#I think the author could have been a little more generous to nate

[stainlesssteellocust]

Ok. Where should I start with the 40K novels?

I tried one like 15 years ago and it was bad, no memory of which. Generic space marine stuff. I like the setting and many games, though much of the fandom can be exhausting.

I trust your tastes!

Hmm. There are unfortunately rather more bad or mediocre ones than good, but let’s see. Hopefully your trust will not be misplaced!

Possibly my favourite is The Infinite and the Divine, by Robert Rath. It’s a tale of two Necrons, mad historian and archaeologist Trazyn the Infinite and his rival, oracle and time-wizard Orikan the Diviner, as they squabble over an artifact that could change the destiny of their people. A tale of petty scheming and Tom & Jerry nonsense that stretches for thousands of years. I’m currently reading Rath’s Siege of Cadia, and while it isn’t quite as good, more grand battles and the like, it’s still a good read so far.

Also about the Necrons is Severed by Nate Crowley, a lovely little novella about a Necron general who thinks he’s still flesh and blood, and his long-suffering assistant. The same author also has a few books out, called The Twice Dead King, and I’ve tried the first one. Found it slow going and got distracted, but maybe I wasn’t in the mood at the time. I’ve heard good things about it from others.

There’s the Cain series, which is considered a classic. It’s framed as the private memoirs of celebrated Imperial hero Ciaphas Cain, with asides from an Inquisitor he had a close relationship with. The joke is that, to hear Cain tell it, his reputation is a lie: He’s an utter coward who somehow manages to come out smelling of roses every time, is rewarded by being sent into ever nastier wars and situations, and ends up having to act like his false heroic persona in order to lever his reputation to survive.

It’s a slightly more comedic take on the setting than most, with an undercurrent of unreliable narration: It’s suggested that while Cain isn’t the square-jawed hero propaganda says he is, he’s a lot more heroic than he gives himself credit for, and the extend to which he’s really a coward as opposed to a brave man riddled with self loathing and imposter syndrome is left up in the air. Been a while but the ones I read tended to be fun, if slightly formulaic after a while.

I remember enjoying the old Sisters of Battle books by James Swallow, but I haven’t read them in many years so I’m not sure if they hold up. Same with the Eisenhorn series; both are due a reread and I’ll get back to you on whether they’re worth it.

Blades of Damocles is bolter porn but it’s relatively fun bolter porn, and watching the culture clash of the Imperium and the Tau is nice.

I originally got into 40k novels via William King’s stuff; his Ragnar stories are the usual Space Marine fare (star Viking flavour) but he’s more skilled with it than most. He also wrote the most iconic books for Warhammer Fantasy: The original run of Gotrek and Felix, about a dwarf who wishes to atone for an unnamed sin via dying in battle and the human poet who drunkenly agreed to write his death saga, and to his horror now finds himself dragged to the ends of the earth as Gotrek seeks a worthy death. According to fannish lore, their books were the most profitable part of the WHF IP when Games Workshop nuked that setting (a decision they appear to be rolling back).

And speaking of Fantasy, I personally liked the story Drachenfels, which begins in media res as a party of adventurers battles a dark lord…then cuts to years later as their leader, now a powerful politician, reunites his old party members. By putting on a play of their victory over the dark lord. In the dark lord’s castle. On the eve of his defeat. Which of course cannot possibly go wrong. No siree.

I’ll also throw in a couple of fanfics if you’re into that: Breaker of Chains and its two sequels (third instalment not finished) feature the Primarch Angron, in canon a servant of the Chaos god Khorne and leader of the berserk World Eater space marines. In canon Angron landed on the planet Nuceria as a child and led a slave rebellion against its masters only for the Emperor to snatch him away at the last moment to serve him, resulting in his comrades dying and Angron’s mind breaking, leading him to Chaos. In this story his Legion finds him first, his rebellion wins and he enters the wider galaxy relatively more well adjusted.

Relatively.

Whereas Suffer Not is the tale of an Inquisitor doing her best to actually make the galaxy a better place. Shockingly. Completed, has a sequel, got some negative fan attention because of its take on the setting but I rather liked it.

(Both of the above make the unusual choice of using second person, because they were interactive works: Readers would vote on the character’s next action, and the author would weave the result into the next update.)

I’m sure there’s a lot more stuff I’m missing, but that should be a good start.

[terrainofheartfelt]

a lottt of other obvious factors aside blair and chip whiskers honestly just aren’t my kind of ship. in so many ways they’re actually quite boring to me? like my god how many dramatic love proclamations can you have in one season lmao. dair is meanwhile is genuinely fun. the banter, the two of them both being such pretentious dorks, etc. there’s such a lightness to them and a lightness to blair in his company. i think you once said that chair in season 1 has some appeal compared to later seasons because blair is in control and has the power so to speak. come season 2, i lost count of how many times i almost rolled my eyes into the back of my head. even taking away chip being who he is and how he treats her, they’re just so dull in my eyes. we get it you two can’t be together for insert convoluted reason but you’re going to continue to pine after each other and dramatically declare your love every other episode!

ha. yeah. obvious factors aside, the writing for blair waldorf and chip wiskers has a serious case of what I would like to call Trying Too Hard Syndrome. the writers were working SO hard to sell the "fated lovers" narrative that the dialogue just comes out stilted and ridiculous. No specific examples come to mind right now, but I'm sure the Mutuals [Most Affectionate] will have some locked and loaded, but like, nobody talks like that.

blair and dan's relationship, in contrast, happens almost by accident? the writer's weren't trying as hard to sell the Romance, so the dialogue comes off much better. And, I'm tempted to say, there's the added benefit of Badgley and Meester--arguably the best actors in the cast--just playing off of each other. Don't get me wrong, good, strong writing is a very important component of good performed media (why do you think we're always ranting about it?) but an aspect of good writing--especially in TV when you know mostly who you're writing for--is knowing when and how to not get in the performer's way. I'm thinking right now of Mike Schur (one of my favorite sitcom writers) and of Ted Lasso & Schitt's Creek (probs two of the best written television shows ever), and how they do so well because they have that symbiosis between what begins on paper and what ends up on camera. GG never really achieved that with chair, mostly because the had written themselves into a narrative corner, and rather than follow the path the characters were seeming to take. I think it was @insistonyourcupofstars that recc'd this meta analysis to me that I read recently, which puts it very well:

they [the showrunners/writers] kept a death grip on the endgame [derena & chair], and so they bent plots and the characters like pretzels to make it happen.

[imagination-is-key-in-my-world]

Awkward Encounters

Authors Note: At first, I was going to write this as the reader being in Tessa’s perspective but then I thought that it would be too much of a copyright. There may be some similarities to the story but I have written Tessa in as a separate party. Tessa is still with Noah in this. Also, I will be referencing parts from both the movie and the novels. In this particular fanfiction Tristan is a girl, like the movie.

Summary: You are a freshman at college and your life there started pretty normally. Your best friend is Tristan who is dating Steph who is roommates with Tessa. That was until you went to a party with Tristan and the girls. You had no idea that the mysterious British boy was going to intervene when you come face to face with the Bitch that is Molly.

Warning: Swearing

Pairing: Reader x Hardin Scott

Word Count: 4,423

“Come on Tristan, I told you.” I moan. “I can’t go to another party; I am still recovering from the last one.” I cling to a cold compress, trying my best to shield my eyes from the light that is seeping in through the open door.

Tristan threw a pack of Ibuprofen onto my lap that she snooped around in my bag for. “If it’s that bad, take one of these and get your butt out of that bed.” I groan at the impact from the small box just for the effect. “Don’t be a baby and get up.”

I roll over on the bed to face the wall. “Can’t you just go with Steph?”

“No!” She abruptly spat out. “I want to go with you. Steph is bringing Tessa and I don’t want to show up alone.”

“But you will be with her when you’re there. What’s the point in me getting out of this lovely cocoon that I have made, just to walk you to the party?”

Tristan had her head bent over, pulling her hair into a high ponytail on the top of her head. “You know that what you just said was the whole point.” She sighed. “Everyone is going to stare at me when I walk in there all on my lonesome.”

I eyed the short revealing dress that she was pulling onto her petite and envious body. “You know everyone will be staring at you no matter what if you wear that.” I laugh. “Those legs are going to be the headliner for that party.”

Tristan winked at me and continued adding more accessories to her ever-growing ensemble. “That my dear naïve British friend is the goal of this outfit.” She dropped to her knees faster than I could pry open the antibiotic wrapper. Gripping onto my hand she pulled me away from my mission to rid the world of the swirling furniture before my very eyes. “Y/N, if you do not go, I will literally never talk to you ever again.”

I raised my eyebrow at the sight before me. “Is that a promise.” I bravely say.

“Y/N! Please!”

“Fine alright. Give me five minutes.” I surrender, using every ounce of strength that I had left to lift myself from my comfy nest. “But you owe me, big time.” Tristan’s arms were around my neck faster than I could respond. Her soft lips that I am sure Steph adores, pressed against my forehead.

“I love you so much Miss Y/L/N!” She squealed.

I let out a stiff laugh as I saunter off to the bathroom to sort whatever state I currently appeared to be in.

***

“You know, when you said that this was going to be a cool night for us both? When did I factor into the equation?” I scoff, lifting the red solo cup to my lips. The bitter taste made my stomach curl, but what was worse was not drinking around all these over-the-top drunk people.

Tristan was straddling Steph on the sofa by the side of me. These two did not understand the true definition of PDA and why some people may find it uncomfortable. Including myself.

I inch further down the sofa that was unsurprisingly very sticky. If I wasn’t feeling queasy when I turned up, I certainly felt it now. I try to distract myself from the fact that I had to peel my legs from the leather material just to cross them. The sound was very unflattering.

“Why are you in my seat?” I roll my eyes the minute I recognised the irritating voice that filled me with angst and hatred from across the room. Molly Samuels. Her whole presence just irritates me, and it appears that I am not the only one with this response. I gaze over to my left to see Tessa shaking her head at the general distaste she had for the girl. I lift my cup up to Tessa who shyly mimics. ‘To stuck up bitches, ay?’ I say to myself, quietly so that she couldn’t hear.

Molly pushed Zed Evans and his girlfriend for the night out of her shitty throne causing his date to land hard on her arse. I am sure it wasn’t the first time that Molly has done this to declare her ‘power’ to the whole room. “Who the fuck do you think you are?” The blonde cried as Zed attempted to pick her up from the floor which was soaked in alcohol.

“Does this brat literally think she can talk to me right now?” Molly scoffed, flicking her hair over her shoulder. Turning to her so-called friends for approval of her comment and actions.

“What did you just call me?” The poor young girl shook off Zed’s protective arm and stepped right in front of Molly’s nose. Probably not the best move, but I have always found that Molly needed taking down a peg or two.

“You heard me, loud and clear” She popped her tongue on the letter ‘l’ in loud. “A little slutty brat who thinks for a second that Zed will call her back after he fucks her tonight.” Molly’s teeth were snarling almost like a wild animal.

“At least I’m not a bitchy whore who thinks that everyone here is her friend.” There were a couple ‘ohs’ and ‘ahs’ almost as if we were at a panto and not a college party after Zed’s girl’s response.

The second Molly let the words register her hand was leaving that poor girl’s cheek, along with a bright red handprint in its place.

“What the fuck, Molly!” I heard the words clear as day, but I never in a million years imagined that they would come from my mouth. But there I was, standing right in front of Molly, shielding the young girl from another blast to the face.

I could hear people whispering behind my back. ‘What is she doing?’ ‘Is she stupid or something?’ ‘Does she not know what Molly is like?’ Despite being close friends with Tristan, I never would have expected her to step up to defend me, especially when Molly Samuels was involved. She stayed on Steph’s lap; eyes bugged open. Utterly frozen.

“Wow Y/N? Get involved in other people’s business much? Just because your life is too sad, you feel like you can insert yourself into other people’s.” I roll my eyes at her pathetic attempt to rattle me. “You’re just a sad little virgin that no body wants around. Tristan only invited you tonight for her own benefit. Just look around, you don’t fit in here.”

I stay silent. I may have only spoken up once tonight, but that was enough for me. Frat parties are my least favourite place to be. The only reason I came here tonight was for Tristan. I should have left the minute she started making out with the red-haired beauty.

“Cat got your tongue now, bitch.” Molly’s face was inches from mine and I choked on the strong aroma of alcohol on her breath. “Oh, wait I forgot, the girl doesn’t own a backbone.” There were a few stifled laughs here and there. Zed stayed silent, as did Tristan and Steph. None of them making the effort to stand up for me. “Let me guess. Tristan batted her big eyes at you and begged you to come tonight, didn’t she? Then ditched you the moment someone prettier came into the picture.”

I gulp back the bile that I knew had risen to the back of my throat. “Why don’t you go back to your dorm. Oh, better yet, get on a fucking plane and fly back to shitty England. We could only get lucky and hope the thing crashes with you inside it.”

“That’s enough Molly!” The voice behind me held a British twang similar to my own. A voice I had only heard about but never actually seen. The bad boy, Hardin Scott.

Hardin Scott was attractive. Since I got here, I knew he was the talk of the college. Everybody knew who he was and that he wasn’t good news. His white shirt displayed his various tattoos clearly through the thin and tight fabric. His black hair was pushed back to show his piercing eyes and anger set eyebrows. His eyes never left Molly who was stood behind me.

“Oh, Hardin you know I am only messing with the virgin.” She forces a small laugh. “It’s not like I can control the planes is it.” Her head tilts to the side as her gaze locks onto mine, only to intimidate. “I mean I wish I could.” She muttered so that only the people stood around her could hear.

“Do you ever know when to stop!” Hardin barks, not acknowledging me physically. “Do you ever think that you’re the one that people don’t want around?” He questions, moving slowly across the room. I hadn’t noticed but the volume of the once booming music had been lowered to a slight hum in the background.

Hardin was now stood right beside me glaring down at Molly who mimicked his stance. “Ding Ding. Come on guys let’s just drop it!” Nate calls over when he noticed their glares on each other were far from breaking.

Molly was the first to move. “You’re right Nate.” She coos. “Let’s play a game.” She scans the room of her so-called posy who all appeared to be done with her shit for the night. “It’s Friday night. We need to play a game. I will even let the little virgin here play along, too.”

I am very aware that all the eyes were now back on me.

This wasn’t something that I wanted to be a part of. It took me what felt like an eternity to move my feet across the room to where Tristan was sitting. “I am going to head back to the dorms.” I declare quietly to her, but I can tell that they are all listening.

“No please stay, it won’t be the same if you go.” Tristan reaches for my hand which I pull away.

I don’t know why I am letting Molly’s words sink in so much. Everybody who knows her knows that she is full of herself and couldn’t give a shit who she hurts.

“No, it’s late.” It was only nine. “And I have assignments that are due.” I lie, they are all finished. “I’ll see you back at the dorm.”

I start towards the door but I can hear Tristan calling after me to stay.

As I reach the front door to the frat house, I hear Molly’s voice loud and clear. “So, Hardin truth or dare?”

***

The walk back to the dorms was anything but peaceful. The cars were loud and honking at me as they passed. Classy.

I reach for my phone in my bag. I could do with tuning out the world for this half hour walk back in the dark. But my fingers only find a vibrant red lipstick that I couldn’t pull off in a million years.

I stop dead in my tracks. This was Steph’s bag; I grabbed the wrong one during my never-ending embarrassment.

I couldn’t go back, but I couldn’t go further either. Where was I supposed to go, Steph’s key wasn’t in here so it’s not like I could sleep in her room for the night. No cash, key or phone meant that I had no other choice. I had to suck it up and go back.

“Fuuuck!” I shout, not caring that I startled an elderly woman who was placing a rubbish bag in her bin just outside her front door.

“Not a very ladylike thing to say.” I hear a mocking chuckle behind me causing me to jump out of my skin.

When I turn around, I am greeted by the tall British bad boy covered in ink standing about 6 foot in front of me.

His head cocks to the side when I don’t answer him. “You don’t say much, do you?” My eyes scan over his attire, black ripped jeans, white top, and a jet-black leather jacket. “But you do stare a lot, don’t you?” That British chuckle makes it’s second appearance tonight.

“What do you want?” I blurt out, shaking my head at the fact that I was indeed caught staring at the boy.

He steps a little closer to me, closing the gap between us ever so slowly. I watch in amazement at how sexy he makes walking look. “You left this at the party.” I hadn’t realised that he had extended his hand to reveal a clutch bag. My clutch bag.

“Oh!” I speak. “Thanks.” I take the bag from him and prepare myself for the walk back.

“Don’t take any notice of Molly. She is a bitch.”

“Yep.” I chip in, turning to walk back towards the college dorm rooms.

I only get a few steps ahead when I feel a cold sensation wrap around my bare arm. Why the fuck didn’t I bring a coat? I gaze down at the hand that is pressed to my skin. “Where are you going?” He softly says. His tone and action were not at all forceful but something about him made me shiver with fear deep inside the pit of my stomach. I was warned about Hardin Scott. Tristan said that he wasn’t exactly good news around her group of friends. Acting with his fists before connecting his words, that’s what she said at least.

“H-Home.” I stutter, half from the interaction, half from how fucking cold it was. I straighten up. “I am going home.”

“Alone?” He jumps in straight away.

I don’t answer. I just look back at his hand around my arm.

“S-sorry.” He stutters, removing his hand from my arm. “It’s just it’s a long way back to the dorms and it is late.”

I shrug my shoulders at his declaration. “I know.” I simply say and start to walk again but I am blocked by the gorgeous boy standing in front of me. “Oh fuck, you’re not going to kill me, are you?”

“No of course not!” He blurts.

“Good! Now could you” I gesture to the fact that he is stood directly in my path. He catches on to my hint and steps aside.

“You’re not going to walk there alone, are you?” His voice sounding desperate.

I spin and mockingly look around for people, lifting my hand to shield my eyes as I continue my search. This provokes a choked sigh from Hardin. Once I am satisfied with my ‘search’ I say “yep” and continue to walk.

“But it is late.” He chimes in again walking backwards trying desperately not to break my gaze as I try desperately to avoid his. “And you’re alone.”

“Yes, we have established this.” I mock, glaring at the stoned pavement or sidewalk ahead of me.

Hardin reaches both hands out in front of himself creating a wall which stops me from taking another step. “What is your problem?”

I take a step back, alarmed at his outburst. “My problem. You’re the one who has continuously blocked my way for the past ten minutes.” I bark. I try to move around him but he doesn’t budge, copying my actions to stay ahead of me.

“I am trying to offer my services.” Hardin exclaimed but then scowled at his choice of words. I too have a hard time accepting the word ‘services.’ Just as I go to argue he opens his mouth. “Fuck that’s not what I meant to say.” His hands instantly dart to push his hair back out of his face. A nervous tick I assume. What did he have to be nervous about? He is the one stalking after college girls at half 9 at night.

