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xsarcasticwriterx · 3 years

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Young God-Part 1

Summary: Your power isn't even a power its simply words. You can understand people, get into their head and know them better than anyone all willingly on their end. This made you useful to the avengers when villains came and you could understand and fix them. When this is asked to be done to loki you cant help but fall for the god the more you get to know him.

Pairing: Loki x reader

Warning: Swearing, Loki being loki,angst

Notes: Ok lemme just start of saying loki isn't going to be...nice in the beginning of this i got the idea off of joker and harley quinn's relationship and slightly silence of the lambs so do with that what you will now i adore loki so he won't be a dick the whole time just yea someone getting into loki's head? he isn't too chill with that.

You walked down the stairs leading to the dungeon where the god was locked away ready for you to speak to. you heard the mocking laughs and sarcastic remarks made as you passed the cells.” “hey mortal lemme get a taste” he said thrust to you. you flipped him off not looking at him and passing on by. seeing the god laying on the couch reading a book you walked through the boundaries placed stepping before him. Odin had given you a pill, said it would allow you past the wall of an hour and only you. “hello” he said reading his book still. “apologies for my fellow inmates they can be quiet rude” he said with a small smirk.

“ironic coming from a man with the nickname silver tongue” you said sitting down on a chair in front of him. he placed down his book “oh doll there's more to that nickname” he said with a wink. you simply rolled your eyes in response. you had been told loki was like this. “anyways why are you here” he asked sitting up turning to you “did odin send you to make sure im behaving?” he asked with a snarky tone

You made a mental note of his hatred for odin, though from your interactions with the man you slightly understood that. “i'm here to speak to you” is all you said. loki scoffed “you doll are a horrible liar” he said with a smirk. He stood up and walked around you almost scanning you. “what's the real reason your here?” he asked behind you. “truly i am here to talk to you” you repeated with a straight face and shrug. “then talk” he said bending down right in front of your face. his breath ghosting over your face and his long wavy hair falling in his face. “your a god you live for years on end tell me loki, how old are you?” you asked. loki gave a smile before standing “my age? that's what you came for?” he huffed. “ill answer your questions if you answer mine” he said in return

you turned around facing him “i don't answer questions” you said with a shrug “oh come on doctor i know your other patients didn't just comply with your questioning” he said with a smirk. he was always smiling or smirking, never a true smile something to show planning, no not planning, anger? no not anger. hurt? yes thats it hes hurt and hides it with his devilish smile. to throw you off to push you away. make you fear him over wanting to know him.

Now the new question was how did he know you were a doctor. well you may not be an official doctor but you were one of sorts. You had been in college to get a phycology degree until fury swept you up making you work for him. you tilted your head alarming the god you were lost on his accusation. “oh dear as you said i am a god you don't think i could fall for your tricks and lies like the others did you?” he asked walking to you “doll only i make the tricks here” he said holding your jaw. “now we play by my rules” he said with another smile. “stop” you said. his smile widened “stop smiling” you said. you saw a hint of confusion wash over before it was erased with another smirk “why doll?” he asked. “because its a lie” you said. loki's face became serious “you talk of lies yet you wouldn't tell me why your here” he said walking around the room.

“Fine i'm here to evaluate you” you said simply “now will you answer my questions?” you asked. “I have been just not the ones you want the answer to.” he replied. “agree to my terms and ill be more than willing to answer you” he said with a sarcastic smile “i ask the questions not you” you replied. he shrugged laying back down reading his book again. you only had an hour with him so you had no choice but to comply with his rules or you'll get nowhere but you also didn't want the god to think he could just boss you around and throw a fit.

you shrugged picking up your bag walking out of the room. “1,054″ you said blankly. you turned confused “my age” he said still reading. you nodded walking back in “one question” you said sitting down. he smirked still looking at the book but not reading it “well start simple. name?” he asked. “y/n” you replied. “y/n....mmm now y/n why are you here?” he asked sitting up. “to evalu-” you started to say before he cut you off “why are you here?” he asked “were not doing this loki i said one question” you said standing back up. your hour was almost over. “what happened doctor don't like a taste of your own medicine?” he asked with a dark smile. “why do you do that? smile so much?” you asked. “you tell me you said it was a lie which means you've made your own deductions of it so tell me doc why do i smile so much?” he asked tilting his head.

“to make people uncomfortable. they see you smile this mischievous smile a smile that they expect from the god of mischief. you become what people expect of you so they stay away now why you push people you don't know away i'm not quiet sure on but i assume it has something to do with your spite for odin” you said simply. loki gave a wide smile standing up “well well well doc, you are utterly” he said behind you getting close to your ear “wrong” he said simply straightening backup. “now you well i do have so many things to say about you” he said moving in front of you. “you evaluate people thinking you know everything about them so much more than they know themself, from body language to words to the crime they commited. but i my dear am simply a king who deserved a throne and would fight for it” he said sitting back down “hours up doll better leave before your trapped in here” he said looking at you with another smile.

Walking back up you felt unnerved. the god had a weird aura to him like he could read your mind. granted he may actually be able to in which case you need to be more careful about such things. you walked to your room feeling empty and drained. you fell back on the bed rubbing your face. the odinsons had given you your own quarters while you stayed there. there was knock on the door and you groaned “its open” you replied and the door opened revealing yet another god, a kinder one. Thor walked over sitting next to you “how was loki?” he asked. “loki was....exactly how yall described him” you sighed. thor griminced he hoped his brother would behave “did you get anything out of him?” he asked. “just his age which is useless it was more a test to see if he'd comply with me. think he got more out of me than i of him” you said looking up at thor.

“give him time. my brother can be...difficult but your a legend at this so you should do well it may take longer than usual but you'll get it” thor said cheerfully. you gave a small smile. you wanted to believe that you truly did but honestly you weren't sure. “loki sure is a strange guy” you said sitting up “Well he's not a guy hes a god such as i and he was raised by my mother” he said to you.

“get some rest i bet you'll do much better tomorrow” he said with a smile walking out. you sighed and changed, laying bed you felt sleep take over.

you stood in a black room seeing your parents smiling faces “mom? dad? you said with a smile. you started to run to them before blood dripped from there eyes and they slowly faded away. you stepped back feeling empty once again. you heard a chuckle and turned seeing loki laugh and roll his eyes before vanishing too

You awoke with a small scream and your heart racing. you were drenched in sweat and tears streamed down your face. once you calmed you growled launching up from bed and walking down to the dungeon storming past the assholes shouting crude things at you. you stood at loki's cell banging on the wall “hey asshole” you said blatantly. “well hello to you too doll isnt this a shocker” he said with another smile god how you wanted to slap that smile off his face “shut up” you said. loki sat up looking at you “well what can i do for you?” he asked. “your not supposed to have you powers in here” you said with a stern face

loki tilted his head in mock confusion “why i don't” he said voice dripping in sarcastic hurt as if offended by such accusations. “don't lie you bastard! You were in my head i know it you know it so let's just both know it” you yelled at him. His smile widened “ok darling but see i do have one question left unanswered. how did your parents die?” he asked stepping to the glass. “they didn't it was simply a nightmare” you groaned.

“no no see people who dream of the death unprompted feel pain,sadness,fear they try to stop it you well you felt nothing you just...stood there” he said looking down at you. “so how was it they died?” he asked. “if you can get in my head then you sure as shit know” you said looking down at the floor. you really did not want to speak of it.

“of course i do doll but i want to hear you say it” he said leaning on the glass. “i will not play into your game” you said storming off “you still hear it dont you? their screams” he said. “i do” he said after

you turned “pardon?” you asked walking back to him. “have a nice night darling” he said smiling walking back to his couch. “but you said-” you were cut off by the sounds of footsteps “oi you are not to be down here madam” the man said walking to you “oh yes sorry i must have sleep walked” you replied walking upstairs back to your bed.

laying down your head felt as if it was spinning. This was going to be an interesting roller coaster wasn't it.

#loki #Loki Laufeyson #loki fanfic #loki of asgard #loki layfeyson x reader #loki x reader #loki odinson #loki odison x reader #MCU #MCU fanfiction #mcu x reader #marvel #marvel cinematic universe #tom hiddleston

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lovelyirony · 4 years

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cosmetology anon: this is for you, although I tweaked the idea a bit. i hope you don’t mind!

Acquiring Tony Stark as an Asset had been purely by chance; after all, he wasn’t planned on being in the car. He was still an insolent teenager, angry with the world and angry with his father. They didn’t think he would’ve gone to a business party.

But his mother...well. They hadn’t thought that Tony Stark was a mama’s boy.

Because there Tony is, gasping for air while glass glitters all around him, looking near about like an angel that was torn from heaven with how it surrounded him.

They had thought he was dead.

At least, up until the point when he had looked Winter Soldier dead in the eye, said “hey you fucking asshole” and got a pretty damn good shot in the thigh.

Someone on the brink of death might have tried the gun, but never the insult.

So Hydra gets a brand new toy.

Not easily broken, which is a pain-and-a-half to deal with. At least with the Winter Soldier, he was too delirious with blood loss to notice who was operating on him, what they were attaching.

Tony Stark is on a whole other level.

He bites, he kicks, he scratches. Quite annoying, they just want him to tire himself out.

“Stark Industries doesn’t negotiate,” he hisses, trying to kick one of the nurses in the teeth.

“Who said anything about negotiating?” says the head doctor viciously. His teeth glint in the fluorescent lighting, scalpels reflecting brilliantly onto the walls. “As far as the media knows, you’re dead. No one is going to come looking, and no one even knows who we are.”

They make him sleep on a cot nearby Winter Soldier. Which is terrifying, to say the least. Not that he can kill him. He can’t touch him either.

He’s in a deep freezer. Eyes closed, thank god. But they put him there and they tell him all about how he came to be there.

“Everyone thought Barnes hit a rock and died,” one of the techs says, checking the machine. “He nearly did, but Zola helped us fix him up. Course, that was after a couple of times where he got to someone’s neck, and that was even before programming.”

“Programming?”

The tech leers at him, grinning. He’s standing, Tony’s sitting. It shouldn’t be as intimidating as it is.

“Oh yeah, Stark. They’re gonna fix you all up.”

“I don’t need fixing.”

“Tell that to Winter Soldier.”

“And what if your little machine gets rid of me, hm? Kills me?”

“We add you to the other disappointments, or we dig a shallow grave and hope you’re found decades later.”

Not exactly promising.

But here’s the thing: the tech was wrong. They won’t add him to the pile of disappointments.

The last time he went to a therapy appointment, his therapist said he had a “deep-seated need to be liked and be useful, which could be dangerous later.”

He’s assuming that Doc Chesterfield wasn’t exactly expecting Tony to be in the running towards becoming America’s Next Top Murder Machine, but Doc wasn’t really the kind of guy who was “in the know” about a lot of things.

That need to be liked and useful was about to come in handy.

Barely able to legally drink, he goes to the main doctor in charge. “You need me.”

The doctor looks at him incredulously.

“You think we need a kid to do all this shit? You think we haven’t figured it out?”

“You can’t have Barnes-”

“Winter Soldier, boy.”

“Fine, your little toy soldier. You can’t keep him out longer than necessary, otherwise his brain realizes that all of you are shitty and tries to break out. Again. You need someone else to take a look at it, and I’m the best bet you got.”

“And why would that be?”

Tony grins, and they see a shadow of what he has had in his life, exactly just who he used to be. Who he still is, at the moment.

“Whether you want to admit it or not--I’d say go ahead and admit it, I’m fun like that--I’m the smartest one in the room, maybe in the country. Maybe in two countries. I could swing the UK, it’s not like they’ve had anything interesting for the last hundred or so years--”

“Get to the point,” the handler hisses.

“I can help with arm maintenance. I’m not gonna do anything else to this poor guy, but I wanna stay alive and I’m not letting you erase my fucking mind because you want to have another toy soldier to march to your drum.”

“You almost make a compelling case,” the handler says. “We do need a mechanic on the arm, so to speak. But if he only comes out when we need him...well. Maintenance is manageable.”

Tony pushes his chin out.

“I can do better than your best.”

“Unfortunately, I don’t care. You’re too big of a liability.”

It is at this moment that Tony realizes he cannot talk his way out, or fight his way out, but damn he gets a scalpel and tries.

Manages to slice across the face of the handler. Nerve damage, tissue damage, quite potentially a very ugly nose. All very nice.

That gets him moved up by a month.

They send him to a chair that’s probably a lot worse than he’s imagining, give him a mouth guard, and tell him to scream all he likes. Sometimes it’s better to not have a voice later.

They say it like they’re quoting one of those shitty articles from Cosmopolitan that discusses the top forty-five best ways to move in the bedroom or something. He and Rhodey use to read it all the time whenever they visited one of the sororities.

(He misses Rhodey, more than words can say. The tears burn in his throat as the chair powers up, but he doesn’t dare cry. He hasn’t told them about Rhodey, and he doesn’t want him used against him.

He doesn’t want to be used against Rhodey.)

Tony Stark becomes the Mechanic. He stares too long, moves a bit slow at times, and doesn’t like people touching his things.

Hydra thinks it’s a success.

Tony thinks they should’ve done more than three sessions of go-round for their little buzzy-chair.

Just god, have none of them had to act before? Is that what this is?

So long as he doesn’t show any aspect of any real personality, they think he’s a walking-talking robot.

Should’ve just called him Chatty Cathy and attached a pull-string to his back with loadable phrases if they were just gonna call him the Mechanic and think his silence and weird staring habits were fine.

Winter Soldier needs maintenance.

Tony tries very carefully to keep his persona up. He thinks he’s doing a good job until the nurse leaves the room for her smoke-break and Winter Soldier gives him a look that’s so...different.

"They think you’re like me.”

“I am.”

“No.”

“And how can you tell?”

“You’re not hurting my arm.”

“Well I can, if you wanna be a masochist about it.”

He blankly stares.

“Why didn’t it work?”

“Not enough rounds.”

“We need to stop talking or they’ll watch the cameras.”

“Got it.”

Tony is not facing the cameras. They have no suspicion now, and if they can’t see him move his lips, then there’s no worry.

He faces Winter Soldier.

“You wanna get out of here? Tap once on your left, right on my thigh for yes. Twice for no.”

Tap.

There it is.

“Well, it’ll take time. You okay with that?”

Tap tap.

“I can’t make wishes come true,” Tony says sarcastically. Soldier hides a smile. “But. I have someone who might be looking for me. Or he’ll know it’s me.”

“A friend?”

“Something better. Family.”

It takes a little while. Despite Hydra’s incompetence at programming Tony out of his own system, they’re good at watching. They’re good at sniffing out undercover plans, so they set nurses to watch him and give him the worst food in his life.

And he can’t say anything about it.

They’re probably rations leftover from World War II, and here he is, pretending like it doesn’t bother him.

The first mission they’re out on, Tony wants so badly to break free. It looks too easy, probably because it is.

“The first time I escaped, they dragged me back and nearly gave me a matching leg to go with the arm,” Soldier murmurs in Russian.

(Tony’s had to take Russian classes. God, he’s lucky he has an eidetic memory otherwise he’d be up a paddle with a slotted spoon.)

“What, didn’t want to put more value on yourself?”

“Something like that,” Soldier says grimly. “Pay attention. They’re gonna put you in a cafe, have you run surveillance. You report back to me. Call me Winter.”

“Call me Mechanic.”

“That’s the name they chose?”

“Didn’t count my vote.”

Winter snorts.

“Time to get a move on.”

Tony has never been good at hiding his emotions, but by god he’s learning on the fly. At least Winter has a mask, and they’re...well, they’re working on one for him.

It’s not exactly priority, because everyone in the world thinks he’s dead.

Well. Shouldn’t say everyone. There is one guy who has decided that Tony didn’t die.

James Rhodes is a very smart guy, graduated top of his class at MIT and has full honors.

He also knows that Tony has fallen off of beds, out of chairs, down one flight of stairs, and tripped on just about everything.

And he’s lived. He has defied near-death experiences before, and he’s been fine.

Maybe Rhodey is crazy. He most likely is.

But he doesn’t mind being crazy if no one can actually confirm that Tony died. The funeral was closed for the family, not even Rhodey could go.

“Sorry kiddo,” Obie had said, not sorry at all. He’s never liked the kid, thought him too blunt about situations that he didn’t need to be blunt about.

So Rhodey thinks that this is a conspiracy, only he doesn’t want his best friend to end up on a YouTube video five years later talking about the “tragic disappearance” and how “no one could figure it out.”

He’s James fucking Rhodes. Sometimes goes by Rhodey. And he’s got this.

Winter Soldier does not “got this.” He is currently being thrown against a wall, and grunting as he looks at the target.

Tony is currently trying very hard not to have a full-blown emotional show-off, because he is supposed to be fixing up some of the weapons and sending them out.

It is rather stress-inducing, once you start thinking about it.

He tries not to.

God, he’s not even getting pizza after that. He’s probably going to get some bullshit like a vanilla nutritional protein shake.

Out everything he’s been put through, and that’s the thing that makes him retch.

Barnes is looking...rough. He got shoved a lot, the mission didn’t exactly go to plan, which turns out to be quite the large problem.

Because Tony took over. They found out that he can actually assemble weaponry and aim with nearly-one-hundred-percent accuracy.

They think it’s because they fried his brain and injected some sort of back-alley-serum.

It’s not.

He’s not even sure if their serum worked, if he’s being completely honest.

But this? Oh god.

The doctors look at him with an almost giddy joy.

“We’ll have Soldier train you.”

"He is not going back into the cryogenic chambers?”

“No, not...not until you prove yourself.”

“I have proven myself accurate with mechanical fixes.”

“Always best to diversify your skills.”

“Expand.”

(Tony’s been messing with them a lot. They’re not positive he knows advanced vocabulary. He does, he just hates them.)

Barnes is...not exactly excited that he’s not becoming an ice-pop.

“I’m...training you?”

“Yeah, looks like it. You wanna teach me how to choke someone with my thighs?”

“Only when they send the Widows.”

“Who are they?”

“Best damned assassins you’ll ever have the displeasure of experiencing.”

“Aw, you’re learning how to curse!”

“Shut up, they’re onto us.”

Winter Soldier and the Mechanic have a...cordial relationship. At least, out of the ring.

In the ring, they don’t rather like the other that much. Mechanic much prefers to avoid Soldier at all times.

“You can’t just run from every opponent,” Winter hisses.

“You’ve been doing it since 1948,” Tony responds in a robotic tone, nearly missing a kick to the shins. “I don’t see why not.”

He smiles at that one, looking at Tony.

He was...Tony was unique. He would whisper stories in the dead of night, mostly about a man named Jarvis and a boy his age named “Rhodey.”

“His parents...they didn’t actually name him that, did they?”

Tony has to bury his face in his pillow to hide his face from laughing.

Winter got a good look at that smile.

It’s chillingly nice to look at it, and maybe that’s because he hasn’t smiled in years, or maybe it’s because he’s never seen another person smile with joy in it for decades.

For a couple more months, nothing on their side happens.

Rhodey, however, learns how to use Tony’s homemade AI for illegal purposes!

He’s figured out lots of things.

Tony was never confirmed dead. Technically, he’s a missing person.

Which means they don’t know if he’s dead because they never found him.

Secondly, there’s a strange email to someone who goes by Zola.

Well, Rhodey and Tony didn’t stay up until three a.m. to solve impossible codes for nothing.

James Rhodes figures out that the Winter Soldier isn’t some whispered about myth, and so he decides to try and find him.

He’ll need to ask Mama if he can use the sedan, but it should be fine. After all, he has a friend to find.

Hydra is getting too used to having them out. Tony’s been coaching Barnes on not letting his reactions be at the front and center.

He’s remembering a lot more. Starting to become a bit more human-like.

He actually doesn’t like the food now, which is a tasteful improvement.

“When we get out,” Tony whispers in night. “I’m going to make sure that you get the best goddamned pizza the earth has ever seen. And we’ll celebrate your birthday.”

“When is my birthday?”

“I...huh. I don’t know. That’s not the fact I remember from school.”

“So you remembered that my favorite movie star was Hedy Lamarr, but not my own birthday?”

“In my defense, Ms. Lamarr is far more memorable than a simple date on the calendar.”

Barnes smiles.

“I can’t wait to see a picture of her.”

“You will, soon.”

Rhodey is getting close.

The only barrier is convincing his mama to use the sedan.

“What for?”

“A trip.”

“To?”

“Washington DC?”

“Why are you questioning that, young man?”

“Um, because of gas money? Maybe?”

Mrs. Rhodes stands up to her full height of five-foot-two and stares.

“What’s the real reason? I didn’t raise a son who could lie to his mother successfully.”

Rhodey sighs.

“Tony’s alive. I think. I’m, like, ninety-five-percent sure.”

Her face softens.

“Oh baby, you’ve talked about this with your therapist, and-”

Rhodey glares.

“It’s not about the therapist’s opinion, mom. I broke into some records. There was a closed-casket funeral, and technically? They didn’t have a body for Tones. I know he’s out there, and I think I got a lead with the help of Jarvis.”

“I thought Jarvis was dead.”

“Not Edwin, Mama. Tony’s creation, an AI named Jarvis.”

Mama looks at him carefully.

“You sure this is what is going to make you happy?”

“I don’t care about being happy, I want to see if I can bring him home, Mama.”

She dangles the keys.

“If you scratch this car up, I will not hesitate to tell every single aunt at church about this and have common sense walloped into you.”

“I promise I won’t,” Rhodey says. “I know what I’m doing.”

“I’ll pack you a bag. And you need your church clothes.”

“Ma...”

“Don’t Ma me, I’m your mother, I know what’s best,” Mrs. Rhodes says, sweeping into the kitchen. “Don’t tell your daddy what you told me, you’ll give him a heart attack.”

“I thought I was gonna give you a heart attack,” Rhodey says.

She turns, eyes twinkling.

“You got a lot of learning to do, young man. But go on to DC for me.”

First stop: gas station.

Next stop: saving Tony.

If Tony had known that his friend was so dedicated to saving him that he would drive his mama’s sedan five miles above the speed limit, perhaps he would have stayed put and played nice.

But Tony did not know this, so he was currently working on fixing Barnes’ arm to shoot projectile missiles that looked like screws to the security cameras.

“You think they’re counting each screw when none of them even know what your arm can actually do? Not like Zola is physically around anymore,” Tony mutters, holding a screwdriver in his mouth.

“What’s your plan for escape?”

“Element of surprise, my dear Watson.”

“Don’t like that,” Barnes mutters. “What’s your plan once we’re out?”

“New York City.”

“That’s it?”

“You underestimate exactly how much you can hide,” Tony says. “Believe me. We’ll live in an apartment in Queens.”

Rhodey is about ten minutes away.

Tony and Bucky have eventually decided to break out, and are having a lovely time shooting a base and putting people through the walls. Really, they shouldn’t have made it out of drywall. Too easy.

“What fucking vehicle are we taking?!” Barnes yells.

“I...I will work on it!”

“You didn’t think about that?!”

“I was thinking about escaping from a shitty Hydra base!”

Here comes the sedan!

Rhodey thought there was only one person, so now the ex-assassin is sitting on his little sister’s school folder, and getting pink glittery on his military pants.

This was not the plan.

He is also still only going five over the speed limit, because this is Mama’s sedan.

He forgot about the little sticker at the back that says “My Son is on the Honor Roll at MIT!”

“Rhodey love of my life, please go faster than forty miles an hour,” Tony hisses.

“I can’t believe you’re alive, let me do one thing at a time,” Rhodey stresses. “I bought you hot fries, they’re on the floor in the green bag.”

“You thought of road trip snacks?” Bucky asks.

“Yes! And who are you?”

“Bucky Barnes.”

Rhodey whips his head around.

“You lived?”

“I’ve been told. Eyes on the road and turn left.”

One tire barely is on the road as he whips the wheel, slamming onto the curb.

“We are not allowed to fuck my mama’s car up!” Rhodey yells. “Tony, Bucky...do whatever you have to.”

“How amenable are you to me paying for a new back window?” Bucky asks, left arm already raising.

“What do you mean-?”

And...there goes a projectile!

After twenty minutes of driving around, ten of that being avoiding police blockades, they finally are out on the highway, no one in sight.

Tony finally breathes.

“Put on your seatbelt,” Rhodey murmurs. “To New York?”

“To New York.”

By all accounts, the table of three men who look slightly rattled and in danger is not actually the worst table that waitress has ever had.

In fact, the only odd thing that she’s going to say about it is that the young man on the left is wearing a polo shirt, and it is not Sunday, so no church services. A personal outfit choice.

The man in the middle seems to know this.

“Rhodey, seriously?”

“What? It’s laundry day!”

“I know you had other shirts. I know you did.”

“Just because you hate polo shirts doesn’t mean you get to hate on me, especially after the shit I just pulled.”

“He has a point,” says the man on the right.

“You have no opinion on this. I just met you.”

“Are you guys ready to order?” She asks nervously, tapping at her notepad with a chewed-up pen.

They all stare blankly at the menu, and then back at her. She taps her pen one more time.

“I’ll...um...give you some more time.” She shakes her head. She’s not gonna ask, she doesn’t get paid enough.

Rhodey looks at the two of them. He knows that things...well.

