and socially father how would you say the individuals’s religious beliefs right here on craggy Island were littered with the arrival of tv and larger entry most of the time god no they’re speakme to generate great there i’m it’s me appear i’m on the telly no God does he relatively exist I mean little I have no idea i do not even consider in equipped religion spiderbaby it’s got the body of a spider but the mind of a baby it would not fairly chunk you uh on SN gotten older no I are not able to suppose it either i’m on the television yup shaking in the air a baby has been lodged in the tunnel of gods if that if we can have a nurse please to the tunnel of gods thanks a goat and child have now come to be potential together and the North has become involved in the within the instant and an additional Norse is required to unlock the Norse we asked for beforehand thanks you

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batterymonster2021 · 5 years

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'Good Luck, Father Ted' | Father Ted | Series 1 Episode 1 | Dead Parrot

New Post has been published on https://hititem.kr/good-luck-father-ted-father-ted-series-1-episode-1-dead-parrot/

'Good Luck, Father Ted' | Father Ted | Series 1 Episode 1 | Dead Parrot

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