“Look can we start over?” He offers shoving his hands into his jacket. My arms promptly raise to cover my bare arms where goosebumps have started to form. Why didn’t I bring a jacket? “Could I possibly walk you back to the dorms?” His eyes dropped to the ground to stare at a pebble that he toyed with his shoe. Was he anxious?

“Why?” I question fairly quickly.

“I just want to make sure that you get back safe!” His tone wasn’t very friendly. I cock my head to one side. “Sorry, that came out bad.” His tone softening. “I just didn’t like the way that Molly spoke to you earlier and I also hate the fact that you would be walking back in this sketchy neighbourhood alone.”

“Fine.”

***

We walk all the way back to the dorms in silence. Hardin looked uncomfortable the entire time as if he were being forced to be here. I sure as hell did not make him.

I pull the key from my bag and slot it into the lock on the door. Pushing the door slightly open I stand with my arms still draped across my shivering body in the doorway. “Well, thanks for walking me back and bringing me my bag.”

Hardin didn’t budge. His eyes were locked on my body, traveling from my legs to my face. His face turned a shade of white when his eyes caught up to mine. “Fuck!” He announced.

“What!” I jump at his sudden change in demeaner.

“Your lips.” He gestures to my trembling lips that haven’t stopped shaking since I stepped outside of the frat house. “They are fucking blue!” Panic surges over him as he rakes his hands through his hair. “Why didn’t you say you were cold?” He started passing back and fourth in front of me.

“There wasn’t much you could do.” I counter. “My own stupid fault for not bringing a coat.”

I walk inside the room and grab a jacket and throw it on over my shaking body. Hardin enters after me and grabs my hand carefully. “Fuck lot that will do.” He picks up a towel and drags me back down the hallway.

I try to pull my arm back but it is no use. “Where the hell are you taking me?” I say a little too loud. Silently cursing myself if I may have woken up any of the other students living down this dorm.

“The showers now come on.” He tugs a little harder as his feet guide me towards the shared bathroom just a few floors down from my own.

As we reach the bathroom, Hardin throws the towel over the railing and reaches in to turn on the water. I couldn’t help but watch his every move. “Get in!” He cries. Gesturing to the box that was filling with tempting hot steam.

I hesitate. “Y/N, get in the fucking shower.” I jump, not at his tone. But at the fact that he used my name. How did he even know it? Oh right, he was at the party when Molly was insulting me. “If you don’t start undressing now, I will have to start doing it for you.”

I raise an eyebrow but decline his offer, stepping into the box and pulling the curtain across to shield my naked body.

***

Hardin was right, I needed that shower. I hadn’t realised how cold I had gotten from that walk home. I stood in that shower for what felt like half the evening.

I shut off the water and begin to pull the curtain slightly across so that I could reach for the towel that Hardin had placed on the rail when Hardin’s hand slips through holding the towel between his fingers.

“Thanks.” I mutter, draping it around my soaking body.

I step out to find that Hardin’s hair has dropped and started to stick to his forehead in places from the steam. His eyes dart up and down my body, quietly.

I am the first one to break the silence as we stand there in the shared bathroom. “So, I should um, probably get back to my room.”

I watch as Hardin lets my words break him from his still stance. “Yeah, um, after you.” He holds his arm out and follows me out of the bathroom. Something has shifted in Hardin. Tonight, I have seen him; angry, intimidating, shy, solemness and lost for words. It was a lot to take in during a short period of time.

I open the dorm door and step inside. When I hear the door shut, I jump and almost drop the towel. “Shit, sorry I didn’t mean for the door to shut so loudly.” He curses under his breath.

“It’s okay.” I mutter. I cling to the towel as I stare back at Hardin who hasn’t moved or made any effort to leave.

“Y/N?” Hardin’s voice softer than ever tonight, bringing my eyes to meet his. “Why didn’t you say anything?”

“What do you mean?” My words coming out slowly. His head dropped to face the floor. Was he trying to count the flecks of glitter on the carpet from Tristan’s body butter or something?

“Why didn’t you say that you were cold?” I roll my eyes, this again. Crossing my arms over my stomach.

“Like I said, there wasn’t anything you could have-”

“I could have given you my jacket.” He interjects. Taking a step closer to me. His body was merely a foot away from mine.

“But then you would have been the one with the blue lips.” I counter. Tilting my head to the side in a modest challenging manner.

This stirred something within Hardin, but I couldn’t quite put my finger on it. I know that he isn’t used to a woman not agreeing with every word that comes out of his mouth.

I suddenly shake my head as I feel a slight chill spread up my back. I am still in my towel and now I am very much aware of that. Quickly I turn away from his locked-on gaze.

“Can I have some privacy please.” I mumble, not able to turn around to face him. “I need to, uh, get changed.” I add.

Hardin lets out a small grunt but eventually I do hear the click of my dorm-room door close. I don’t know why but I feel a shed of disappointment at the fact that he listened and actually left.

It takes my hands what feels like hours to release the tight grip that I held on to the towel. Allowing it to fall onto the floor.

“You know what-” I hear the click of the door and his voice fill my ears. I jump from my spot in the middle of the room. He doesn’t finish the sentence, instead Hardin slams the door behind him. “Fuck!” His eyes firm but glued on my body.

I quickly try to grab the towel up off the floor, but it is no use. Hardin instantly placed his foot over the soggy material. “Don’t.” He lets that one word fall from his lips as he slowly continues to decrease the distance between us.

“Hardin!” I shout. “Give-” I can’t finish my argument as I find his finger is placed over the top of my lips.

Hardin doesn’t speak, he just shakes his head. His soft hand moves from my lips and trails off to my cheek, holding me in place. My eyes locked onto his own, frozen in place. I watch as his eyes bounce from my own to my lips, seeking permission. His other hand snaked its way around and laid itself on the small of my back, pulling my naked body closer to his.

I was completely thrown off by the audacity of my body responding to his touch, bringing me to him. Everything happened in slow motion from the second we were back in my room. I knew that Hardin was trouble, everybody did. But no one actually prepares you for a moment like this. Where you are stood in front of a gorgeous guy whose whole attention you own. Did I say he was gorgeous?

I shake my head breaking the eye contact trance I was in. “Har-”

“You’re so beautiful.” He interrupts, breaking right through the barrier I was desperately trying to build. Correction, he shattered the wall to pieces and I find myself pushing my lips aggressively against his, hungry for the contact.

It takes him a second to return the haste in my actions within his own. Moving his lips to mimic the speed that I had set for him. It took no time at all for that jacket that he kept holding over me for not taking since we got back to the room to be thrown onto the floor, revealing the crisp white T-shirt underneath.

His hand wandered lower to lay slightly above my bare arse. While my hands slithered up underneath his shirt. Desperate to feel the skin underneath and to trace the ink that it held. The hand that rested on my cheek now held tightly to the back of my neck making it impossible to break the kiss, not that I wanted to.

I could stay like this forever, kissing Hardin has awoken something inside me that I didn’t even know existed. This overwhelming hunger for his contact. I tug a little on the hair on the back of his head which in response summoned a deep growl from Hardin that I didn’t think I was prepared to hear. Any sense of doubt that we should stop kissing left my mind the second I heard that sound.

“Y/N? You would not believe what you missed after-” Tristan stood in the open doorway, her mouth held open just as wide.

Fuck. I jump back from Hardin and scramble for the towel, concealing my naked form from my roommate. I look over to Hardin who didn’t look at all affected by the events in the last ten seconds.

“I can tell your busy so I will just, yeah.” Tristan steps back and shuts the door behind her.

I run into the closet and quickly throw on a set of underwear and a long-oversized shirt that came down to lie just beneath my arse. “I think it’s about time I start locking that door.” I joke as I step through the closet door.

My eyes roam the room for the handsome boy I was just making out with only to be greeted with an empty room. My shoulders fall, “I guess that’s goodbye.” I mumble, trying my best to hold myself together. Locking the door before falling onto my bed.

Part 2?

[thuganomxcs]

SONGS TO WRITE YUSUKE:  whether  it  be  melodies  that  give  you  inspiration  for  your  muse  or  songs  that  get  you  into  the  writing  mood   —   pick  10  songs  you  find  that  give  you  the  urge,   the  drive,   or  the  creativity  to  write  your  muse   !!

1. Battle scars - Lupe Fiasco, Guy Sebastian.

“These battle scars, don’t look like they’re fading. Don’t look like they’re ever goin’ away. They ain’t ever gonna change.” Despite this giving me break up vibes, those lyrics gives me so much Yusuke vibes post the dark tournament. He’s dealt with two ‘deaths’ in his life in one little instances and it’s really left scars on him. It was at the moment Yusuke truly felt as though he’s taken the time he’s spent with his loved ones for granted and he’d be damned if he doesn’t cherish them even more now.

2. No love - Eminem ft Lil Wayne.

“I’m giving no mercy mark my words, ain’t letting up, relentless I smell blood. Don’t give a fuck. keep givin’ ‘em hell, where was you when I fell and needed help up?” Definitely one of those early pre-season one vibes with this song. This song definitely helps me vibe with Yusuke’s life before he got his life together. Back where people hated him without TRULY knowing him, the time where Keiko was the only one that shows any public kindness towards him. (I know you cared about him too in your own way Kuwabara, you’re still the GOAT.)

3. Judgment - Ryu ga Gotoku Zero .

“Wow, Breakin’ the law Breakin’ the world 壊せ 切り裂けTenderness” This entire song gives me Yusuke vibes, THANK GOD for Yakuza 0 because this lil piece here screams vibes for badboys. Whether it’s Yusuke during the start of the series or at the end of it, this song definitely reflects him in some way or another imo.

4. Daydream Generation.

“I know how it hurts when you been betrayed by people you trust, the pain never fades.” This is cheating considering it’s the ending of the entire series. I think this song could very well vibe with the entire cast to be honest but I always get a vibe to write as Yusuke when this pops on the playlist.

5.Old School - Overkill.

“They said that this would never last, we never gave a fuck!” This ENTIRE song is just attitude. It really vibes well with his flippant feelings for authority. Not to mention the name of the song is really tight if you’ve seen Yusuke in the ring.

6. Enemy - Imagine Dragons.

“Pray it away, I swear I’ll never be a saint no way.” I can honestly drop any single of imagine dragon,this one though..that ONE little sentence at the end is what gets me. It’s like Season 1 all over again, probably just those few minutes after he’s got ran over by car-chan. It’s kinda like ‘I got nothing but bad in me’ type of feeling when I hear it but OH he found out how wrong he was.

7. What about the rest of us - Action Bronson & Joey Badass.

“Lord have mercy, it’s the world we live in was only design for somebody wealthy.” To me this song speaks of how alienated Yusuke feels from the world around him. Like the song says with the prior statement, to him it really does feel like the world was made for the wealthy when people like him mean less than dirt to the ones with money.

8. Stand Proud - JJBA

“All right now. All right now. All right now 誇りのBullet (JOJO! JOJO! JOJO!)” This song itself is just hype. It was the chapter in the series I didn’t overall liked BUT I’d be damned if I don’t admit their openings were CLEAN. Either way just when this chorus hits I could literally that spark I need to get to my drafts. This is actually one of the songs that does play when i’m doin’ early morning drafts.

9. Headlights - Eminem ft Nate Reuss

“If the plane goes down, or if the crew can’t wake me up. Just know that I’m alright, I was not afraid to die.” This entire song is literally a redemption song. It gives me fees for both Yusuke and Atsuko, their relationship wasn’t perfect but there was still enough love there to fix them.

10. Dead and gone - T.I

“I turn my head to the east, I don’t see nobody by my side, I turn my head to the west, still nobody in sight.” This song right here is a letter to how much Yusuke’s friends and family shaped him by the end of the series. The old him was literally ‘dead and gone’.

tagged: @curseleads​ (thanks for tagging the boy)

tagging: @universestreasures​ (yusei), @pluviacuratio​ , @theothervonkarmagirl​ , @healingwords​ (ann), @adamnedmartyr​ , @xkokuryuhax​ , @chibitantei​ , @solforger​ , @acandlelitdeath​ , steal it homies

[homeformyheart]

*cough cough* 40. for the uh the LT route? :)

i am so so so sorry this took so long but inspiration suddenly hit around 10pm and finished it 3 hours later. i hope whichever anon you are gets to see this, since it's been months 🥺.

author’s note: this one hurt and takes place long after the events of the current books (and long after my canon relationship storyline). i hope the switching of tenses isn't too jarring, but it's sort of needed here given the POVs. enjoy! copyright: all characters, except the oc detective, are owned by mishka jenkins @seraphinitegames. series/pairing: the wayhaven chronicles – adam du mortain x f!detective (lyra kingston) x nate sewell (LT route) rating/warnings: 14+; angst based on/prompt: OTP angst prompts // 40. “I’m still not over you.” (in bold) word count: ~1k summary: after months spent trying to bury her feelings for nate and adam, lyra gives in before giving up.

time

nate glanced up from his tome at the large grandfather clock, the antique façade indicating that it wasn’t quite late enough for bed. he held back a sigh – time seemed to move slower these days.

he used to count down the days, when the only way to tell time was to follow the watch schedule and listen for the bells. sometimes it made the endless days at sea a little more tolerable.

other times, it was complete torture.

to know that life was passing by and yet being unable to move forward with it. he had never hoped to experience anything like that again.

and now time is one of the few things he no longer has to worry about.

time in essence, is the quintessential part of human existence that he has no right to claim.

instead, it speeds past him.

pushing the world around him toward newer heights and frightening changes, the awe-inspiring advancements never failing to strike him with renewed hope and fear.

it’s not that time is accelerating the world around him, but that he is no longer able – or perhaps willing – to go with it.

but today – and yesterday, and the day before, and so on, and he’s sure it will be the same tomorrow – he wishes he could fast forward by a decade or a century. maybe more since he’s not sure how much time it will take for the deep-rooted ache in his soul to heal.

maybe it will take nine hundred years.

his longest and dearest friend comes to mind. adam is staring out into the darkness, unmoving in body and in spirit. for a split second, nate wonders if that’s what he needs – the ability to lock away the hurt and let the centuries grow protective ivy over it.

he chases the notion away with a shake of his head, knowing that the hurt was just collateral damage for opening himself up to the possibility of a truly special kind of love with lyra.

adam tenses and nate dutifully returns his gaze to the words in his lap. a brief apology and easy forgiveness said to each other in passing months ago should’ve been enough to mend the rift between them.

but nate knows too well that time doesn’t heal all wounds. he knows the origin of the saying is locked away somewhere deep in the recesses of his mind, but he’d rather not think about how much he’s lost because of time.

it doesn’t heal, but it does provide distance.

a human-sized distance he desperately wishes didn’t exist.

* * * * * lyra’s done nothing but put unit bravo out of mind for the past few months, working diligently with agency researchers and hoping that space and time would force her feelings to pass.

for the most part, she thought she succeeded. it was easy enough to bury her head with work. in the windowless rooms she practically lived in, it was even easier to lose track of the days that turned into months.

but time still has a way of simultaneously moving too slow and speeding up when she least expects it.

and for brief moments, she thinks she understands her mother a bit better.

shut out an old life and it distracts from the pain.

she supposes there’s no need for the agency facility to track time in human hours, considering most supernaturals don’t need to sleep and everyone generally works around the clock.

truthfully, she enjoys the hourless days, her watches and old personal phone buried in a duffel bag somewhere.

except in those moments where time decides to remind her of its hold over human life and pull her down the road to memories shoved behind a door with loose hinges, creaking in the wind.

time, the friend who never calls except when they need something that takes too much, shoves memory after memory in her face and reminds her of all that she turned her back on – without a word of explanation.

just her leaving behind a couple of two-word sentences hastily scrawled with nate’s favorite pen and all of her things put into storage.

it’s a not-so-gentle reminder that time won’t let her forget and that the memory of a person is not beholden to their material possessions.

she knows this to be true when seeing a thick tome makes her long for those nights spent curled up in the library and walking by the training rooms takes her back to those combat lessons.

lyra presses her eyelids down to ease the stinging in the corners. the tears were supposed to stay behind with her things, that was the deal.

she wipes furiously at her cheeks while walking briskly towards the exit. she lets pure instinct take her down the familiar winding and hidden road through the woods, stepping out of her car just before the turn that would bring the warehouse into her sight.

she can feel their presence as she steps closer to the outside entrance, its dilapidated façade still the same and yet it now mirrors the ache in her chest.

the ache carries her forward until she’s speeding through to the inner doors, desperately seeking an answer to questions she’s still too afraid to ask.

but it isn’t fear that has her throwing the door open and panting to catch her breath, oblivious to the conflicted emotions swirling in front of her.

“i’m still not over you.”

the words ring loud and true in the otherwise quiet living room, both vampires attuned to her rapid heartbeat and pointedly avoiding each other’s gazes with practiced ease.

adam makes to leave, fists clenched tightly at his side and the movement helps nate find his voice.

“who were you speaking to, lyra?”

her name tumbles with hesitation from his lips, the tender familiarity of the sound is one he hopes to remember in its purest form, when he used to punctuate it with darling.

acknowledging the distance between them might begin to taint it but he says it anyway, his heart leaping slightly at the glimmer of hope in her eyes before dread quickly draws it back into place.

nate’s warmth and adam’s steadiness immediately draw her in and lyra grips the doorframe a little tighter in futile resistance. she knows now without a doubt that no amount of distance will lessen the pull.

but maybe time will.

after all, time is a human construct. creating the space to heal, to grow, to learn, and to love.

and vampires have all the time in the world.

* * * * * taglist: @kelseaaa; @anotherbeingsworld; @wayhavenots; @gingerbreton; @gloynporslen; @sosolenoo; @writer-ish; @alyssalauren; @takemyopenheart; @pearlsandsteel; @babycracker; @mevnraels; n sewell: @missameliep;

[masonscig]

beach

wayhaven summer fic #4

pairing | mason x sofía

word count | 1.4k

warnings | body image issues

author’s note | hi here’s something i wrote last minute because i wanted to get back to writing one of my favorite pairings! i don’t go too in depth with her body image issues, just general discomfort, but just know she’s uncomfortable with showing skin because of it. let me know if i need to add anymore warning tags!

•─────────────────•

Summer was her least favorite season.

She had a full list of reasons for hating the heat. She hated the way her bangs would cling to her forehead, the way her glasses would fog up the minute she stepped out of an air conditioned car, the way her skin would glisten with sweat no matter how thin the fabric she wore was.

She hated the way her shirt clung to the small of her back, and she hated the way her underarms felt when she sweat through her clothes.

Most of all, she hated the pressure of wearing certain things that she’d never choose for herself.

No, no one was telling her she had to wear a bikini.

There were just… pressures.

When she saw Tina running around town in a sports bra and a cutoff shirt that showed the rolls at her side, she couldn’t help but feel a little envious of her friend. Happy for her, but a little jealous of her confidence.