Tony probably isn’t going to be playing Jeopardy! with this experience.

Hell, he probably won’t want to see a therapist about this, and Rhodey will have to play Jeopardy! or some obscure dating show simulation with Tony to even help.

And then there’s the matter of a man who’s supposed to be dead.

That and...Rhodey decided to finish up college with a master’s degree.

No one ever said life was easy.

But.

It might be fun.

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docholligay · 4 years

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Chinese Food in The American West

One of the things I frequently come across as a student of the American West* is that people get most of their information from movies and TV and then act like they know things. Wyatt Earp was not a Lawful Good champion who always did his level best even when it was hard to know. (You want Seth Bullock or Bass Reeves). Racism was far more complicated than white vs not white (I’ve talked about this EXTENSIVELY in Strange Empire, so I’m not going to bore you here**).

And they didn’t just eat steak. In fact, they rarely ate steak.

Steak as cowboy food isn’t INACCURATE, but it is MODERN. From about the early 1900s on, you had less and less drives and more and more ranchers who were staying put, with less and less hands needed, and so food was grabbed less “on the go.” Cows could be slaughtered and used to feed the family, allowing for more opportunities for things like steak, yes, but also things like chili, a play on sauerbraten, southern-style biscuits. The cattle drives were a real blend of culture and race, and a lot of what we have left as “Western food” owes a great deal to that.

And if we leave the cattle drives and head into the towns of the American West, as we will today, we find things like oysters, pies, and various things like that. Far more well-heeled than the general expectation.

I mean, here’s the menu from the Occidental Saloon circa the late 1880s:

Soups

Chicken Giblet and Consumme, with Egg

Fish

Columbia River Salmon, au Beurre Noir

Relieves

Filet a Boeuf, a la Financier

Leg of Lamb, Sauce, Oysters

Cold Meats

Loin of Beef, Loin of Ham, Loin of Pork, Westphalia Ham, Corned Beef, Imported Lunches

Boiled Meats

Leg of Mutton, Ribs of Beef, Corned Beef and Cabbage, Russian River Bacon

Entrees

Pinons a Poulett, aux Champignons

Cream Fricasse of Chicken, Asparagus Points

Lapine Domestique, a la Matire d'Hote

Casserole d'Ritz aux Oeufs, a la Chinoise

Ducks of Mutton, Braze, with Chipoluta Ragout

California Fresh Peach, a la Conde

Roasts

Loin of Beef, Loin of Mutton, Leg of Pork

Apple Sauce, Suckling Pig, with Jelly, Chicken Stuffed Veal

Pastry

Peach, Apple, Plum, and Custard Pies

English Plum Pudding, Hard Sauce, Lemon Flavor

This dinner will be served for 50 cents.

-I got this from the book “Saloons of the Old West” by Erdoes

But none of that is precisely why I’m here, I just can’t stop myself from talking about this, why I’m here is that one of the things I say that often surprises people, is that Chinese food was incredibly common for the, well, common man to eat. There’s very much a conception that we as a non-Chinese American people did not start eating Chinese food until the 40s and 50s, and its truer that it took longer to catch on in the American East than the West simply as a matter of proximity and choice.

Not MORE choice but LESS. Part of what made the West so unique, historically, is that the lack of choice and the basic scarcity caused people to work with and patronize people that their general prejudices would have kept them from using back east, because they had CHOICES. But out in the west, less so. There were few choices for a quick, cheap meal on the go. That dinner I just posted above is a lavish affair, and a great deal at approximately $20.00 in today’s money. (Which does not allow for the fact that cost of supplies has gone up and this dinner would most likely be offered for no less than 70 or so today.)

People desperately wanted something that was cheap and quick, and the other options in the American West were few, far between, and not intensely pleasing. No one had really come up with the sandwich shop as of yet, and in any case, fresh meats and cheeses would have been too difficult for the low-cost supplier.

ENTER THE CHINESE POPULATION.

If you have read my Strange Empire blogs, I hope you know that Chinese people were a huge presence in the American West, mostly working for the railroad and various mines, but also doing things like laundry, work that was extremely hard but took little in the way of English speaking. They existed in Chinatowns, for a combination of cultural and legal factors, but it’s a misconception that non-Chinese*** people never went to Chinatown.

People are not new, and it was not unusual for non-Chinese people to use the laundries, tailoring, and other services of Chinatowns while suppressing the rights of Chinese people int he same breath. There were always individual Chinese people any given non-Chinese person liked and did business with.

In time, they discovered the inherent wisdom of the noodle bowl.

I don’t mean to suggest that all these early restaurants served was noodle bowls, but that was where it all started. Remember, Italian food had little prominence in America at the this time, as Italian immigration didn’t really get into full swing until the 1870s in America. While there are noodle traditions half of everywhere, and there is nothing new under the sun, what we today would consider a stir-fry bowl was wildly new to most of the non-Chinese folks in the West. That it could be offered up so cheaply, was so filling, and so delicious (more on this later) was a wild revelation. Everyone from simple cowboys (which, fun fact! Was a slur back then!) to mayors were swinging by Chinatowns to try the dishes.

By the 1920s, chop suey, a fully Chinese American invention derived from the words for “various leftovers” was a hugely popular American food among all sorts.

Doc, you may ask, was it just that these folks coming through to get medicines or laundry were SO adventurous? Not at all! Chinese restaurants back then actually, in a very short amount of time, realized that their non-Chinese townsfolk were an excellent way to make money as well, and began to adapt and change dishes to better fit the Western palate, leading what we call American Chinese Food today, which is a legitimate foodway I will defend to my death. Unfortunately, none of these menus survive today--the only ones we have are from places in San Francisco, places that were much more posh, and not the subject of this essay.

There is a scene in Tombstone where Wyatt and his brothers are eating Chinese food, and it’s one of the things people often ask me about, assuming it’s anachronistic. Actually, it isn’t at all--the anachronism is that there’s broccoli in those noodle bowls, which had not yet hit our shores by the time of the OK Corral. Chinese food was a huge hit, Chinese restaurants were doing extremely well, and some Chinese restaurants were even beginning to attempt to print menus in English, with sit down areas, instead of serving simple fare from food carts.

As the food from these “chow chow houses” grew in popularity, as we can infer from the advertisements of their competitors promising free potatoes with every meal, and other such niceties to entice, there was, as ever there must be, blowback. Anti-Chinese sentiment grew to a fever pitch, and with this came overt pressure for ‘Good Americans” to patronize ‘American restaurants’. The social pressure is actually where we get some of that old racist jargon about Chinese people serving dogs and cats, which people often think was spread by competitors to degrade the Chinese restaurants, which isn’t UNTRUE, but was just as often said sheepishly by someone who couldn’t stop themselves from going and grabbing a noodle bowl or even the American dishes they offered, such as roast chicken or pork chop sandwiches.

(I won’t comment with anything but an eyeroll on the bullshit of people saying they’re ~allergic to MSG~ okay I’ll believe you when you stop eating processed food, meat, aged cheese)

It actually kept this type of reputation as being slightly scandalous well into the early 1900s, as being something you ate after the bar, something to be had in the shadows, but it was all for naught, because Chinese food became an important part of American identity. But for all that, no one ever pictures the Lone Ranger chowing down (the American phrase ‘chow’ for food actually comes from these ‘chow chow houses’) on some chop suey, but there’s every reason to believe he would have. American Chinese food is just as American as the Germanically-influenced hamburger.

(There’s a whole subtopic to go down about Jewish and Chinese communities and Kosher Chinese Food, two marginalized and othered communities coming together, but that’s a WHOLE other topic)

(Also someone please buy me Chinese food. This shit always makes me so hungry.)

*The American West is a specific time period, as far as the study of history goes. It covers the period between the end of the Civil War and the New Century, generally, and is, obviously, concerned with the western half of the country. It doesn’t cover stuff like Lewis and Clark (that’s Expansion) or even the Civil War itself, though you cannot possibly hope to study the American West in any level of seriousness without understanding the Civil War. Anyway! I know a lot about America between 1865 and 1900, and am just knowledgeable enough to be dangerous on everything else. Most History nerds are highly specified like this. We’re not as much help to your trivia team as you think.****

**I actually have had little chance to talk about ~European-style xenophobia~ as it played out in the west, because Strange Empire takes a more modern pass at it. But there was a hierarchy of “whiteness” as well, as still largely exists in Europe, land of intentionally clean ethnostates.

***I use the term “non-Chinese” instead of white because believe it or not, non-white people were not magically free of racism against Chinese people. It was horrific and BASICALLY every non-Chinese person was guilty of it to some level, a wild-ass level of hatred that led to Chinese folks not being able to PURCHASE PROPERTY BY LAW in ENTIRE STATES. Being Chinese or Native in this place and time was your Worst Bet.

****I actually was on a competitive trivia team, you DO want me.

#That was Oddly Specific #Holligay is 34: The celebration

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snarkwrites · 4 years

Text

08 | gangsta ; sweet pea

Notes:

SO.. I uhh... Got super into writing this recently. I just really liked where it was heading after part 7. Yes. Yes, I realize that literally no one asked for more of this but.. I wrote it. Might as well share it.

I need to amend what I said about this being non canon compliant. It does mention things that happen in canon. Some of them even.. Happen. But differently. And a little out of order as I saw they fit into my own personal timeline. Also.. I’m gonna throw in some totally of my own creation stuff into here as well. I don’t exactly know what all that’ll be yet, but.. Yeah.

This is the first of four parts I have already written and waiting to go. I know, I know.. Literally no one asked for this. But you’re getting it anyway.

Warnings:

non canon compliant - this is the biggest warning, so if you’re into things that follow exact canon plot you are… definitely not going to like this. angst & slow burn, heavy sexual tensionstarting now, actually - this is just so everyone who started reading this thinking the smut would transpire in a hurry knows that apparently, it is not. violence / swearing & fighting, possible underage drinking and other shenanigans- look.. it’s high school. shit happens. also apparently, my ofc Alyssa uses the word fuck like all the time?…eventual sexual content / a virgin original character- this one is self explanatory. yes, i plan to write a smutty chapter in this at some point. when? i don’t rightly know. it’s got a while before we get there.

Pairing:

Andrews!Sibling OFC, Alyssa x Sweet Pea

Other Parts:

[ one - two - three - four - five - six - seven - soundtrack ]

Other Stuff:

[ faq - tag list doc ]

Tagging:

@brithedemonspawn is the only person on my Riverdale tag list. If you’d like to be tagged for this story by all means.. Please let me know. Please, I beg. It’d make me super duper happy!!!

EIGHT.

“ Al?”

I turned down my radio and strained to hear. It almost sounded like Polly calling my name from the bottom of the stairs. I wandered over to my bedroom door, peeking out. Polly stood at the foot of the stairs, holding her twins on each hip. A smile played at my lips and I bounded down the stairs, launching myself into a careful hug. Fussing over the twins because I’d been dying to see them since the night Polly added me on Snapchat before everything went down the way it did.

She’d sent me a message that night, telling me she was pregnant and that she and Jason were leaving. She’d been planning to swing through Chicago with Jason and visit, on their way to wherever it was they’d planned to go. When it never happened and I didn’t hear from her again, I’d been worried for a while.

Then Betty realized that she’d been keeping in touch with me over Snapchat right after she went missing and she’d messaged me, asking if I’d seen Polly. When I told her I hadn’t and asked what was going on, she’d filled me in on everything.. Jason’s death and Polly’s fight with their parents and then Polly running away.

The rest filled itself in when I moved back in with my dad, for the most part. I found myself trying to stick close to Cheryl, because I knew she was taking it really hard. Because Jason had been like the third of us. Honestly, it hit me pretty hard too when I found out. Especially when Cheryl did that thing she always fucking does and tried to push me away. Tried to deal with it herself.

I’d given myself over to the thought Polly wasn’t ever going to return to Riverdale, so I was a little shocked that she was here. And staying under the same roof as her mom again.

“The last thing Betty told me was that you were living on a farm. I bet that was peaceful.” I stretched and smiled at her. Just imagining the lazy days that probably stretched on and on. The slow and quiet life.

Polly smiled, nodding. “I learned so much there.”

I nodded. “What was it like?”

We moved to sit on the couch and Polly began to tell me what she’d been up to. I listened, nodding and smiling. But the entire time she described this place, God help me, I found myself getting flashbacks to the true crime podcast I’d listened to about the Jonesboro cult. Or the Davidians from Waco.

I mean… it sounded harmless enough, but everything she told me about the place just made me think less of a commune and more of a cult type setting. And that had me worried.

The front door was being pounded on. When I heard Reggie calling my name through it, I grumbled. Polly gazed at the door and then at me. Smirking. “No way! I always thought you and Reggie would be cute together!”

“Whoa.. Let’s not get all happy.” I shook my head, frowning a little. Telling her in detail what actually happened and that we were broken up. She shook her head, frowning. “That’s a jerk move. Betty told me you were on the Vixens now?”

“Yeah. You know Cheryl. She’s always had a way of talking me right into shit I normally wouldn’t do. And Riverdale High didn’t exactly have a gymnastics team like my old school in Chicago, so I decided rather than go rusty and lose my edge, I’d join.” I shrugged, laughing and shaking my head. “It’s not so bad, I guess.”

She nodded to my outfit for the day. Ripped jeans, a Motley Crue t shirt and my favorite boots, my dad’s old plaid shirt. “You mean the other Vixens haven’t read you for filth for daring non conformity?”

“ Oh, there’s this one girl I’m dying to get my hands on when we do that powderpuff football game on Friday, but other than her, nobody really seems to care or notice? I’m just kinda.. There. Which believe me… is totally fine with me.”

I bent down to pick up Dagwood so that Polly could feed Juniper because she was crying. Adjusting Dagwood to my hip, I made my way over to the door, throwing it open. Scowling up at Reggie, who was leaning against a porch post.

His gaze softened when he glanced at me. I bit my lip. Taking a deep breath to keep my patience. I knew he was hurting. I knew it was also totally his fault. But I was trying not to be mean.

“What do you want?”

“Are you seriously dating that fucking guy now? Princess, he’s only going to hurt you.”

“No worse than you already have. But no.. No Reggie, I’m not dating Sweet Pea. I just fell asleep in Mr. Keaton’s class and I happened to wind up leaning against the guy. Kind of happens when I stay up until 3 watching the Saw movies.”

He looked as if he didn’t believe a thing I said. I shrugged because honestly, I didn’t care if he believed me or not. Shifting Dagwood from one hip to the other. Bouncing him a little, giving a soft laugh when he grinned up at me. And raised his little hand to try and grab a handful of the ends of my hair.

“ That guy is bad news, princess. If I have to, I’ll talk to your dad. Anything if it means keepin you from gettin seriously hurt. Or worse, put in danger.”

“Reggie, you need to go.” I rolled my eyes. “I should get back inside. Get Dagwood back to his mommy.”

Reggie was giving me this soft look again. Nodding. Like he was lost in thought. I snapped my fingers in his face and cleared my throat. “You need to go, Reggie. I’m not kidding. The more you pop up and try to force me to deal with this, the less it makes me want to, okay? I need space. Time.”

“It’s just so hard, princess. Then I see you around with him and damn it, I hate the way I acted and the fact that I ruined everything.” Reggie admitted quietly. I nodded. “Just give me space.”

“I’ll try.” he promised, turning, walking down my porch steps. From the doorway, Polly spoke up.

“Sweet Pea.. He’s a Serpent, right? Jason mentioned him once or twice.” Polly asked as she reached out for Dagwood and gave me Juniper to hold.

I settled Juniper on my hip and gazed at Reggie’s retreating back. Sighing and shaking my head sadly. I just wish he’d understand that the more he tries to force himself on me right now, the less I want to deal with everything. And I don’t want to lose a friend.

I diverted my gaze and turned to face Polly, nodding. “Yeah. I got paired with him in Biology. It’s been interesting, to say the least.” I sank down to sit on a bench my father built, laughing as I shook my head. Cooing at Juniper.

Polly cleared her throat. “Out with it, Alyssa Jean. I know that look too well, okay? And as your friend, I need to tell you now that the Serpents aren’t people you mess around with lightly. Not to mention, that whole thing with that guy Dave you had going in Chicago. The scary guy? The reason your mom freaked out and sent you here to live in the first place, most likely?”

“It’s nothing. It’s dumb.” I shook my head. Shifting Juniper around in my lap. Bouncing my legs a little to make her grin and reach up. “Dave was scary. And I’m starting to see that my mom did a good thing sending me here. I’m just glad he hasn’t tried to reach out to me.” I shivered a little, raising a hand to drag it through my hair. Gazing at Polly.

“The Serpents aren’t all bad.” I spoke up after a few seconds.

“Al, half of them already have rap sheets. I just don’t want you getting mixed up with them and getting hurt. Promise me you’ll at least give anything you’re thinking a lot of thought instead of just diving in and doing it?” Polly eyed me in concern. Mostly to appease her, I nodded.

“As far as Reggie.. I think he really regrets what he did.” Polly advised. Giving me a smile. Clearly trying to steer me in a particular direction. I know she was doing it with the best of intentions, but deep down, it struck a nerve or two. Because literally anyone I could think of save for Cheryl and Toni, they all seemed hell bent on steering me clear of Sweet Pea. Which was ironic, considering I really don’t see him ever even giving me a second look. Even more ironic when you stop to consider that it’s not like I’m openly throwing myself at the guy...Or that I’ve pretty much made up my mind that if I do feel anything for him, I can’t ever actually tell him, because it will ruin everything.

I opened my mouth to say something, but I decided against it. Polly gave me a soft smile, getting a dreamy look in her eyes as she spoke again. “The look he was giving you just now, Al.. If you gave him half a chance… you could be as happy as Jason and I were. Or as happy as I was raising my sweet angels at the Farm. You should come to a meeting with me.”

I shook my head quickly to that one. “I am.. Not into organized religion. I barely go to the services at the church here unless my dad really wants me to go with him. Besides.. We both know that I got up to enough sketchy stuff in Chicago that if I were to step foot in a religious building, lightning might just strike me down.”

“You weren’t that bad, Al. Everyone makes mistakes.” Polly laughed softly. Nodding to her twins as she mused, “Which one of us got knocked up, hm? And we both know how fast that gets you written off here.”

“ I know I wasn’t that bad, but also at the same time, it scares me now to think back and remember how much fun I had when I was in over my head, doing things I knew I shouldn’t ? As far as you getting pregnant and what this town thinks about it. Honestly, fuck ‘em. You and Jason were really in love. That’s what matters.”

“We really were. But it was hard.” Polly admitted quietly. Adding as an afterthought, “ I really miss him sometimes.”

“Yeah. Me too. Pretty sure he’d have helped Archie drill Reggie’s head into the floor when it got around exactly why Reggie was even dating me to begin with. It was ridiculous. Took Jughead and Kevin to pull the two apart.” I gave a quiet laugh, shaking my head.

Alice was calling for Polly and Polly grumbled, raising up to peek out the window. “I better go over there and see what she wants. I wanted to come over. Maybe I can come by again later or something?” Polly asked as she gathered Juniper and Dagwood, re-swaddling them against her. I smiled, nodding. Following her to my door, letting her out and locking the door again behind me once I saw her disappear inside her parents house.

XXX

“They’re going to tear down South Side.”

The words had Sweet Pea tensing because it was just another thing he’d be losing. It wasn’t enough apparently, that he was living in the Wyrm because he had nowhere else to go. He didn’t have family willing to take him. His mother hadn’t spoken to any of them in years. He barely saw his mother as it was, she’d come home for a day, a week tops and then she’d be gone again.

He gazed over at Fangs, processing what Fangs was telling him. “First it was closing the school down. Then it was our homes. What next, huh? What else do we have to get taken?”

Jughead wandered into the Wyrm and Sweet Pea scowled a little. It didn’t matter how much Jughead was trying to do for the gang, what he was accomplishing was the opposite of what needed to happen. “The fuck is he doing here?” Sweet Pea nodded to Jughead.

“He’s one of us, man.” Fangs reminded Sweet Pea. Glancing at Jughead as Jughead made his way over. He’d probably just heard the news about South Side High too. Though Fangs didn’t see why it mattered

“Only because of FP. Cherry’s more one of us than he is. I still say the second we’re not useful he’s going to bitch out and turn his back.” Sweet Pea grumbled.

Fangs chuckled, shaking his head. Sweet Pea hadn’t ever made a secret how he felt about Jughead. And he certainly hadn’t taken it easy on the guy when they initiated him into the Serpents not so long ago, either.

Jughead sat down next to where Fangs was standing, grabbing himself a drink from behind the counter and pulling the tab. Taking a long sip.

“We have to do something. They’re taking everything from us.” Jughead spoke up angrily.

“I’d like to point out they’re your friends.” Sweet Pea spoke up, a harsh tone as he glanced over at Jughead.

“I’d like to point out that we all know you have a thing for one of them. If you’re going to sit there and pin this on the North Side like usual, I mean. At least own up to that.” Jughead retorted, watching Sweet Pea’s fists clench and his face twist into an angry mask. Trying to keep himself from laughing as it happened.

Sweet Pea having feelings for Alyssa wasn’t quite as well hidden as the guy thought.

The only one who didn’t seem to be aware of it was Alyssa herself. It amused Jughead.

It did not amuse Alyssa’s brother.

And the two had already had several heated conversations about him hanging around Alyssa so much that Jughead had to intervene on more than one occasion.

“I keep telling you idiots I don’t. I’d trust her before I would you, Jones. If we’re going there.” Sweet Pea muttered.

“Whatever you say, Pea. Can we stop arguin? Maybe start thinkin about what the fuck we’re gonna do?” Fangs patted his friend on the shoulder and Sweet Pea glared up at him.

“A hunger strike. We chain ourselves to the school. They can’t demolish it if we’re not moving.” Jughead suggested.

Fangs and Sweet Pea shared a look. Neither were sure their idea would work. But maybe it could buy them some time. Or get attention to the issues at hand… The more attention they drew to the fact that certain people were trying to use their money to completely run an entire neighborhood out of town, the better their case.

“That’s not the worst idea.”

“I hate what I’m about to say.” Sweet Pea paused, grimacing as he added, “It’s not. It’ll get attention on what’s happening. I hated saying that, fuck.”

“Let me go talk to the others. We’ll reconvene at 9 tonight?”

Fangs and Sweet Pea nodded and Jughead went to talk to some of the other Serpents.

“That killed you, didn’t it buddy?” Fangs teased Sweet Pea.

“Fuck you, Fogarty.” Sweet Pea snapped, grumbling to himself. “Doing somethin is better than just sitting back and lettin them take everything, I guess.”

And at 9:30 pm that night, Jughead, Fangs, Sweet Pea and Toni as well as several other former South Side students met at their old school. Chaining themselves to the fence in protest.

#sweetpea fanfiction #sweetpea fanfic #sweetpea fic #sweetpea imagine #sweetpea imagines #my writing ; sweetpea #my fanfiction; sweetpea #my fics; sweetpea

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marshmallowprotection · 4 years

Text

I HAVE FINISHED TURQUOISE’S INFO (her name is now Jessamine)!

Also heres a link to the song “The Last Revolver” by Mothy, though note this is a cover with a newer version of Gumi’s voicebank, and this is also a fanmade PV remake of the original PV: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=9xsdMtgEJEg

This song is directly responsible for giving me the inspiration to make Jessamine. uwu

Also ignore the weird spacing I made this in google docs originally and apparently it decided to copy paste like that and im too lazy to fix it oof also its kind of long sooo oof.

like…2398 words long ;-;

I suggest you listen to “The Last Revolver” whilst reading this. idk gives mood lol

Name: Jessamine ‘Jess’ Belle

Aliases (If Any): Evera (Assassin Name)

Age: 20 (On Liam’s Death)

24 (Currently)

Date of Birth/Birthday: Day 31 of Aria’s Star, 2045 T.C. (the equivalent of December 31st)

Zodiac: Sagittarius

Status: Alive

Species: Human

Magic:

Height: 5'0 (152 Centimeters)

Ethnicity: Mijean

Relatives: Unnamed Mother✝

Unnamed Father✝

Liam Adelson (Fiance)✝

Birth Place: Collapsed Kingdom of Mijea, Theda

Nationality/Current Residence: Mariah Empire, Theda

Religion (Which Goddess Do they Worship?): None

Occupation: Assassin Employed By Kiara Malories (Formerly)

Wandering Gunner

Affiliations: Kiara Malories (Formerly)

Kingdom of Mijea (Formerly)

None

Personality (In Phrases): Uptight, Cold, Adorable (According to Liam), Secretly Really Kind, Just Kind of Quiet, Stubborn, Was Kind of Clingy To Liam Due To Having Literally Nobody Else, Her Parents Died In The Mercenian Invasion of The Kingdom of Mijea In 2062, And She Had Basically No Friends, So Liam Became Her Rock, She’s Still In Mourning, She’s Extremely Suicidal, Pretty Unstable, Has A Temper

Marital Status: Engaged To Liam Adelson (Formerly)

Single

Sexuality: Heterosexual

Likes: Her Revolver, Macarons, Liam, Cherry Blossoms, Hummingbirds, Butterflies, The Color Purple, People Who Don’t Get In Her Way of Revenge

Dislikes: Spicy Foods, Her Height, Kiara Malories, Mercenians, The State of Mercenia, Killing For No Reason (Developed After Liam’s Death), The Ocean (She Doesn’t Know How To Swim), People Who Do Get In Her Way of Revenge, Anyone Who Tells Her Suicide Doesn’t Solve Anything, Anyone Who Tells Her She Doesn’t Need To Get Revenge, Anyone Who Claims Liam Wouldn’t Want Her To Do [Anything Under The Sun]

Role: Secondary Character

Debut: Undecided

Random Facts:

Her smile is absolutely beautiful to see. However, she hasn’t smiled since her fiance, Liam, died.