She’d always been that way, though – the one to always wear a tankini bathing suit top and shorts at pool parties, regardless of how many boys she had crushes on were there.

Fall and winter were the times of year in which she found the most solace. Stuffing her closet full of long sleeves, sweaters, jackets until it was bursting at the seams was pretty much how she felt when she noticed the first hints of orange bleeding through the leaves.

And similarly, when the temperature began to rise, dread creeped up the back of her neck and laced itself in the collar of her turtleneck, clinging to her skin tighter and tighter with each day.

So no, she wasn’t exactly looking forward to this day.

But she didn’t want to alarm them – they’d risked their lives for her before, so in comparison, they weren’t asking much when they wanted her to come with them to the beach, if you could even call it that.

Wayhaven’s beach was riddled with more rocks than sand, and most people sported wetsuits for the chilly weather, unless it was the rare warm and sunny day, like that day – the one day Tina invited Sofía and Unit Bravo to the beach.

Felix took off like a rocket the minute his feet hit the rocks, splashing and flailing as soon as he was chest deep in the water. Tina followed suit, trying to float on her back, but opting instead for a dunking contest with Felix after he splashed her.

Adam kept watch, his mind already made up that he’d be the one to do so (and there was no changing his mind when he was set on something).

Nate had walked ahead, umbrella tucked underneath one arm, and a tote bag full of books slung over his shoulder.

(When Felix joked that Nate would play lifeguard, both Adam and Nate glared in his direction. Felix since apologized – and Nate said he didn’t mind as long as he didn’t have to touch the water.)

As for Mason? He was leaning against the side of the car, cigarette in mouth, clearly trying to figure out his next move.

She didn’t pay much attention to him in that moment – she was frozen where the grass kissed the gritty, dark sand.

The linen pants and loose t-shirt she wore gripped her tight, like they weren’t ready to let go.

She curled her hands into fists, clutching the fabric until her hands shook.

This shouldn’t be that hard, Sofía. You’ve faced supernaturals who tried to kill you. You can handle a little sun and skin, she reassured herself, sucking in air through her nostrils, exhaling a shaky breath through her mouth. This isn’t your worst fear. You’ve conquered worse.

She tried to make herself move.

On the count of three, I’ll go. When the next wave crashes, I’ll go. When Tina comes up for air, I’ll go. When the sun goes behind the clouds, I’ll go.

Her feet were all but nailed to the ground, planted firm like she was rooted there. Her heart was thudding faster than she realized, her palms sweating around the linen she clutched in her pockets.

A soft, featherlight touch against her elbow stopped her from thinking in circles.

“What’s wrong?” Mason asked, mumbling around his cigarette.

She shook her head, blinking. “I’m alright. Just haven’t been to a beach in a while, that’s all.”

He crossed his bare arms, the lean muscle flexing with the movement. The only thing that’d changed about his summer outfit was him ditching the sleeves.

“Doesn’t seem that simple to me. There’s always more with you.”

He didn’t say it as an insult – he’d passed the point of unsubtle digs long before.

He was just transparent. Blunt. It was refreshing for both of them.

Shrugging, she finally tore her hands from her pockets to reach back and rake her hair into a ponytail.

“Your hands are shaking.”

As he pointed that out, the band snapped, breaking around her hair and she mumbled an expletive and tossed it into her tote bag.

Wordlessly, Mason pulled one from his pocket and handed it to her.

“Huh? What’s this –” “The shit you tie your hair back with. You know what it is,” he rolled his eyes, teasing.

She took it from him, her heart slowing down just a bit when she noticed his faint playful smile.

“Thank you.”

They fell into a comfortable silence a bit longer than she was used to. The faint laughter from both Felix and Tina echoed off the rocks, and soft music from a speaker nearby floated over to them. The waves were loud, and the seagulls were louder.

Whatever siren song the beach was singing wasn’t one that enticed Sofía.

“I always fucking hated sand.”

Startled, she glanced his way, a bit confused he spoke first. He pinched the cigarette between his thumb and pointer finger, inhaling deeply, before tilting his head back and exhaling a plume of smoke.

“I’m not going down there,” he said, head lolling to the side to make eye contact with her, his bright eyes honest. “I’d rather do Felix’s chores than get near that shitty water.”

She laughed, and he watched her as she did, fully aware that it was her first genuine laugh since they’d gotten the invitation from Tina.

“We could watch the clouds?” She asked, pointing at the fluffy cumulus pillows that lined the sky.

Within minutes, they’d covered the top of the Agency-issued SUV with beach towels and blankets, layering as many as they could to protect them from the hot metal.

There was just enough room for the two of them when he curled his arm around her neck and tugged her closer.

“That one kind of looks like a dinosaur. There’s the head, and the streak is the arm,” Sofia hummed, pointing to one to the far right of them.

“I can’t see anything,” he shrugged. “They all look the same to me.”

“You’ve gotta have a bit of an imagination,” she rolled her eyes, laughing when he poked her stomach once.

“Don’t be a smartass,” he chuckled, nuzzling her neck, pressing a soft, quick kiss there.

“Thank you for this,” she said, turning her head, nose to nose with him. “This is the most fun I’ve had on a beach in years.”

His brows furrowed. “Nothing to thank me for, sweetheart. I could just tell.”

“Tell what?” “That you didn’t want this.”

An open ended phrase that said so much, told her so much about him, and where they were.

She reached out to cup his cheek. “I don’t know what to say, besides thank you.”

“You don’t have to know what to say all the time,” he said, matter-of-factly, kissing her before she could respond.

He kissed her deeply, smirking when she sighed into it.

Kissing Mason had been a desperate affair for the longest time, because it always ended the same way. At first, kissing Mason always led to something, and that was fine, because they were caught in the heat of the moment. But it’d seemed the longer they practiced, the less eager he was to rip away her clothes.

Before, there was intent behind each press of their lips, knowing that it’d lead to mutual gratification, like it sealed their exchange.

But these kisses were different. He kissed her just because he could.

[pynkhues]

.... any succession fic recs? 👀

Yes!! I haven't read a lot for it yet, but some of the stuff I've read has been staggeringly good. I'm generally more into gen fic in this particular fandom, but have enjoyed some Stewy x Kendall, Gerri x Roman and Naomi x Tabitha too.

A few recs under the cut!

“I wanted to get out. From under all this. Take the money and run.”

Kendall tells Stewy even though he knows he’ll never get it, not like Naomi does. He’ll never understand the crush of it, the heart-stopping head-fucking fear of failing a tyrant. Kendall’s been ignoring the shape of it for a long time, putting pieces of it together in the back of his mind in total darkness like a blindfolded man. It doesn’t matter that one day his dad will die. It doesn’t matter about the money or the hostile takeover or the stolen files or any of it. There’s no running. Kendall’s Logan Roy lives inside his head.

Stewy laughs. Stewy laughs for a long time.

“There is no out, Ken, what the fuck are you talking about? You were born this and you’ll die this. You are what you are, and what you are is a fucking Roy.”

Kendall hates him, for a moment. Lightning-strike furious. What the fuck does he know about any of it, about his dad’s swinging dinner plate-sized hands, about getting 24% name recognition in reliable international polling, about puking every time you think about a car swerving off the road in the rain. About finding out that you can do something unthinkably, unimaginably terrible, and it doesn’t matter to anyone you know but you. There’s a scar on his arm that no one else who hasn’t already been told how it got there can ever know about, and he’s sick of it, and it’s not fair. He hates Stewy for a moment because Stewy’s right.

“I wanted to do the right thing, Stewy, for once in my fucking life.”

Stewy laughs again, more briefly, and the predator flash of his eyes in the neon of the motel sign is a torture all its own.

‘There is no right and wrong, Ken. How the fuck do you not know that yet? Not for people like you. Like us. There’s shit you get caught doing and there’s shit you don’t.”

“You don’t know what you’re talking about. You really, really fucking don’t,” says Ken, and fuck, there it is. The road less travelled, that only he has ever driven on. The path he’s down where Stewy can’t follow. That place beyond Stewy Hosseini where he never thought he could go.

“You’re not telling me something, and when I find out what that is, and I will find out what it is, Kendall, don’t you think I won’t, so I am warning you that when I do find out I am going to be righteously fucking pissed,” says Stewy, and if Kendall thought those were a predator’s eyes before—

“Yeah, you will,” says Kendall, because he knows exactly how perceptive Stewy is. Exactly how weak he is. Exactly, precisely what both of them are.

And treat this night like it’ll happen again by postcardmystery. 8k words. Kendall x Stewy. Post s2. (CW: internalised homophobia, some homophobic language)

I tried to pick a shorter excerpt, but I literally couldn’t, this fic is so. good. The voices are pitch perfect, and it’s got this incredible build to it overall that goes back and forth between time and point of views and just rips your heart out. The premise itself is pretty simple – after the press conference at the end of 2.10, Kendall calls Stewy, and they drive through rural America while Kendall has a breakdown, and it’s just - - unspeakably good. I love it so so so much, I have no words.

r/roysucks Connor’s gf just posted on Instagram (instagram.com) submitted two months ago by webbedscrum_2279 23 comments share save hide report

[–] DM_ME_SAMESMAIL 40 points two months ago I too like to escape to my yacht in the Mediterranean when my family and I are on trial for covering up rape and murder. permalink embed save report reply

AITA for accusing my father of multiple crimes on his own news station? By amleth 3k words. Gen fic. Post s2.

And now for something completely different – epistolary fic which is just reddit news threads of the Roy family drama. I love an epistolary fic and this is just totally charming, and made me laugh a lot out loud.

“You’re quiet,” she observes. “That’s a first.”

“Yeah, well, the Turks beat it out of me. Gave you a run for their money.” He waggles his eyebrows. “So what is this? Whips and chains? Are we doing the whole boat-sex thing? I heard Shiv and Tom are looking for a third —“

Gerri finds what she’s looking for: a black leather binder. She drops it on the bed and begins paging through it, and Roman cranes his neck enough to recognize that it’s just full of documents, not like, dick pics. “I’ve given some thought to what you proposed a few weeks ago, and I agree that we should make things official in some way,” she says, and he blinks.

“Uh,” he says. “Which — what part of it?”

“Take a look.”

Gerri closes the folio and hands it over. It’s deceptively heavy, and the print on these pages is way too fucking fine, he thinks, paging through it. “Is this some kind of, like, Fifty Shades of Roy sex contract? Because it’s not that I’m not into it, but I think there’s a strong argument for going paperless —”

“Strictly speaking, this isn’t legally binding,” Gerri says. “Just something I threw together with regard to our business arrangement going forward. But with no respect to the family — the past few weeks have really illustrated that no one should take anyone at their word right now. Give me a little more than your word.”

Evacuation strategies for a yacht on fire by devourthemoon. 11k words. Gerri x Roman. Post s2. Explicit.

After the events of s2, Roman and Gerri fake being married as a professional alliance, only, y’know, maybe it’s not so fake. This fic is just so, so much fun, and messy in the best possible way. The author nails all the character voices, and the sex scenes are just the right amount of hot and ridiculous, and I just love it all a lot too.

Kendall estimates it will take an hour for the first articles to go up. Some rapid-fire blog without oversight—the New York Post, maybe, or wherever those Vaulter hippies have skulked off to—will slap a catchy headline on it and report his words verbatim. Give or take a gif of his face when he switches to script number two. New York Times, Washington Post, AP, those fuckers take longer. They like to bleed the story like Middle Ages plague doctors for its marrow, fact-check and add context and analysis and as many backlinks as their servers can handle. Still, a couple of hours, and his face will be plastered on every major news outlet. His voice will play over the nightly talk shows. He’ll trend on Twitter. A few more days, and he’ll be the star of analysis segments, podcasts, weekly briefings. Maybe, fuck it, maybe he’ll trend on Twitter again.

It’s been years since Kendall read Shakespeare. But that shit sticks with you, gets under your skin and emerges when you least expect it, like eczema or Keynesian economics. He knows how the media will spin this. Kendall Roy Attacks CEO Logan for Years of Corruption. Prodigal Son Disrupts Family Legacy to Restore Credibility. That’s how Hamlet ends, right? And Macbeth, Lear, Othello, Romeo and Juliet, even Titus fucking Andronicus. The spilled blood sinks into the ground, the seedlings sprout forth from the soil, and a new castle is built on the bones. Order out of chaos, or at least close enough an approximation that the tabloids will buy it.

Legacy for profit by owlinaminor Post-2.10. Kendall Roy. Kendall through Shakespeare analogies – just - - ooooof. It's a beautiful, lyrical character study that weaves through Roy family history and teases at a future none of them are even sure they want. It's gorgeous writing.

For the next few days Shiv would have to keep the pressure on Kira like an open wound because there were other women, victims that Nate’s people were going to find one by one as soon as that phone call disconnected. Mo was her father’s friend, good friend, for a long, long time. Nate and Gil, Sandy and Stewy, too many sharks in the water and the share price probably dipped to a new low but she would never check a stock ticker. Her husband’s nerves fraying at the edges on national television. She had promised a woman she’d never met before that she would kill roughly one third of the top male executives of her family’s company. Her company.

The last look Rhea gave her before she shut the car door was concern close to fear—no longer the same woman who heard their pitch in the safe room, who laughed with her at Argestes. Rhea had only looked into the abyss; she got cold feet and she didn’t even know what it’s like to grow up in it.

Her family’s company is hers, will be hers. Even from a whale fall, new life would spring.

Feed his flesh to wayward daughters by reogulus. 2k words. Shiv Roy. Set during 2.09.

This entire fic is set around Shiv bribing Kira not to testify, and god, it is so good. It’s bleak and rough, and really hones in on the complex ground Shiv walks as a character. It's another brilliant study of what it takes to be a Roy, and the way they make the awful choices in order to fulfill this legacy that they don't even know they want.

Kendall sets down his fork. “So. Tell me. Is it everything you wanted? Is it what you thought it would be?”

Roman stills. He never does that. He’s constantly a menace in motion, slouching and fidgeting, worse even than Kendall at his amphetamine peak. “What? The view from the tippy-tippy-top?”

“His regard.” Kendall wipes his mouth with the edge of the white cloth napkin. It comes away pink from the steak. “Dad. He’s all yours now.”

Roman still hasn’t moved. Finally, he lurches, like corroded machinery come uncertainly to life. “Yeah, man. It’s fucking tight as hell. I love every beautiful daddy and me moment I was a good enough little boy to earn.” He snorts. “Fuck you.” His face goes curiously slack then, like something Kendall’s own face would do. An intermission in the performance, an energy cut. Something genuine finding its way to the surface. “Why don’t you tell me. When you got everything you wanted, how the fuck did that make you feel?”

Nauseous, is the first word that springs to mind. Sick. Scared. I’ve never had everything I wanted, there’s that. I’ve never once had a single fucking thing I wanted. There’s that, too.

Interim leadership by arbitrarily 2k words. Roman + Kendall. Post s2.

I love Roman and Kendall scenes generally, but this one which features Kendall and Roman meeting for the first time a few months after the press conference in 2.10 is just a bit magic. The push pull dynamic that's just inherent to them mixed with the genuine affection and brotherly love is really special, and arbitrarily embraces both in equal measure. It's a great little fic.

There are lots more of course, and I'd also recommend checking out other works by these authors, but I hope this is a good place to start! :-)

[hockeylvr59]

Honest Love || Cale Makar

Requested: [ ] yes [x] no

Authors Note: And we’re off...What better way to celebrate this man’s birthday than with the first chapter of the sequel??? We’re backtracking a little bit to cover the gap I purposely created so this picks up right after part 24 of Secret Love. We’re going to see a little more of Cale’s POV here in the sequel (***** will be your signal of a switch in viewpoints) and I hope you enjoy that additional insight into this relationship that I am head over heels in love with. Quick shoutout to @nazdaddy​ for the necklace jewelry concept...it didn’t get used before but I didn’t forget about it. I think that’s all I’ve got...let me know what you think. 

Gif Credit: @samgirard​

Warnings: cursing

Word Count: 3,385

~~~~~~~~~~~

It was shortly after noon when you pulled into the parking lot of the Avs practice facility. You were tired but beyond relieved to have finally reached Denver after a combined sixteen hours in the car over the past two days. Climbing out of the car you stretched, grateful that you had less than half an hour driving left in you after your little detour.

Walking down the hallways of the practice rink, you smiled at the sound of skates on ice as they slowly grew louder. Having been given directions, it wasn’t long before you found yourself standing at the end of the hallway right beside the benches. For a few minutes, you watched the players perform an offensive drill, quickly spotting your boyfriend moving across the ice. 

Thankfully, it wasn’t long before he spotted you as well and after finishing the drill, he skated over, reaching into the bench area. Finding what he was looking for, he continued along, greeting you with a quick kiss as he dropped the item into your open hand. 

“Talk later.” He promised, stealing one more quick kiss before skating away to the sound of his teammates’ chirps. 

“Hey, Makar...if you wanted a kiss all you had to do was ask.” EJ ribbed, shoving Cale gently. 

“Yeah...pay attention.” Nate teased. “I know we’re not as pretty as your girl but…”

“Don’t tell me you dragged her down here just to help you settle in,” Gabe stated, leaning on his stick as he shook his head at the former rookie. 

“Fuck off.” Cale groaned peeking over at you. “I had to get her an apartment key okay. You know...so she can actually move in.” Even from across the rink you could see that his cheeks were flushed and his dimples were on full display as he spoke. His words caused whoops to spill from his teammates’ lips and after watching Cale jostle with them for a few minutes, you shook your head before finally heading back out to the car. 

By the time you pulled into the underground lot of Cale’s…your building, you were ready to go upstairs and just crawl into bed for a nap. Gathering up your purse, overnight bag, and one of the smaller boxes, you locked the car and headed upstairs, letting yourself inside the apartment you now shared with your boyfriend. 

As you turned to head into the main living area, your eyes immediately landed on the ‘welcome home’ banner hanging above the island. Beneath it, a beautiful bouquet of roses was placed next to a bottle of your favorite wine and a small box. Setting your things down, you pulled the small card out of the bouquet, your eyes taking in Cale’s scratchy writing. 

Welcome home beautiful. 

I love you and am so grateful you agreed to move in with me. 

Cale

Again...Cale was just too much and you hadn’t even opened the small box yet. Gingerly picking it up, you cracked the lid open and your eyes went wide. Inside was a teardrop-shaped pendant with a practically flawless opal surrounded by tiny diamonds. This was way way too much but you knew Cale would refuse to take it back. He’d insist that you were doing so much for him that you deserved to be spoiled a little. And it didn’t pass your notice that he’d picked an opal...his birthstone. 

Popping the bottle of wine in the fridge, you gathered up the necklace along with your overnight bag and the box and made your way through to the bedroom. There you found post-its attached to all of the drawers Cale had emptied for you, including one of the two bedside tables. Even though he’d only been in town for a day and a half longer, he’d already gone to great lengths to ensure that you were able to transition into the space as easily as possible. 

Unpacking the few items you’d already brought up, you settled onto the couch for a few minutes just needing to take a breath. This was big...and it would take some time before this place felt like your own. Dozing off, you jolted awake at the sound of the apartment door hitting the doorstop. 

“Hey sweetheart, I dragged Josty with me to come help unload boxes and Calvy tagged along...where are your car keys?” When Cale finally appeared in front of you he clearly noticed your groggy state and immediately the volume of his voice dropped. “Sorry...I woke you didn’t I?” 

“Guess I dozed off.” You admitted, blinking a few times and yawning as you pushed yourself to your feet. “Keys are on the island.” You declared, pointing in their general direction. 

“Hi.” Cale grinned, kissing you again before pulling away to snatch the keys. “Don’t worry about lifting a finger, we’ve got the rest.” He insisted. 

A few minutes later, the three men were dropping boxes off in the living room while you stood looking out the window, taking in your new surroundings. 

“Thanks, guys,” You declared, looking back over your shoulder. 

“No worries.” Tyson insisted. “I live in the building anyway so it’s not really out of my way at all.” 

“And I wanted to meet the woman Cale can’t shut up about.” Matt declared, offering his hand out to shake. “Courtney and I would love to have you and Cale over for dinner sometime next week, I know she’s looking forward to meeting you as well.” 

“That would be great.” You agreed. You knew how close Cale had become with the Calvert’s during those first two playoff series and as much as they were looking forward to meeting you, you were looking forward to meeting them. 

“Well, we’ll let you get settled in, Cale explained that you’ve spent most of the last two days in the car, so I’m sure you just want to get unpacked and spend some time with him. We’ll see you at the team cookout tomorrow.” Matt declared and your eyes went wide at the end of his statement. As you looked over at Cale, Matt tugged Tyson out of the apartment, an unintelligible mumble falling from the younger man’s mouth as they went. 

“Yeah...uh...didn’t get the chance to mention that yet.” Cale declared rubbing his hand along the back of his neck. “Mel and Gabe are having everyone over tomorrow. Mandatory start of the season thing.” 

“We’re diving straight into things aren’t we?” You whispered to yourself, taking a deep breath. 

“I’m sorry.” Cale murmured. “You don’t have to go if you aren’t feeling up to it, I know everyone would understand.” 

“Cale it’s fine.” You insisted. “Just caught me a little off guard. It’ll be nice to meet everyone right away.” Cale eyed you skeptically before moving closer, his hands settling onto your hips. 

“If you're sure.” He breathed. “Now can we say a proper hello? I missed you, hopefully the drive wasn’t too bad.” 

“It was okay.” You shrugged. “Long.” Trailing your hands up to the back of his neck, you pulled him into a kiss that lingered, your body relaxing immediately under his touch. “How about we let these boxes sit for now and you come take a nap with me?” You suggested, a soft shriek spilling forth as Cale scooped you up and carried you into the bedroom, kicking the door shut behind him. 

“A nap it is.” He agreed, laying you down before toeing off his shoes and sliding under the covers beside you. The moment his warm hand slid along your bare hip, you felt your eyes fall shut, sleep taking over quickly. The bed may be different, but sleeping beside Cale...that was home. 

________

Having spent most of the previous night in bed with Cale, you didn’t have the opportunity to touch the boxes until the following morning. Unpacking led to stressing over what to wear to this cookout and before you knew it Cale was tossing a t-shirt and shorts at you insisting that anything you wore would be perfect. 

The driveway at the Landeskog residence was empty when Cale pulled in 45 minutes later and you looked over at him.

“How early are we?” You questioned, knowing smirk on your lips. 

“Fifteen...maybe twenty minutes.” Cale replied, sheepishly. Flicking his shoulder, you climbed out of the car. 

“My punctual boyfriend.” You declared, following after Cale as he headed up the front path, knocking on the door. It only took a minute for Gabe to answer and when he did he immediately seemed relieved by your early arrival. 

“Great timing...I need help with…” You had barely stepped foot in the house before Gabe was pulling Cale away, his voice falling off. Assuming, probably correctly, that you weren’t getting your boyfriend back any time soon, you continued through the house finding Mel in the kitchen. 

“So Cale doesn’t know how to not be early, and Gabe already stole him so is there anything I can help with?” You questioned, your hands tucked into your pockets as you waited to draw Mel’s attention. 

“Oh my god!” Mel declared, immediately stopping what she was doing. “First...I am so happy you’re here. When Gabe said Cale had asked you to move to Denver I was over the moon.” Rinsing and drying her hands, Mel immediately came to wrap you in a quick hug. “Second...would you mind watching Linnea...she’s starting to get a little restless I think.” 

You’d somehow completely missed the playpen in the corner with Linnea in it, the infant attempting to pull herself to her feet as she whined for attention. 

“Of course.” You agreed. “Not a problem at all.” Seeing Zoey laying on the floor with a ball beside her, you moved closer to the playpen. “Hey Linnea...why don’t we go outside and throw a ball for Zoey.” Your tone softened as you talked to the baby girl, but not to the extent that it would be considered ‘baby talk’. 

With Linnea smiling her mostly toothless grin up at you, you lifted her out of the playpen and onto your hip. 

“C’mon Zoey. Let’s go outside.” You declared, smiling back at Mel as she mouthed a grateful ‘thank you’. After sliding through the backdoor, you headed down the porch steps and into the grass, settling yourself down on the ground, Linnea between your thighs. As you helped Linnea throw the ball for Zoey, it was easy to lose yourself in the sound of Zoey’s playful prance and Linnea’s sweet giggle.

*****

Cale grunted softly as he adjusted the cooler in his arms to open the back gate of his captain’s yard. Of course Gabe didn’t do this the easy way...no he had to fill the coolers with ice and drinks before moving them into the backyard. There was definitely a lapse in common sense there. 

As the gate swung open, Cale froze in place, his eyes taking in the sight across the yard. He was jolted forward when Gabe bumped into him from behind but not even that could pull his eyes away. 

“Dude...what the hell?” Gabe mumbled. “Oh…” 

Cale could feel the heat flooding his cheeks as his heart started racing like he’d just skated a dozen laps. Just when he thought Y/N couldn’t possibly become more attractive to him she went and proved him wrong. Because there she was, dressed in the clothes he had picked with the necklace and bracelet he’d given her resting against her skin. Her hands were wrapped around his captain’s daughter’s hips as Linnea giggled loudly, bouncing up and down on her chubby little legs. The way she held the baby, the way she spoke softly to Linnea, the way Linnea reacted to her presence...it made Cale’s throat go dry and stole the breath from his lungs. 

It had been four months since they’d talked about kids, four months since he’d really thought about having kids. Cale knew that it was absolutely something he wanted someday and that she was the only person he wanted to have kids with. But now...now ‘someday’ seemed too far away. Now...for the first time he didn’t have to imagine what Y/N would be like as a mom and a part of him was screaming loudly that that was what he wanted...no needed. Now he knew without question that as soon as he put a ring on her finger he was going to also try and put a baby in her belly. His baby. Their baby. 

“If you’re going to stand there staring at her...maybe at least move so you aren’t blocking the gate.” Gabe’s chuckle snapped Cale from his daze and his cheeks flushed further as he moved just a step forward, his eyes landing back on his girlfriend as she cradled Linnea against her shoulder, her hand rubbing up and down the baby’s back. 

“Should we tell Joe to prep the ELCs for those mini Makars you’re gonna have her popping out soon?” Gabe teased, knowing look on his face. Suddenly, the weight of the cooler and the way his muscles were straining registered again and Cale moved to set it down near the porch steps. When he didn’t react to Gabe’s statement, the captain’s face turned serious. “Wait seriously...you’re actually thinking about it.” Gabe murmured softly. 

“Thinking about what?” EJ’s booming voice asked as he and Nate came in through the back gate. 

“Calesy here is thinking about knocking his girlfriend up.” Gabe replied, looking over his shoulder to where Y/N had disappeared with Linnea just a moment before. Sounds of disbelief fell from his teammates’ mouths and Cale rubbed at the back of his neck shrugging. 

“It’s not like we haven’t talked about it before.” He admitted. 

“You’re what...four months in and you’ve talked about kids?” Nate prompted. 

“We talked about them the day we got together. It’s not like we were strangers guys.” Cale defended, shoving his hands in his pockets. “So yeah I’m thinking about it. She’s spent most of her life waiting for me...I don’t want to make her wait too long. Maybe we’ll start trying come end of the season.” 

“Well look at you growing up.” Gabe declared. “She’s the one isn’t she? You’re way more confident than when we last saw you.” 

“She’s absolutely the one.” Cale agreed. “Now what else did you need help with?” No one fought him as Cale changed the subject and headed back toward the garage, making a mental note to get better at masking his expressions when it came to his feelings for Y/N. 

*****

You’d laid Linnea down for a nap after she’d fallen asleep on you outside and then had been promptly pulled into a house tour by Mel since you hadn’t seen it before. By the time you made your way back outside with a glass of wine in hand, you found Cale sitting at the table on the patio, a beer in hand as he listened to the guys share stories of their summers. 

Sliding your palm down along his chest, you leaned down to press a kiss to his cheek. 

“Linnea wants you to know you have good taste in jewelry.” You whispered softly, smiling as his head tilted up to look at you, his eyebrows raised. “She liked the way the sun reflected off of my necklace. She fiddled with it until she zonked out.” Cale’s hum of approval and recognition was soft as he scooted back, seamlessly pulling you down onto his lap. 

There you stayed, Cale’s chin on your shoulder as more and more of Cale’s teammates and their families arrived. As soon as the Calverts arrived, Cale was immediately summoned by Kasey to play and you watched as your boyfriend chased after the four-year-old. This was the first time you had seen him with kids in quite awhile and it only reaffirmed how great of a dad he would be when he decided he was ready to take that step. 

Having finished your glass of wine, you moved to take it inside so that it didn’t get broken. As you reached the kitchen, you saw Mel and one of the other women fawning over something on a cell phone. 

“Oh, Y/N, perfect timing.” Mel declared. “There’s something I think you should see.” 

You took the phone from her, pressing play on a video. Mel must have snuck outside earlier without you noticing because you watched as Zoey trotted over with a ball before racing off again as Linnea tossed it for her. Hearing yourself praise Linnea for her strong throw was slightly odd but as the camera followed Zoey as she chased the ball your eyes fell to the background. Cale was standing there with a cooler in his hands and even with the focus slightly blurred you could see that his cheeks were flushed and the expression on his face was one that was unfamiliar to you. 

Handing the phone back, your mind raced, trying to figure out what Cale had been thinking. There were bits and pieces of emotions you recognized: love, awe, joy; but all together it added up to something unreadable. 

“Should we uh...be expecting any more big changes in Cale’s off-ice life soon?” The other woman questioned, an almost knowing look on her face. Your brain finally placed her as Matt’s wife Courtney but it wasn’t quite fast enough to pick up on what she could possibly be referring to. 

“I don’t know what you’re talking about?” You deflected. 

“You mean it doesn’t look like he wants to get you pregnant as soon as possible?” Mel chimed in. “Because that’s all I see. Cale saw you with my baby and he gets that look on his face...he wants to make you a mom, no doubt in my mind.” Swallowing hard, you moved to finally set your glass in the sink. 

“He’s not ready for kids yet. We’ve talked about it.” You explained. “We’re just focused on us right now. We’ve only been together for a few months.” Thankfully, one of the guys walked into the kitchen allowing you to slip back outside. You’d planned on grabbing a water but after that conversation you definitely needed something a little bit stronger. Flopping down on the steps with a wine cooler in hand, you watched as Cale played spike ball with Tyson, Nate, and Burky. Immediately your conversation back in May came to mind and you thought about how Cale had said he didn’t think he’d be so scared about having a baby if the situation was right. That didn’t mean he wanted kids in the short-term or that he was even ready to start thinking about it. But then again...you hadn’t been able to place the look on his face which was abnormal so maybe there was a grain of truth to Mel and Courtney’s presumptions. 

“You look puzzled...everything okay?” Cale’s smooth voice pulled you out of the rabbit hole you’d found yourself in and you looked up at him amazed at how one look settled all of the uneasiness inside you. Cale would let you know whether he wanted kids when he was ready, there was no need to dwell or worry about it now. Kissing him gently, you nodded, letting him pull you up onto your feet. 

“Everything is good.” You assured him. “Just needed a minute.” With Cale’s hand rubbing against your lower back you let him convince you to go get your asses kicked by Sam Girard and his girlfriend at cornhole. It was fun, especially when you made Sam throw backward because he was just too good otherwise. 

By the time you finished your best of three series, the food was ready and you made up a plate, settling in beside Cale on the steps as you ate. After dinner the two of you bowed out because your eyes had started to droop from fatigue. Though the guys chirped him, Cale kept his focus on you until you had slipped into the passenger seat of the car. 

Adjusting to life in Denver was going to take some time for sure. But you were confident it would be worth it because Cale was definitely worth it. 

Welcome Home Gifts:

Cookout Outfit:

[detectiveidiotboy]

His Time In The Commonwealth III: Deacon's Story

so as my beloved fanfiction, The Black Widow’s Waltz, comes to an end, i’ve decided that i am going to re-release the backstory chapters as their own stand-alone fic, since they read well as their own story. before that, i thought i might do a fun little thing where i release each of the companions backstories as their own post here on tumblr under the tag #his time in the commonwealth.

it is now time for part three of this little mini series i have. now that we’ve seen what happened to nick, let’s see how good ol’ deacon ended up where he is...

Deacon stood in the center of the burning remains of the Mercer Safehouse, staring at the man who set the place on fire not two hours earlier. The arsonist's back was turned, cropped black hair shining in the red-and-yellow flashes of the house fire. A woman crawled out from the debris - a synth who’d arrived just weeks before. She was shouldering a sobbing agent with cracked, bloody glasses and leg twisted backward. The man raised his rifle and gunned the two women down with an honest-to-god smile on his face.

Nate, you are one fucked up guy, Deacon thought as he stepped over the burning remains of an agent trapped under a beam.

“Deacon? Is that you?” Nate turned, eyes shining against the flames illuminating the light. “I thought I’d run into you sooner or later.”

“Yeah,” Deacon snarked, unstrapping his shotgun from his back, “I’ve been a little hard to pin down lately - Dez was always the one who assigned my ops in my downtime, but she’s been pretty distracted lately. You know, being dead ‘n all.”

“Morbid.” Nate chuckled. “I always did like your sense of humor.”

“I’ve been told I’m one hell of a comedian.”

Deacon pressed the barrel of his shotgun against Nate’s chest. The man stared at him, seeming far more interested than worried about the twelve gage of death aimed at his sternum. Nate was tough shit - but even he couldn’t survive getting all his organs blasted out by a point-blank shotgun round. At least, that was the hope Deacon clung to. “So, you wanna die here? Or is there somewhere else you want me to shoot you?”

“A surprisingly generous offer,” Nate said, lowering the gun with a finger, “but I’m afraid I have to decline. I have more important things to do than help you get some petty revenge.”

“Sorry, not happening,” Deacon cocked the gun, raising the barrel until it rested just beneath Nate’s chin. “Actually, you know what, nah - I’m not sorry at all.”

“I assumed not,” Nate said, raising his hands. “Fine, Deacon.” He said with a sigh. “If this is really how you want things to go, then shoot me - but wouldn’t you rather know why I’m doing what I’m doing?”

“Nope,” Deacon said as he blasted the fucker’s head off his body.

Except, that wasn’t entirely what happened. Nate stumbled back, almost fell over entirely, but despite the scattershot tearing through his throat just seconds before, his head was still stubbornly attached to his body. Nate laughed, slowly rolling his head forward until it was back on top of his shoulders, smiling widely. Deacon’s own vindictive smile dropped as he lowered the gun. “Shit… you really are immortal.” He said.

“That’s right,” Nate said in a sing-song voice. “Immortal and invulnerable. I’m basically the closest thing this world has to a god,”  He laughed as he took a step forward, and Deacon took one back. “Now, since your idea was a miserable failure, let’s try mine.” He said, stretching his legs on the tips of his toes and clasping his hands behind his back. “Don’t you want to hear the reason behind my supposed betrayal?”

Deacon answered Nate’s question by bashing the butt of his gun against the psychotic killer’s face. Nate, momentarily stunned, staggered to the side and Deacon was able to retreat back towards the woods that surrounded the safehouse. At the very least he could act as bait to lure Nate away from any possible survivors. It was the least he could do for them, since he was the one who brought their murderer into the fold.

All of this was Deacon’s fault; he’d accepted the risk when he brought Nate on board. Desdemona had told him it was a bad plan - hell, P.A.M had reservations about it. Deacon should have listened to the future-telling robot instead of trusting his own chronically poor judgment. It had just seemed too good to be true - a supposedly immortal killing machine who resented authority and had a major bone to pick with the Institute? It was like the Atom itself had popped down into the Commonwealth and built them a savior out of clay and nuclear ash. Deacon couldn’t have let an opportunity like that go - and really, he’d asked himself, what was the worst that could happen?

Apparently, the worst that could happen was that the Brotherhood of Steel made their little savior an offer he couldn’t refuse. Now Tom, Desdemona, Glory, P.A.M… hell even Cartington ! They were all gone. Deacon hadn’t been at the base at the time of the attack - Nate had seen to that. Told him to head over to Sanctuary for a surprise. Well, surprise! Everyone Deacon loved was dead. He didn’t know - nor did he care - why he was spared; the only thing that mattered now was putting a stop to Nate before even more lives were lost, both synth and human alike.