She’s one of the last pure Mijeans still alive, as most were slaughtered in the Mercenian Invasion of 2062 T.C. in a genocidal sort of fashion. There are an estimated 500 Mijeans still walking the planet, and likely a lot more half-Mijeans exist than pure Mijeans.

The revolver she currently uses is a very expensive, efficient one that is very rare, which Liam gave to her for her birthday a few hours before she realized she had to kill him.

Jess is the definition of a person who gets really, adorably mad if you dare mention how short she is.

Liam was 6'0, a full 12 inches taller than Jess. You can bet that Liam teased her about it constantly.

Liam often picked up Jess in order to kiss her without hurting his neck. It wasn’t very hard since she’s fairly light. She was a flustered mess about it constantly.

When they first met, Jess didn’t tell Liam her real name on the spot, instead telling him her assassin name, Everina. He called her Ever most of the time, and when she confessed to him, that was when she told him her real name. He still called her Ever sometimes, but usually only if they were (for any reason) in public.

Very rarely, Liam called Jess “Mina”, which was a nickname he alone used for her. He only called her that during extremely personal, special moments (e.g. first kiss, kisses in general, making love, and when Jess had to kill him)

It’s very easy to fluster Jess, usually, just give her a peck on the cheek or her lips, or pick her up, and she’ll get flustered immediately.

Jess’s most sensitive spot is the right side of her neck, like sort of between her neck and shoulder. Liam used this to his advantage ;3

Jess is extremely ticklish on her sides, but nowhere else.

Jess’s favorite season is Spring due to it being when she met Liam, and her least favorite is Winter due to it being the season where she had to kill Liam.

Jess dreads and just plain old hates her birthday as her birthday doubles as the day where she had to kill Liam.

The only reason Jess hasn’t killed herself yet is that she feels she needs to kill Kiara first as vengeance for Liam. She plans to kill herself immediately afterward.

Jess plans to give Kiara an extremely painful, long death.

Jess is terrifying when she is determined to kill someone. Seriously, don’t get in her way. Else you’ll be killed too.

Jess’s favorite things about Liam according to her was his blue eyes and his dark, maroonish hair. His eyes because to her they were beautiful and she loved staring into them, his hair because it was extremely soft.

Jess is a total bottom 99% of the time…except one time when Liam let her top.

Liam constantly attempted to make Jess laugh, which was usually successful whether his joke was good or not, most times she laughed because his jokes were just stupid but in a funny way

Liam is 3 years older than Jess, being 22 when they met in 2064 T.C. and 23 when he died in 2065 T.C. as he was born on Day 13 of Ayja’s Star/September 13th, 2042 T.C.

Jess’s situation is a bit similar to Cora Hallow’s, as Jess lost everything she loved and became a wandering gunner, and swore revenge upon the person responsible, where Cora lost her entire family (supposedly) in the fire of Saseraia and swore revenge upon Nymeria believing her to be the one responsible; The fact that actually Jess is descended from a bastard line (descended of a bastard child of one of Cora’s descendants- also can I just say, Cora had one biological child, a daughter, who was conceived using early, experimental artificial insemination technologies and paved the way for refinement of such technologies for same-sex couples- it’s not that important but I wanted to mention it cus why not) of Cora makes it kind of ironic because history is sort of repeating itself in a way.

The reason Liam was targeted by Kiara was that he found out what Kiara was through overhearing her talking to someone at his police station, and due to that, she wanted him dead because he was also getting in her way by rescuing some of the other people she wanted dead or killing the criminals she wanted to recruit. He was also planning to reveal to the world what she was.

Backstory: Jessamine “Jess” Belle was born the only child of a pair of general store owners in the Kingdom of Mijea on the coldest day of the year. Jess’s childhood is relatively uneventful, until when she was 17 in 2062 T.C., when the State of Mercenia invaded the Kingdom of Mijea, looking to absorb it into its territory as it was falling into chaos anyway. Jess’s parents die helping Jess escape. She flees the country and ends up passing out on the border of the Kingdom of Lavinia, being found by Kiara Malories (who is really just Aya having possessed Nymeria’s body and using the body appearance changing spell that was within Nymeria’s ability pool to make herself look different), who takes her in, on the condition, however, that Jess becomes an assassin working for her. Having basically no other choice, Jess agrees and is taught how to use a gun by another assassin in Kiara’s employ, as it turns out Kiara had a whole group of assassins and other people working for her for vastly different reasons. Jess begins her work as an assassin for Kiara by killing about 40~ people within the next 2 years (20 per year).

On the first day of spring (Day 1 of Xomura’s Star/February 1st, Note The Calendar of This World Is Different In Which The Year Starts In April Instead of January And Thus Ends In March) of 2064 T.C. Jess goes to a small hill with a cherry blossom tree on it, which was a spot she loved to go to think about everything. However, that day was different in a significant way: Jess met a tall man with maroon hair and eyes. She indulged him with some idle chatter, telling him her name was Everina when asked. As he talked (and flirted a bit) with her, she learned his name was Liam and that like her, he was one of the survivors of the Mercenian Invasion of 2062, but that he was spared only because he was not Mijean, rather, he was from Aleon, at least, he was born there, but his parents moved to the Kingdom of Mijea when he was young. Jess also learns he is a police officer, and due to that remains cautious of him, always being prepared to kill him in case he ever suddenly turned on her. However, as they continued to meet up together at that cherry blossom tree, Jess steadily began to trust him.

In Summer (Day 28 of Kaila’s Star/August 28th; Summer Starts On June 20th/Day 20 of Eros’s Star In This World; Also The Year Is Now 2065 T.C. As April Has Passed), Jess was invited by Liam to a “date” according to him, though she chalked it up to him just flirting with her yet again, but accepted the invitation anyway. He took her to a park where together they watched a meteor shower that only happened once every 460 years, and that the last time this meteor shower happened was around when Archbishop Briella, the first archbishop under the new government system and after the Second Great Theda Civil War, was on her death bed. After the meteor shower was over, Liam confessed that he had fallen in love with Jess, and conflicted, Jess asked him to give her some time to think. After a few days of thinking, Jess realized she had fallen for Liam as well, and asked him to meet her under the same cherry blossom tree that had met at originally, and when they both arrived, she confessed to him that she had fallen in love with him as well. She also told him that she had lied to him about her name, as she didn’t trust him originally, and revealed to him her real name was Jessamine or Jess for short. Liam, overwhelmed with joy, picked her up and kissed her, calling her “Mina” for the first time, and over time it evolved into a special nickname that only he was allowed to call her. Liam also laughed when he saw Jess’s extremely flustered face after he kissed her.

In Autumn, Jess and Liam’s relationship truly blossomed, and mid-way through the season, they made love for the first time. And, mid-way through the last month of the season, Harmonia’s Star, Liam proposed to her, and Jess accepted. However, near the end of the season, Jess learned her next target was a man named Liam Adelson. While she was distressed at first at seeing the name “Liam”, she calmed herself by telling herself that the Liam she was engaged to and Liam Adelson must be different people- but deep inside there was a feeling of dread that told her that the two Liams were the same person.

In Winter, Jess asked Liam what his last name was, and he said he’d tell her if she told him hers, and she agreed. He revealed that his last name was Adelson, and in shock, she slowly said her last name was Belle before collapsing onto her knees, breaking into tears. Liam asked what was wrong but she fled not even a minute later. For the next month, she avoided Liam as much as possible, but eventually, he found her back at the cherry blossom tree they met at together all the time in mid Aria’s Star (December). Jess revealed that she was actually an assassin and that all the murders that had been happening had been her and her colleagues working. She told him she didn’t have a choice because she had nowhere else to go. She had been lying to her colleagues that she hadn’t been able to find him anywhere and that’s what it was taking so long to kill him because she desperately didn’t want to kill him. Before Liam could say another word Jess fled once again. On the 31st of Aria’s Star (December 31st), Liam got Jess a gift: a very rare, very efficient revolver, having known she had a fascination with revolvers and had planned to buy herself one. While she had originally claimed she was going to use it for self-defense, Liam knew she was likely using it to kill people. Liam managed to find Jess under the cherry blossom tree yet again, presented to her his gift. When she asked why he had gotten her a revolver, Liam told her to kill him with it. It was made to kill people as quickly as possible. He had even gotten her bullets. He told her that he didn’t want her to lose her home, or neglect what she had to do. In tears, Jess told him she didn’t want to kill him and even suggested they just run away, but Liam told her that there were others after him and that he would likely die anyway, so if he was going to die, he wanted it to be by her hand. Before Jess could say another word he picked her up and kissed her. When he finally broke the kiss, he quickly grabbed Jess’s revolver, knowing she would be unable to gain the courage to shoot him, and shot himself for her, his last words being “I love you, Mina.”

That day, Jess ran away from Kiara and swore revenge against her.

And to this day, in the year 2070 T.C., she still looks to do that, waiting for the day she can kill Kiara and then kill herself so she can be reunited with Liam.

— Submission

Ah, yes, holding the gun that tilts the fate of the universe. Gumi songs always tend to have a really specific note to them and this one assuredly is wild and a lot to take in when you listen to it in the context of the Villainious series. Glad to see it play out, though. I think there’s something bittersweet about how she was forced to do this, but her love stopped her from having to stain her hands with his blood. Him taking the shot himself implies that he loves her enough to die for her if he must.

It’s upsetting that there was no way out. But, pain and grief in stories like this provide an arc for a character to follow and deal with, and perhaps her story will not entirely end in misery, but peace and resolution of the fate that she’s been dealt and what it means to be okay with where you’re heading and what you’ve been forced through.

#oc #ask #mod kait #littleghostlyrose #tw gun #submission

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twoidiotwriters1 · 5 years

Text

Starcrossed Losers XIII (Josh Wheeler xReader)

A/N: I really like making song-fics, so I absolutely loved this. I think this might be sort of a thing that could stay? Feel free to tell me if you like it or not :)

Words: 6,521

Warnings: Cursing and a hint of abusive behavior cause Maya is evil.

Previous chapter // Next chapter

Wesley managed to thrill everyone with the dance and now they’re all helping with the decoration and the stage, which means the pharmacy is all alone cause the kids are too busy to try stupid dares that will harm them and that’s great for me, it means I finally have precious, beautiful free time to rest my wrist properly.

I’m sitting on the garden chair next to Wesley and Josh, above the beds where we usually sleep. Wesley has a tablet on his hands and is selecting songs for the playlist.

Josh and I are chatting about nothing and everything, it’s been two days since we had time to talk and... actually, I think we’ve only had time to talk like one or two times before everything exploded in our faces. Which is not a lot, but it’s enough to make us feel comfortable around each other.

More than comfortable in my case.

“You have any plans for the dance?”

“Like what?”

“Like wearing crazy outfits for the occasion,” Josh insinuates with a little smirk.

“The correct term is cool, not crazy,” I stick out my tongue, “no, I don’t have anything in mind. Why, you got some ideas?”

“I’m not really good with clothes,” He squints, “but I’m sure that whatever you choose to wear will look nice, everything looks nice on you”

“Okay...” I’m unsure of how to reply without crossing a line, I suck at it, so I just end with: “Thanks”

“I-I mean...” Josh suddenly changes his demeanor, like he didn’t mean to say what he’d said, “Not that I’m being weird, it’s just true. You look good, you’re... nice?”

I frown, understanding zero shit of what he was trying to say. I laugh it off and start to play with the bandages on my own hand, messing them up. Josh chuckles lightly and reaches for the loose part of the bandage, fixing it for me.

“So...” Josh speaks up tilting his face a little to the right, now talking to Wesley, “Which are you gonna choose?”

I lean my head so I can see Wes over Josh’s shoulder. He takes longer than expected, raising his head with a funny expression on his face.

“Choose?”

Josh chuckles and finishes up, gently letting go of my wrist he turns around to see our friend.

“Songs!” He points towards the tablet, “For the homecoming dance playlist?”

“This is no mere playlist,” He replies, finally going back to his normal self, “this is no mere homecoming dance do-over.”

He jumps off the platform with Josh going next and landing on the bed. I stand up from the garden chair as well and I stop for a second, stabilizing my body so I can sit on the edge and then jump with the impulse my healthy hand can give me.

I see Josh, waiting in case I need help. I think that’s sweet, but luckily I’m able to do it on my own and he looks really satisfied when I rush over to where they are.

“We rescued these kids from Baron Triumph,” Wesley continues, “this is a Saturnalia to the wonder of life, drinking from the water fountain of youth...”

I laugh under my breath and Josh discretely nudges my arm so I cut it out.

“Tonight, we stare the Grim Reaper in the face and we say,” he raises his left hand as he speaks, “if you like it then you should’ve put a ring on it”

I laugh again, this time Josh and Wes do it too.

“This is the soundtrack of our lives!” Wesley exclaims, taking a drag of his cigarette.

“That sounds like a lot of pressure,” I tell him.

“I can handle a little pressure,” He winks, “if you wanna help, I’ll give you two some privileges since you’re also saviors of these kids. You get to pick one song for the playlist.”

“One song? How generous of you,” I joke.

“Hey that’s more than any of them is getting,” He points at me, “so pick wisely”

“You heard him,” Josh raises a brow, “better get to work”

“Sure thing, boss,” I turn on my heel, moving towards the pharmacy.

I see Eli talking to KJ and I get to hear a bit of the conversation.

“Someone’s gotta make sure you ‘fugees are copacetic. You remember ICE?” He gives KJ his board and opens his hoddie to reveal the print it has, “Well, I’m the new ICE.”

He’s gonna get his ass kicked soon, and at this point, I can’t wait to see it.

“Okay, I need you to sign this oath of allegiance. Basically, you gotta do what I say at all times and you can’t make fun of me behind my back like Dana Rappaport did when I sharted in the third grade... Oh! And also it automatically casts a vote for me as Gender-Neutral Homecoming Royalty.”

KJ gives him the board back with a dick drawn on it and turns around, done with the conversation.

“This counts as a vote!” He exclaims as she walks away.

“Okay but what about making fun of you on your face?” I speak up, smirking, “Cause I have lots to say about your excessive use of bad T-shirts...”

“Hey, my T-shirts are the shit!” Eli replies.

“Sure...” I get to where he is and take the board from his hands, reading the papers, “You know, if you really want to win you have to find a different way to do it cause intimidation won’t work on them. It won’t work for you at all considering how tiny you are.”

“Fuck off, Y/N,” He frowns, “if you’re not gonna vote for me, then step out of the way”

“Who said I wasn’t going to?” I smile.

He stops and turns so fast for a second I think he might have hurt his neck.

“What?”

“Yeah, I think you deserve a victory after all the ass-kicking that we’ve put you through”

“You’re fucking with me”

“This is my way of making peace with you, I don’t wanna fight,” I raise my hands, “if you don’t trust me or don’t want my help, I get it...”

“No!” He looks over his shoulder to where Josh and Wesley are, preparing some stuff on the stage, “Talk now, knock-off Doc.”

“Bet that one gave you lots of satisfaction,” I chuckle, “Whatever... What you should be doing is give the people what they want from a leader: Order, equality, promises. Tell them that if they vote for you they’ll get their own comfy bed and bags of twinkies with chips, we’ll make schedules so they don’t have to worry about looking for stuff on their own once we run out of food...”

“That sounds like a total nerd-campaign”

“It’s a good campaign! Wesley, Josh and I brought them here. Now what? We’re not doing anything for their comfort, that merciful human could be you. You were the one who controlled the mall in the first place, convince them that you still have that power and they’ll vote for you”

“But I don’t have that power anymore, do I?” He asks bitterly, “Not after you assholes took everything from me”

“Maybe. You forget something important: As much as I find you annoying, I’m still the only one that trusts you a little bit, I can talk on your behalf, you can be sure they’ll listen”

Eli seems to think about it, then gives me a curious look.

“Why do you wanna help me?”

“I already told you,” I roll my eyes, “we’re gonna live under the same roof, I want things to be friendly between us. I don’t want any beef with anyone right now...”

As I say it, I catch a glimpse of Maya on the other side of the hall, helping some kids to carry a few sets of tables.

“Fair,” He nods, eyeing me carefully, “but if it doesn’t work-”

“It will,” I finish, patting his shoulder harshly, “get back out there and win tons of fans!”

I continue my way towards the pharmacy and find Alex there. It’s still completely empty except for us. He’s too focused on the book he’s reading to notice me.

“Boo!” I slam my hands against the table and Alex jumps, scared shitless. I let out a loud laugh and step back so he can’t hit me with the book.

“Asshole,” He leaves the book facedown on the counter, “Where were you?”

“With Josh and Wesley, talking about the dance,” I raise a brow, “why aren’t you helping with the decoration?”

“I don’t know, I’m not into it,” he shrugs, “it won’t be the same, you know that right?”

“Of course I do, Mr. Sunshine,” I scoff, “I was against the dance too at first, now... I guess everyone could use a break. We’ve been through a lot these months”

“You’re right about that,” He sighs, “Josh’ still bummed out about Sam?”

I told Alex the whole story, obviously. How Josh and I met, how everything went downhill after that and why I decided to stay. (I let out a tiny detail of the story, which is my stupid crush. He doesn’t need to know about that.) Now he fully understands why I can’t leave. Better yet, he also wants to stay and be part of our little... whatever we are, I still can’t find a proper name for us.

“He tries hard to hide it, but three days aren’t enough to get over someone’s death... If you ask me, I think this dance is kind of therapeutic for him”

“Maybe,” He tells me to move away and when I do he jumps over the counter to my side, grabbing the book and walking with me towards the exit, “You're helping with the planification?”

“I’m more like a back-up,” I smile, “whenever they can’t figure something out they ask me, apparently my creativity is somehow precious around here”

“It always was”

“Aww, that’s cute,” I nudge his arm.

Alex laughs and puts his arm around my shoulders, pulling me closer and ruffling my hair. Around us there’s a lot of movement coming from all sides, so no one really pays attention.

“Stop!” I grin, pushing him away, “I take it back, you’re an absolute heathen”

“Wow, careful there, you might hurt my feelings,” Then he asks me “What are your plans for the dance, then?”

“Have fun, try to keep my wrist away from any harm and dance a lot, I guess.”

“You going with any of your new friends?” I’m relieved to hear how friendly the question sounds, yet another confirmation of how things are back at the usual routine between us.

“Well, I didn’t ask...” I frown slightly, “like you said, it’s not like the real homecoming so I was going to assist on my own”

“We should go together!” He offers excitedly, “a way to affirm that our friendship is stronger than ever. What do you say? Should we go to the do-over dance as a platonic couple like the good old days? We could even get matching outfits!”

“Oh, those good old days,” I shake my head, smiling, “sure, why not?”

“Cool!” Alex raises his hand and we high five.

The music blasts on the speaker closest to us and raises its volume quickly, gaining our attention. So do the screams coming from one of the stores at our left. Crumble is there covering her ears and closing her eyes tightly, she seems to be suffering.

“Hang on,” I tell Alex and I walk over to the stage at the same time Angelica rushes out of the store.

“Turn it down! Turn the music down!” She urges them, climbing up the bench.

“Guys!” I scream, “Stop the music!”

I climb beside her and disconnect the speakers.

“Hey!” Josh pouts.

“The ghoulie part of the witch is super sensitive to loud noise,” Explains Angelica in slight exasperation.

“Shit! I was only playing this on chill,” Wesley complains, “I barely got to thumping, What happens when I get to cranking?”

“If you pump up the volume tonight, we’ll be doing the electric slide with a horde of ghoulies,” She says, then jumps down from the bench and goes back to the store.

I do the opposite and finish climbing until I reach the stage.

“Don’t take it personal, you know how important Crumble is to her investigation...”

Wesley gives me a side-eyed look.

“Hard to make the soundtrack of our lives with no soundtrack.”

“Maybe this is a bad idea,” Josh offers, it’s the first time since he found out about the dance that he doesn’t sound optimistic, “recreating what we will never have again...”

I look over at Alex, he reached over to the bench already and is listening. I know he’s thinking how he just said the same thing, but now that he heard it from Josh, it seems like he feels bad about it.

“You’re missing Sam pretty hard...” Mumbles Wesley.

Josh scoffs.

“We were gonna go to the dance together... She was gonna be Homecoming Queen”

I know I shouldn’t let his words get to me, that’s just another reminder of how my feelings are completely onesided, that I’ll be better if I keep my distance with Josh. Safer.

I walk away from their conversation and start to tie the net with balloons that Wesley wants to put above his DJ table, Alex appears again in front of me and hops up to the stage, crouching beside me and helping me.

“You’re okay?” He asks under his breath.

“I’m fine, I don’t know why hearing him talking about Sam gets me down... Maybe he makes me think about Katie too,” I lie, What else can I do?

“How are you dealing with that?” Alex puts his hand on my shoulder as a way of comfort, “Have you talked about it with someone?”

“Yeah,” A bitter smile appears on my face, “with Josh”

“Josh,” He chuckles, “sounds like you got to know each other quite well during these days, even if it was on such short notice”

“I guess we both have things in common”

“Like what?”

“We can’t keep our mouth shut,” I smirk.

Alex laughs and his hand falls from my shoulder, he shakes his head.

“I really missed our talks.”

“I missed them too,” I push him lightly, “don’t get sappy, though. We have a dance coming our way and I need you ready to impress.”

“Enough with the sappy then,” He stands up, finishing the net.

“You can pull it up now!” I speak up to the guy next to the column, he obeys almost instantly, pulling the net above our heads.

“Look at that,” Alex raises a brow, “someone’s learning how to be a leader.”

“Shut up, I’m no leader,” I roll my eyes.

Which reminds me, I still don’t know what’s the answer to that question. Who am I?

Strangely enough, that same question brings out the answer to another thing, and it’s about what Wesley said a few minutes ago:

The soundtrack to our lives.

I love music. I think Wesley is right, music has its own way to tell stories, it helps you get in the moment, attach ideas, make a memory special. That’s how I decide that from now on I’ll attach a song to this... whatever it is that I’m doing. Maybe it won’t be helpful at all but it explains a bit better how I feel during these times.

It is extra? Very. I’m doing it anyway. You better wait for those songs, buddy. Maybe that will also help me pick one for the dance.

When I'm getting off the stage with Alex we run (again) into Wesley and Josh. They were doing their own thing around the platform, but apparently, Wes is leaving.

“...I’m heading out, gotta feed Triumph and Turbo”

“I’ll go with you,” Josh replies.

“I got it,” Wes shrugs, “you use your survival skills to solve this noise issue.”

“I can help you with that,” I say, gaining their attention.

Wesley turns around and smiles.

“I knew I could count on you, Y/N,” He winks before heading out.

Josh looks at me with a small smile, then before Wesley leaves, his eyes widened slightly, something just came up to him.

“Hey, uh...” He turns back to Wesley, “What about Mastermind by Delton 3030 for the soundtrack?”

Wes nods, a knowing smile on his face.

“Right? Yeah?” Josh turns around, quite pleased with himself.

“Is that the song you’re gonna go with?” I smirk.

“Well, it was either that or... uh, one that’s a bit too much for the occasion, I think”

“Really?” I raise my eyebrows, “Which one?”

“No,” He blushes, “don’t push”

“You guys are making the playlist?” Alex asks.

“Wesley let us pick one song for the playlist. Only us,” I shrug, “because we saved your asses”

“Josh was the savior, you were only around.”

“She helped,” Josh replies, standing next to me and putting an arm around my shoulders, “she gave me a motivational speech before the fight, so... uh, yeah.”

“What a great comeback,” I tease him, “I still get to pick a song and you don’t so I’m winning.”

“Rude,” Alex huffs, “anyway if you guys need help let me know, I’ll be around”

“Sure,” I nod.

“See ya,” Josh waves, then he looks down at me, “don’t pick a song yet?”

“It’s been like thirty minutes since he told us, I need more time”

“I already chose”

“Tell me what was your second option, c’mon” I try to tickle him but he moves away.

“No!” He laughs, “It’s a dumb song”

“No song is dumb. Unless is like, a sexual song. The misogynistic type of song you know? Or a kids’ song, the ones that only have like one line that repeats itself over and over for two minutes-”

“Okay!” Josh interrupts me, “If you find a way to fix the noise problem I’ll tell you”

“I’m in,” I nod, shaking his hand in an overdramatic way that makes him laugh, “I’m so gonna win”

“Is not a competition,” He clarifies.

“It is now,” I wink at him, starting to walk away.

“Why do you have to be so annoying about stuff like this?” He pouts, “Y/N, where are you going?”

“I’m gonna fix the noise problem!” I speak up, already turning my back to him.

I decide to go with the genius of our little group.

“Not a clue, ask someone else,” Angelica tells me as soon as I ask her.

“Come on!” I scowl, “You could help! You just don’t wanna do it cause it’s not fun”

“Exactly.”

I hear a skateboard passing by and thinking it’s Josh, I turn around to tell him to convince Angelica. Only that is not Josh, it’s KJ. She’s using Josh’s skate though.

“Where did she get that?” I ask, turning back to Angelica.

“I gave it to her,” She shrugs.

“You gave-? Josh is going to kill you if he finds out”

“He’ll find out, that’s the point,” She rolls her eyes, “I want to set KJ and Josh together”

“You what?” I ask, accidentally kicking the table.

“So he forgets about Sam and stays with us,” Angelica replies matter-of-factly.

“He’s already with us,” I say, “Why would you do something like that? You can’t force him into another relationship!”

“Why do you care so much? It’s not like you care?” Although she’s got her back facing me, I know she’s smiling.

“Oh,” I whisper, stepping closer to her, “I know what you’re doing, you little creep”

“Do you?”

“You’re not trying to set them up, you’re trying to see if I get jealous!” I whisper-yell, “You think you’ll manage to get something out of this?”

“I will,” She turns around, satisfaction all over her face, “I just have to see the ridiculous doe-eyes you make whenever Josh does as little as brushing his fingers with yours to know you wanna get in his pants. Which means you’re staying as long as he stays. Which means I was right and you can die mad about it.”

“You’re not,” I hiss, “I don’t want to get in his pants and I can leave anytime. I chose to stay cause-”

“You like him. Don’t even try to convince me otherwise, I remember how you used to act around him the first day and I see how you act now, is not hard to see. I won’t tell him... but-”

“No but,” I cut her out, “I won’t play your games.”

��You guys look cute together! You’re equally dumb and cheesy!”

“See that’s rude,” I frown, “So what if we have things in common? He’s hurting, if I date him now I’m just the rebound, I’m not desperate enough to agree to that”

“What if he likes you back? What if he wants to be with you right now? The only thing stopping him it’s that he thinks you’re with that guy you hang out with, or that he thinks you’ll say he’s an asshole for not waiting longer to end his mourning?”

“Does he?” I cross my arms.

“I don’t know,” Angelica replies carelessly, “I could find out if you want.”

“This is stupid,” I shake my head, “let it go, okay An? We’re here and I promise we won’t go, at least for a while. You can live with that, right?”

“I can’t. I need results, not sappy promises,” She says dryly, “and KJ and Josh are the fastest way to get them if you’re so reluctant to give it a try cause you’re a coward. Step aside and let me take care of this.”

“You know what?” I reply harshly, “Do whatever you want, the only thing you’ll do is push Josh and me even further away from you”

I hold my anger as best as I can. I remind myself that Angelica’s a scared kid, she needs to feel safe. I understand why my tendency to be impulsive annoys her. Maybe she feels like she can’t count on me. That kinda hurts, if I’m honest.

It’s not really her fault, one day soon she’ll see she doesn’t need to play with our minds for us to stay with her and she’ll stop.

I’m officially upset though, so I go to the second floor to get my skates and have a little fun around the mall.

I make sure no one sees me. Technically, I’m not allowed to skate because I could worsen my wrist, but I think I’ll be fine. It’s a mall, nothing dangerous.

While I’m putting them on, back on the first floor, Maya walks up to me and throws a piece of paper.

“What’s this crap?”

“Glendale. I was looking at the map and I realized there’s this small corner at the limits of the city where no one goes cause it used to be the place where gangs lived but now is empty. There’s a mansion-”

“The mansion’s fucked. Josh used to live there, the giant pug ruined it”

“Of fucking course,” She rolls her eyes, “are you sure he’s telling the truth?”

“Why wouldn’t he?” I look up at her.

“Maybe he said that so you wouldn’t go there to steal his resources”

“Why would I even think of stealing his stuff? I have my own,” I reply, completely disinterested, “Listen just stop, okay? I’m not going.”

“You’re wasting your time here,” She kneels in front of me so she’s at my eye level, “so is Alex. When they get tired of you, they’ll kick you out with a dumb excuse and... and then you’ll be sorry you didn’t take my offer.”

I’m about to reply when I see a hint of fright in her eyes. Along with something I hadn’t seen before: desperation.

“It’s you who is sorry,” I finally understand why is she so obsessed with getting us back, “you didn’t leave the tribe to look for adventure, they kicked you out didn’t they?”

She stammers, stepping back from where I’m sitting.

“N-No! I got bored of their rules! That’s it!”

“You never learned to play by the rules, that’s true,” I half-smile, “but that’s what it’s like to be part of a tribe, Maya. You have to follow the rules and be a good team player”

“They never appreciated my skills!” She replies bitterly, “they threw me with the rest instead of having me in their front lines!”

“That’s because you are like the rest! Like me and Alex! The only ability you have is the ability to keep relationships for your convenience...”

“I don’t have anything to prove to you,” She snarls, “the main loser of our former group. Ha! Like you could do anything to get to me.”

“Very welI then, better keep my mouth shut,” I stand up with my skates tightly laced on my feet, “if you excuse me...”

I leave the store, I turn right on the hall and I see KJ on the other side, she’s using a different skateboard so I assume she already ran into Josh.

That’s not what gets my attention, what makes me stop is the set of headphones she’s using: No cords. I make my way towards her and touch her shoulder, signaling her to take off the headphones.

“Sorry, it’s just that I noticed your headphones and I wanted to ask you something...”

She replies in Chinese and I interrupt her.

“KJ, I know you can speak English I heard you talking with Burr on your first day of school”

She gives me a stern look and shakes her head. After I insist, she sighs heavily.

“What do you want, Y/N?”

I smile, happy of how I always noticed this kind of silly stuff back in school.

“Your headphones,” I say, “we have a problem with the music. Crumble can’t stand loud noises and neither can’t the Ghoulies outside the mall, so they’ll try to murder us if we blast the speakers. You know if there’s a way to connect a bunch of headphones to a single dispositive?”

“Maybe,” She tilts her head, deep in thought, “I can try to figure it out, later though, right now I’m skating”

“That’s okay,” I point to my skates, “cool if I join you?”

“Sure,” She looks at my wrist, “but no talking. I don’t want the guys blaming me in case you get hurt”

“I’m fine,” I roll my eyes, “let’s go”

I’m happy to see my skills are intact, I turn and jump without falling (my knee is much better now, thank you very much) I skate backwards and I don’t crash against anything. KJ is amused and is looking at me with a tiny smirk while she keeps on skating without showing off. Am I showing off? Yeah, a little. I really missed my skates and I’m proud of all the things I learned on my own.

After a while, I hear another set of wheels and when I look over to my right I see Josh. He tries to look upset because he caught me skating, but a smile makes its way out. He shakes his head and speaks up.

“Having fun?”

“I had missed this,” I nod, “it’s a crime to have these beauties collecting dust”

“It will also be a shame if you hurt yourself more and can’t go to the dance” He adds in what it tries to be an innocent tone.

“You say that like you’re not as dumb,” I reply, “between you and me, who has the most injuries inflicted by their own hand?”

“I... think that’s me,” He scoffs, “fine, I’ll leave you alone.”

I look at KJ and she’s trying to hide a smile, I wink in complicity and keep skating in silence.

Something funny happens, I start humming this really corny song I was obsessed with a few years ago. I have no idea why it comes back to me right at this moment, I assume it’s cause I used to hear it a lot whenever Alex took me on one of his skate rides.

It’s a good song and it’s a nice moment to introduce you to the soundtrack of my life. There you go.

Y/N from a year ago always thought that I would sing this to Alex on one of our dates, which is kind of ironic cause the song it’s pretty much about this dude in denial about loving someone who he knows is not the one but he’s so desperate to have, that ignores it all just to have her.

Music is funny like that. I never stopped liking this song, even after I realized what the lyrics said. Now I’m here, my mind is already giving the lyrics a new meaning. One that takes me to Josh.

So when I discretely move over to Josh’s side, I stretch my hand out to him with a teasing smile. I expect him to roll his eyes and push my hand away, instead, he holds it. It’s like someone turned up the sound inside my brain.

“Put your hand in mine You know that I want to be with you all the time You know that I won't stop until I make you mine You know that I won't stop until I make you mine Until I make you mine...”

I know, I know. This is so ridiculous that there’s no way it’s actually happening. Well, the part about the song isn’t. The music is not really playing, I added the song in my head. I hum without saying anything to Josh, I hold his hand and both of us have this dopey smile cause we know we look silly and someone could easily tease us if they see us holding hands and skating together. We do it anyway.

I don’t know why he does it but I do it because it’s stupid and cute and it makes me giggle like an idiot. It’s been a while since I felt this, so I decide to give in for a brief moment, I don’t have to look badass or cool all the time anyway.

‘What about Sam?’ You ask with tons of worry. Don’t get all stressed, I’m just fooling around, this doesn’t mean I’m making a move. I’m just enjoying our time together. Besides, Josh seems happy, if he were acting uncomfortable I would immediately retreat my hand and apologize.

I respect his decision and that means I only do the things he lets me do. You know, consent and stuff. If he needs more time to recover I’m willing to wait... Not that I’m waiting to make a move. Of course, I’m just saying that- I mean, if there’s ever a slight chance, I wouldn’t refuse- ugh, nevermind.

“...You need to know We'll take it slow I miss you so We'll take it slow...”

“Hey,” His grip on my hand tightens for a moment to get my attention, “what were you doing with KJ?”

“Oh,” I smile, remembering I have news for him, “fun story... I saw her when I was getting ready to skate and I noticed she had her headphones on...”

Josh looks over to her for a few seconds and jerks up, turning back at me with an excited smile.

“I thought of something”

“What?”

“Hold on,” He releases my hand and moves over to KJ’s side.

As soon as he’s over there, KJ moves slightly to the right and I look forward, noticing the janitor’s cart in the middle of the way.

“Shit,” I whisper, now also moving to KJ’s side to try to prevent the accident.

I’m too late. Josh is way ahead of me and he stops in the last second, crashing and falling.

“Josh!” I stop a few feet away, waiting for his reaction, “Dude, are you okay?”

“Ugh, yeah I’m fine,” He grunts.

“I’m dying to point out how you said I was going to be the one injuring herself when you just broke your own record of self-inflicted wounds but I’m truly worried about your state so I won’t say anything”

“Thank you for not mentioning that,” He pushes himself up and looks around, “fuck, that thing came out of nowhere”

“No, I’m pretty sure it was there before,” I offer a hand, he takes it with a grumpy expression, “cheer up! You were telling me about how you just realized something when I was telling you about KJ”

“What? Oh! Right,” Josh smirks, then he grabs his skateboard and adds, “you’ll find out soon enough”

“Oh darlin', darlin', baby, you're so very fine You know that I won't stop until I make you mine Until I make you...”

With that, he skates away and I decide to catch up with KJ. When I reach her I poke her arm and she takes off her headphones.

“Yes?”

“Can we start with the headphones now?”

She looks over to the watch on her wrist and nods.

“Let me change first, I’ll see you in the main hall.”

“See you,” I turn over to go back to the pharmacy.

I find a whole scene when I get there: Maya is going from one side to the other, fucking up all the work Alex and I made during the whole week. She’s pushing boxes and bottles, searching frantically for something.

“What the fuck are you doing?” I ask loudly.

“She’s looking for a knife,” Alex says, he’s at the counter with his arms crossed and looking like he’s dying to kick her face, “she thinks you took it”

“She was the last person I talked to, of course she has it,” She points to me, “Where is it?”

“I don’t have your knife,” I reply calmly, “I have my own weapon”

“A fucking hammer,” She states, “obviously is not as good”

“Fuck off,” I scoff.

“You fuck off,” She walks up to me, “first you tell me you don’t want to come, then you steal my stuff?”

“How are you so sure it was me? There’s like forty people in here”

I see Angelica curiously peeking through the entrance, I remember how she threatened to do something if Maya ever tried to fight me, so I try to finish the conversation before Angelica gets involved.

“You know what, I don’t have to prove anything to you,” I repeat her words, “I don’t have your knife. Period. Now-”

“Is this your knife?” I hear Angelica behind me.

I turn around to see her holding a purple pocket knife.

“How did you..?”

“You little rat!” Maya walks over to her and starts to pour her anger and frustration onto Angelica, “didn’t your parents teach you to ask before taking things from others?”

“Calm down,” Angelica frowns, “you sound like a fifty year-old virgin”

“Give it back!” Maya snatches the pocket knife from Angelica’s hand.

My friend hisses and I see her hug her hand tightly against her chest. It’s the first time I see that look, she’s scared.

I’ve had enough.

“Get out,” I say coldly.

“What?” Maya turns around, frowning.

“Get out of our mall.”

“You can’t-”

“You have no self-control and you use any excuse to insult people. You can scream at me as much as you want, but I won’t allow you to scream or touch Angelica like that ever again.”

I grab the backpack that I’m sure it’s hers and I extend it to her, waiting.

“Who the fuck do you think you are to just kick people out of the mall like it belongs to you?” She asks, refusing to take the backpack.

She’s being so loud that a few kids are staring now.

It comes to me as I stand there, in the middle of the pharmacy with two people that I care about deeply. To be honest, I feel a bit dumb about not realizing sooner.

“I’m the healer,” I reply, “you injured An’s hand. My duty is to make sure she won’t get hurt again so I make sure by kicking you out. How’s that for a contribution, huh?”

“That’s not what I’d meant...” She mumbles.

“Doesn’t matter,” I throw the backpack to her feet, “you have twenty minutes, take enough stuff so you can make it on your own for a while and go”

“You’re gonna let her do this?” She asks, this time looking over at Alex.

“You heard the boss,” Alex replies, indifferent, “good luck out there”

Maya gives me one last glare before turning on her heels and walking away in indignation. I let out a heavy sigh, I suspect that during that whole exchange I wasn’t breathing.

Angelica gets closer to me and I look down at her hand.

“Let’s fix that,” I point to her hand.

“That was really badass,” She replies, “I’m sorry I called you a coward, I hope you’re not angry about it”

“I’m not, you were sort of right about it. I am a coward when it comes to... you know, admitting my feelings”

I see how her eyes light up at my statement as we walk over to the counter.

“I’m right? You like-”

“Shhh!” I search for Alex and I find him leaning over some boxes, he’s not paying attention to our talk, “Yes, you are. Promise me you won’t say anything, not even to Wesley!”

“Why not?”

“If something happens I want it to be because he wants it, not because you two forced him into dating me, that’d be embarrassing for both of us, understand?”

“Fine,” She picks a box of bandaids and hands it to me, “but you should definitely go with him to the dance, I bet you’d have fun.”

“I can’t,” Before she starts to complain about how I don’t have the guts, I add: “I already told Alex I’d go with him.”

“What?” She frowns, “You said you didn’t like him!”

“I don’t! This was our way to say ‘hey, everything’s okay between us now, we’re friends again”

“When you fix things with a friend you give them something, like a gift,” She complains, “you don't cock-block them!”

“He’s doesn’t know!” I grumble, “Don’t worry, I don’t have to try anything right now, remember how he’s still sad about Sam?”

“About that... after you left he came to the store and I asked him stuff”

“About what?”

“Sam, KJ (and yes, he’s not into it, shut up) and... about you”

I try to keep my hands as steady as possible while I put the bandaid.

“And?”

“Since you’re so scandalized about making a move before a proper period of mourning, I’ll keep it to myself,” She smirks.

“Traitor,” I mumble, finishing my work and standing up, “get out of my pharmacy before I kick you out as well”

“As you wish, all-mighty Healer,” She teases, bowing before me.

I like how it sounds. Not the ‘all-mighty’ thing, but the last part.

Y/N L/N: The Healer.

Taglist.

@letsbloodmagic @slythermyg

#twoidiots writing #daybreak fanfic #eli cardashyan #daybreak #josh wheeler #josh wheeler xreader #angelica green #ms crumble #wesley fists #netflix

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fromcrossroadstoking · 5 years

Text

Timid Hearts

Sisk and Roe throughout the war. Because I`m very soft for them.

(This is probably the longest thing I`ve ever written.)

Tags: @gottapenny @itisjustmethistime @indigosandviolets

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"Right now some lucky bastard's headed for the South Pacific. He'll get billeted on some tropical island. Sitting under a palm tree with six naked native girls helping him cut up coconuts so he can hand feed them to the flamingos."

"Flamingos are mean. They bite."

"So do the naked native girls."

I wonder if Cajun boys bite too.

With that thought, Sisk stole a quick glance towards the dark haired man sitting a few cots down, reading through a small field medical manual for what Sisk thought must've been the thousandth time. A small shiver shot through his spine as he considered what it would be like to have the other man's teeth drag across his skin, nipping at all the most sensitive spots.

Unfortunately, before his imagination could get much further, a fight broke out right in front of him between Liebgott and Guarnere.

Roe could swear he felt a pair of eyes on him. It had become a strangely familiar feeling and he was certain that it was almost always one man. He had caught Sisk staring several times already; his eyes would be locked on Roe like he was trying to study him, figure him out, memorize him. Roe usually brushed it off, only offering a polite smile in return. If he thought about it too much he might have to admit to feelings he didn't have time for.

He dutifully tried to ignore Sisk, tried to concentrate on the slim medic manual he had been given back in Toccoa. Roe hadn't asked to be a medic. When he joined the paratroopers he had done so expecting to jump out of a plane, gun in hand, to fight Nazis. But then the army had taken his gun and handed him a crisp white armband adorned with a blood red cross. And just like that he was a medic, responsible for saving lives, not taking them. A small bubble of fear that he wouldn't be good enough, that he would let his company down, that men would die because of mistakes he made, began to rise and Roe did his best to swallow it back down.

A commotion a couple bunks down near Sisk (of course it had to be in that direction) forced Roe's eyes away from his book and his thoughts. Liebgott and Guarnere brawling, what a surprise. Roe rolled his eyes and tried to refocus. He had a feeling Easy Company wasn't going to make his job as a medic easy and he wanted to be as prepared as possible when they finally met the enemy face to face.

Most men enjoyed their time in England and the small bits of freedom and fun they had exploring a new country. Roe, however, seemed indifferent to the whole thing. Or at least that's the impression that Sisk got as he watched Roe do almost nothing but continue to study that damn book every chance he got. I bet I could distract him from that goddamn book real good. If I had the guts to actually do anything.

While he harbored some secret fantasy of ripping the book out of Roe's hands and dragging him in to a quiet dark corner where he could show Roe just what he was missing out on, it was never going to happen and Sisk knew it. Truth be told, Sisk had hardly managed to get beyond the occasional "Hi Doc". Oh, he had come up with a thousand ideas of different ways to get Roe's attention, or start a conversation. But in all this time, he had only implemented one, admittedly lame, plan: place himself in Roe's line of sight frequently enough that Roe might actually notice him.

The plan was dumb as dirt, but Sisk stuck to it. After all, he hadn't managed to gather up enough courage to do anything else yet. Part of him liked to think he was getting very good at his ridiculous plan, almost making an art out of it. He always made sure to never be more than one or two people away from Roe during formations, always found a way to snag a seat at a table in front of Roe during meals, always happened to find an excuse to be in the same area as Roe. Still he had been unable to hold Roe's attention or induce him to start a conversation and with their impending jump in to the war looming ever closer, Sisk worried he was running out of time.

He was right.

In some ways, Roe was glad to finally be jumping in to Normandy. The waiting had been its own kind of torture. It gave him too much time to think. It seemed all he did in England was think about what was coming - the blood, the screams, the deaths, the men relying on him to keep them alive. Now that they were finally on the plane, flying over the cold, dark blue of the ocean, Roe found that his mind was miraculously only occupied with the thought of his chute, silently praying for no malfunctions.

As the plane began to soar over Normandy, the sounds of war became very real and very loud. The plane shook as antiaircraft fire exploded all around them. Roe squeezed his eyes shut and begged his mind to think of something else, anything else. His mind complied by offering up, of all things, Skinny Sisk. Sisk, who always seemed to be where Roe was, who always offered up a "Hi Doc" full of enough warmth to seem like he was genuinely pleased to see him every time. Handsome, quiet Sisk who Roe had been so careful to keep his distance from, who now sat in another plane somewhere in the explosion filled skies of Normandy. An ugly ball of fear and regret began to form in his gut and Roe's eyes snapped open. Just in time to see the light flick on, signaling for them to get ready to jump.

With the adrenaline of the jump and the initial fighting wearing off, Sisk found he was exhausted in a way he had never been before. It had been several sleepless days battling his way through Normandy`s hedgerows and Sisk was now so tired that even his fingers and toes hurt. Curled in a shallow trench between Liebgott and Smokey, Sisk was just barely conscious of his eyes slowly drifting closed.

Roe finally found the rest of Easy. After stumbling around fields and forests with nothing but a prayer and a small pair of scissors to defend himself, he had made his way to a small aid station set up in a church by a couple of other medics. He had stayed there for a couple of days, diligently helping the wounded, before the itch to find his own company had become downright overwhelming. He had set out immediatley and reached Easy Company not long after. He could feel the flood of relief as soon as he set his eyes on his company. They were scattered about a makeshift camp, exhausted and dirty looking. He quietly took a visual inventory of everyone, those who were there and their injuries, and made a mental note of those who weren't there. As his eyes scanned the company, they fell on Sisk and a second, unexpected, wave of relief hit Roe. Sisk was fast asleep, head leaning on Liebgott's shoulder, seemingly uninjured. Roe couldn't help the small smile that flicked across his face.

Sisk was pretty sure the last time he had seen a genuine, full of honest-to-goodness happiness, smile on Roe's face must have been at the very beginning of the Holland operation. He was having a hard time pinpointing a single time he had seen that brighter-than-the sun smile since then, as he sat there in his cold dirt hole in the woods of Bastogne.

Oh wait. Spina.

Roe’s face had lit up like a goddamn Christmas tree when Spina had joined the company. And although he understood why Roe had been so excited to finally have another medic around, that knowledge did nothing to smooth out the knot of jealousy suddenly lodged in Sisk's heart. The knot grew tighter every time he saw Spina effortlessly command Roe's attention, every time he saw them chatting like old friends, every time he saw Roe settle in to Spina's foxhole for the night. He was being an idiot and he knew it. He had no reason to be jealous, it wasn't like he and Roe were together. Hell, they had never even really talked to each other beyond polite conversation. And besides, Roe more than deserved to finally have a friend in this godawful war. Sisk just really wished it had been him.

It's my own damn fault. I coulda just talked to him when I had a chance. Coulda been friends.

Sisk crossed his arms over his chest and huffed. He was cranky, hungry, cold, and absolutely miserable. He was also damn tired of Perconte's never-ending teeth brushing. His eyes darted over to his foxhole companion, who was vigorously brushing away. Again.

Swear to God, I`m gonna steal that damn toothbrush while he`s not looking and smash it into a million goddamn pieces.

His thoughts were interrupted by a third man suddenly jumping in to their hole, half landing on top of Sisk's legs. Sisk watched, speechless, as Roe upended Perconte's things and stole the pair of scissors Perconte had squirreled away. Perconte's feathers were incredibly ruffled by the proceedings and he made no attempt to hide it. It was one of the most satisfying things Sisk had witnessed in a while. He attempted to say something clever to that effect but before he could get a single word out, Roe had already leaped out of the hole and headed back on his way.

Roe raced towards the call for a medic. As he neared the source, his heart stopped as his eyes took in the sight of a bloody Sisk writhing in pain. He jumped down next to him and, calmly as he could, examined Sisk's wounded leg. It didn't appear to be all that bad and he tried to reassure Sisk of that fact as Perconte called for a jeep. He must have done a half decent job of being reassuring, because Sisk seemed to relax a bit and even refused morphine. The briefest of pauses followed Sisk's refusal where Roe had to fight back the sudden overwhelming urge to plant a kiss on Sisk's forehead and wrap his arms tightly around the other man.

He quickly blinked and refocused on the task at hand.

The aid station was far more crowded than Sisk had imagined it to be. But it was relatively warm and there was alcohol. So, not all bad. He even managed to make a joke about it that pulled a brief smile from Doc. Sisk felt a small bubble of pride and satisfaction at his small accomplishment, that was quickly, viciously, popped as Roe walked away without a single word.

With the war in Europe over, Roe found he unfortunately had plenty of time to think again. But instead of being preoccupied by thoughts of war like he had been before Easy had entered the fray and during the subsequent months, Roe was now unable to turn his mind away from one particular man. As he sat in the sunshine next to Spina, who was babbling away about something or other, Roe quietly tried to shove down another wave of remorse.

Guilt had been chewing at Roe's conscience for weeks now. It had plagued the back of his mind through the rest of Bastogne, straight through Hagenau, right on through to their present position near Hitler's beloved Eagle's Nest.

I didn't say a word. Not even a goodbye. Just left him there. Goddammit.

The puddle of regret Roe had felt when he first wordlessly left Sisk at the aid station, had deepened into an ocean when Sisk rejoined the company. He had returned only a few days later but nothing had been right after that.