Deacon dodged and weaved through the trees. He could hear Nate following him not far behind. It wasn’t long before Deacon’s lungs were straining and each breath was like a stab in the chest - god dammit he was a spy , not a runner. His body was not designed for prolonged exercise. Deacon’s heart was beating in his throat by the time he was forced to slow down. He’d put some distance between him and Nate, but it wouldn’t last. Nate never exhausted, Deacon had seen evidence of that. His stamina was endless - must come standard as part of the whole ‘god among men’ package.

Deacon reached into his pocket and pressed down on a button. It was the last stealth boy he had, and it wasn’t entirely full. It gave him only a few seconds to breathe while he tried to figure out his next move. To his right there were woods, to his left… more woods, and in front of him was, as one might guess, a large expanse of woods. Deacon wasn’t nearly as familiar as he needed to be with this part of the Commonwealth, his basic mental map was insufficient for a midnight life-or-death sprint.

He had less than ten seconds left on the stealth boy. Deacon could hear Nate closing in, so he did the only thing he could think of and backed himself up against the bark of an irradiated tree. He pressed his lips together firmly as Nate wove through the clearing, head swinging back and forth like an attack dog. It was as if he was tracking Deacon down by the scent of his fear. Again, considering Nate's otherworldly nature, not entirely out of the realm of possibility.

“I know you’re here,” Nate said, a manic laugh following the words. He drew a silenced 10mm pistol from his jacket pocket, showing it off to the seemingly-empty clearing. “Recognize this, D?” He said. Deacon did - it was Tommy’s gun, Deliverer . The very same handgun that Deacon had gifted Nate on his official entry to the Railroad. “Seems poetic, don’t it? Whispers died hiding in the shadows, and now I’m gonna kill you while you’re curled up with a Stealth Boy in your pocket.”

Deacon lunged for Nate just as the effects of the stealth device wore off. He caught the man off guard, at least, wrapping both arms around him in a bearhug of death and tackling him to the ground. Deacon had no idea how he was going to kill his target if even a point-blank shot to the neck wasn’t enough to do it, but at the very least he was going to make Nate suffer .

Deacon grabbed Nate’s arm and yanked, using his foot to pin down the man’s back and dislocate the appendage with a swift movement. Nate choked on a cry - it was the first time Deacon had even seen the man externally express pain. Maybe it was the first time he’d ever been hurt - good. Deacon slammed the heel of his boot into the back of Nate’s head, aiming for the spine. Nate’s good hand darted up, snatching Deacon by the ankle and pulling him to the ground.

Suddenly, their positions were reversed, and Nate was on top of Deacon, pilling him down with the gun pressed to Deacon’s cheek. The dislocated arm was already back into place, its hand closed around Deacon’s neck and choking him. Deacon clawed at the fingers, trying to pry them off. Nate was unbelievably strong - even with how thin and nimble his fingers appeared they were perfectly capable of crushing Deacon’s windpipe.

“Tsk, how disappointing,” Nate muttered, probably to himself. Deacon snarled as the 10mm dug into his flesh. “I really did hope I would have a chance with you. You have such a pretty face.” Deacon felt the silenced barrel trail down his cheek and press against his left breast, “be a shame to ruin it.”

Six silenced shots rang out. Deacon seized as he felt the bullets slide through him, tearing his heart to ribbons. The delicate organ came to a spasming, sudden stop in his chest, and before Deacon realized what had happened he was dead.

Once the spy had stopped moving, Nate put the gun back into his pocket. Deacon's fists relaxed and fell away from the hand still clutching his throat. Nate's fingers lingered on the bruises he’d put on Deacon’s neck, savoring the feel of indents on the other’s flesh. Nate reached up and gently removed the sunglasses from the dead man’s face, folding them up and putting them in his pocket. “I never did understand how you could see out of these things when it was dark.”

Deacon’s eyes stared back at him, expression still caught between rage, terror, and agony. Nate frowned, reaching over to shut Deacon’s eyes for him. “Pity. You really were cute.” Nate leaned over and pressed a kiss to Deacon’s still warm cheek, then stood to leave.

Seconds after his heartbeat could no longer be detected, the auto-stimpack anklet Deacon was wearing deployed. There was no blood flow to carry the medicine through his system, but through the power of osmosis, defusion, and several other pre-war science words Deacon didn’t understand, the contents of a dozen stimpacks made it to the shredded remains of his heart. Veins reconstructed themselves, weaving together tissue and cells to produce a mass of blood vessels that would just barely manage to function as a pump. Five minutes after the drugs did their best to fix a literal broken heart, the taser went off, sending waves of electricity through the corpse of one Johnathan Deacon and starting up his pitiful excuse for a new heart.

The first breath Deacon took after dying was both the single best, and most painful breath of his entire life. The bright lights and sense of calm that death had brought him were replaced with an agony that the words ‘living hell’ didn’t even begin to touch. He couldn’t even scream, the pain in his chest consuming him so completely that all that was left were small, gasping whimpers as he curled onto his side and clawed at himself.

Every muscle burned as his body worked to repair the damage of going several minutes without breathing along with all the other things that were wrong with him. Nearly half a gallon of blood was misplaced in him, and there were still at least three of the six bullets still somewhere inside him pressed up against his recently revived nerves. Deacon’s vision went black and every muscle in his body was tensed. Part of him wondered how long this would last before he died again because there was no way he could be in this much pain without something being vitally wrong with him. The other, much larger part, trusted his friends’ genius and reminded him to wait the pain out.

“So, you guys want me to wear this thing?” Deacon said, holding up the ankle brace that had been given to him by Tom and Carrington. “Like, on my person?”

“Is something wrong with the design?” Tinker Tom asked, genuinely concerned.

“It’s kind of a fashion disaster,” Deacon said, fidgeting with the thick, untreated leather that made up the strap.

“It is a highly advanced revival device, not a fashion statement.” Dr. Carrington said with a roll of his eyes. “Since when have you cared about your appearance anyways?”

“Hey, my appearance is my life,” Deacon countered. “You should know - you’ve done, like, at least three of my face jobs.”

“Four,” Carrington corrected.

“It’s meant to be worn under your clothes anyways,” Tinker Tom said. “The design was my idea - Carrington’s work here is nothing short of genius, but if we wanted any practical use for this thing with our field agents we needed something easily concealed.”

“Easily concealed, right,” Deacon said as he snapped the brace around his leg. “Unless I want to wear shorts. Man, there goes my summer plans.”

“Would you at least try to take this seriously?” Carrington snapped. “This is just a prototype, but if we can verify that it works it could save the lives of countless agents. Unfortunately, the only way to test it is for one of our agents to become mortally wounded while wearing it.”

“And so you’re giving it to me? Gosh, guys, I’m honored, really.” Deacon placed a hand to his heart. “Voted most likely to die on a mission by his peers.”

“You are the one Dez assigns to the most dangerous operations,” Tinker Tom said with a shrug. “Don’t take it too personally. If anything, it means we want you around the most.”

Deacon couldn’t admit it, but that did make him feel a little warm in the chest area, but he and ‘genuine emotions’ hadn’t seen eye-to-eye in years, so Deacon gave his co-conspirators a wink and a smile and said, “Alright, but don’t expect me to run head-first into danger just to give you guys some data. If this thing actually works like you say it will, I’ll buy the first round of the night when I get back to the land of the living.”

“Hmfph,” Carrington huffed, predictably. Then, less predictably, he smiled and said. “I’ll hold you to that, you know.”

Deacon laughed as he came down from the high of agony that was recovering from a mortal chest wound, the sound pitiful and weak. The worst of the pain wasn't done yet, he could tell, this was just a short reprieve while his body geared up to continue its tantrum. “Carrington, you crazy bastard,” He muttered against the blood-soaked grass. “When I get to hell, remind me to buy you that drink.”

Deacon laughed and sobbed and spasmed until the sun was high in the sky.

[sasquapossum]

The article itself is only mildly interesting IMO, but I find the irony of that subject being discussed on that site pretty funny because I think Nate Silver (FiveThirtyEight's founder) is a fantastic example of why people really fall for conspiracy theories. To see why, let's consider their first exercise.

Picture, if you will, avid bird-watcher Fivey Fox at their two favorite spying spots. In one habitat, there are more cardinals than bluebirds — a 60:40 ratio — so Fivey calls that habitat “Big Red.” In the other habitat, “Big Blue,” there is an opposite ratio of bluebirds to cardinals (60 bluebirds, 40 cardinals).

In the interactive below, you initially can’t see which spot Fivey is bird-watching in, but you can see what bird they spot. After each sighting, Fivey notes the bird in their notebook, and then you decide whether you have seen enough to guess the correct habitat or you’d like to see more birds.

The point is actually not whether you get the right answer, but how many observations you make before you decide. That fits right into my theory about conspiracy theories: believers value not just being right, but being more right than others. There's no glory in having the right answer when it's conventional wisdom, but to be right when most people are wrong ... that gives you some real bragging rights. Before I go on, lets modify that exercise a little.

You're competing against 100 other people. You only win if you're in the earlier half of people who got the right answer.

So, what happens now? If you wait until you've seen enough birds to be sure of your answer, you're also sure to lose. If you guess early, you might have only slightly better than a 50% chance of being right, but if you are right then you get the win. We've created an incentive to guess prematurely. Even worse, if people play this game repeatedly they're likely to guess earlier and earlier, until they're taking that exactly 50% chance before they've made any observations. Insane on the face of it, but rational in the context of the way the game has been set up.

This is exactly the way that so many "contrarians" form their opinions. Like any gambling addicts, they're constantly rolling the dice, shrugging off any number of losses on their way to (what they hope is) that one Big Score. I have many relatives and coworkers like this; tech folks are particularly prone to it. Just about every newspaper and TV pundit, or wannabe pundit on Twitter, is like this. Nate Silver is perhaps the king of such contrarianism, unless that title should go to Levitt and Dubner (authors of Freakonomics). And yes, it would be hard to deny that I'm in the club too.

Conspiracy theory is just a special case of general contrarianism. If everybody knows about it, it's not a conspiracy (or at least not an interesting one); the appeal is entirely in seeing what's supposedly hidden. Paradoxically, people believe in conspiracy theories precisely because they're not very credible. The likelihood of being right might be low, but the potential payoff is huge so let's play that lottery! When the subject is politics and the payoff is a preferred position in the new regime ... well, that's QAnon in a nutshell. The kookier the theories are, the more the conspiracy addicts flock to them. And we have the high priests of contrarianism to thank for that. So thanks, FiveThirtyEight, for writing about a problem you helped create.

[homeformyheart]

simply be mine - adam du mortain x f!detective (twc)

author’s note: i needed to write a fluff piece after my last fic, “cottage by the sea,” and got inspiration while listening to a couple songs (see prompt line below) for a new years’ eve party fic. i hope you enjoy!

copyright: all characters, except my oc detective, are owned by mishka jenkins @seraphinitegames. series/pairing: the wayhaven chronicles  – adam du mortain x f!detective (regina bishop) rating/warnings: 14+; descriptions of drinking  word count: 3.1k based on/prompt: “only girl in the world” by rihanna / “one and only” by adele summary: adam struggles to understand why anyone would care about human new years’ eve traditions, but when he finds out regina enjoys them, he finds himself intrigued.

simply be mine

when regina walked into the warehouse living room an hour before the agency’s new years’ eve party, she was pleasantly surprised to see unit bravo somewhat dressed up, even if they were standing around brooding like usual. she was both surprised and excited that she was invited to attend as well, without having to be someone’s plus one, even though she had been assured by both nate and farah that they would’ve invited her. she giggled internally at the memory of farah practically jumping off the walls of the warehouse living room in excitement, yelling what seemed like a hundred words per minute about going shopping and getting ready together.

she quickly learned that the rest of unit bravo hated attending agency work functions and avoided them as much as they could. however, everyone was “strongly encouraged” to attend the new years’ eve party, which she gathered from both morgan and adam that what the agency meant was “we better see you there or we’ll give you the worst cases next year.” she thought they were probably exaggerating a tiny bit, but let it slide.

perhaps to make up for the fact that they’d have to spend the night in a brightly lit and loud room for several hours with colleagues they didn’t care for, regina found that unit bravo had already started pregaming before she arrived, and they pregamed hard. she saw firsthand the sheer amount of alcohol they needed to consume just to feel a little buzzed.

another rare upside to being human, regina noted, a couple of shots of any brown liquor and she was good to go. of course, she only managed one shot of nate’s vintage prohibition-era whiskey before he snatched it away and started lecturing her on its rarity and history and had to settle for farah’s tequila.

“regina, do a shot with me!” farah practically screamed, bounding over to her with a half-empty bottle of tequila and limes in one hand and a pinch of salt in the palm of her other hand.

“who taught you how to do a tequila shot?” she asked incredulously as farah poured a generous shot for them both and handed her a lime.

“i looked it up online!” she said with such a proud look on her face that regina could only smile fondly at the person who had become her best friend on the team.

they both knocked back the shots and cringed, the salt and limes providing little relief to the burn; regina could only assume it was maybe ten times worse for farah. but then farah drained whatever was left in the bottle and let out a loud whoop before wrapping regina up in a big hug.

“i am soooooooo glad we get to celebrate with youuu!! you are the best person on this teammmmmm, after me, of course,” farah shouted and regina couldn’t help but laugh.

adam raised an eyebrow. “you mean she’s the best human on the team, don’t you, farah?”

“nopeeeeeeeeeeee. regina’s the bestttttttttt of us and you can’t convince me otherwiseeeee,” she said in a singsong voice, much to everyone else’s annoyance.

“hey farah, why don’t you put on some pre-party music?” regina suggested. farah’s eyes lit up and she sped away and disappeared before regina could blink.

she felt adam’s large presence behind her, casting a figurative shadow over her in the living room. the room was softly lit by the chandelier farah herself had selected, much to morgan’s annoyance. regina let herself lean back slightly without actually touching adam’s chest, knowing it would tempt him to wrap his hands around her waist.

except he only kept one hand hovering near her hip as he said in a low murmur, “you really shouldn’t encourage her, you know.”

the corner of her lips twitched as though it wanted to break into a smile, but regina knew adam wouldn’t appreciate being teased about being a ‘stick in the mud’ considering each member of unit bravo took their turn throughout the day telling him to lighten up.

“you know she’s not going to stop, so just let her have her fun,” she winked as a familiar song started vibrating through the walls, followed by farah’s vocals. “we’ll be heading out soon anyway.”

morgan let out a sound that was a cross between a loud huff and a growl as she stomped outside, cigarettes in hand.

“i want you to love me, like a hot ride,” farah sang out as she appeared in the living room, twirling gracefully as she leaped over the table to land in front of regina. “be thinking of me, doing what you like.”

regina laughed as adam sighed loudly, intending obviously for them to hear, before he walked over to where nate was leaning against the bookshelf with a glass of wine. she immediately missed the warmth of his body behind her, or rather, the tingle she got in her spine from the prospect of his touch. she took a long sip of her whiskey, willing herself to actually enjoy tonight and not dwell on the lack of progress between her and adam.

“come on, regina, sing with me!” farah grabbed her hand and started twirling her around, whatever was left of the whiskey sloshing out of the glass and on to the floor.

“want you to make me feel, like i’m the only girl in the world,” regina belted alongside farah, throwing her head back. “like i’m the only one you’ll ever love; like i’m the only one who knows your heart.”

farah grabbed the wine bottle on the table by nate before he could intervene and put it to her mouth like a microphone. “only girl in the worlddddd,” she crooned, before collapsing into a giggling fit on the couch, bringing regina down with her.

despite wanting to roll his eyes at farah’s antics, even nate couldn’t help but smile at how cheerful his family was and how nice it was to celebrate the holidays together.

“we should get going soon,” he said, finishing his glass of wine.

“no, wait, regina’s not dressed!” farah said, immediately standing and pulling regina up with her.

“what are you talking about? i am dressed,” regina protested, motioning toward her tailored dress pants and blouse.

farah wrinkled her nose. “oh honey, no. this is a fancy party and you need to dress like it. come on!” before she could protest further, farah had dragged her back toward her room.

* * * * * “you know, regina might appreciate it if you partake in some new years’ traditions,” nate said quietly, glancing over at his longtime friend, who was staring out the window.

adam looked over at him with one eyebrow raised. “and what traditions would that be?”

nate smiled mischievously. “well, the one that seems to be really popular among humans is kissing someone at midnight.”

nate could feel adam’s shoulders tense a fraction of a second before he saw the physical movement itself. “that is an impractical and inane tradition. i would think the detective to be above such childish antics.”

now it was nate’s turn to raise an eyebrow at him. “and i think she’d appreciate the romantic gesture. it’s not childish to want to ring in the new year with someone you care for.”

before adam could retort, the sound of heels clacking along the hallway and the gentle swishing movement of fabric drew his attention toward the only thing that was capable of unraveling centuries of carefully architected walls with a single glance. regina appeared in the living room, farah’s arm looped in hers, dressed in a strapless black floor-length gown with a sweetheart neckline and slit that went all the way up to her mid-thigh.

adam’s eyes followed the length of the slit; the creamy complexion of her skin drawing him in. his gaze traced the way the fabric clung to her curves, dipping at the waist before cupping her chest. her hair was styled in soft waves to one side, leaving her collarbone and neck exposed. he didn’t realize his eyes were continuing to trace the delicate lines of her neck and jaw, before they landed on her red lips. they were lighter than blood and yet, just as, if not more, enticing to him.

he watched as the corner of those luscious lips quirked up into a smirk, which seemed to snap him out of his trance. his gaze shot upward to meet her teasing blue ones, not realizing that his feet seemed to move of their own accord until he was standing right in front of her.

“can i help you, commanding agent du mortain?” regina said, the low and sultry tone of her voice sending warmth south in an unfamiliar, but not wholly unpleasant way.

adam’s throat suddenly felt dry – an odd, human-like sensation that made him pause, until he realized that regina was suddenly very close. too close. he inwardly begged his legs to take a step back, but they wouldn’t budge, and he wasn’t sure if he really wanted to anyway.

“your… dress. it’s impractical. what if you were to get attacked?” he said slowly after clearing his throat, clasping his hands behind his back.

regina smiled and gazed up at him knowingly, a look that was both infuriating and intoxicating. as though she could read every piece of his soul back to him and love all of him anyway.

“don’t worry, i have my volt gun strapped to my thigh, see?” she reached for his hand, her touch sending a jolt up his arm that would worry him for medical reasons if he were human, but instead was stoking a deep primal urge within him as she moved it toward the back of her thigh.

the familiar rectangular gun was firm underneath his fingers and even though regina had let go of his hand, he held on, not quite allowing himself to graze her skin, but feeling her body heat at the tips of his fingertips all the same.

“besides, i know you all will be keeping an eye on me,” she said, batting her eyelashes at him. adam could hear the flutter of each lash against the air and found himself wondering how they’d feel against his skin as she kissed her way down his chest.

“of course, i— i mean, we, won’t let anything happen to you,” he said, moving his hand back behind him, flexing it once before resuming his stance.

“well, i only care that you are keeping an eye on me, commanding agent,” she said, giving him a flirty wink before putting on her coat and following farah out to the car.

adam let out an audible groan and rubbed his face with his hands. nate clasped a hand on his shoulder and he looked over to see his best friend was smirking at him.

“it’s okay. but if you’re going to pretend like there’s nothing between you all night, then you won’t mind if we all take turns dancing with her, right?” his smile only widened as adam’s mouth parted in stunned surprise. “come on or we’ll be late.”

* * * * * adam stood, tense and rigid, in a corner of the ballroom near the balcony doors with morgan, who ducked out every so often when the lights and sounds got to be too much, while nate and farah took turns dancing with regina. it baffled him how an entire room full of trained agents could let themselves potentially be compromised by partaking in such celebratory activities. even his own team, although he would admit only to himself that they needed the break.

farah loved the upbeat songs that allowed her to twirl regina around as fast as she could, and he wondered how regina could handle what must be incredibly dizzying and nauseating for a human. and then there was nate, who took advantage of the slow ballads and classic waltzing music sprinkled throughout the evening, to lead regina around in simple box steps. it was very unlike adam to care what his team did during events like this, as long as they behaved themselves, but something about how nate would lean in every once in a while to say something and make regina laugh made him want to crush every glass in sight.

he crossed his arms and glared at the back of nate’s head, knowing he was doing this to antagonize him, somehow. he felt his gaze unwillingly soften, however, whenever he felt regina’s eyes glance over at him. he quickly looked away when he realized she was walking toward him, surveying the room as though he was being vigilant.

“not fond of dancing?” she asked, the words coming out in soft gasps as she sought to catch her breath.

“i don’t see the point,” he said quickly, the defensiveness in his tone catching even him by surprise. surely, he didn’t need to explain himself.

“sometimes things don’t have to have a point to be enjoyable,” she offered, her voice pleasantly cutting through the din of the party. “and i really like dancing.”

regina let out a soft hum as nate arrived and handed her a drink. she drank it gratefully, giving nate a gentle smile that made adam grit his teeth. morgan appeared next to her and swiftly took regina’s drink, finishing it despite her half-hearted protest.

“so, regina, what is your favorite new years’ eve tradition?” nate asked, hiding his smile behind his glass of wine and ignoring adam’s pointed glare.

“oh well, i always like how excited everyone gets and parties like this are definitely fun,” regina answered, pausing for just a moment to look down at her glass hesitantly before continuing, “but the best one is of course getting to kiss someone at midnight.”

“it’ll be midnight soon, do you have anyone you plan to kiss yet?” morgan asked, slinging an arm around regina’s shoulders. “i’m free at midnight, if you’re interested.”

adam cleared his throat. “that would be unprofessional, agent.”

morgan brought another cigarette to her lips. nate stopped her hand with the lighter and motioned to the balcony. “let’s get some air, morgan, and leave these two alone.”

“sure, if you think that means he’ll actually kiss her before i do,” morgan snickered, too soft for regina to hear but it was obviously directed at adam.

a soft romantic melody started playing over the speakers; a love ballad that regina was familiar with, judging by the way she started humming along and swaying gently in place.

i don't know why i'm scared i've been here before every feeling, every word i've imagined it all you'll never know if you never try to forget your past and simply be mine

regina blinked at adam’s sudden appearance in front of her, his large figure towering over hers and blocking the chandelier from her sight.

“you like this song.” it technically wasn’t a question.

“um, i guess?” she asked, puzzled.

“you should dance,” he said, his hands itching to reach for hers.

regina tilted her head to the side and looked up at him searchingly, her blue eyes delicately framed by her long dark lashes. “are you asking me to dance?”

he pursed his lips into a thin, straight line. “you would need a partner, and seeing as no one else is around, i can… dance with you. if you’d like.”

her eyebrows shot up in surprise. she was not expecting adam du mortain to willingly admit to asking her to dance. she quickly looked around and noticed that most of the agents had gone out on the balcony to watch the fireworks.

she smiled and tucked her hand gently into his and led him to the dance floor. they settled into a swaying rhythm as regina wrapped her arms around his neck. adam hesitantly placed his hands on her waist, and a sweet heat bloomed throughout her body, making her feel flushed.

“i thought dancing was pointless?” she asked teasingly after encouraging him to shift his weight between his feet to match her movements.

adam lowered his head, as if he didn’t want anyone reading his lips or hearing what he was about to say. “with you… it doesn’t seem that way.”

regina shook her head fondly. “you continue to surprise me, commanding agent.”

i dare you to let me be your, your one and only i promise i'm worthy to hold in your arms so come on and give me the chance to prove i am the one who can walk that mile until the end starts

“i hope so,” he muttered quietly. “i have lived over nine centuries, yet every day with you seems new and uncertain.”

regina was afraid to ruin the moment by saying anything and decided to step closer and rest her head on his shoulder instead. she smiled when his hands tightened around her waist, bunching the fabric in a way that she was sure would leave wrinkles.

“10…9…8”

her head shot up at the sound of the crowd outside counting down the last few seconds to the new year. “i didn’t realize it was almost midnight, we should go join everyone.”

adam’s green eyes bore into hers and she was close enough that she could see little specks of gold reflected in them from the chandeliers and ornate décor throughout the room. “you… you want to kiss mor—ahem, someone at midnight.”

“7…6…5”

“oh, i didn’t mean anything by it,” she said quickly, giving him a reassuring smile. she tried taking a step back only to find that adam was holding her tightly in place.

“but it’s a tradition you enjoy.” it was a statement, but he was looking for confirmation while trying to maintain his composure despite his heart hammering so loudly in his chest he thought regina would be able to hear it.

“4…3…2”

she dropped her hands from his shoulders and let them rest on his chest, fiddling with the lapels of his jacket nervously. “oh well, i— i suppose with someone i care for, yes.”

the final second and cheers from the balcony faded into the background as adam leaned forward and touched his lips lightly to hers; they were softer than he imagined, even with the layer of faded lipstick between them.

regina’s body instinctively arched closer to his as she sought to deepen the kiss, her hands scrambling for some part of his shirt she could hold on to. she barely registered that it was over all too soon as adam pulled back, her head spinning from the kiss in a good way.

“happy new year, detective,” he whispered hoarsely, resting his forehead against hers briefly before stepping back and walking away.

regina touched her lips to savor the pleasant tingling feeling the kiss had left behind. happy new year indeed.

* * * * * mentions:  @kelseaaa; @kat-tia801; @anotherbeingsworld; @crackerdumortain; @pearlsandsteel; @gloynporslen; @sosolenoo; @alyssalauren; @wayhavenots; @gingerbreton; @takemyopenheart; @writer-ish; @fhauvilles;

[sepublic]

I managed to watch Infinity Train Book 2 finale!

I mean, everyone else has already said it, but... goodness what a phenomenal finale. What an amazing season, absolutely superb in EVERY respect! After Book 1 introduced a setting, Book 2 went out of its way to further expand on it! It... it’s like after Book 1, Owen and his team got the hang of what they wanted to do with the show even more and we got Cracked Reflection as a result!

Lake! Lake is free! She can see her reflection now! SHE GETS TO BE WITH JESSE AND EVEN MEETS NATE!!! Her emotional breakdown and anguished declaration of personhood at the end of the Tape Car lowkey gave me chills... That was powerful, watching her just break down in frustration at the pure, inherent unfairness of it all and even destroying robot workers minding their own business in her pain.

Really, that whole sequence in the Tape Car was nightmarish. Its name REALLY doesn’t quite cover what it’s like, and I felt like I was watching the Matrix with that scene of all of the pods lined up on a wall, robot tentacle-arms, people asleep and floating in murky liquid...

Also, that scene felt like all of the passengers were inside an even bigger, larger nervous system of sorts. And with how weirdly-organic it was for such an otherwise mechanical, sterile environment, I half-expected to see some horrific organic thing at the end of all of it, acting as the brain and nervous system for the Tape Car and potentially the entire Infinity Train! Goodness this train is so eldritch.

Seeing more of how the process works was also neat, as well as new robot workers! I kind of already expected the “Didn’t care about Lake and Dracula” bit but it was still neat, and on an unrelated note, we see what the point of the squiggly red-line vocoder is for on the pods; It’s apparently where the audio of One-One’s video comes from!

(Side-note, but that kid being messed up from accidentally killing a pet... That kind of hit close to home and honestly I felt that.)

And seeing the Steward again... FINALLY! Someone else suggested that the Steward is created to defend the Infinity Train’s mechanisms if they’re attacked, and this episode seemingly confirms it; It also makes the Steward’s preprogrammed command for passengers to ‘return to their seat’ also make more sense when you realize that the voiceline is probably meant for situations where passengers are in areas they really shouldn’t be (especially parts of the Infinity Train’s anatomy).

Everyone called it, but we FINALLY get to see One-One inside the Steward, piloting it as intended! And also, I’m glad to see I was correct in One-One now acting as a Lawful Neutral character due to his power and authority putting him at odds with people who are struggling with the Infinity Train’s system. Seeing him again is so weirdly nostalgic, and I love how we get to see the darker side of him as he struggles with what to do with Lake. Him popping out of the Steward to roll around in stress is amazing, too.

I love the idea of the Infinity Train struggling to quantify an ‘issue’ it can’t deal with by producing non-integers (many of which have no actual mathematical meaning, like ;P). It’s interesting that One-One talks about solutions to people’s problems, and how said problems are shown through numbers. And the solution to the problem is zero... It’s all like a complex mathematical pun and it’s incredibly clever. Also, him explaining that the train ‘fixes’ passengers... It makes me wonder if the Infinity Train is meant to be, like. A maintenance robot for humanity as a whole? A powerful machine built to ‘fix’ people’s malfunctions, a very specific kind of malfunction, an emotional one. This perspective and the Infinity Train’s mathematical, computer-like approach to everything (down to Lake fooling it as if by hacking) makes its nature and unknown origin all the more fascinating. 

Sieve isn’t happy... Big surprise there, but I didn’t expect him to get through the situation by suggesting a ‘solution’ to One-One’s problem that the latter darkly considers. He was always the more clever of the duo and good at dealing with/convincing people, and it shows. Not gonna lie, seeing him die by getting zapped by Dracula’s lasers and exploding from it in gorey fashion was... I should be more shocked, but after the Wasteland I’m not. God I love this show.

(Also, Sieve should show a little more respect to the Conductor and not PUT HIS FOOT ON HIM- He’s lucky One-One didn’t sic the Steward on him!)

Jesse having a second tape showing his experiences with Lake, all as memories building up to his newest problem, no Lake, was also great and I love how the show elaborates that tapes are specifically imbued with the memories related to and leading up to the issue that causes a passenger to board the train. Also, when he and Nate were talking about freeing Lake, I half-expected that joke theory about Jesse yeeting Nate down the stairs to get in trouble again was, like, going to happen, with Nate even voluntarily helping for it. But luckily the Infinity Train recognizes Jesse’s emotional distress of not having Lake as enough of a problem itself, and Nate doesn’t get any more broken bones.

(And can we appreciate how the FIRST thing Jesse fixates on after waking up is Lake? I LOVE THESE TWO)

I love in particular how Lake figures out how to cheat the system by reflecting Jesse’s number on her... And upon realizing this solution as well, Jesse’s number immediately goes to zero because he realizes it’s practically been solved! This kind of clever thinking and exploitation of the rules of a setting and using it to one’s advantage is one of my FAVORITE things to see in media, ever. It’s way more fun and clever than just a generic ‘Hero gets an emotional power boost’ that most stories have, and it’s part of what makes shows like Fullmetal Alchemist: Brotherhood and Jojo’s Bizarre Adventure so endearing to me! Glad to see Infinity Train joining the list of shows that use galaxy-brain thinking to save the day!

I was really worried for a second that Sieve would stop Lake as she and Jesse escaped, and for a moment they seemed safe... But SOMEHOW he got a hold of Lake’s foot, genuinely surprising me after I sighed in relief when she arrived in the ‘regular’(?) world. At that point I was wondering what Alan Dracula was even doing, when LO AND BEHOLD Lake uses grass to beckon him!

Really, I love how in these last two episodes, Lake has figured out how Dracula operates and has grass and solutions stored accordingly. It just goes to show how well she (they? him? Lots of trans/NB coding with Lake) knows him. Also, I was lowkey anticipating some dramatic reveal about Alan Dracula, what with the foreboding foreshadowing in the minisodes and One-One’s confusion... But no, hilariously, he’s just like that. And that’s amazing, alongside the fact that One-One just treats him as... A particularly unusual creation of his, even by the train’s standards. (I should rewatch Dracula’s minisode cameos under the context of One-One having made him). Also, apparently One-One DOES design train inhabitants? Or is Dracula just the one? How many does he design? All of them? SO MANY QUESTIONS-

Finally, we get our happy ending, and Lake FINALLY gets her true name, which I’ve been looking forward to all season! Wonderful, phenomenal, amazing, brilliant season and amazing ending! Now I already miss Jesse, Lake, and Alan Dracula. I was a bit disappointed we didn’t get to check up on Tulip or Atticus, but perhaps that’s for another season.

This DOES make me wonder what Book 3 could be about, because there’s so much potential! We still have that blue-haired girl that was shown at a panel, whom an animator was excited to show off... Considering her distinctive trait I think she may be the next protagonist. Others have also suggested the old man that Lake scared off, and that’d be neat as well (Why not both? Perhaps we could have two passengers in a season, or one after the other!). There’s also the issue of the Apex, which as I expected, would be brought up in Book 2 to probably be resolved in Book 3. It’s like how Lake and her storyline were introduced in Book 1, and seemingly ended, only to be revealed that Mace and Sieve are still after her, and THAT storyline is truly resolved in Book 2.

I’m just excited, man. Between The Owl House’s premiere and the Book 2 finale, I’m just blown-out and exhausted. It’s been a wonderful train ride and I can’t wait for the next stop!

[fanfictionaries]

Where the Green Grass Grows - Part 1. A Real Fine Place to Start

@imanuglywombat​ credit for the moodboard/art! 

Summary: After leaving town in 2001, Marianne Grace Barnes swore she’d never step foot in Texas again. She was happy with her life in San Francisco. She had great friends, a great job, and a loving boyfriend. But when her mother insists she come home after six long years away, Marianne comes face to face with someone she vowed to never lay eyes on again. Now the questions arise: Is he so different from the man who broke her heart? Is she so different from the girl she used to be?

And most importantly, is she as happy as she really thinks she is?

A story of love, heartache, and that special feeling of being home.

MASTERLIST

Pairing: AU Cowboy!Steve Rogers x OFC

Warnings: Swearing 

Author’s note: This is my entry for  @arrowsandmixtapes​ ‘s RomCom Writing Challenge! So sorry for the late entry, Covid has been a whirlwind of a time.

Prompt: Sweet Home Alabama (2002)

***

The streets of San Francisco were their normal, misty grey as Marianne Barnes rushed down the sidewalk. Scrubbing at the technicolor specks of paint that covered her arms, she wondered why that day of all days she had decided to introduce the splatter paint portion of her student’s curriculum. The current semester was focused on abstract and modern art. Slowly she’d been introducing them to all of the history and techniques behind the different styles before allowing them to try it out for themselves. While initially it seemed like a fantastic idea, she soon realized that allowing a group of middle schoolers the freedom to literally throw paint was a recipe for disaster. Luckily, she had her art smock to cover the entirety of her clothes, but that had not saved her arms and legs from the ricochet of paint as the over enthusiastic kids hurled globs of color as hard as they could at blank canvases. Continuing to rake her nails against the skin of her arms, she sighed in frustration. She really should have taken a few more minutes to wash up one more time.

It was important that she look nice tonight. Tony, her boyfriend, had invited her to dinner stating he had some “big news”. Marianne assumed that it probably had to do with the big business deal he’d been working on for his company. Tony was a visionary of sorts. Having come from family money, his future was always to be well off. However, he had taken the extra steps to truly make something of himself and slowly over the years of his career he had come to own the single leading company in clean energy technology. She was proud of him – even if his job did take up a large amount of his life. However, without his job she probably wouldn’t have met him. She thought back to the embarrassing moment in which they had met nearly a year ago.

Marianne pulled at the neckline of her dress, the Peter Pan collar currently feeling as though it was going to choke her as she shifted uncomfortably by the food and drink table. As much as she liked being there for her best friend, she really wished Natasha would stop inviting her to these kinds of events. While Nat insisted that she’d stay right by Marianne’s side, she always ended up alone at some point in the night, twiddling her thumbs in a room filled with strangers. Having met in art school, Marianne always found it incredibly interesting how drastically different her and Natasha’s careers were. While Marianne had opted for teaching the youths of America about Monet, Dali, van Gogh, and Matisse, Natasha had settled on the curation of art, a field that suited her much more appropriately. The rubbing of elbows with the hoity toity rich was a perfect fit for Nat’s easy, sophisticated, and, for lack of a better word, sexy personality. With her naturally fire-red hair, knockout curves, and perfect smile, Natasha was the type of woman that when she walked into a room, every person either wanted to be her or to fuck her. There was no in-between. Even for Marianne, who supposed in some ways, she’d like to be a bit more like Natasha.

That’s why she was so surprised to be approached as she clung to her glass of champagne and pretended to stare contemplatively at the same painting of a flat tire for the fifth time that night.

“What do you think?” asked a smooth and timbred voice from beside her.

Marianne chuckled slightly to herself continued to trace the thick brushstrokes of the painting with her eyes. “Well, considering the artist’s theme of stagnation, I think they’ve gone a bit too on the nose with this one. It’s…unimaginative,” she commented, before turning to see the handsome man beside her. If she’d actually been drinking the champagne in her hand, she might have choked on it. Luckily for her, she hadn’t.

The man continued to stare at the painting in front of them, a contemplative expression that brought his thick, dark brows together, before he turned his gaze to her, “So you don’t think it will sell tonight then?”

“Oh no, it will definitely sell. I’ve been to enough of these things to know that it’s not really about taste, so much as it is status. If the artist seems important enough, then so is their art,” smirked Marianne, this time actually taking a sip from her champagne flute to avoid focusing on the intriguing way in which the stranger was staring at her.

“Ah, yes. The snobbish elites’ inability to see past their own social status,” he commented dryly, taking a sip from his own flute.

“Hey, you said it, not me,” Marianne laughed, feeling as though she might have made a connection with a reasonable person just yet.

“And who do I have the pleasure of giving me all the inside critique?”

She extended her free hand out to the man, “Marianne Barnes—art teacher, friend of the curator, and overall critic of the snobbish elite.”

He took her hand in his own, his grasp soft, yet strong as he shook her hand and stared her directly in the eye, “Tony Stark – member of the snobbish elite.”

Marianne blanched at the words, the overwhelming feeling of embarrassment taking over her as she realized her mistake. She was just beginning to open her mouth to apologize when Tony held up a hand.

“No need to apologize—” he inhaled deeply, looking around the room and the people that inhabited it “—Truth be told, I don’t think I can stand a single person in here. You excluded of course, but who knows that may change.”

Marianne wrestled with the smile that fought to match Tony’s own wry grin. He was too charming for his own good. Taking a second to look over his expensive suit, Italian leather shoes, and $200 haircut, she reckoned he was much too handsome and successful for her own good. Still, she figured there was no harm in a little conversation.

“Say, I like your accent. Where’s that from? Georgia? Alabama?” asked Tony, stepping in to close the distance between them and making the interaction feel so much more intimate than it should.

Marianne gasped in mock offense, “Excuse you sir, but I am Texas born through and through.”

“My apologies ma’am,” Tony said, holding a hand to his heart in sincerity. “It’s never my intention to offend beautiful women. But for some reason, it just, well, happens.”

That comment made Marianne pause, “You think I’m beautiful?”

He took a moment to assess her, raking his eyes over her from head to toe. Not in a predatory way, but more like he was assessing another painting on the wall. Then he answered, voice heavy in sincerity, “Most beautiful piece of art I’ve seen tonight.”

The sharp tone of Marianne’s ringtone brought her out of her musing and back to the present as she waited at a crosswalk for the light to change. Digging into the deep contents of her purse, she cursed under her breath, pushing aside pens, pencils, scrunchies, lotions, and general clutter before her fingers closed around the buzzing device.

“Hello?”

“I just really don’t understand why Serena and Nate just don’t get together! I mean, he basically broke up with Blair for her, the least she could do is date him,” groaned Natasha from the other end, before Marianne heard the distinct crunch of popcorn being chewed.

“Hey! Spoilers, I haven’t watched last night’s episode yet! Besides, I really don’t have time to talk about Gossip Girl right now,” she huffed, glancing at the time on her watch and realizing she was even later than she thought.

“Well hurry up and watch it! I want to talk about what Chuck did. You’ll never believe it—”

“Seriously Nat, no spoilers!” Marianne exclaimed, now picking up her speed as she crossed the street, trying not to catch the heel of her stilettos on the cracks in the pavement. “And I meant it, I’m running late for my dinner with Tony. He’s taking me to my favorite restaurant to celebrate the contract with Pym Technologies.”