Roe had noticed it immediately. Sisk, who had always been in the peripheral of Roe`s vision, was suddenly nowhere to be found. He was no longer simply popping up wherever Roe went. The warm "Hi Doc"s were replaced by quiet nods of acknowledgment whenever they happened to pass. Roe's world suddenly felt empty in a way he hadn't expected and it hurt in a way he couldn't describe in words.

Without being fully conscious of it, he began to mimic Sisk's former behavior. He kept trying to catch Sisk's eye, he sat across from him at meals, attempted to start conversations but never really got past "Hey Sisk? Doing alright?". Roe began to feel desperate.

Sisk had resolved to give up that day at the aid station as he watched Roe walk away. The resolution was painful but necessary. He couldn't be lovesick forever over someone who clearly had no interest. And now here he was, heartbroken and stuck in a jeep with a bickering Liebgott and Webster. How he wished Webster would just shut up and get over it. One way or another, the Nazi that had been holed up in the little house was dead and there was nothing Webster could do about it now. Besides, there was no arguing with a pissed off Liebgott. Webster really should know that by now.

Silence fell between the men as they reached Easy Company. Webster jumped out of the jeep before it had even come to a full stop and Sisk moved to follow him.

"Hey!"

A hand grabbed Sisk`s sleeve just as he was jumping out of the vehicle, almost knocking him off balance. He shot an irritated look towards Liebgott who maintained a firm hold on his shirt.

"I wanna talk to you. Come on."

Sisk let out an irritated sigh and rolled his eyes for the millionth time that day but obediently followed the older man as he walked over to a quiet garden area behind one of the houses.

"What's your deal?"

"What?"

"Don't be an asshole. Something's wrong with you. Has been for a while. You went from a bouncy little puppy to a puppy that looks like it's been kicked around. So what is it?"

"Nothing. The war. You know how it is."

"Fuck you. Don't lie to me. You're fucking bad at it." There was a brief pause before Liebgott added, "It's Roe, ain't it?"

Terror filled Sisk and he froze like a deer caught in headlights.

"Fuck. Calm down. I'm your best goddamn friend. You think I wouldn't fucking notice? Fuck. Sit your ass down. We're gonna talk."

Sisk sat, his mind still trying to catch up with what was happening. Before he knew it, he was telling Liebgott everything, every last detail. Because Liebgott was right. He was his best friend and if Sisk couldn't tell him, then he couldn't tell anyone. And it felt good too, to finally let someone in on his years long secret.

By the end of it, Liebgott was close to kicking Sisk's ass.

"Of course, nothing fucking happened between the two of you! Doc ain't a fucking mind reader! You can't stare him into having a fucking crush! Fuck!"

Roe was quietly organizing supplies in a small room he had claimed as his own. The war was over and Roe finally had enough medical supplies. Hell, he was damn near drowning in medical supplies! Anger flared up as he thought about just what he would have done to have these supplies only months earlier. Roe took a deep breath and tried to calm down. What had happened, had happened, and there was nothing to be done about it now. Just as his emotions were starting to smooth back out, a familiar voice filled the room, and Roe's heart was back to doing somersaults.

"Hey, uh, Doc? You have a second?"

Roe's words escaped him for a moment as he looked at Sisk shifting nervously on his feet in the doorway.

"'Course. You alright?"

"Yeah, yeah I'm alright. I just need to talk to you about something."

"I'm sorry." Roe blurted out the words before he could stop himself. Sisk stared at him for a moment, seemingly caught off guard by the sudden apology. "I didn't say goodbye or anything back at the aid station and I should've. I should've said something. And I didn't. I mean, there was a lot I wanted to say but I didn't know how so I didn't say anything and that ain't an excuse but I`m sorry."

Roe could feel himself starting to ramble, nerves getting the better of him, and managed to stop talking.

"Oh. Well. I have a lot I've wanted to say too. For a long time. Just didn't know how either."

The two men stood in a silence that seemed to stretch on for too long. Roe had never been good at expressing himself with words and after everything that happened during the war, he had only become worse at it.

"Fuck. Okay. Look, Gene, I like you. A lot. More than a lot. Fuck. I just, fuck... I want to be more than friends and I'm really hoping you feel the same. And well, I don't know, that's it I guess. Jesus. Fuck."

Roe was staring at him, eyes wide.

When did I start saying fuck so much? Maybe I`ve been spending too much time with Lieb. Dammit.

An odd mix of panic and relief began to set in after his less than smooth confession. Relief that it was finally over with, panic that his feelings wouldn't be reciprocated.

His alarm slowly melted away as he watched Roe's face soften and the corners of his mouth turn up.

An honest to God smile spread across Roe's face as a weight he didn't realize he had been carrying for so very long lifted off of his shoulders. He covered the space between himself and Sisk in only a couple of steps. Grabbing the front of Sisk's jacket, he pulled the other man in to an intense, hungry kiss. He broke off the kiss only long enough to get out a soft "me too". He gently lead Sisk in to the room, closing the door behind him. Leaning forward to press his lips against Sisk's once more, he could feel the other man smile into the kiss, as the two stumbled further in to the room. They had three years to catch up on and both men wordlessly decided they had no more time to waste.

#band of brothers #band of brothers fanfiction #band of brothers fanfic #SiskRoe #skinny sisk #wayne sisk #eugene roe #doc roe #i wrote a thing

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pixiealtaira · 5 years

Text

I was tagged by @chocoholicannanymous to post the first lines of the last ten fics I wrote...on. They all were WIPs..all of them. It might be a bit embarrassing to admit that this doesn’t even make a dent in the WIPs in progress. Nope...not a dent.

I realize I tend to long first paragraphs often, so I went with between 3 and 6 lines...

Pretty much nothing as a name...so I’ll refer to it by the title of the doc.

So, with our further fluffiery...from what I worked on latest to ten back....

1) Modeling AU ---glee WIP

Santana, Rachel and Kurt were filling the condiment bottles and chatting as they watched while the group of 4 singing wait staff finished their last song. Or rather Rachel and Santana were chatting and Kurt was trying to ignore them while not letting them know he was ignoring them, or at least not letting Rachel know he was ignoring them. He wasn’t incredibly happy with anyone that moment, although he was at a better place with Santana than with Rachel. It could have been because he and Santana had had it out a bit earlier so the air was partially cleared, but not cleared enough for him to be helping her chat with Rachel.

2) NaNoWriMo 2017 ---- glee wip, also second part to the story above but nano wants new works...so I made it one (this year nano was a failure...ended up with too much family drama going on and the son was a senior in highschool)

Kurt Hummel trudged into the costume workshop attached to the theater department at NYU. He wasn’t sure Rosie, who he was supposed to meet up with was even there yet, as it was ridiculous o’clock in the morning, but the back entrance door was open so he figured someone responsible was inside.

“hello?” Kurt called out.

“In the room with the sewing machines, back right hand door.” Kurt heard yelled back to him.

3) NaNoWriMo 2016 ------glee wip...again this year of nano was a failure...but that was because I was sick for most of it

The summer after Blaine’s massive meltdown and tantrum and the subsequent break-up was looking to be…difficult. Horrid. Soul crushing. Kurt saw no relief from it. There was no one to ease the feeling that somehow he was solely to blame. He had no one to talk to, really. Artie blamed Kurt and wouldn’t give him the time of day. He was the only one still in New York City. He hadn’t heard from Elliot or Dani since before he was bashed back in February…he remembered asking about why he hadn’t and getting a vague brushing off and then the bashing happened and then every moment was focused on Blaine again…making sure he wasn’t feeling inadequate or ignored. And no body at work spoke with him, at least not at the diner.

4) CM-Glee cross --------Criminal minds Glee crossover WIP...I am determined to finish this and it’s companion fic...I will...at some point

If one had asked, which of course no one ever did, Spencer Reid would have actually told that anyone who’d asked that he would have rather been anywhere else than where he was. He’d have liked to have had the opportunity to give some input, to have some options! Yes, he’d had some …issues, especially when things were dealing with teens, but it wasn’t like everyone else he worked with had always done everything exactly right each and every time either. (Morgan and any pretty women they worked with in any way shape or form…for example. Hotch stopped Spencer from talking before he got that pointed out though.) These weren’t even really teens, for the most part…at least not high school students. Out of the six deaths, only one was a student. Spencer did not see the reason Hotch had stared at him the whole time he gave his lecture on not letting themselves get too emotionally involved. Nor did he see why HE and HE alone had been left at the police station when they arrived. He was actually an agent, for Pete’s sake.

5)nanowrimo 2013 ------glee and criminal minds crossover WIP...yes you read that date right,however this ficis over 80000 words and I think could be finished quickly if I could just get past one fricking scene

After Kurt’s summer from hell, Kurt Hummel had hoped that things would be better for the school year, or at least the same things wouldn’t be bad. He was really tired of the repetition of misery that was his life lately. However, when it came down to it, school had been going just like it had the year before. Granted, he’d only been tossed into the dumpster once so far. (He suspected it was because he was harder to toss this year after putting on a few inches in height.) However, the locker slams had become brutal again and slushies were still a routine.

6) why Kurt speaks fluent french ----I suck at titles. Glee WIP. Somehow half what was written for this got lost...on some hard drive or flash drive was another 5000 to 10000 words, but I have not been able to find it so we spent a bit over the summer rewriting.

Elizabeth Hummel looked around the parking lot of Hill Side Elementary School, and wondered once again where the hill that she’d figured it was named after actually was. It certainly wasn’t anywhere near the school. False advertising…that ought to be a good reason not to have Kurt go to there, although she was pretty certain her husband would disagree. Elizabeth hated the school. She had hated it from the start, really…from the moment they got the letter in the mail that told them that due to the schools nearest them being under construction still and the next closest school being under renovation and so only being able to house half the students it generally did…her child was slated to go to Hill Side.

7) Kurtoberfest day 16 holiday recipes --- WIP, almost done, maybe, au where Finn is alive

Kurt remembers the day Finn Hudson’s career path was chosen. Finn had come to New York to ‘hang’ with his brother and sneer at Rachel and torment Santana. (Ok, Finn said he’d come to hang with Kurt, but he spent more time sneering at Rachel and tormenting Santana than hanging with Kurt, to the point of refusing to go site seeing to places Finn had wanted to see in favor of bugging the girls.) Kurt and Finn had been watching old comedies waiting for Rachel to get back so Finn could bug her when Kurt switched from Sister Act to Kindergarten Cop. Finn had never seen Kindergarten Cop. Kurt was frankly dumbfounded about that fact, seriously. Kindergarten Cop was like a staple of movie viewing. Finn watched Kindergarten Cop with an intensity that Kurt had only ever seen him give to 45 buck steaks and a basketball ball game on TV once that Finn had bet 300 dollars on. Finn didn’t even notice when Rachel came stomping into the loft and then left again.

8)Kurtoberfest prompt 17 harry potter au ---glee and HP crossover

When Harry Potter left Britain, and the wizarding world, he decided to run to someplace he could get lost in. He beat dear old Voldie, he’d won the damned war for them, and all he got from it was fits from people who didn’t like how he did it…he should have used magic, not non-magical means and he certainly shouldn’t have used a snake to help…and proof of just how manipulative certain people had been in his life, which thankfully the goblins had helped him with after he proved to them he did not sign anything giving anyone means to form marriage and partnership contracts with anyone. Half the Weasley’s weren’t talking to him, and he was fine with that after finding out that Ginny had been feeding him love potions because he wasn’t responding the way she wanted and that Dumbledore had sold him off to her mom, essentially in trade for her pledging the aid of all her children to Dumbledore’s cause. He also didn’t appreciate that Dumbledore had promised Harry’s magic to the ministry in exchange for the ministry turning a blind eye to certain things Dumbledore had done…like sealing his parents wills with no authority to do so.

9) Severus Snape meets a Small Harry What If ----Harry PotterWIP one of like 8 with this name in my WIP folder. This one has a big harry and a small harry and is a bit dark

As Severus Snape watched over Flitwick’s classroom, full of Gryffindor third years, he cursed the fact that the quarantine of a house also included their head of house. He cursed the outbreak of – what was it…ah, yes… the Chicken Pox – some silly Muggle disease a first year had brought back with them after a family gathering during the short spring break which had spread through the Ravenclaws like a wildfire.

10) T and T Kurt....Glee WIP Just how did Kurt’s tiara collection get started?

Elizabeth Hummel looked around the dressing room area of the pageant and briefly contemplated her sanity…or lack of…in getting involved with it all. She was tired of the tantrums and whining and screaming done by both mothers and children. Luckily her child wasn’t involved in any of that. Her child was seated off to the side.

“Katerina Bates, please come stand by mummy.” Elizabeth called.

The child slid off the chair they were seated on and hopped over.

“Elli. Not Katerina.”

“Katerina today. You can be Elli tomorrow.”

Yeah....there were six other in that Kurtoberfest bunch being worked on, three other HP and three other CM fics..because I told myself I would finish a WIP this summer and my mind said NOPE, Will no concentrate on One. Nope Nope Nope.

Also wrote lines for beans for Clever Jack and the Magic Beanstalk because of course the magic beans needed a whole mini scene song and dance number to themselves...of course they did.

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mattlassen · 5 years

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My Ascent into MADness

I’ve seen a lot of eulogies to MAD from contributors and fans alike the past week since the news broke that they wouldn’t be printing new material going forward. Yes, it is a loss for me as a MAD contributor but to be honest, I have been processing this loss and the end of MAD for a little while now. As Tom Richmond said so dead on, this was not something we didn’t see coming.

I wrote some tweets as a tribute to MAD the day after the announcement went public but I feel I owe it more. (I really am a millennial - I thought a tweet or two was enough!) MAD was a big part of my life. It changed my life. It deserves more than Twitter. We all do!

I was a writer and artist (occasionally) for MAD since I interned at the age of 19 but not many people know how I encountered MAD for the first time. I was born with a pencil in my hand as my mom says which makes me question what she was eating and drinking during pregnancy. I was always drawing and dreamed of being a comic strip artist after my dream of being a basketball star went by the waist side when everyone got taller and left me well by their waist side! During high school, my family took a trip to California and being big fans of Peanuts (my mom and I), we visited the Charles Schulz Museum in Santa Rosa. It was an amazing experience. We went around the whole museum while my dad and brother tailed off to let my mom and I experience it more in-depth at our leisure. When I met up with my dad later, he said “I was sitting in on this artist talk and the guy is pretty good. Maybe you’d be interested.” We went in and Tom Richmond was doing a talk about caricatures. They were amazing. Funny, exaggerated and completely dead on. You knew who it was right away! The perfect caricature.

As the talk ended, Tom showed the opening spread artwork he just finished for MAD Magazine for the movie, Spiderman 2. Wow. Caricatures, amazing line, color and backgrounds together. Oh and stupidity! Spiderman’s pants were coming down so his underwear was showing, Doc Ock had big bandages on his tentacles and there was a paper that said “Man bites Dog, Dog sues.” The best was a spider web coming from the middle of Spiderman’s legs which I remember Tom saying, “Yeah, I’m surprised I got away with that one.” I left amazed but also thinking I can’t draw like that. Uh-oh.

The museum announced that they would be doing a caricature workshop with Tom in about five minutes upstairs for free. We all went with a little encouragement from my parents. Tom started by asking for a volunteer that he could do a caricature demonstration of. My parents were very insistent that I do it, but being a teenager at the time (who looked quite younger than his actual age, short and scrawny!), I didn’t want to. I was picked and had to go up in front of everyone for an artist to pick apart my face and draw me. Yay! I was a good sport and a very jokey guy so I can take a joke just like I dished them out. He drew me on chart paper with big muscles and a mom tattoo because hell, my mom was the whole reason he was drawing me! I left the workshop with a caricature in my hand and MAD Magazine in my head. I need to get the magazine that had this Spiderman art in it. Many years later after hanging and talking to Tom on multiple MAD occasions as contributors, I told him this story at a party after a beer or two. He was a bit surprised to say the least.

We went to a mall shortly afterwards and I was searching for the MAD art in the newsstands but it wasn’t out yet. I settled for the latest issue and was amazed by the diverse amazing artwork in the magazine. Since I met Richmond, I was fascinated with his work and it really stood out but there were other guys that were cool too like Mort Drucker, Hermann Mejia, Tom Bunk and John Caldwell (my all-time favorite since he was much goofier looking and simplified with his artwork just like I liked to draw!) Plus, he had this squiggle in his line which was intriguing. How? Why?

I became obsessed with MAD for the art. I didn’t read it as much as I should have early on but I was just obsessed with the artwork as a budding cartoonist. The words were secondary to me. It was an art magazine. I drew everything in high school with chicken fat - gags on top of gags. My MAD subscription and obsession continued when I entered college. I went on the MAD website and saw they had internships in the New York offices for art and editorial. I was in no way a graphic design person. I hated it. Type and layout was boring. I wanted to be a cartoonist! I applied for both art and editorial. I wrote and mocked up my own outtakes from different TV shows such as The Office, Muppets etc. which was a recurring feature in the magazine at the time. It was something fun to do on a rainy Saturday night. I submitted and thought nothing of it. I wasn’t going to get it. Another summer doing art and taking summer classes. Yay.

I checked my email on a slow Monday morning and to my astonishment, there was an email from Amy V. at MAD offering me an editorial internship. I was stunned. I told my family and they were ecstatic for me and soon I was starting my first day as a MAD intern. It was insane. The only magazine, I liked and I was going to work there. I got there and we had a morning staff meeting first thing. The whole staff (which wasn’t big at all!) and the four interns (two editorial and two art). I was nervous but was eased when the staff was grilling us about the magazine and I was the only one answering everything. I remember art leaving after giving their report on the status of their pieces and what they needed etc. John Ficarra, the editor (and best Benjamin Franklin impersonator I’ve ever met) took a piece of paper and wrote down what Michael and I would be doing. I got a big speech from my family about interns and how I shouldn’t expect much, I’m going to get coffee and do meaningless jobs that others didn’t want to do etc. John said “Okay, you’ll be writing fundalini pieces in house such as “The Godfrey Report”, “Celebrity Cause of Death Betting Odds” - give us a list of celebs to approve before you start and Fundalini asks “What If…?” etc.” He also said, we will have brainstorming writing sessions where you will work with us etc. I don’t think I blinked for the two minutes he was talking. Then he said, Dave will show you your office and get you guys set up. We had an office. We had our own desks. We had our own computers, phones. What?! Where was the coffee I needed to get them?

We went right to writing, Michael and I. We came up with a bunch of celebrities etc. and got to know each other. I was always an art person and a little funny in classrooms and parties but never would I think of myself as a writer. We got a bunch of issues from the storage closet and focused in on the material we had to write specifically. I was seeing the magazine in a completely different light. It was incredibly smart and funny. Why wasn’t I reading this cover to cover all the time? We started writing together and putting out stupid jokes to try to make each other laugh. Sometimes successfully and most of the time, not. The soul crushing silence became the most dreaded thing in my life. The joke didn’t land and you just embarrassed yourself. That writing session was broken up by a call to come to the editor’s office because Al Jaffee was there dropping off the new Fold In. What?! This day is getting more surreal. That was cool is an understatement. Eventually, throughout the days at MAD, Michael and I wrote by ourselves and didn’t really collaborate on any pieces mostly because we had different comedy sensibilities and it was easier to write by ourselves. I started writing all day long and printing out my pieces to read and revise on my commute home.

I got to sit in on fold in meetings, department writing sessions, general pitch meetings from writer submissions and what direction they wanted to go with content. I quickly figured out that I wasn’t as quick and funny as everyone else thought I was. These guys have been doing it for decades. Damn were they good! My first department writing meeting, they had an article about Fast Food and they needed a fake department name. I didn’t even get to process what the article was and the editor says “When Grease Meets West?” to which he is interrupted by Charlie singing “All We Are Sayyyyinnnnggg…Is Give Grease a Chance.” I was dumbfounded, out of my element and intimidated. I need to get better and quick.

As the six-week internship went on, I wrote so many pitches and submissions. I wrote three or four pages of Godfrey Reports (maybe nine got in), multiple Celebrity Cause of Death Betting Odds (three or so that got printed), so so many what ifs, that were off the mark. I loved it there! The people were funny, they were welcoming and better yet, they were kind and nurturing. They told you what worked and didn’t work. They didn’t care who had the best idea or the funniest line in the room, they liked that it was the best and funniest! It was comedy boot camp and you wanted to work there forever.

We helped write fundalini pieces, department titles, articles in house, even an article introduction and so much more. I was like a staff member. I would get there early and leave later than I needed to. I met legends and heroes of mine when they would visit the office including Al Jaffee, John Caldwell, Teresa Burns Parkhurst, ironically, Tom Richmond and Hermann Mejiia among others. We got to go through original art for auction (where I found three Don Martins which they had to pry from my hands before I drooled on them), got to admire and examine Mort Drucker original pages that he just fed ex’ed in for a new parody with the staff, see the construction of a cover putting Obama and Alfred together (like 20 or 30 different versions) and the same for the Knockout Obama, Hillary piece both by Mark Frederickson. I felt like a staff member and left being assigned an editor to submit to and now you are a contributing writer, if you want to be. Submit anything you want. Now I’m a writer. They didn’t know who I was six weeks before. I’m just a college kid. I’m a contributor now? That was the best thing about MAD, they didn’t care what else you did for other people, they wondered what could you do for us. Don’t show me work you did for other people, show me a piece you wrote specifically for us. They looked at potential and built up talent to a new level.

I wrote and wrote and there was a lot of near sales but a lot of not quites. I sold to MAD Kids before Christmas. That was a cool Christmas gift. In January, the magazine lays off three staff members and goes quarterly. There’s a famous Stephan Pastis line that I always remember and works best here “I finally get to play for the Lakers and the stadium is collapsing underneath us.” I came back the next summer and interned in the art department. Now, I’m getting to know people I knew but didn’t work with closely at all. Same old MAD but completely different. Instead of being with the editorial guys, I was with the art guys, Ryan, Sam and Doug. All smart, funny and amazing guys themselves. I came right into a deadline for the magazine and was put to Photoshopping different things. I was then tasked with restoring fold ins for a upcoming fold in collection. The previous intern did about ten or so which meant we were a long way away from completion. Over the next six weeks, I restored over 450 or so fold ins for the book, got to have lunch with and meet more artists and writers including Harry North, Jason Chatfield, Shannon Wheeler etc. and go through more original artwork to send back to the artists. Any cartoonists dream. I think Adam Cooke and Michael Slaubaugh visited that summer too! During this time, I wrote a piece on the weekend and submitted it to Dave Croatto, my editor, to which they eventually bought! Now I was actually a contributor to MAD! Not in house pieces but as a writer.

After leaving MAD as an art intern, I looked for other places to intern/write for/work for. I knew MAD wasn’t going to pay the bills! I interviewed at The Onion where they told me I would hate working there after working at MAD because they didn’t care if it was the funniest idea or line in the room, if an intern said it they would ignore it. Nothing was like MAD and would be like it. I became very loyal to MAD. I only wrote for them. I didn’t consider myself a comedian, I was just a writer for MAD and MAD only. I temped after college in the editorial department for a month (literally, the day after my last final ever and took a day off for graduation!) We started the blog, established daily posting and internet presence through the current events that was happening. I started submitting more and selling on a more consistent basis. I valued their opinions and their direction. Nothing made me happier than seeing a MAD guy on the floor of a convention or visiting the office once or twice a year. They changed my career and the way I looked at things by just giving a 19-year-old kid a chance and some criticism and encouragement. They let me submit cartoons and I started to sell those too!

I continued to write for the magazine and even got a page in their new book, Inside MAD, to write about MAD as a contributor. I did other freelance art jobs and eventually went back to graduate school to become an art teacher. Even throughout the four years I’ve been teaching, I continued to contribute and write consistently for the magazine. There are too many stories and memories to recount. (Believe me, this could be much longer!) When MAD announced they were moving to California, I went into mourning. My buddies were leaving. There were talks for years about this happening and they resisted as much as they could. I didn’t know what was going to be next for them and the magazine. I wanted to continue writing because it was my outlet and a nice hobby for me to destress from life and my full time gig of teaching cartooning. It wasn’t a job for me, it was fun!

The new year came and it meant starting over with a new staff. It was hard. I tried but my heart wasn’t in it as much as when the New York staff was there. I wrote pieces and sold pieces (many that didn’t get printed because of the shortened run) but contributed none the less. As my job got more intense, I wrote less and less and without the same relationship, I had in the past my motivation folded a little bit before MAD did. My mourning period has lasted for a year and a half so the end of MAD wasn’t such a surprise or as much of a loss as it would have been otherwise for me. It still is a loss, don’t get me wrong but less so. This isn’t any slight to the West Coast MAD staff at all. It was me, not them. MAD became a fun hobby for me. Not my sole income and my way of life. I did it because I had the ideas and I enjoyed the people and the work. Plenty of people make fun of politicians, celebrities and the stupidity of the life but I occasionally got paid for it.

I’ve been asked if I will try to get into other publications. I don’t know. Maybe. You might just see more MAD like pieces in my own webcomics and cartoons. The influence will be there forever and I hope people can clearly see that through the bad puns, the political stupidity and the irony.

MAD is the cartooning and comedy bible. I loved the art as a cartoonist and grew to love the writing and minds behind everything as a contributing writer. My art and views are completely changed by my experiences working and being a MAD idiot. Everything I do is so idea based now because of MAD and being a MAD writer. They weren’t afraid of new blood or printing work from an unknown artist or writer. They gave chances and crafted things that were truly unique. I thank them for changing my life and letting me be a part of theirs and their legacy for the past decade. All of the amazing people and contributors I have met because of it is amazing. I will miss the occasions we would meet, share a joke or even lament about things. My life would be something very different if I didn’t go to a museum in Santa Rosa, if I didn’t submit an internship application and if I didn’t pick up a MAD Magazine on vacation. I would be called an idiot in different, not so surprising and endearing contexts and I wouldn’t have an Alfred sized hole in me today. I’m proud to sound off like I have to other MAD NY staffers and contributors in our coded communications.

Forever MAD

#mad magazine #matt lassen #stay mad #forever mad #satire

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hydrospanners · 6 years

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a writing year in review: 2k18 edition

So I’m taking a minute to look back at all the writing I did this year and it has been a pretty spotty year for fanfic for me. Lots of long, blank spaces between weird surges of productivity. But! I did a lot of work on my original projects and also the boring adult responsibilities in my life (I changed jobs three times!!! I changed my name!!! I started going to therapy!!!!) and I pushed out some fic I really liked this year in spite of all that so, all things considered, I’m calling this one a win.

Without further ado, here is the breakdown of all the fic I’ve written this year plus a sad breakdown all of the geriatric WIPs looking at me with their big sad eyes, crossing their fingers for 2019. Hiding most of it under a cut because the rankings and WIP snippets got long.

2k18's Publication Stats for Fun & Profit:

This year I published 16 fanfics, all but one for SWTOR. 10 were brand new, started and finished in 2018, and 6 were old WIPS that have been marinating for Force only knows how long. That number is down from the 29 fics I published in 2017, but close to the 14 I published in 2016. 2015 was only 3 fics and 2014 was only 2. I have a total of 64 works published on AO3.

This year I published 34559 words for an average of about 2160 words per fic. This is extremely above my overall average of about 930 words per fic with a combined total of 59569 words published since I started posting fic publicly back in 2014.

So the number of fics may be lower this year but the number of words total and the average words in the fics I did publish went up! Please enjoy a review of the shit people liked most according to AO3 and then the stuff I personally liked most because I'm allowed to like my own writing, sue me.

2k18's Most Read Fics:

1. spoonful of sugar: Everyone gets sick sometimes; even big damn heroes. These are vignettes about the Jedi Knight's crew getting sick, getting treated, and getting better. (SWTOR)

I started writing this one when I got really sick during the summer of 2017 and I finally finished it this year! There's another part that I cut because it got way out of control that I'd like to one day add back in as a second chapter but I am okay with calling this one complete and maybe never doing that. This one is a nice combo of funny and a little bit sweet that I think is refreshing, like a cold, fruity drink on a hot summer's day. Here is my very favorite line from this whole fic because it is so delightfully dumb:

“Scourge,” Rhese tries and fails to sound as though he has some degree of command over his own voice right now. “Get off my dick.”

2. filling the table: They have a saying back on Corellia that the only way you can ever really know a man is by taking his credits. They also have a saying that you should never play cards with a Corellian because Corellians always cheat, but she's betting Doc never heard that one. (SWTOR)

I think I started this one all the way back in like 2014 or 2015. I can't remember now but it was a long time ago and this piece of shit has morphed a million times since then. I must have rewritten the ending about a million times.

I really wanted to capture the desperation of the Balmorran Resistance while I was doing the character work with this, the sense of limited resources and hard living, and I am pretty happy with the result. I'm also pretty happy with the characterization work here, the little snippets they are both revealing to each other and the bigger snippets they aren't. I'm still not entirely happy with the white spaces in this one. I feel like I was a little too sparse and there are lots of places that don't flow if you don't already know what isn't being said, but I am more or less happy with this one! Here is my favorite bit because of the doublespeak foreshadowing their future relationship that was definitely on purpose:

Four hands later, she’s fifty credits richer and Doc is rooting around in his pocket for something to scribble another IOU on. She knows he’ll never make good on it, but Rea’s happy to accept his empty promises if it keeps him playing the game. She’s overdue for a bit of fun.

3. take back what the kingdom stole: Alliance Commander Nirea Velaran has always had a talent for burning bridges. When Theron comes to her after Nathema to pay for his sins, she finds herself wondering whether some bridges can't be repaired. (SWTOR)

Hey look! Something I started and finished in the same calendar year!! This one grew out of a very stupid joke that I ended up not even making until the end of the fic. At first I wanted to draw that bit, but I got frustrated with my lacking artistic talent so I wrote it instead and it turned into one of my fave things I've written. It has nice scenery and character growth and intimate friendships that have a real impact on their emotional lives! Hurt feelings aren't just for romance fam!! Anyway here's my favorite bit because it's one of the most Rea moments I've ever written:

He shoved her off his shoulder none-too-gently, scowling as he looked skyward, as if searching for another fleet of hostile ships to arrive and grant him the sweet release of death. When none came, he settled for another hearty gulp of whiskey. He had to be halfway to knackered by now. “You’re insufferable,” he grumbled.

“I know.” She smiled a smile that felt damn near genuine and collapsed back against the grass, swinging her legs out over the crevasse.

“I don’t even feel bad about all this anymore.” Theron complained. “You deserve it.”

Rea only laughed. A real laugh, all the way up from her belly, and it felt so fucking good.

Theron looked at her from the corners of his bloodshot eyes, suspicious and too clever by half. “Fuck,” he swore, shaking his head. “You just mindfucked me, didn’t you?”

2k18 Author’s Choice:

1. when the wicked play. After witnessing his first real lightsaber duel, Doc reflects on the contradictions of what the Jedi are supposed to be and the realities of fighting a war. (SWTOR)

This might be one of my very favorite things I've written ever. In case it wasn't clear by now, I am pretty preoccupied with making myself feel the weight of the violence and uncertainty and war that plagues you in this game. It all feels so clean and sanitary in the game because it's a game, but it's something I always want to explore and make visceral in the stories I tell about the game. I am also obsessed with Jedi and the mythos and conflicting ideas that must surround them inside the story's universe. This was a fun way to marry the two and do a bit of character work at the same time. I'm also pretty proud of this one structurally, with how contained and bookended it is. [high fives self] Anyway here's my favorite part because it's some of the only action I've written that feels like it captures the brutal urgency of how I imagine actual lightsaber combat and also says a little bit about my girl Rea via the way she fights:

Rea is little more than a blur of blue light as she collides with the Sith across the field, her sabers swinging too fast for Doc’s eyes to track. She’s hammering her enemy from every side, pushing him back and back and back. Her assault is savage and relentless and there is nothing like grace or elegance in any of it. It isn’t beautiful; it’s violence. Ugly, brutal violence.

The whole thing is over in less than a minute.

Blue meets red meets blue meets blue meets blue meets red and then the Sith’s head is hitting the floor with a muffled thump. It happens so abruptly Doc doesn’t even realize it’s ended until the rest of the body collapses a heartbeat later.

2. shadows settle on the place that you left. In the wake of her father’s death, Nyria Ryder tries to reconcile the man she knew with the shadow he left hanging over her. (Mass Effect: Andromeda)

Look! Something that isn't SWTOR! (The only thing I wrote this year that wasn't for SWTOR.) I have a whole bunch of feelings about Alec Ryder and had a really good time porting Rea over to this game and seeing the ways his presence in her life altered who she is and the ways that it didn't. Also I have a lot of feelings about SAM. This is probably peak self-indulgence but I still feel like this is some efficient sketching of Nyria's character and Alec's and their particular relationship and I'm pretty proud of it. Also I'm always a slut for complicated familial relationships. Here is my favorite bit because it's such a nice illustration of who Ria is and an important turning point for her character:

She decided to be kinder to SAM than the universe had been to her. He was her brother, just as much as Rhys, and she was all he had. She would have to make sure herself was enough.

“He believed in us both,” she told him what he needed to hear, even though it wasn’t true. Then she made a promise she could not keep, because she knew he needed that too: “You and me are going to figure this thing out. Just you watch. We’re gonna make Alec proud.”

All the same stuff I said above applies here still. Glad we can all agree this one was nice.

State of the WIPs

Just for fun I did a dive into my WIP folder to see what I'm setting myself up for in 2019! Only it wasn't very fun at all because there is so much really old stuff in here!!!!!! Good luck to future me because past me really left you with the bag girl! Good luck carrying the weight of hopes and dreams and stories unfulfilled!!

I have a total of 48 fics in progress right now. The fandom breakdown is as follows, ranked from the most to the least: Star Wars: The Old Republic (35), Dragon Age (8), Mass Effect: Andromeda (4), Fallout 4 (1). And because I'm a masochist, I looked at the dates on all this shit too. Here's the breakdown of what year all of these things were started:

2014: 4 fics

2015: 9 fics

2016: 15 fics

2017: 11 fics

2018: 9 fics

That sound you hear is me sobbing in the distance. 2014!!! What the fuck!!!!! I am gonna finish those four fics this year if it kills me. We aren't living like this anymore. Please enjoy some samples from the WIP folder with absolutely no context:

“You carry sleeping pills in your pocket?”

“For my wife. Maybe you’ve met her? About this high--” Doc raised his hand half a foot over his own head “--brown hair, blue eyes, great ass.”

Ignoring the commentary on his sister’s figure and the extreme overestimation of her height, Rhese nodded. “I may have seen her around.”

“Well if you see her again, you tell her to come home. Her family’s worried.”

Do you hear that Rea? Your family is worried. Rhese wondered if she could feel their concern, their anguish. Was she searching for them as they searched for her? She’d always been good at hiding, but she’d never vanished completely before. A hole in the Force where her warm, fervent energy should have been.

He felt cold. Really alone for the first time in his life. Careful what you wish for, Liss had always said. You might just get it.

Ossus is important.

Rea feels it when she falls out of hyperspace, that shift, that tug of something just behind her navel. The familiar weight of destiny, settling like a stone in the pit of her stomach. It leaves her breathless, white-knuckled and gripping the shuttle’s controls, her skin prickling under the cold caress of dread.

She wasn’t expecting this story to have a happy ending—a colony of Jedi on the eve of war? she’s danced that dance enough times to know the steps by now—but she wasn’t expecting anything so bad as the draw of destiny.

Fate has never been anything but cruel to her. Feeling it here, now? This is going to be worse than she imagined.

This is how you deal with failure.

You just do.

You get up in the morning and brush your teeth. You train until your legs wobble beneath you. You choke down your nutripaste and ask Simms about his niece. You congratulate Tarinik on her promotion. You laugh too loud at Vortena’s shit jokes. And when Beniko’s eyes follow a little too close, you blow her a kiss like it doesn’t matter at all.

You keep moving forward because standing still will kill you. Because life is a race and if you slow down for even a second, death will catch up.

Nirea Velaran is not ready to die.

She is not maleficarum, but she is changed. Something is awake inside her now, and the whispers are louder each time she touches the Fade. Sweet, coaxing whispers full of promises. Some of them sound like her mother.

Take care of your brother, Niria. You’re all he’s got.

In the morning, Qarric wakes with a pounding head and an empty sleeve. He never asks, but he watches her more sharply, reprimands her more often, demands more of her in training.

When she is fourteen, blade tucked into the top of her worn boot, he gives her a warning. “You aren’t as strong as you think,” he says. “No one is.”

“Is it much farther?” Ria jabbed the bladed end of her stave--a fancy enchanted thing Vivienne had insisted on--into the sodden ground and squinted through the trees, praying for a glimpse of the promised coast. The air smelled of salt and death and the sea, but she hadn’t seen a single crashing wave yet.

“A few more miles yet,” Blackwall answered irritably. Ria had elected to blame the weather for his foul mood. “Same as it was five minutes ago, Your Worship.”

“And five minutes before that,” Varric added.

“Conditions are much safer inside the ship, Nyria.”

“Didn’t come all the way out here to be safe, SAM.” Another rock plinked hollowly against the wall of the prefab. “We came to see new planets and shit. That’s what I’m doing.”

“There is not much to see at night.”

“Not much to see during the day either. Sure as hell nothing worth dying for.” She huffed a bitter not-quite-laugh.

She spoke before he could even open his mouth to ask the question. “You’re overthinking it, little brother.”

“We’re twins,” he said, mostly out of habit. “And I’m taller.”

“Your hair is taller.”

“This is serious, Nyria.”

“So is your hair.” She reached out almost absent-mindedly to ruffle it, eyes still fixed on her omni-tool, but he dodged out of the way.

#long post #idk what else to tag this as #so long 2k18!!!!#you were a bitch of a year and i hated you!!!!!#good vibes & righteous anger for 2k19!!

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villainship · 6 years

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[SWTOR asks/questions - R answers]

From @ghostace!

Extremely sorry if the text cut doesn’t work. lmao. I just answered All of it.

1. do you play mostly as male or female bodied characters? which body type do you use the most?

I go about equal on the gender options. I LIKE the body type 2 (aka. the societal beauty standard I’m accustomed to), but I try to mix it up. I don’t like what #1 does with the heads/faces but I do like female #4 faces.

2. which class has your favourite visual aesthetic?

Probably sniper, although double lightsabers are good too.

3. what advanced class has your favourite combat style for levelling, pve, and/or pvp?

Juggernaut/Guardian tanking is my top choice because it’s not complicated. Levelling sniper/gunslinger has been more fun.

4. are there any class combat styles you love, but can’t deal with on the mirrored version?

I still have so much to learn--I don’t have this issue yet.

5. what discipline can you just not play worth a damn?

I imagine the worst will prrroobably be trooper/BH heals. It seems like there’d be a lot going on, and I’m really unsuited to juggling different skills/unsuited for heals generally.

6. are there any disciplines you haven’t ever tried? which ones?

I’ve done tanking, DPS, and some healing, but there’s a lot of subtypes of the classes I’ve never tried.

7. what class has your favourite voice acting?

I haven’t finished much of the game! But uh. I really love the male warrior voice. Guilty obsession.

8. what single line is your favourite piece of dialogue in-game? where is it from?

So far: the exchange on Corellia where you can convince the droid to call up Baras -- just to troll him.

9. what single-planet class story arc is your favourite from all/any of the classes?

From my limited experience, Warrior’s story on Belsavis sticks with me.

10. which class story has the best story arc on a planet you normally hate?

I guess I hate Quesh but that was a good Warrior moment too.

11. which class story has the weakest story arc on a planet you normally love?

uhh I do love Ilum, but don’t feel too strongly about the short plot there (except I loved to look So Important in the cut scenes).

12. which shared (pub/imp) planetary arc can you never skip when levelling through the vanilla story?

8); I don’t tend to skip them yet.

13. are there any side/exploration/heroic missions you especially love?

Can’t think of one right now--but I love event missions. Gree & rakghouls!!

14. which character did you make as a throwaway (ie DvL) and came to love?

I haven’t really had that experience. Cezek is not meant to be particularly important, but I guess I might end up playing her more than I thought b/c sniping is fun.

15. which character did you think was going to stick around but these days is at the bottom of your login list?

No-. . . !!! I love all my children. . . !!

16. who was your original main? do you still play them?

Tarskal. 😒He’s still a main. Lol. Kirryl (pubside) is less-played than I might like her to be. She’s still my only max-level DPS, but DPS is not often sought-after.

17. if you have any older characters, what’s changed about them since you started?

It’s been less than 2 yrs since I started and I still haven’t finished with any of them-! so. . I wouldn’t call any of them ‘older characters’.

18. what companion headcanons/meta do you follow no matter what?

Several of them are MORE GAY than vanilla romance would have you believe.

19. which companion traits would you like to return to the writer’s room for reevaluation?

From what I’ve heard, I would like them to reconsider Doc’s behavior with “no means no”.

20. what five companions would you pick, from all of them, if you had to make a new crew?

Going with what I know: 1. Ashara 2. Vector 3. honestly maybe Qyzen 4. a Nexu 5. (this spots saved for a later favorite)

21. what in-game decision did you most dislike the given options for?

nggh. There’s gonna be some bad ones I bet.

22. do you collect cartel market items or stick to base-game? older items, newer items, a mix?

My character wardrobe is usually just stuff I picked up in the game. I am very into SH decos--cartel or otherwise.

23. which outfit did you spend the longest on? the most credits?

All are meticulously chosen. lol. I think the only pricy one was when I bought the Show-Off armor to have the open-chested vest for TD (cuz the Hooligan jacket with the belts was never in my price range). Getting skanky is the most costly style choice in this game. (And it was not outrageously pricey.)

24. what item(s) did you most regret buying on the gtn or cartel market?

Oh, I dunno that I have any big regrets yet. Maybe a few things I’m like “well THAT could have been cheaper if I waited”.

25. what collections category do you have the highest % completion in?

97% emoteeees

26. which stronghold did you spend the most time decorating? the most credits?

I unlocked most of Yavin, which was Expensive, but I have never properly decorated there. I might have spent approximately equal amounts of time on Coruscant and Dromund Kaas (a Lot for each). Nar Shaddaa is decorated-ish but maybe didn’t take so long.

27. which stronghold do you spend the most time in?

Nar Shaddaa on imperial (it’s got my best convenience setup), Coruscant on pub side.

28. do you host anything at your stronghold, or is it mostly for you?

I’m ready to have anybody over anytime!! I mean I also use it to conceptualize living situations for my OCs, but it’s awfully lonely if no one else ever visits.

29. what do you most like about the changes from beta, vanilla, early f2p, 4.0, etc?

I haven’t been here that long. :o I like how things turn more convenient though. 8); I DO remember a time before heroics were available in the activity window.

30. what do you miss the most about “the old days”? if a newer player, what have you heard about that you would have liked to experience?

Hmmm. It would have been cool to play before spoilers are just A Given about everything. And I don’t know if it was ever a thing, but I like to imagine a scenario where people actually do PVP in the rakghoul tunnels b/c that sounds like a glorious mess. Lol. Oh--AND I wouldn’t mind seeing what planets/world-bosses were like before everything got adjusted-for-level.

31. tell us a random fact/story you haven’t shared before about a swtor experience

Everybody loves to habitually touch/pick-up whatever items they can in this game, yea?

Well, when we were settling into being level 70, Dani and tried (and enjoyed) playing Uprisings with just the 2 of us and companions. (It can be easy for 2 people on Story mode, or they can present just a nice level of challenge--I learned a lot through those before I really started doing Flashpoints, actually).

We did good on Inferno! That was the first one. Big success.

We tried Destroyer of Worlds as our very next one, I think.

So like. . . the mobs weren’t causing many problems for us. It can get a lil crazy, but a tank (me) can keep things a bit organized, and Dani would AOE-/decimate/ those mobs as DPS. They are so weak. >:) ! We must have beat at least one boss encounter (possibly 2).

But as you go, there’s these ~mysterious~ stone tablets scattered all around the caverns, radiating a mystical energy.

U can click on them. Pick them up.

WHICH--as it turns out--(spoilers lmao) is the method of summoning the bonus boss Tentacle McAlien Horrorsquiggles.

Well no sense in letting the new visitor go unchallenged, now that it’s standing there waiting to say hi-- It--uh--turns out, though: the bonus boss was CONSIDERABLY more tough for us than the rest. We did our v best & gave it all we had (I def didn’t know everything I know now about playing my character, and gear was Worse), but we were hopelessly outmatched. \8) Got Wrekked a few times without any progress.

And then we realized we had to walk past the Monstrosity to get through the door. It did not despawn. So . . . Some more death resulted from that.

In the end, I THINK we made it past with Juli’s group-stealth. But the droid with our explosives did not progress far enough to trigger the end of the Uprising. (Either that, or that happened on a different run-through. . .) RIP & Reset. 8D;

We did finally complete the whole thing on the do-over (no problem~!!!) . . . But we’ve never gone back and had our rematch w/ that eldritch bonus boss.

#long post #ask meme #about me: R #raikari post

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bestfriendforhire · 3 years

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Children of BFFH, Entry 113

“Do you think that’s as foreboding as it looks?” questioned Four, staring off into the distance.

Our group in Ancient Tribes of Earth was on a tall hill, looking over the landscape. The Jaggagawaroeth looked like a moving hill in the distance, keeping a slow, lumbering pace while occasionally taking a swipe at something it didn’t like.

I had a number of ideas to try fighting the thing, but no one had wanted to try any of the ones I suggested thus far. Yes, we might die again, possibly permanently losing all of our equipment, but running from a creature for this long was really getting to me. Sadly, even Grandma Death told me that running could be the more heroic course if it saved the most lives, but I preferred being able to face my villains directly.

Thoughts drifted back to my birthday, when Messy and I were allowed to save people for real rather than just in a game. I smiled contentedly as I mentally relived the best parts. Yes, we had totally failed a number of times toward the end, but Grandma Death gave us redos till we finally got it right. I was really thankful for the redos. Messy would never have joined me again if we had ended with failure.

Focusing on the area in the game that had grabbed Four’s attention, I had no clue what I was seeing. My character’s eyesight was incredibly poor, though I was assured early in my gaming days that most people wouldn’t see any better. For a moment, I let my mind follow the currents through the machine. I knew what went into a computer and how each part worked. If I could just focus like Grandma Death, I’d understand everything that was being said. I could follow the current to the servers and really get a good look at the world, but… I knew Grandma Death. Actually understanding anything she did without her blessing was impossible and would likely lead to a scolding from the Boss if Grandma was particularly displeased.

“That land’s unholy.” stated Layla confidently.

I looked from her to her screen at her house to the land again, not certain what she was seeing that I wasn’t.

“How do you know?” asked Aid and Four at nearly the same time.

“I did the trials to become a Paladin. Cleansing unholy land was one. You can tell by the coloring.” she told them in a poor attempt at an explanation.

I wanted details! Yes, the land did have a slightly grey cast to it. I felt that there might be a gloom to the land as well, but I was probably just seeing gloom because I couldn’t really see any details that I was accustomed to seeing. I sometimes wondered how people managed anything when they could only see with their eyes, and my physical sight apparently exceeded theirs by… a lot.

“What should we expect to face there?” asked Messy, sounding interested as I was examining everyone’s eyeballs, noting the difference in structure between even Four’s, Aid’s, and Luce’s. The quadruplets had no noticeable difference, which was probably weird, but their mothers were just as weird in that way.

Layla used the shrug emoji as she said, “Probably undead, but there might be some living creatures too.”

Hooray for the lack of specifics! I frowned as I focused on the gloomy grey land again willing myself to see farther, but my character stoically refused. I loved how my Justine looked, casually standing with her large hammer resting over her shoulder as her skirt and cape moved slightly in the wind.

“Let’s go there.” stated Four.

Rona squealed excitedly. When I focused on her home, I saw her literally dancing in her seat, grinning happily as her mother looked up with an amused grin. “I’ll get a huge boost to my Necromancer spells there!” she exclaimed, perfectly happy.

The frown in Layla’s voice was obvious as she said, “I won’t. Some of my abilities will have reduced effect. Even Perseverance will take penalties there, won’t you buddy?” She made her character pat the horse.

“If we get slowed down enough that the Jaggagawaroeth catches up, I’m blaming you.” teased Luce, obviously speaking to Four with how her character faced him.

Though Luce wouldn’t be able to see it, Four nodded.

“I’m hoping the Jaggagawaroeth gets bogged down in the undead as well. If there are any powerful ones there, maybe they’ll be antagonistic to the Jaggagawaroeth and get it off our backs. This might be the place where we can finally ditch it.” he explained hopefully.

With that settled, our group hurried back onto the wagons and proceeded down the hill. I joined Doc, Rona, and Dea in scouting. Several of the vampires joined us too once night came in the game. I, for one, was still excited about seeing unfamiliar terrain. This whole quest into the unknown was thrilling!

We had set out just to pick up Valeria’s character, and I was still thrilled by the combination of Brightborn and vampire. The ominous, red light of her character encompassed our wagons as we traveled, and she’d increase the glow further when we were in combat at night, helping those that had trouble seeing in the dark. Her vampire abilities had, of course, grown in leaps and bounds due to the inheritance from Cosette’s Madeleine, but I really was fascinated by the Brightborn abilities.

Her “hurl essence” ability seemed to have the light and fire type, decreasing in effectiveness against anything resistant to either type. The boosting effect of her aura on the other vampires in the group also seemed to affect Rona’s undead to a lesser extent, though I doubted she noticed. I was guessing, though I didn’t want to force anyone to test it, that the radiance also protected the other vampires from sunlight. There were a couple “close calls” that didn’t damage anyone, despite Stormcrow clearly being hit by direct sunlight. So far, she hadn’t unlocked any new abilities, but I was betting those would come soon, since we were getting plenty of combat on this adventure.

From our original objective to the endless chase of the Jaggagawaroeth, I simply wasn’t in a hurry to return to Ashengarde City. An idea popped into my head as I considered the various abilities within our group, especially Ella’s. As the smile spread across my face, I caught Messy staring at me with a worried expression.