“Wow. I never would have expected Tony to slum it all the way to the Mission District,” Natasha snorted.

“What? No, I’m in SoMa right now. We’re going to Omakase,” Marianne said, jumping back when a bicyclist zoomed past her, nearly knocking her into a dirty puddle.

“Oh…”

“What?”

“Nothing, it’s just that I have a distinct memory of you saying you’d rather lick an L.A. sidewalk than eat raw fish, but I have seen you scarf down more burritos from Taqueria Cancun than I can count.”

Marianne bristled at the comment; she always did this. “My tastes are allowed to change Nat,” she bit back, seeing the sign for the sushi restaurant her and Tony frequented in sight.

Natasha was quiet for a moment on the other end of the line before she responded, “Yea, yea, you’re right. I’m sorry. Well, have fun at dinner and tell Tony I say congratulation.”

Sighing, Marianne immediately felt guilty for the harsh way in which she spoke, “Thanks Nat, I’ll tell him. And don’t worry, I’ve got the episode queued up first on Tony’s TiVo. I’ll watch it tonight and then I’ll call you tomorrow and we can gab all about why Serena needs to pull her head out.”

The comment earned Marianne a small laugh from Natasha, alleviating some of her guilt, “I’m holding you to that. Talk to you later hun, love you.”

“Love you too.”

Marianne closed her phone just as she was approaching the front doors to Omakase. Throwing her phone back into her purse she pushed the glass door open, knowing that Tony was probably already waiting for her at their favorite table. The first thing she noticed upon entering the restaurant was the distinct lack of the normal bustling sounds of other people, the second thing was the presence of orchestral music, and the third were roses. Hundreds and hundreds of red roses. Stacked on every available surface, the flowers littered the restaurant in large arrangements placed in beautiful crystal vases.

Silently, her heeled feet padded across the rose petal covered floor as she tentatively stepped further into the building, wondering for a just a second if she was in the right place. However, as she rounded the corner to see Tony dressed impeccably, string quartet situation behind him as he stood next to the only table in the dining room, she knew this was exactly where she was supposed to be.

“Tony…” she approached him cautiously, unable to stop from looking around the room and all its grandeur.

“There she is. For a second, I thought you found something better to do,” joked Tony, closing the distance between them and kissing her lightly on the lips.

“Sorry, I got out of class a bit late and then Nat called. What’s going on?” Marianne asked, still unsure what the big romantic gesture was for. 

“What? A man can’t treat his girlfriend to a romantic night?”

“Well yes, but I thought we were celebrating your deal.”

“Well, I mean that’s part of it, but we’ll get to that later. Here, why don’t you set your things down? I have something I want to ask you.” Tony slipped Marianne’s purse from her shoulder and placed it gently down onto her chair before turning to her and taking both of her hands in his. “So, a little precursor, I closed the deal with Pym Technologies.”

“Oh my god, Tony that’s amazing! I knew you were going to get it,” Marianne exclaimed, smiling widely at her boyfriend. She moved in to give him a congratulatory hug, but Tony stopped her, holding her away from him at arm’s length.

“Oh, hold on, let’s not celebrate too soon. At least let me finish my little speech and then we can jump up and down like teenage girls,” responded Tony. His tone, while its usual joking manner, held a tense and clipped edge to it that Marianne didn’t hear often. Nervously she shifted her weight, wondering what he could possibly have to ask her. Then slowly things started to click into place. Secluded restaurant. Red roses. String quartet. Tony’s favorite red wine on the table. Big important question. Oh.

“Well, once this deal goes through, I’m going to be spending a lot of time traveling internationally. Things are going to pick up at Stark Industries and I realized that life is about to get a lot more hectic and messier. Then of course, this brought on a whirlwind of existential questions about life and its meaning and purpose and what I really want out of it and…and I’m rambling aren’t I?”

“Yea, just a bit,” Marianne answered with a small smile.

“I had a point—”

“Did you?”

“I did—” Tony released his hold on her hands to dig into the pocket of his suit pants “—and I think it sounded a bit like this.” Marianne gasped lightly as Tony dropped to one knee. “Basically, to make a long, drawn-out story short, I realized that no matter how messy and crazy the future scenarios of my life, one thing remained a constant. You. You by my side as my wife. So…” Producing a small, black box from within his hands, he opened it slowly to reveal a large, sparkling engagement ring. “Would you do me the honor of marrying me?”

Marianne stood speechless for a moment, consumed by the surprise turn of events. For a second the musing thought that she would have definitely forgone splatter paint today if she had known she was getting proposed to, flashed through her mind before she nodded enthusiastically.

“Yes, yes I will marry you.”

That’s how one month later Marianne found herself entering Natasha’s apartment, arms completely stuffed with nothing but wedding magazines, samples, and binders. Dropping her things into a large pile on the carpet of Natasha’s living room floor, Marianne breathed in deep before turning her attention to an open portfolio on the coffee table. The bright splashes of reds and blues of oversized poppies amidst a large, open sky caught her attention, drawing her in.

“Hey Nat, are you looking to take in a new collection at the gallery?” she called towards the kitchen, unable to pull her eyes away from the beautiful and almost impressionistic take on the flowers.

“Yea, one of my boss’s associates is crazy about these giant oil paintings of poppies. He wants us to consider doing a whole show of them. We’re equally as enthusiastic, but I guess the artist is hesitant about selling their work,” answered Natasha from across the apartment.

“Don’t most artists want to sell their art?”

“You’d think, but judging from the California poppies, they’re probably some west coast artist that doesn’t want to ‘sell out’ and ruin the integrity of their work.” Marianne could almost hear Natasha rolling her eyes through the walls.

Staring even harder at the small collection of paintings as she flipped through the portfolio, Marianne asked, “Are you sure they’re California poppies?”

Just as she asked the question, Natasha came around the corner, two large glasses of prosecco in hand. “Of course. We’re in California. They’re poppies. California poppies,” Natasha shrugged, placing the glasses on the coffee table.

“Yea, I guess you’re right,” Marianne said, sharply closing the portfolio and shaking off the strange sense of melancholy that the paintings evoked.  

“Jesus, when you said you wanted to come over and talk about wedding stuff while we watched Gossip Girl, I thought you meant something like looking at a couple of magazines, not planning the whole thing in one night!” Natasha said, eyes growing wide as she took in the sheer amount of materials Marianne had arrived with.

“Yea, well that’s pretty much all the time I actually have to plan this thing. Tony wants to get married soon so that we can go on our honeymoon before he has to start traveling for work. Once things pick up, we’re not really sure when he’ll get another free moment,” sighed Marianne, sitting down on the floor and beginning to organize her mess.

“I’m surprised he’s letting you plan this and it’s not him making all the decisions,” remarked Natasha, sitting down across from her, and picking up a magazine.

“What do you mean?” asked Marianne, looking up quizzically at her best friend.

“Well…” began Natasha, hesitating for a moment before continuing, “I just mean that Tony tends to have a habit of making decisions for you.”

“What? No, he doesn’t,” Marianne scoffed.

“Uhuh…okay. Well then, who decided shortly after meeting you that your car, your first car, your baby, wasn’t good enough and that you needed a new one?” Natasha asked challengingly.

“It was old Natasha. People get new cars every day. Tony was just kind enough to buy me a new one,” Marianne reasoned with her, picking up her glass of prosecco from the coffee table.

“Okay, what about your job? You were working at that cute little public, elementary school that you always said you loved so much. Next thing I know, you’ve got this new job at a private middle school.”

“Tony had some connections and there’s nothing wrong with moving up in your career. I’m pretty sure that’s the whole point of a career, Nat.”

“Your apartment then? A week after he saw your apartment for the first time, he insisted that you move in with him.”

“That apartment was a rat-infested shit-hole and you know it. Things were going well, and he had the space. I took a leap of faith and moved in with him. I think it went alright considering the fact that I’m marrying the man. Just- what are you getting at Nat?”

“I guess I’m just worried that these major life decisions aren’t what you want, but instead what Tony wants. I mean, you’ve been together barely a year and already you’re more like him than you are you. You dress posher, you act posher, your accent’s fading…I want you to be happy Marianne, but I don’t want you to lose yourself along the way,” Natasha ended her small rant by taking a large gulp of her drink.

Marianne placed a hand on her friends arm reassuringly, “Hey. It’s alright. I’m happy, I promise. And it’s still me! I’m still the same Marianne Barnes you met in art school – just a little fancier is all.” She laid her southern accent on thick near the end of her sentence, lifting up her left hand to waggle the large engagement ring in her friend’s face. Natasha laughed, knocking her hand out of the way, and rolling her eyes at Marianne’s blatant bragging.

“Shut up, now let’s work on your guest list and invitations first while we let the drama of Manhattan’s Upper East Side consume us,” said Natasha, exchanging the magazine for a binder as she turned her TV on with the press of a button.

Taglist: 

@hidden-behind-the-fourth-wall​

@caffiend-queen​

@grincheveryday​

[veryscaredenby]

The Frying Pan Colon D, A Gay Pirate Story

Prologue

“So you’ll do it?”

It was dark in the tavern, loud with the conversation of patrons, and the tailor could barely make out the general shape or sound of the cloaked figure sitting across from him on the other side of the table. He hoped that he had the right person, or this would be an awkward conversation. This wasn’t exactly something he could discuss freely with just anyone. From what he could discern, the person across from him was relatively short, and quite relaxed, as their feet were laid upon the table as they leaned back in their chair. Nice boots though, he decided, as they were very close to his face.

“You want me to kidnap the princess huh? I ain’t stupid. and I’m assuming you have at least a few brain cells up there.” The figure leaned forward, their face under the shadow of their hood now illuminated by the candle light. They had soft features but a mischievous smirk, and dark, wavy hair covering half of their left eye. “So you’re gonna have to give me real good reason as to why I should do this.”

They leaned back in their chair again, kicking their feet back on top of the table while the tailor patted his jacket, searching for the sack of coins he had stashed away somewhere, and became curious as to who this person really was and how good their relationship to the owner of the tavern might be. She was known for being quiet yet powerful. enough to scare people from coming back, so he had to wonder how the cloak bearer had the confidence to dirty the table with their boots. Finding the pouch in a pocket, he let out a small sigh of relief and ceased his wondering. He slid it across the table, and it landed next to their ankle. The mysterious tavern-goer looked at the pouch questioningly, and then to the tailor.

“Money is great and all, but I’m gonna need more of a reason to risk me and my crew’s life,” they remarked, a serious look now on their face.

“A reason?” The tailor was told that this was the person who could get any job done while they were in town, through sometimes shady means. He hadn’t prepared mentally to tell a tale, however real it may be.

“I told you I ain’t stupid. Gimme a reason and I’ll consider it. Come on, you expect me to believe you have no motive for this. This ain’t a petty crime, this is kidnapping a member of the royal family.” Their arms were now crossed over their chest as they looked towards the ceiling, possibly in deliberation. “At least give me a name. I need to find you to give you my answer. I’ll need to talk to my crew first.”

“Nathaniel!” The talior yelled suddenly, not meaning to be as loud as he ended up being, catching the eyes of a few other tavern-goers. “Ah, my name, it’s Nathaniel,” he spoke lowly this time, embarrassed and looking away. His table-mate raised an eyebrow at him, but spoke nothing of the outburst.

“Alright Nate. Can you give me some epic angsty backstory about your relationship with the princess or will I just have to wait till tomorrow.” Nate blushed and stuttered, trying to defend his honor against these assumptive claims. “Oh chill out I was only joking. I figured you must know her if you’re set on having me kidnap her. Maybe more then just know her. I must say this is not what I expected of you.” The cloaked fiend laughed, eyeing “Nate”.

“It’s not what you’re thinking! It’s not like that at all!” he was flustered and had only now realized what the other person had just said. “Wait, tomorrow?”

“Like I said, need time to deliberate, and since you don’t seem eager to tell me why I should do this, you’ll have to wait till tomorrow for your answer.” They swung their legs down again, this time turning to lean against the rough, brick wall on their left.

Nothing was said for a few moments; until he findlay had the courage to speak up. “I love her.” Nathaniel whispered lowly, embarrassed again, blush severely worsened, though there was not a drink to be seen on their table. The dark haired mystery’s eyes widened, and they looked towards the boy, though he could very well be the same age.

“I’m sorry, I must have misheard you, because I thought you said you love-“

“I do! I-“ he paused again, taking a deep breath, “I love her very much.”

“So you want me to kidnap her?” They looked at him as if he had grown an extra head.

“You don’t understand-!”

“Then tell me, for the love of sunshine!” They interrupted this time, and Nathaniel looked frustrated, trying to plan out his words.

“She’s getting married.”

“Oh cheese and crackers-“

“To someone she doesn’t know or love! She’s getting married in five days and she’s going to ruin her own life. We’ve been friends since we were little and I just can’t stand by and watch the woman I love get married off to someone she’s never met! She was supposed to be with me!” Nathaniel was standing now, having pushed his chair back and he stood, clenching the sides of the table in his fists, and ignoring any looks from their judge-y fellow customers.

“Sit down,” the person sighed, and he did. They sat in silence for a while while they both thought, until they finally spoke up again. “Alright. Meet me here, same time tomorrow and I’ll have your answer.” The nameless identity got up from their seat and began to walk away from the table and further into the tavern.

“Wait!” Nathaniel called out, stopping the cloaked figure. They sighed and turned back around. Nathaniel could now get a better look at the person and noticed they were on their bigger side and notably shorter then he had assumed, at only about five feet and a few inches, with abnormally purple hair, the most stringing feature. “What’s your name? What do I call you?”

“People around here will usually call me Sting, so I would go with that.” They put their hands in their pockets with a shrug.

“Usually?”

“Well of course those who know me better will call me by my name but I can’t exactly go giving that out, now can I?”

“I suppose not.” Nathaniel was truly baffled. He hadn’t met many people in general so this was an experience.

“Exactly. Now I’ll fetch a rag to wipe off the mess I made on our table and I’ll be on my way.” Sting turned around again and walked towards the bar, gesturing back behind him to their forgotten table with boot markings on it. “Wouldn’t be very ‘groovy’ of me to just leave it now would it?” They chucked, and with that Nathaniel had decided he had had enough for one night, and went to leave the tavern.

_______

0. Prologue

1. Chapter 1

An: Ok well I never said I was a good author I just said I had an idea I wanted to write out. This is my first story I’ve posted on here so I’m kinda nervous about it but I guess we’ll see how it goes. Most of the characters are based off of my friends and the mc is just me, I didn’t even change the first name lol. This is self fulfillment alright. This chapter is just the prologue and is shorter then the next one will be.

Also disclaimer I know nothing about Pirates or anything really, so if something is just wrong let me know and I might fix it. It’s also just a stupid story I’m writing so...yeah. I am planning to do some actual research though, eventually. Anyways I hope whoever finds this enjoys it.

[hockeylvr59]

Life Changes Part 10 || Paul Bissonnette

Author's Note: So this one was tough for me because Paul’s head is a tough nut to crack so go easy on me. This is from his POV because I felt like we needed some insight as to where he stood in all of this because so far we’ve only see Leigh’s thoughts. Let me know what you think. We’re covering quite a bit of time fairly quickly now. In fact, there’s probably only 1 more chapter before the event everyone has been waiting for happens *hint hint*. Also, I updated the playlist for this story so feel free to go take a listen and let me know what you think and feel free to send me any songs that make you think of Leigh and Paul because I’d love to hear them. 

Requested: [ ] yes [x] no       Warnings: swearing      Word Count: 2,389

_________

Paul’s POV

“Only the wisest and stupidest of men never change.” 

Something had been different with Leigh since the awards but I couldn’t put my finger on what had changed or why. We still talked almost every day but where before she would be an open book, now it seemed like a glass wall was between us. Knowing that she would reach out if she needed me, I came to the conclusion that it was something to do with the pregnancy and tried not to dwell on it. 

Hopefully, this trip would make not dwelling a little easier. Thanks to some networking at the Awards and a little help from CCM, we’d finally landed our white whale for the podcast. And not only had we secured Crosby, but we’d also gotten MacKinnon as well. Having arrived in Nova Scotia yesterday, Whit and I were slotted to face off against the local duo in a round of golf, dinner on the line, before sitting down to record the interviews. 

It was a gorgeous June day on the course, and I was absolutely buzzing. This was potentially the best game of golf I’ve ever played in my life. But before we had even finished the front half of the course I was already being accused of being a sandbagger...fucking ridiculous. Nate was getting all sorts of worked up while Sid just laughed saying they’d have to wait and see what the back half brought. 

Needless to say, the second half didn’t go as well as the first...the damn yips taking over. Though we’d had the lead and secured dinner, for some reason Whit felt like giving the losers a second chance to redeem themselves so it was determined that we were only up 1 hole with two remaining. Whit came up just short for birdie leaving us square to start the 18th hole. 

Just as we reached the final tee, my phone rang, Leigh’s picture filling my screen. If it had been anyone else I would have ignored it but there was no way I could ignore her so I grabbed my phone and stepped slightly away as I answered. 

“What’s up?” I questioned. “We’re on the 18th hole with Sid and Nate.” Before she even responded I could hear the hitch in her breath and my heart raced with concern for why she would be crying, though lately, it didn’t take much to make her cry...pregnancy hormones. 

“I forgot.” She admitted, her watery voice cracking. 

“It’s fine. What’s up?” I repeated my question, my stomach twisting as I waited for her answer. 

“It’s a girl.” She whispered. Immediately my heart felt like it was going to beat out of my chest.

“What?” The word slipped out while my brain was rushing to process. 

“Dustbunny...she’s a girl.” I had totally forgotten that Leigh had a doctor’s appointment scheduled for today. Without even realizing it, tears had pooled in my eyes and I let out a shaky laugh as I tried to blink them away. Deep down I knew that she was hoping for a girl and so I knew just how much this news meant to her. 

“That’s incredible.” I finally managed my throat tight. “Congratulations.” Though the concept of her really having a baby had become more concrete for me in Vegas seeing her bump, now it really did feel real. In just a few months there would be this little human who looked like her mom hanging around and the thought of that was almost too much. 

With Whit calling my name from the course, I signaled for him to give me just a minute but it was clear that Leigh heard it and she murmured that I should get back to the game. But before she hung up she made one final statement. 

“You can tell the guys if you want. And uh...let them know I’ll make a public announcement in the next couple days but to keep it to themselves until then please.” 

“Course.” I murmured, my brain still operating mostly on autopilot as it worked over the news she’d just dropped on me. “I uh...I’ll talk to you and dustbunny later.” 

“Yeah.” She agreed. “Now go have fun.” She added just before the line went dead. Frantically I tried to pull myself together, wiping at my eyes and pocketing my phone.

It was my turn up at the tee and as I tried to focus, laughter came at me from all directions. Whether it was the laughter or the thought of Leigh and her daughter racing through my mind, as I swung at the ball I sliced it way left and the laughter took full force. 

“Fuck off okay,” I mumbled, moving to sit on a bench, my nails scraping over my scalp. 

“What the fuck was that?” Whit demanded. “You take one phone call and make the worst shot of the day?” There was nothing but silence as we made our way down to the green and as we waited for Sid to putt Whit looked over at me. “Everything okay?” He asked, voice calmer. “I’m assuming that was Leigh.” 

“Yeah.” I nodded. “Everything’s good.” Whit looked at me skeptically before taking his turn and after sinking his putt for the win he paused. 

“Okay, Biz...spill.” He stated, leaning against his club. “You’ve been all hyped up all day and now you’re quiet. What was that call about?” 

“She’s having a girl.” I breathed, tossing my club back in the bag before reaching for a bottle of water to try and calm my still racing heart down. 

“Who’s having a girl?” Nate inquired, clearly confused by the statement. 

“Leigh. Our business manager.” Whit explained. “That’s awesome, I’m sure she’s over the moon.” 

“Wait...she’s pregnant?” Sid asked, having obviously paid no mind to her growing bump when they met just a week or so ago. 

“Yeah. It’s complicated.” I expressed. “And she is over the moon. She was crying over the phone.” I added, once again scratching my head. It was left unspoken, but not unnoticed by Whit that I had been crying over the news too and we made our way over to a little cafe to record both interviews, my mind gradually refocusing as I focused back in on hockey and the world surrounding it. 