#Children of BFFH #Children #of #BFFH #Jovial Times #Jovial #Times #Fantasy #Fiction #Story

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welllpthisishappening · 7 years

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Tripping Over the Blue Line (45/45)

It’s a transition. That’s what Emma’s calling it. She’s transitioning from one team to another, from one coast to another and she’s definitely not worried. Nope. She’s fine. Really. She’s promised Mary Margaret ten times already. So she got fired. Whatever. She’s fine, ready to settle into life with the New York Rangers. She’s got a job to do. And she doesn’t care about Killian Jones, captain of the New York Rangers. At all.

He’s done. One more season and he’s a free agent and he’s out. It’s win or nothing for Killian. He’s going to win a Stanley Cup and then he’s going to stop being the face of the franchise and he’s going to go play for some other garbage team where his name won’t be used as puns in New York Post headlines. That’s the plan. And Emma Swan, director of New York Rangers community relations isn’t going to change that. At all.

They are both horrible liars.

Rating: Mature Content Warnings: Swearing, eventual hockey-type violence AN: I am...every human emotion all at the same time. I cannot possibly tell you guys what your response to this story has meant to me. It has been everything and then some and I have loved every click, comment, message, flail...everything. There is a totally finished sequel sitting in my Google Docs that will start posting in late January and a handful of prompts that are set to be filled (feel free to send some more if you’re down) and I don’t know that I’ll ever stop writing about this stupid hockey team. This story would be nothing at all without @laurnorder, @distant-rose and @beautiful-swan who read every word and flailed before anyone else. They are the absolute best. Also hanging out on Ao3, FF.net and tag’ed up on Tumblr.

It looked a bit like the ocean.

Everything was blue and white, waves upon waves of it, and more people than he’d ever seen in his entire life, hanging out of windows and off of scaffolding, dozens of them standing on cars and perched on top of phone booths Killian couldn’t quite believe were still on the sidewalks.

And, God, they were loud.

Screaming and shouting and yelling, all of them packed on top of each other, a sea of team-branded merchandise and signs with his face plastered on them.

“You look kind of stunned there, Jones,” Emma said, muttering the words against his ear as he wrapped an arm around her waist out of instinct.

“I might be,” he admitted softly, eyes tracing across the crowd when they started actually chanting his name and he almost didn’t hear Emma laugh against him. Almost. “Can you believe there are still phone booths in New York City?” “That’s what you’re getting out of this?” Killian shrugged and Emma laughed louder. “I mean, maybe? It doesn’t feel quite real yet, Swan.” “They’re literally chanting your name right now. That doesn’t throw it in kind of stark reality?” “I don’t know, love, it’s been a week.” Emma smiled at him, lip tugged tightly in between her teeth when she rested her palm against the jersey he’d been forced back into. “And Scarlet filming all of it, doesn’t really help.” As if on cue, Will appeared a few feet in front of them, sprinting from the other side of the float with a phone in his hand and a grin on his face that Killian was certain hadn’t faltered since he’d kissed the Stanley Cup in the Garden locker room.

“God, Cap, are you complaining again?” Will asked, pushing the phone into Killian’s face.

“I’m not complaining,” Killian argued and Emma clicked her tongue. “What? I’m not. But you’ve got to admit, Scarlet, you’ve been taking this job pretty seriously.” “Yeah, well, it’s important.” “And you’re going to milk it for everything it’s worth, huh?” “Just because your girlfriend didn’t ask you to be the official documenter of our post-Cup celebration is not my fault, Cap.” “I seem to remember you volunteering, Scarlet,” Killian said, tugging Emma a bit closer to his side. The crowd got louder. “Enthusiastically.” “Whatever,” Will grumbled. He pushed the phone closer to Killian’s face, making him pull back and he wasn’t quite smiling anymore, eyebrows pulled low and lips twisted just a bit and there’d been a very good reason why he hadn’t been the one to volunteer for whatever post-Cup documentation Scarlet seemed to be obsessed with.

Regina wasn’t at the parade, wasn’t on the float behind them with Henry and Roland and her own custom-made Locksley jersey. She was several dozen blocks uptown sitting in another office with front-office bigwigs and ownership and her face was probably going to freeze in death glare mode because this whole thing was taking just a bit longer than it probably should have.

It should have been simple.

The Rangers wanted him, Killian wanted the Rangers – they just couldn’t seem to agree on some of the finer points of that. And Regina would be damned if she didn’t get him every dollar he deserved.

Or so she said.

He didn’t really care. He just wanted to sign a contract and get Scarlet’s phone out of his face and then he and Emma were going to discuss that island they’d been so certain they needed before.

Emma tapped her fingers on the front of his jersey, tracing over the ‘C’ on his shoulder and Will, mercifully, pulled the phone away. “Soon, Cap,” he mumbled. “I’m sure it’s going to be soon.” “It’s not like they’re not talking,” Emma reasoned, falling back on arguments and explanations she’d been repeating for the better part of the last four days. Killian’s shoulders sagged at that, some of the tension falling out of them and maybe they should just leave now, buy the whole goddamn island and throw their respective phones in the actual ocean, so they could have five minutes by themselves.

And then maybe he’d tell her he kept looking at apartment listings.

And he’d lost that bet.

They could put the new apartment on their new island.

The crowd cheered again and the float – or whatever it was, he wasn’t certain they’d landed on float as the term for what they were standing on – stopped suddenly, the truck that was pulling them up the Canyon of Heroes shifting into park so quickly, all three of them nearly lost their balance.

“What the fuck,” Will muttered and Emma shot him a glare. “We’ll edit that out, Emma, I promise.” “Yeah, yeah, you know how many things I’ve had to edit out so far? You’re more trouble than this is worth, Scarlet.” “You’re going to hurt my feelings.” “I can’t send your feelings to season-tickets.”

“That’d be weird.” Emma laughed, shaking her hair so some of the ticker-tape fell out of it, landing on her jersey – his jersey, again, but this time in front of a crowd that was probably somewhere in the tens of thousands and Killian couldn’t think about that for too long or they’d end up leaping off this float and possibly swimming to whatever island they hadn’t bought yet.

“It would be weird,” she agreed as the crowd starting chanting Let’s go Rangers again. “You’re missing some prime filming moments here.” Will hummed, nodding quickly and directing his phone back to the crowd, raising his other arm to try and egg him on and they still hadn’t started moving yet.

Killian glanced around again, pulling his hand up to rest on Emma’s waist, and he narrowed his eyes when he saw the flash of red in the sea of blue on either side of the block.

“Is that…” Emma started, leaning forward slightly and it absolutely was.

“If you start driving again before I get on that float, I will rip your goddamn truck in half,” Ruby shouted, jogging up the block and it wasn’t really working. The crowd just kept yelling and trying to push against the barricade and there were police officers every few feet, none of them all that interested in helping Ruby Lucas get on the float.

“Ruby what are you doing?” Emma yelled, a mix of stunned surprise and something that might have been awe in her voice.

“I am trying to get on your goddamn float, what does it look like?” “Aren’t you running press?” “Obviously,” Ruby sighed and she sounded a bit out of breath, groaning when the truck engine started to rev again. They were about to move. “God damnit, driver, what did I just say?”

“We’re kind of on a schedule, Ms. Lucas,” the guy said, leaning out of the open window to throw her an apologetic look. She glared in response.

“Jeez,” Killian mumbled. “Ruby stay there.”

He kissed the top of Emma’s head before he moved, ignoring Will’s quiet ah, shit, we didn’t get that on camera, and swung his legs over the side of the float. The crowd roared and he blinked once when they started cheering again, leaning over the sides of barricades and in between officers to try and get him to sign something or high-five something and Ruby was jogging towards him again.

“You’re breaking all the rules, Cap,” she laughed, smile tugging on the ends of her mouth as soon as his hand found hers, pulling her through the crowd that had been following their float for the last few blocks. There were more camera snaps and reporters shouting questions and none of the words they were saying made much sense.

They weren’t about winning or the crowd or even what the hell he was doing, pushing Ruby back towards the float and Will’s outstretched arms so they could get her up without either one of them dislocating anything.

They were shouting is it true, Cap and when will you sign and eight years sounds like the rest of your career and he only half heard any of it, pulling himself back onto the float to find Ruby staring at him like he’d committed several different felonies at once.

Ruby glared at him for half a moment more, but the ends of her lips were still quirked up and she was fighting off a smile. “Ok,” she said, stalking back towards the truck in front of them. “You can start moving again.” The driver didn’t say anything and Killian had been fairly positive Ruby wasn’t in charge of when the parade started or stopped, but his certainty wasn’t quite as strong when she turned back on him. “I have news,” she announced, glancing back down at her phone when it vibrated in her hand. “And, jeez, like sixty different outlets that want to talk to you, Cap.” “What?” Killian asked as what might have been an actual pound of ticker tape landed on his feet.

“Killian,” Emma muttered and his head snapped back around at the tone of her voice. She didn’t look up when he moved, eyes wide and focused on her phone, but her mouth was hanging open just a bit and something in his stomach seemed to shift at the look on her face.

Will muttered oh, shit, they did it under his breath and Killian couldn’t really breathe – the sounds of the crowd echoing in his ears as he took a step towards Emma. She bit her lip when the tips of his shoes nearly hit her flats, eyes pulling up slowly and she just nodded.

“So,” Ruby said pointedly. “You guys want the good news or, like, the exceptional news first?” “There’s more than one form of good news here?” Emma asked, shifting slightly so she was back on Killian’s side and her hand found his with practiced ease. He squeezed her fingers.

“Good and then exceptional.” “Go in order of goodness then.” Ruby grinned, but her head tilted as soon as she seemed to realize something. “Shouldn’t you be there?” she asked, glancing at Killian. “I mean, it is your life, right? You should be in on negotiations or whatever?” “Probably,” Killian shrugged. “But I trust Gina and whatever stare down she’s, apparently, excelling at.” “And he didn’t want to miss the parade,” Will added knowingly, pushing his phone back into the middle of all of them.

“That too.” Ruby made a face and she was still trying not to laugh. “Ah, well, then you’re going to want to make sure you get this on video, Scarlet. And if any of you swear, I’m going to push you off the side of the float. Tell him, Emma.” Emma took a deep breath, lip still in between her teeth as she pushed her phone into his hands. “Regina did a good job,” she said softly.

He didn’t look immediately.

He couldn’t really do it, was far too aware of Emma in front of him and Scarlet’s phone and the crowd was deafening now, chanting something that might have been his name and welcome back. Twitter, it seemed, had updated the world before he’d even gotten to see the numbers.

They’d used his name as a pun again.

Cap’ing off the season: Jones set to sign extension, return to Rangers

Killian didn’t really read it. He couldn’t seem to settle on a single word, eyes tracing across sentences and paragraphs, looking for some kind of actual confirmation that didn’t include the word report in it.

It came three paragraphs from the bottom.

Sources confirm that Jones is set to sign an eight-year extension with the Blueshirts, a deal that won’t just pad his wallet, but will keep him in New York, likely, for the rest of his career.

The rest of his career.

Eight years.

And while they might not be able to buy an island – or a mountain range – with the number of zeroes that were, reportedly, being offered to him, it’d be enough to pay for a moving service to get an obscene amount of pillows into a brand-new apartment.

He couldn't ask Emma to move in the middle of Broadway.

Soon.

He hadn’t been back to his own apartment since they’d won. There was probably several feet of dust on the floor.

“Cap,” a voice shouted from another float and Killian barely gave himself time to consider how he’d managed to hear Robin behind him before he was moving towards the sound.

Robin waved one arm over his head and Killian shrugged at the movement, smile instinctual as soon as he saw Roland perched on the top rung of the barricade, Henry next to him in head-to-toe team merch.

“Where is your phone?” Robin continued, staring at Killian as if he were about to jump from float to float and possibly shake some sense to him.

“What?”

“Your phone! Gina’s been trying to call you for twenty minutes!” “Oh, that’s good,” Ruby muttered, lips tilted down slightly with how impressed she was. “She did it before they even got it up on the web.”

“I didn’t bring my phone,” Killian yelled back.

Robin looked insulted. “What? Why? God, don’t tell Gina that, she’s going to kill you!” “I didn’t think I’d need it.” “She’s been in meetings all morning, you didn’t think you’d need it?” “No jinx or something.” “It’s a lot of zeroes, Hook,” Roland screamed and Henry nodded enthusiastically.

“More than whatever’s in that article,” Robin added, leaning over the side of the float so Killian could actually hear him.

“Did we send out a release yet?” Emma asked, her own phone already out and a determined look on her face when she started typing something. “Will are you getting this? This should be in the video.” Will nodded quickly, phone half an inch away from Killian’s still-stunned face. No one had actually said it yet and the world still felt like it was shaking just a bit.

That might have just been because of the crowd.

Eight years.

The rest of his career. On the side of the goddamn Garden.

“You’re not actually in charge of PR, Em,” Ruby laughed softly and Emma made a noise that wasn’t quite an agreement.

Killian forgot Robin for a moment, head snapping towards her and the grimace she was making. “Swan?”

“Still here,” she said, not taking her eyes away from her phone.

“What’s going on?” “Nothing.” “Swan.” “Really, there’s not.” She glanced up at him, eyes bright and meaningful and it made his breath catch in his throat all over again. A two-bedroom apartment. They’d get a two-bedroom and a new mattress and something with a lot of light and windows and maybe they’d move closer to the park and the water.

“There’s not,” Emma repeated again, knocking Killian out of whatever kind of future he’d been planning. “At least not anymore.” “Anymore?” he asked and she shrugged.

“There was some talk,” she said slowly, “that the PR spot was going to open up because Mal was going to the league and maybe Zelena had mentioned that they wanted to move me over since I have all that experience, but….” “But?” “I kind of like community relations.”

She shrugged again and, yes, two bedrooms, at least, and a view of the river and and a cabinet full of cinnamon so she’d never be worried there wasn’t enough and her there every morning and probably for the rest of his life.

And he was the luckiest bastard in the entire fucking world.

“I love you,” Killian said, the words so obvious, he was surprised he hadn’t just been muttering them in her ear on loop since he’d lifted the Stanley Cup over his head. “More than anything.”

He could feel her smile when she kissed him, one hand in his hair and the other tugging on the laces of his jersey and Killian was only slightly aware of the still-yelling crowd and a still-yelling Robin and Emma’s phone was ringing, pressing up against the front of him while she tried to pull him closer to him.

“Turn the camera off, Scarlet,” Ruby muttered.

Will scoffed. Killian didn’t stop kissing Emma. Or maybe vice versa. Maybe they should just buy a house on the Island. Maybe he shouldhave proposed on the ice.

“I mean it, Will, turn it off,” Ruby continued, a quiet scuffle breaking out a few feet away when she, presumably, just grabbed the thing out of his hands. “Go yell back at Rol and Henry. Throw some ticker tape at them or something.” “I’m not just going to start throwing ticker tape, Lucas.” Ruby might have actually hissed or growled or something vaguely intimidating and Will stopped arguing immediately, practically hurling himself towards the ground to pick up a handful of ticker tape and throw it towards the float and the kids behind them and Killian didn’t really notice any of it – he couldn’t, not when he was far to preoccupied on maintaining some sense of control in front of fans and cameras while his mind raced towards a future he could finally, finally, start living.

With Emma.

A future with Emma.

“I love you too,” she mumbled against his mouth, groaning slightly when her phone stopped ringing, only to start again almost immediately.

“It’s probably Regina,” Ruby said, ducking her eyes slightly when neither Killian nor Emma showed any inclination towards not kissing in the middle of a parade. “Also, did you want the semi-good news or nah?” Killian laughed, glancing towards Ruby who was beaming at both of them. “What’s the semi-good news, Lucas?”

“Oh, I totally got Neal fired,” she said without preamble and Emma nearly dropped her phone, spinning to gape at Ruby.

“What?”

“Totally,” Ruby smiled, widening her eyes with a surge of pride.

“How?”

“I know some people in the league. And they were very, very interested in a PR director serving as an anonymous source.” Emma made a noise in the back of her throat. “And they just believed you? It’s not like his name was anywhere in those stories.” “No,” Ruby said, still smiling. “But Gold was. And, from what I’d heard before, Gold wasn’t very pleased with the way all of this shaped out. No Cup, no destroyed career for Cap, nothing. Rumor had it he was going to clean house again and Neal was pretty much on the doorstep anyway. I think he thought if he just told the league the truth, they’d give him his old job. Bygones or whatever.” “Did they?” “Nope. Kicked to the curb from the doorstep without so much as a second glance.” “You’re a fountain of clichés right now aren’t you?”

Ruby shrugged. “I hung out with Mrs. V at the restaurant for awhile, guess some stuff stuck.”

The phone rang again and then vibrated against his chest and Regina had started leaving voicemails now. “She’ll kill you if you don’t call back,” Emma chuckled softly. “Let’s avoid that if we can.” He groaned, but she was right and he was half surprised that Regina hadn’t also found her way to Broadway and through the ocean of blue jerseys if only to yell at him about answering your phone when there was an extension a signature away.

Emma pressed her phone into his palm, smiling softly when he hit the number that had already called four times in a row and left two voicemails.

It barely rang once before she answered.

“Are you kidding me, Jones?” Regina screeched and Killian winced at the sound.

“Jeez, Gina.” “Where is your phone?” “I found a phone.” “That didn’t answer my question, Jones.” “What the hell is that? You’ve never called me Jones in my life.” “That’s because I’ve never been this mad at you in my life! Where?” “At home.” “Home,” Regina repeated, the skepticism obvious in her voice. “You mean Emma’s apartment.” “Home, Gina,” Killian said sharply.

Regina sighed with all the drama of someone who’d missed out on a Stanley Cup parade and then been ignored for the better part of the last twenty minutes. “They want you up here,” she said and her voice wasn’t quite as hard as it had been. “Once you do City Hall and the photos. They want to make it official. Today. And tell Lucas you’re not talking until you actually sign something. They’ll lose their minds up here if you do.” He squeezed his closed again, trying to to will the moment in the darkest corners of his memory and his brain and whatever he’d think about when he needed to be happy – God, he was happy. “Ruby knows the rules, Gina,” Killian said.

“Even so.” “Sure.” “Four o’clock, Killian. Don’t take the Subway.” “Aye, aye your majesty.” “Ass,” she said, but he could hear the smile in her voice. “And congratulations.”

It was quieter than it had been all day – hours after the parade and City Hall and fans chanting welcome back when he got the goddamkey to the fucking city like he was some kind of superhero. Killian’s hand hadn’t shook when he signed, pen held firmly in his hand when he scribbled across a sheet of paper that would change his whole life.

Again.

This sport and this city and everything he’d done, consolidated into a few paragraphs and subparagraphs and Regina hovered over his shoulder to make sure he didn’t miss a single line or spot to initial.

It had been everything he’d suddenly realized he couldn’t live without and, now, hours after all of it – phone calls answered and text messages returned and Elsa had screamed so loudly when he’d picked up that she’d woken up Lizzie and he had to shout the specifics of the contract in between cries – but now it was quiet and it all kind of hit him...at once.

“You look like you’re trying to plan every hour of the next eight years,” Emma said, leaning up against the doorframe with her arms crossed lightly over team-merch and a small smile on her mouth.

“Not every hour,” Killian countered. “Just some of them.” “Eight years. That’s a long time.” “It is.” The bed dipped slightly when she sat down, swinging her legs onto the mattress and pressing her back up against the wall. She twisted her hair around a finger, pulling her leg up to rest on her chin on her knee. “What, Swan?” “I’m just...this is good. It worked...” She glanced at him, eyes just a bit cautious, like she was waiting for that other shoe or whatever cliche made sense in a moment like this and he knew, more than he’d known just about anything, that it wouldn’t come.

“It did,” Killian said, tracing his thumb down the front of her leg and her tongue darted out in between her lips, breath hitching just a bit. He moved his arm, pulling Emma back down towards him and against his chest and he fell asleep with hair in his face and her arm pressed against a bruise that still hadn’t quite healed, visions of the future dancing just behind his eyelids.

She absolutely, positively, was not crying.

And had not cried once. At all. Never. Emma didn’t cry. She didn’t do emotions – or hadn’t, not until this stupid team and this stupid city and the last two weeks had been a whirlwind of everything, every emotion she could name or feel, balled up into one, massive thing that just seemed to send shockwaves of feeling through every single of inch of her consistently and without warning.

She was definitely crying.

It was, Emma reasoned, because Mary Margaret looked like some kind of actual princess, a picture of happiness with a smile on her face that hadn’t wavered once all day, even when NY1 tried to tell them it was going to rain.

It didn’t.

Emma was half convinced Mary Margaret had willed it not to.

“Are you crying?” David asked, nearly falling into a chair in the corner of the restaurant. He’d taken off his tie somewhere in between the ceremony and the photos, the sleeves of his shirt pushed up his forearms as he stared at Emma like he was trying to read her mind.

“Nah,” Emma muttered, brushing under her eyes quickly to get rid of the evidence David had absolutely already seen.

“She’s been crying all day,” Mary Margaret laughed, hand landing on David’s shoulder when she walked towards the table and Emma’s jaw dropped open. “Whatever, Reese’s. I take back every compliment I’ve given you today.” “That’s not how it works. I’m hoarding them all. Cherishing them, even.” “Is that weird?” Mary Margaret shook her head, lips pressed together as she tried not to smile. Or start crying. The three of them were a mess. “Of course not. My day or whatever.” “Or whatever,” Emma agreed and her throat felt tight and her eyes felt misty and she was totally going to start crying again.

“Are we having a moment?” David asked. “Is that what’s happening right now?”

“Can we have more moments? I feel like we should have run out of them by now.” Mary Margaret clicked her tongue and Emma was momentarily impressed by her ability to roll her eyes while she was still smiling. “The idea that there is some sort of limit on the number of moments we can have is absurd.” “You know, Reese’s,” Emma laughed, shooting a glance David’s direction. He bit his lip. “That was almost, almost, decidedly snippy.” “Almost,” David assured her when Mary Margaret made some kind of noise in the back of her throat. “Not quite, babe.” Emma shook her head. “Oh, God, they’ve started the nickname thing. Time to retreat.” “Rude.” “True. I’m surprised you guys are even still here. I thought you were just going to start attacking each other in the middle of the aisle.” “There wasn’t an aisle, Emma.”

She couldn’t even argue that – there hadn’t been, not really. There had been a line of flowers and a violin and Emma had cried then too, tears falling down her cheeks without her permission as soon as Mary Margaret appeared at the top of the steps in front of the castle.

They got married at a castle.

Like a fairy tale.

And Emma’s dress was blue and Ruby had complained a bit more than she probably should have, but David’s jaw actually droppedwhen he saw Mary Margaret and she’d needed to bite her lip so she didn’t just dissolve into feelings right there.

“And,” Mary Margaret muttered knowingly, a very specific type of look on her face when she leaned towards Emma. “We’re not the only ones making eyes at each other all night.”

David practically cackled, head thrown back and eyes squeezed shut and Emma groaned, but she couldn't really argue that either.

She’d spent all of two seconds staring at David and Mary Margaret before her gaze drifted a bit to her side and Killian was sitting three rows back, Roland half on his knee and half on his own seat – he didn’t look away from her once, something just on the edge of his gaze that made Emma’s knees go weak and, well, maybe that was what she’d dissolve over.

It really wasn’t fair.

She should probably tell him that at some point, mumble the words in his ear and tug a bit on that ridiculously blue tie and she’d seen him in suits plenty of times, had seen him in blue more times than she could count, and none of it really mattered.

He still looked better than the best adjective she could come up with and Emma found herself staring at Killian Jones, captain of the New York Rangers, while Mary Margaret and David kissed a few feet behind her at the end of what wasn’t actually an aisle.

And he told her she looked beautiful as soon as she found him, her thumb tracing over a scar on the back of his left hand when his fingers tugged on hers, pulling her away from the crowd and the team and anything that wasn’t another decidedly emotional moment.

They might have scandalized the cab driver on the ride from the park to the restaurant.

“I don’t make eyes,,” Emma mumbled and David was probably going to laugh at her for the rest of her life. “God, David, if this was a moment, you’ve absolutely ruined it.” He made a face, reaching his hand forward to rest on her knee and the light seemed to reflect off his ring.

Emma was far too emotional for her own good.

A waiter she’d never seen before in the restaurant appeared next to them as if he’d teleported there, a tray in their hands and an offer of food on his lips and Emma sat up a bit straighter, moving her finger through the air as she counted.

A round dozen.

“What?” David asked, eyebrows drawn low as he twisted his head between Mary Margaret and Emma.

“Don’t do it, Emma,” Mary Margaret warned. “I don’t want to hear it. I wanted all that food and we will eat all that food. And people will love it.”

Emma laughed loudly, her whole body shaking with the feel of it until it seemed to sink down into her toes and her fingers and she was so goddamn happy, it was somewhere close to ecstatic. Maybe she should find her boyfriend.

“You going to force me to take home food from your wedding too, Reese’s?” Emma asked. “I’m perfectly capable of feeding myself.” Mary Margaret sagged forward slightly and Emma’s happiness ebbed just a bit, forcing her out of her chair and around David and if she wasn’t a crier, then she certainly wasn’t a hugger, but none of that seemed to matter.

She wrapped her arms around Mary Margaret, careful not to actually get anything caught on the dress and there were more tears and David laughed when he pulled his phone out of his pocket and took a picture of them.

“It’s absolutely a moment,” David said and his eyes were just a bit glossy too.

Emma scoffed, wiping the back of her hands across her cheeks as she did her best to salvage the ridiculous amount of makeup she was wearing. “How come you guys aren’t dancing? Shouldn’t you be all wrapped up in each other or something?” “We wanted to eat before we danced,” Mary Margaret explained.

“Well, when you’ve got so many appetizers to try….” Mary Margaret scowled at her, but it didn’t really hold much weight when she was still trying to hug Emma. The music changed, slower and more romantic than it had been before and the small crowd that had been dancing shifted automatically, arms around necks and hands on hips and Emma would have to ask Mrs. Vankald for a specific type of cliché in this moment.

“Well, that seems like our cue,” David said, tugging lightly on Mary Margaret’s arms until they moved away from Emma.

Mary Margaret beamed at him, taking a few steps towards the makeshift dance floor Ariel had helped set up the day before. She glanced back at Emma and it wasn’t quite like any look she’d ever had before – a mix of happiness and content and something just on the edge that Emma couldn’t quite name.

“Eat some food,” Mary Margaret said, reaching forward to squeeze Emma’s hand, her thumb brushing just over her wrist.

Emma nodded slowly. If she cried anymore she’d absolutely mess up her makeup. “Sure thing, Mom.” They were half a second away from another moment, but the music was still playing and someone was shouting for David and Mary Margaret to dance and probably kiss, the echo of silverware on glass sounding a bit louder than it probably should have in that absurdly crowded restaurant.

And for a wedding that was, decidedly, not Rangers-themed, there were a lot of New York Rangers at that wedding.

Will and Belle were dancing and Ariel kept taking pictures, shouting the word girlfriend at both of them every few moments. Ruby seemed intent on dealing with the blue of her dress by doing shots at the bar, camped out on the corner stool with Dorothy by her side and Jefferson behind her, none of them able to sit quite straight.

Regina had smiled more in the last three hours than Emma had seen all season, tugging Roland and Henry onto the dance floor with her and Robin until they made some sort of family square that couldn’t quite move perfectly to the music, but kept laughing when one of them would trip over their own feet.

And for as much as Emma had cried throughout the day, Ruth seemed determined to give her a run for her money, eyes just a bit redder than normal.

It was perfect.

“Seems a shame to waste the music, doesn’t it, Swan?”

Emma glanced up, something that might have been a giggle or just joy falling into the space between them. He’d been on the other side of the restaurant for all of ten minutes and she’d already forgotten how good he looked in that stupid suit.

It absolutely was not fair.

“You’re staring, love,” Killian murmured, smirk tugging on the ends of his lips as he held his hand out in front of her. She took it immediately, hardly even noticing when he started walking again, pushing through the small crowd in front of them.

“Yeah, well,” Emma said and it sounded like she sighed out the words when he moved his hand to her hip. “Your suit is dumb.”

“Dumb?”

“The absolute dumbest.” “I think you like this suit, Swan.” “I think you like my dress.” “I’m not arguing that.” They’d actually started dancing at some point and whoever was in charge of the music was either a villain or a genius or maybe a bit of both, because one song blended into another and the rhythm didn’t change as all, just as slow as ever with just as much meaningbehind all of it.

“What are we doing right now?” Emma asked, leaning back slightly to stare at him. That was a mistake. His eyes matched his tie and her dress and everything was almost oppressively blue. She heard Ariel’s camera shutter sound.

Killian quirked one eyebrow, the smirk as stupid as his suit and whatever was going on with his hair – pushed up in the back and twisted just bit in the front and both of those things were absolutely Emma’s fault.

“We’re dancing, Swan, obviously,” Killian said, squeezing his hand a bit tighter on her hip as if that, somehow, proved his point.

“No, no, I get that, but how?” “How?” “How do you know how to dance?” Emma pressed. “This is good. You’re good at this.” Killian didn’t answer immediately, the other eyebrow joining the first up his forehead and Emma groaned loudly. “God,” she sighed. “Why are you good at everything?” “I’m going to take that as a compliment.” “It wasn’t.” Killian laughed, brushing his lips across hers quickly and Ariel was definitely still taking pictures. “It’s like skating,” he said. “You find a rhythm and you stick with it. Simple.” “I don’t know about that.” “You’re doing fine, Swan.” “Gee, thanks” He moved again, pulling her flush against his chest and, while she’d absolutely never admit it, it did feel a bit like skating – gliding,jeez, in a tiny circle and she couldn’t quite understand how she could feel grounded and dizzy at the same time.

She’d blame the suit.

“I’m not mocking you, love,” Killian said and there was an earnest edge to his voice that Emma didn’t entirely expect. “In fact, what I’m trying to say is that you appear to be a natural.” He twisted her away from him and, for half a moment, Emma considered complaining about that, but Killian barely gave her a chance to even finish the thought, pulling her back and kissing her forehead and she couldn’t talk when she could hardly even breathe.

“After all,” he added. “There’s really only one rule to all of this.” “That so?”

He nodded slowly, Emma’s stomach flipping at the movement or maybe how much they were swaying and she bit her lip when he spoke again. “Pick a partner who knows what he’s doing.”

There was a retort on the tip of her tongue – something slightly snarky that would probably make him smirk at her and then maybe kiss her again and it didn’t really matter as long as he didn’t move his hands – but she never got a chance, interrupted by a shout and Will Scarlet skidding to a stop next to them.

“Emma,” he yelled, backing up slightly when Killian turned to glare at him. “Jeez, Cap, relax.” “What, Scarlet,” Emma sighed.

“I want to talk to you.” “Yeah, I got that. Talk.” Will glanced at Killian, still glaring daggers at him, but it didn’t seem to worry him. If anything, he simply looked more determined to talk. “What,” Emma repeated.

“You’ve got to lay down the law on the last round of the bet.” Killian stiffened next to Emma, his hand going dangerously tight on her waist. “Shut up, Scarlet,” he hissed.

Will didn’t move, just looked a bit more entrenched in front of them, crossing his arms over his button-up and staring at Killian expectantly. “Fair’s fair, Cap. You lost. It’s time to pay up.” “I’m serious, Scarlet.” “Me too.” Killian huffed, teeth digging into his lip and he looked like he wanted to check Will into the boards. Or maybe the bar. Emma took a step in between them, keeping one hand trained on Killian’s chest when she looked questioningly at Will.

“What are you talking about, Scarlet? I didn’t think you guys bet in the last game.” “Cap,” Will yelled. “You didn’t even tell her?” Killian didn’t answer, just pressed his tongue against the inside of his cheek and he’d probably need offseason PT if he kept holding his shoulders that straight. “Fine, Scarlet,” Emma sighed. “I’ll bite. I take it you won, then?” “Obviously.”

“What were the stakes?” “Well, Cap wouldn’t let us bet on A’s kid…” “You wanted to bet on an unborn baby?” “You and Cap spend way too much time together, that’s exactly what he said.”

Emma rolled her eyes. Killian hadn’t breathed in hours – at least. “What did you win, Scarlet?” she continued impatiently and Will actually had the gall to grin at her.

“The better question, Emma, is what did you win?”

She made a face, pulling her head back in confusion and glancing at Killian quickly. He looked like he’d already come up with several different ways to kill Will and make it look like an accident.

“You're not making any sense,” Emma said.

Will clicked his tongue, grin widening as he stuffed his hands into his pockets. “Cap’s got to sell his apartment.” “What?” “Those were the stakes. If he lost, and he definitely lost, then he’s got to sell his apartment and tell you how he’s been looking up apartment listings since the week before we actually won the Cup and then he’ll probably say something stupid romantic too. I don’t care about that last part.” Emma turned before Will had even stopped talking, spinning on a visibly nervous Killian who couldn’t seem to meet her gaze. “Is that true?” she asked, voice softer than she wanted it to be.

“No, no,” Killian said quickly, ignoring Will’s pointed groan. “Well, not all of it at least. I wasn’t looking up apartments a week before the Cup.” “No?” “Nah, not until, like, a couple days before. At the earliest.” She wasn’t sure what she expected. It hadn’t been that. It probably should have. And they probably should have talked about this weeks before because she couldn’t remember the last time Killian hadn’t slept in her apartment or the last time she’d thought of her apartment as exclusively hers.

God, she wanted that.

She wanted all of that – every single emotion that had a name and then, maybe, an absurd amount of decorative pillows.

“Where?” she asked, well aware that it wasn’t nearly specific enough. There needed to be more words, more questions and, maybe, more kissing and she needed Will Scarlet to move, at least, six feet away from them.

“What?” Killian whispered.

“Where? Like where in the city were you looking?” He opened his mouth and closed it and then did it two more times before the air rushed out of him loudly and his shoulders visibly sagged, blinking quickly at Emma like he was a bit stunned to still find her standing there.

“Um, still uptown,” Killian said slowly. “Just maybe kind of farther up. By the park. Or something. It wasn’t very specific.” “That’d be nice.” “Yeah?” She licked her lips before she answered, the certainty that this might have been the most important conversation she’d ever had settling over her. Will still hadn’t moved and Emma knew Mary Margaret was watching a few feet away, could feel her curious stare boring into the back of her head like some kind of proud mother.

“Yeah,” Emma said, nodding once for good measure. “I mean, we’ve kind of been doing it already, right? When’s the last time you went home?” “Last night,” Killian answered immediately.

“What?” “I went home with you, Swan, last night. And every night for, what, the last two months?” Her heart exploded – or something equally impossible and it might have landed on the floor, which only seemed appropriate, since she hadn’t wanted to come to very first party in the restaurant uptown.

Until I met you.

“Something like that,” Emma mumbled. Killian beamed at her.

“God,” Ariel cried a few feet away, her phone still in her hand and Eric hovering nearby when she tried to actually climb on a chair so she could see both of them better. “Kiss her already!” She was never sure who moved first – him or her or maybe they didn’t really move at all, just kind of fell into each other, like they had from the very start.

And it didn’t take nearly as long as she thought it would have, or probably should have, Killian’s apartment selling quickly and easily and Emma refused to question it, certain she’d, somehow, managed to jinx all of it.

They moved into the apartment in August, just a few weeks before camp was set to get underway and a few days after they’d come back from Colorado, days spent in a backyard and something Liam kept referring to as mountain air and Killian had kept his arm trained around her shoulder when they left, the twins clinging to his legs while they tried to get in the car.

She’d thought that had been perfect.

This was, somehow, even better.

It was theirs in a way that nothing had quite been and they signed the paperwork together, hauling boxes in and there was another security guard in the lobby, nodding towards them with a quiet Mr. Jones and Ms. Swan when they brought another load of stuff into the elevator.

The entire contingent had been called on to help and, for the most part, they had – Robin and Will bringing in furniture with only a minimal amount of grumbling, while a starting-to-show Ariel followed behind with shouts to be careful and don’t strain anything. Mary Margaret had taken it upon herself to start putting away towels and organize the kitchen and she’d bought them a new set of tupperware.

David piled boxes in the hallway and they had a hallway and two bedrooms and a view of the river. The Hudson River. It was the Hudson. Emma had told Killian that when they looked at the apartment the first time.

Finding the apartment was easy – moving into the apartment took all day and left them with boxes and a Conn-Smythe in the corner of the hallway. The Hart Trophy Killian had won just before they went to Colorado was sitting on top of the oven.

It was an unequivocal domestic disaster.

It was perfect.

Emma had no idea what time it was when everyone left – Mary Margaret promising to bring food and leaving cookies before being pulled out the door by David, a knowing smile on his face – but it must have been late, the whole apartment quiet when she leaned against the wall behind the bed.

“You alright, Swan?” Killian asked, appearing in the doorway in a University of Minnesota t-shirt that left Emma somewhere in the realm of decidedly wooed.

“Better,” she promised. “Your Hart is sitting on the oven, you know.” “I think it looks good there.” “You want to keep a giant trophy on the oven? Where’s the Conn-Smythe?”

Killian shrugged, taking a step into the room and dropping down on the edge of the bed. They’d bought a new mattress.

God.

“Why not? Our apartment, we can do whatever we want, right? Maybe we should buy a trophy case to put in the kitchen, though. Just to make sure it’s organized.”

“Are you suggesting, Cap, that you’re going to win more massive trophies to put in our kitchen?” “Maybe.” “Confident.” “Nah, Swan,” he laughed. “Just consistently trying to impress you.” “I’m going to be honest, the Stanley Cup kind of helped.”

He laughed again, twisting back towards her until his legs stretched out over the blankets Mary Margaret had absolutely put on the bed earlier that afternoon. “Speaking of which,” Killian muttered, tugging something out of his pocket. “You know, we never did replace your laces.” “We have been kind of busy.”

“Seems like a pretty poor excuse.” “Maybe I’ll steal them out of the jersey I bought.” Killian made a noise, shaking his head quickly and Emma didn’t even try to move. “Actually,” he muttered. “I had kind of a different idea.”

She couldn’t really breathe, eyes going wide and mouth going dry when Killian flipped his wrist, holding his hand up towards her. “Calm down, Swan,” he laughed when she made some kind of impossible noise. “I’m not proposing.”

It was a ring.

It was his ring.

And it wasn’t as ostentatious as it probably could have been – not enormous or covered in diamonds, just a blue stone in the middle with the Rangers shield on the side, his initials and numbers etched inside the band.

“There’s supposed to be a ceremony,” Killian continued, voice scratchy and Emma couldn’t pull her eyes away from the ring. “We’re supposed to all get dressed up and you’d probably be able to auction off tickets for fans and it’ll still happen once we get closer to the season, but I, uh, I knew they came in earlier this week and, well, I wanted you to have it.” She needed oxygen. She needed to breathe. She couldn’t seem to do that, frozen solid in the middle of a brand-new bed in her homeand Killian kept his hand open in front of her.

Emma reached her fingers out slowly, brushing against the ring and Killian’s palm and he flinched slightly underneath her.

“I can’t take that,” she said softly. “You don’t...you won, Killian. You should keep it.” “I want you to have it, Swan,” he repeated. “I wouldn’t...I wouldn’t be here if it wasn’t for you. There’d be no Cup, no trophies on the oven, none of this. This is yours just as much as it’s mine. And, if nothing else, it’s a reminder that you’ve got a piercing-eyed, smoldering, Stanley Cup-winning hockey player who loves you.” “Had to add in that last part, huh?” “It’s true.” “Yeah, it is,” Emma agreed, shaking with her laughter. “And I love you too.”

He’d put it on a chain, muttering something about how it was indestructible, so it won’t break when you start tugging on it, and Emma ignored that, kissing him silent until he dropped the ring in between them.

It was heavy when she finally hung it over her neck, twisting slightly so the indestructible chain wouldn’t get stuck in her hair and Killian’s eyes widened when it hit against the front of her shirt – team-branded and blue and probably not quite perfect for whatever kind of moment they were having.

“I like it,” he mumbled, thumb tracing over her collarbone and across the front of her shirt and Emma forgot all the reasons she’d been exhausted just a few minutes before.

They moved slowly, like they were trying to memorize each other all over again, a new memory for a new space and a new start and Emma didn’t notice the pillow under her head until hours later, somewhere in the realm of the middle of the night, tugging it out with bleary eyes.

“What is that?” Killian asked, kissing along her temple when he pulled her against his chest and Emma hummed in response.

“The one thing I unpacked,” she answered and there was a sense of wonder in his stare that seemed to settle in Emma’s ribcage.

Killian smiled at her, slow and lazy and comfortable and he chuckled softly when her fingers found the ring around her neck, twisting the band between her thumb and forefinger. She’d done it almost as soon as the first box came into the apartment, pulling the pillow out and putting it in the middle of the bed, letting her fingers trail across the blue edges and the Rangers emblem stitched across the front.

He stared at her for another moment and Emma pulled her lips back behind her teeth waiting for him to say something, anything.

She was glad she did.

“Welcome home, Swan,” Killian whispered, ducking his head to kiss her once more and they didn’t ever get much sleep, but it didn’t really matter.

She’d found her way home.

#cs ff #captain swan ff #cs fic #cs #csbb #blue line #i'm a mess #just assume i'm weeping over the end of this all day

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elephant-in-the-pride-parade · 7 years

Text

Y’all Gotta Chill About Nicole Haught acting OOC

Post WE 2x08: I don’t understand why everyone’s saying Haught’s acting out of character and I definitely don’t understand why people are calling her toxic and unforgivable. This absolutely fits in with her previous behavior - even her “I can’t lie to her” line in 2x07. And here’s why.

My dudes,

She put the DNA test in her purse.

In her PURSE

She could have left it at home, or in her locker at the station, or in her car. But she left it in her purse. She intentionally brought it with her when she went to see Waverly. This proves a couple things.

1. Nicole absolutely did intend to give her the damn envelope.

2. Nicole felt guilty as fuck about it. So much so that she made it incredibly easy for the DNA test to be easily found.

But what about 2x07 when Nicole said “I Can’t lie to [Waverly]”?

Her line in 2x07 referred to when Waverly is talking to her. She’d never lie to her then, but she’s absolutely capable of being dishonest. She didn’t outright tell Waverly she’d let Wynonna drag her to the strip club, and she did attempt to deny that they were at one. In that instance, she was trying to be Wynonna’s friend and let Wynonna do what she needed to do. It was only after Waverly pressed her that Nicole spilled the beans. So she can’t and won’t lie, but that doesn’t mean she feels the need to tell Waverly absolutely everything outright (especially things she thinks Waverly wouldn’t be happy about). In the case of the DNA results, Nicole thought they’d upset Waverly and thus didn’t tell her she had them. But when accused of opening them, Nicole didn’t try to deny it (even if doing so would have meant Waverly was less pissed at her). So this seems totally in character.

But she opened her mail and was trying to hide the results from Waverly! That’s so bad! Why would she do that.

And this is where I, (totally unpopular opinion), totally sympathize with Nicole Haught.

Waverly Earp’s been worried about her Earpy status since season one, and Nicole was the first other person she told about it. Back than, this was a rumor spread by a demon who’d very nearly killed the whole town with poisoned Champagne. Nicole didn’t have a high opinion of Bobo Del Ray’s honesty or character and doesnt now, nor was she aware of the extent of Waverly’s particular trust in him. So when Waverly is worried she isn’t an Earp because Bobo said so, Nicole automatically assumes the demon’s trying to mess with Waves’ head (even says as much).

That’s why she was so eager to support Waves doing the genetic test. She thought it would prove Bobo had lied. She thought it would be the hard evidence Waverly needed to be affirmed in her identity.

I think perhaps, over the course of season 2 with Wynonna’s pregnancy arc, Nicole’s gotten to see just how much the thought of not being an Earp is getting to Waverly. And she’s also probably learned way more about Waverly’s past than she did when she initially floated the idea of genetic testing. She probably knows now that Ward was especially neglectful of Waverly. She has probably learned that Willa believed Waverly wasn’t an Earp. She’s probably heard more about Bobo and has a better understanding of his and Waverly’s relationship.

At the same time, all of season 2 has happened: Waverly’s possession and near death at the hands of Mictian. Nicole’s protective instincts are more than certainly through the roof after that.

And then we get to 2x07

Given that she’s spent the whole day with Wynonna trying to help her investigate her own baby Daddy, perhaps Waverly’s own situation was on her mind as well. If it was so likely a possibility that Doc wasn’t the father of Wynonna’s child, maybe that threw her previous certainty that Waverly was an Earp into more doubt.

Throw in the uncomfortable realization that Wynonna’s kid could be half-demon, and it’s no wonder Nicole’s a little worried about Waverly’s own origins, or worried that Waverly will be worried.

2x08 looks like it happens quite close to the events in 2x07 if the Earp sisters’ conversation by the lake is any judge. Nicole’s still thinking about half-demon kids and baby-daddy what ifs and everything they’ve just learned about Wynonna’s kid is making Nicole take another look at all the evidence that Waverly isn’t an Earp. Nicole’s probably freaking out.

Was she wrong? What if Bobo was telling Waverly the truth? What if her dad or her mom or both her parents really aren’t Ward and Michelle Earp? What if, heaven forbid, Waverly’s some part-Purgatory-evil-nasty. That’s ridiculous right? Of course it’s ridiculous. Why’s she even thinking it?

But Jonas did say it had happened before?

How many times before? To who? Why is she listening to what that rev-head said? What if Waverly’s part-demon? That… that can’t be true. She won’t let it be true. Was that why Willa hated Waverly? Was that how Bobo knew she wasn’t an Earp?

But he was just messing with Waverly, Nicole would have kept insisting to herself. Waverly was the Earpiest Earp. That was true. there was no way she and Wynonna weren’t sisters.

Funny how the more you repeat things to yourself the more you start to doubt them.

All keyed up from the revelation of “Potential Demon Baby” in 2x07 and a short time after, she sees that DNA results have come in about Waverly Earp.

I’d bet you my left arm Nicole opened those without a thought to the fact that it was a federal offence. This is the same woman who illegally bugged Tucker Gardener’s phone. She didn’t even think about protecting Waverly in that moment. She opened it to assure herself. A completely impulsive move born of sitting on her own worries and fears. She’d open the envelope and it would say that Waverly and Wynonna were sisters. It would show that fucking Boby Del Ray was wrong. It would mean Nicole could stop thinking about him, and Jonas, and all Purgatory’s other evils. Because there was no way that any of the things Nicole has spent season 2 worried about are true. There’s no way Waverly isn’t an Earp.

It takes Nicole 2 seconds to say fuck it and unseal the envelope. It takes 2 seconds to pull out the lab results and look them over. And look. And look.

And Waverly isn’t an Earp. Rather than proving Nicole’s fears wrong, it’s only proven them right.

Moreover, this is not going to be a result that reassures Waverly about who she is. Protective Nicole wonders if this is really something she needs to see.

Waverly…

30 seconds after opening the Envelope I bet you Nicole’s eyes went wide as saucers because oh shit she really shouldn’t have fucking opened that. She would have carefully folded the lab results, tucked them into the envelope, resealed it because Waverly doesn’t need to know she opened it. Waverly ought to have been the first one to know her own lab results. And Nicole knows it and Nicole feels guilty as fuck about it.

And Waverly isn’t an Earp.

Nicole probably sat at her desk staring at the envelope until the end of her shift. Knowing she ought to give it to Waverly. Knowing it wouldn’t do a damn thing to help Waverly. Knowing this was not the result she thought they’d get when she’d convinced Waverly to do the test to prove Bobo Del Ray was a fucking liar.

And now… how can she possibly give it to Waverly now? when she’s worried about the baby and Wynonna and the Widows how can Nicole let her worry about her heritage too???

There has… got to be a better time to give them to her. And Nicole’s absolutely going to. She thinks about locking them up, but feels too guilty about that. So she puts the resealed envelope in her purse and decides that when there’s a good time, or when they know Wynonna isn’t carrying a three-headed devil spawn, or when they’ve got a handle on the Widow situation, once they know those things, then she can give Waverly the envelope.

She absolutely knows her purse isn’t a good place to keep these. She knows she should put the envelope back and let someone else give it to Waverly like it hasn’t been opened. But she wants to give it to Waverly herself. She wants to be there for her when she finds out she isn’t an Earp. Because if there needs to be another crisis in Waverly’s life, at least Nicole can control when it happens. At least she can make sure the world isn’t ending when Waverly finds out.

And maybe, by putting it in her purse, she is setting the stage for Waverly to find it. Oh yes, Nicole rationalizes that decision by thinking that she needs to have the envelope on hand for the perfect moment to break the news to Waves… but in actuality? This is another manifestation of her own discomfort with lying. She really doesn’t want to keep Waverly in the dark. She really does want to be honest. She also wants to protect Waverly at all costs. Instincts are at war with eachother.

Nicole put the envelope in her purse. And Waverly found it. And Waverly called her over-protective and accused her of treating Waverly like a child and Waverly’d heard Nicole say I love you for the first time and it hadn’t budged her fury an inch.

And Okay, Nicole knows she deserved that. She probably turned to the bar, banged her fist on the counter and called herself seven kinds of an idiot for opening the envelope in the first place and then for hiding it, and then for dropping the “L word” during an argument. Waverly’s pissed and Nicole’s upset and Waverly isn’t an Earp. And while that opens up a whole other can of worms Nicole’s been desperately trying not to look at, she thinks then she has no right to be the one freaking out. Waverly’s the one with that right. And Waverly has every right to be mad.

It’ll occur to Nicole later that Waverly hasn’t said I love you too yet. And Nicole’ll feel miserable about it. But she’ll know she opened the envelope and tried to hide it and really really shouldn’t have. And she’ll think she deserves it

Nicole Haught loves Waverly Earp. And love clouds her judgement just like any other human. Is she going to make other stupid mistakes for Waverly? Yes, absolutely. She’s in too deep to make good choices all the time. Is Waverly gonna be pissed at her. Yes, and she has every right to be. But she’s gonna talk it out with Nicole like an adult and they’re both gonna have a stronger relationship afterwards. And then they’re both going to go and make other stupid mistakes for each other. It happens. They’re humans. Not unicorns.

#nicole haught #wayhaught #wynonna earp #waverly earp #wynonna earp headcanon

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