~~~

It wasn’t until we were a few drinks into a delicious dinner courtesy of Sid and Nate that Leigh was brought up as conversation again. 

It had happened casually, Sid inquiring as to what we had upcoming for the podcast. Whit went into a ramble on the secret project we’d been working on for months, a Pink Whitney vodka, and how we had a launch party for that planned for Labor Day weekend. Then RA brought up how each of us was working to pick up some of the management job duties so that Leigh could have a proper maternity leave when the time arose. That triggered Nate inquiring about the whole baby thing and I quickly had to vaguely explain that Leigh wasn’t with the baby’s father and that we were close friends because she’d been with me in Arizona when she found out. 

We’d just downed another round of drinks when Whit threw the first real punch. 

“So Biz….when are you going to tell her you’re in love with her?” 

“I don’t know what you’re talking about...we’re just friends.” I lied, doing everything I could to keep my facial expressions neutral. 

“That’s bullshit and everyone else can see it besides the two of you.” He tossed back. “You look at her like she’s the goddamn stanley cup. I haven’t seen you even look at another woman in months. If you aren’t talking about work you’re talking about Leigh and the baby so stop playing. You’re in love with her.” 

If it weren’t for the drinks I’d already consumed I probably wouldn’t have admitted to anything. But with the drinks, I felt my palms start to sweat and my filter let a few too many thoughts slip through. 

“Of course I love her,” I mumbled. “She’s smart, she’s funny, she’s absolutely stunning, and she has one of the biggest hearts I’ve ever seen. She’s handled everything thrown at her with far more grace than I ever could have and she’s going to be an absolutely incredible mom.” Downing the rest of my last drink I sighed heavily. “But we’re just friends and it’s going to stay that way.” 

“So you love her and you obviously love her baby...what’s the fucking problem?” Whit pushed. 

“The problem is that she deserves more. Better.” At those words, every head at the table turned to look at me. 

“What the fuck does that mean?” RA questioned, his tone brusque. 

“It means that she could do so much better than me. I don’t exactly have the best reputation with women or in general. She deserves someone that can match her in intelligence and who won’t fucking stain her name with his own. She deserves someone who isn’t mentally fucked up...who doesn’t experience episodes where he can barely take care of himself let alone her and the baby. She deserves stability.” 

After spilling out all of the reasons why friends was all we were ever going to be, I expected some resistance, what I didn’t expect was Whit to bust out laughing at me. Glaring at him I clenched my jaw and he just shook his head. 

“You’re a fucking moron Paul. You’re making excuses as to why you aren’t good enough for her and she’s making excuses as to why she’s not good enough for you when in reality you’re perfect for each other.” 

“What are you talking about?” I pressed, swirling the ice in my glass aimlessly. 

“I’m talking about the fact that she told Brie she didn’t think that you’d ever even have sex with her because she’s not your type. She minimizes anything you feel for her proclaiming that it’s just the baby you’re attached to. She thinks that all you’d ever want to be is Uncle Paul so how could you possibly want to pursue more when a relationship with her would come with the baggage of a baby that’s not yours. She’s just as insecure as you are….but I guarantee you that the way you’re shaking your head about the things she’s worried about would be the same way she’d react to the things you’re worried about.” 

It baffled me to think that Leigh thought I wouldn’t want her. At the same time, I couldn’t help but wonder if that expression meant that she actually did want me. For a while, conversation traveled back to less serious topics but before we headed back to the hotel for the night Whit pulled me aside one more time. 

“Look I get you have your own concerns and that you’re worried about unnecessarily dumping something else onto her plate but don’t let either of those fears keep you from something that could be great. Now may not be the right time, but I’ve seen the two of you together and you both bring out the best parts of each other...so just be patient and things will work out like they’re supposed to.” 

It wasn’t until I was settled into bed that I was able to watch the ultrasound video Leigh had sent me. Between that and dinner’s conversation, the moment that I closed my eyes, too many thoughts, thoughts of Leigh and the baby she was carrying, filled my mind making sleep impossible. Was it really possible that she felt the same way I did? Did I want to play a role more than Uncle in this baby’s life? Was she ready to move on after having her heart crushed not once, not twice, but three times? 

~~~

Just like she had said, Leigh dropped her pregnancy announcement as we were leaving Nova Scotia. Swiping through the photos I couldn’t help but be mesmerized at the way her bump had grown in the short time since I’d seen her last. She was very obviously pregnant now and though her photos only barely showed her face it was easy to see how much pregnancy suited her and how she was glowing because of it. 

Unsurprisingly the announcement garnered some attention both positive and negative. There were people both in her personal life and around the league that were absolutely thrilled for her. Then there were people that had very much jumped to conclusions as she expected they would and though there really wasn’t anything I could do, I was angry that I couldn’t protect her from their harsh words and suspicions. If I thought she’d let me, I’d chew out every idiot on the internet but deep down I knew that kind of attention would only make things worse. Instead, I focused on distracting her away from that content, asking questions about her plans for a nursery while trying to hide the feelings that were getting harder and harder to suppress.  

By the time her birthday arrived in the second week of July, I was determined to do something special for her. Though we were once again on opposite sides of the country I had been planning for her birthday since we left Vegas. In addition to sending flowers, I’d booked her a pregnancy massage session hoping to help alleviate some of the aches and pains she’d been complaining of. It didn’t seem like much to me but when she called after her appointment raving over how much better she felt, it was evident that my gesture was appreciated. Though I didn’t generally make posts for others on their birthdays, I felt compelled to share a few photos of the woman who had brightened my life up just by being a part of it. It was a little sappy but if anyone deserved it, it was her. 

Though we talked almost daily and her selfies came more frequently as dustbunny continued growing, I still found myself counting the days until I would see her in person next. And to be frank, it couldn’t come soon enough. I was completely screwed...but to be honest there was a part of me that knew that the moment I first laid eyes on her. 

Chapter 10 Social Media:

[amnachil]

The College Society Chapter 4 Part 5

And here’s the next part! An important one in many aspects.

TW : there are mentionning of rape

Damian Nicholas Smith Carrey Sunday March 31

So the old fart had been informed. The junior's phone started to ring at 7 am. At first, he decided to ignore it. Maybe the old codger would let it go. This is only false hope but whatever. Damian Nicholas Smith Carrey dissembled he didn't know where is phone was. But he needed it to answer the baboon's texts. They were planning a date for this afternoon before he started to work. He wanked off in order to ignore the ring bell, but it didn't work. Of course, he could've put his phone on silent, but it won't change the matter. The old fart was going to call him the whole day until he answered. Even the whole week if he needed to. He's a pain in my ass. Eventually, the junior gave up and picked up the phone.

"At least you deign to answer gummy bunny." mumbled his father without even a hello. "I think we've something fuckin' important to talk about."

The lad sighed. He had hoped this silly conversation would never happen.

"There are thousands of idiotic students in your lame university who can be fucked. I'm sure you could've find a pathetic boyfriend in the whole town easily. And yet, you decided to date the one and only damned Strucker around ?! Are you fuckin' kidding me kid ?"

"Don't be disrespectful old fart." retorted Damian Nicholas Smith Carrey. "Your insolence annoys me."

"Oh don't be like that you brat ! Seriously a Strucker ?! The filthy descendants of Isaac should rot in hell you know that !"

Well, a few months ago, the junior had been thinking the same. Isaac Strucker was an asshole, who betrayed their family's trust to earn money. Business men like him were the worst. However, the baboon had made himself a big place in Damian Nicholas Smith Carrey's life. He's more important to me than I would admit. It was a weird feeling, something like a disease. Honestly, for such a good hunter, it was beyond understanding. The blond couldn't explain it but... I just feel nice with him. Like if it was... right to be with him. He had never experienced such a thing before, and yes, he was curious. I want to see where this relationship is going. So the family's hate towards the Strucker couldn't get in the way.

"Look dad." he mumbled. "The fact is, Liam and his siblings don't want anything to do with their father. They've been raised by their mother, who is actually involved in legals proceedings with Isaac. So they ain't our foes."

A long and strange blank followed. The student perceived muffled noises and guessed his old man was talking with the old hag. He distincly heard her scream however. What the hell ? She continued to yell, completely over enthusiatic. It didn't last long before he also heard his sister laugh. What the fuck ? What is all this commotion about ?

"I can't believe it..." whined his father. "You called me dad ! You were 5 when you decided old fart suited me better ! I can't believe it !"

Damian Nicholas Smith Carrey felt both embarrassed and very annoyed. What the hell was wrong with this family ? They were nuts. Less than the baboon, but even so.

"So it's must be very important for you gummy bunny." continued Robert Smith. "You are very serious about this relationship, aren't you ?"

"Yeah, I guess so..."

This whole talk was very awkward.

"I'm ready to give him a chance." decided the old fart. "I want to meet him and see for myself."

"Meet him ? When ?"

"Soon."

When he arrived to the baboon's place this afternoon, Damian Nicholas Smith Carrey was quite pissed. Not only his father planned to come here soon, but he had also heard from D.R. As the head of their community, she strongly disapproved the bounty. She said the culprit would be found and punished, aswell as anyone who actually earnt money from the hunt. But in reality, she couldn't do much. As long as she didn't know who the asshole was, she couldn't arrest him. As for the hunters, as long as they were hunting without acquiring profit, they were authorized to do so. In other words, these bitches were allowed to hunt the baboon for now. They are only forbidden to claim the bounty, but that won't stop them. They can take it and never tell anyone. Anyway, the couple found a private area and sat together. Almost thoughtlessly, Damian Nicholas Smith Carrey sat on the baboon's lap, and started to feed him his recently cooked pastries. While doing that, he began to complain about this and that.

"I mean, my father isn't a bad person." he was explaining. "But he can be annoying. I want us to take the time, and he's going too fast... like my mother... he wants to meet you already. I can't believe what I'm saying baboon. Do you imagine ? Me, I want to take my time ? That's the biggest joke !"

On the spur of the moment, he also commenced to punch (gently) his boyfriend's belly. This one was listening and eating at the same time, only nodding from time to time. The food seemed to please him, which made the blond feed him faster.

"All that shit is new to me you know ?" continued Damian Nicholas Smith Carrey. "Of course, I've already been in a relationship but not... not this kind. I'm sentimentally involved here you know ? This is your fault, with your cute eyes and all. I'm... like a teenager again. Everything you do is cute to me and this is ridiculous. And you know what ? I think I suck at being a good boyfriend. My family is already bothering you and all, pff. Not to mention the bastards who are... nevermind, I shouldn't say that."

It continued for a while. The junior complained, fed and punched his boyfriend all at the same time. Eventually, the baboon stopped the punching hand and smiled timidely.

"Babe... urrp.... Sorry ! Can you stop hitting me ?" he asked. "It's kind of.. burrp. Sorry again... It hurts now that I am getting full."

"Today is my whining day, you don't have the right to lament too !" mumbled Damian Nicholas Smith Carrey, but he stopped even so. "Just eat that and listen to me."

He shoved a delicious chocolate brownie in his baboon's mouth.

"Where was I ? Oh right, and so my sister's husband is..."

He blathered during at least half an hour before Liam's taunt belly pushed him off his lap. The chestnut boy had grown like a balloon. His belly had swollen to the size of a watermelon. When Damian Nicholas Smith Carrey gave him some space, Liam groaned. His hands quickly rubbed his distended middle section. He belched loudly.

"That was... uuurrp... good..." he moaned. "You can... urf... continue.... I'm.... uuurp okay...."

He didn't look okay. Wait... I fed him the three bags ? Two were supposed to be for his friends and him during the week ! Oh crap. Why this dummy hadn't stop him ?! Softly, the junior put his hands on the baboon's side. This one grunted. His belly made discomforted noises. Kindly, Damian Nicholas Smith Carrey started to rub this complaining tummy. Of course you've a stomach ache if you ate that much ! Idiot.

"Dami... burrrp... Just so you... urrp know... I'm very bottom when I'm.... overstuffed uuurp."

Among everything he could've said, why on earth did he decide to say this ?! The blond lad glanced at the baboon's crotch. He had a significant boner. Oh my god... I already saw him in speedo but they were right when they said he was well-endowed !

"We won't do that on this bench in the middle of a park." he whispered, honestly short of breath because he was thrilled by the idea.

"Oh no... buurp. I'm not... uuurp ready for that... But you seemed like... you could've used a little... buuurp... distraction from... burrp... your problems. Now you'll... uuurrp... be thinking about... burp me."

Oh the little pervert.

Liam Tuesday April 2

The freshman was showering after an intense training. He had many things on his mind. His relationship with Dami was improving for the better. He could feel some... sexual tension now. At the same time, Nate continued to worry him. His general condition recovered but there were still moments when he was suffering. About his family's case, things were yet to change. For now, nothing happened and he didn't have any idea how to help his mother. And Liam was also preoccupied by the unicorns endless war against the witch. Everyday, this pawn of the forces of evil tried to murder him. She was everywhere, following him like a plague. He felt safe only when Dami was around.

"Dat ass..." mumured an high-pitched tone.

Liam turned and faced a girl. In the men showers. Well, he wasn't judgmental : maybe this person identified as a male. He was about to go back to his business when they came suddenly closer.

"I guess I got the wrong shower !" they chortled. "I'm Miranda by the way."

So she was a girl or not ? What is she doing ? He stepped backwards when she tried to touch him. She had only a towel to cover her bare body. What was she thinking exactly ?!

"You're hot." she continued. "Don't tell me you ain't a little tempted ?"

Tempted by what ? She doesn't have food... (Liam isn't a complete idiot, but... yeah he was off track). She came closer and dropped her towel.

"Ooops my bad." she chuckled.

Liam quickly turned his head and grabbed the towel.

"There." he said. "You should go back to your shower before someone else see you."

The girl smirked. She looked right at his crotch. Wait a second. WAIT. Only now he realised he was also naked. Oh man this is very embarrassing. As fast as possible, he hurtled to the lockers and wrapped himself in his towel.

"I'm sorry." he stammered. "It must have been very awkward !"

She frowned.

"Okay I think we're not on the same page here." she mumbled. "I offer you my body. Come and take it please ?"

Your body ? Was she a fanatic who was ready to sacrifice herself ?! Did she want him to summon a demon ?!

"I'm sorry." he repeated. "I don't think killing you to protect myself is alright. No, I'm pretty sure it's not."

She gawked, astonished. She looks very disappointed. But he couldn't sacrifice few to save the many. The chestnut lad dressed up hurriedly.

"Again, sorry. Thank you for volunteering though."

And he left her.

He headed back to his apartment, where Dami was waiting for him. It was kind of a quiet place for them since Nick and Nate were perfectly aware of their relationship. So it wasn't very surprising when the junior lay down on the couch and put his head on Liam's lap. He leaned on his soft belly while texting to someone. He's often on the phone but he doesn't know how to use it. Nick was slumped on the floor, using a lot of cushions to be comfortable. He was focusing on his game anyway. As for Liam, he was peacefully munching on Dami's most recent cooking : oatmeal raisin cookies. He's very good at cooking but his desserts are the best of the best. Behind them, Colton was in the kitchen, busy with his homework. Their friend and Nick were apparently growing closer since the first was giving swimming lesson to the second. So seeing them all here, Liam thought they could be happy. But of course, it didn't last long. The forces of evil were always right here, hidden in the darkest places. Nate bursted like an hurricane and rushed to their shared bedroom in a split second. Dami stood up straight.

"What the hell was that ?"

They heard muffled noises which looked like sobbings. Liam quickly joined his bestfriend, only to find him huddled up under his blanket. His eyes were red and full of fear. He was shaking and crying his eyes out. The chestnut lad was instantly at his side, a reassuring arm around his shoulders.

"Hey Nate, I'm here..." he whispered. "I'm here..."

The shortest boy curled up even more. He seemed so scared, so frail.

"You're safe..." Liam insisted. "I'm right here with you okay ?"

The others stayed at the entrance, but they were all worried aswell. Even Dami looked genuinely concerned. It took a while before Nate managed to speak.

"Can you... can you call Archie please ?" he asked. "I... I need him ?"

Liam nodded and glanced at his boyfriend. This one took his phone and moved away to call. In the mean time, Nick brought tissues, some cookies and water for their crying friend.

"I was on my way when they bumped into me..." sobbed Nate. "I know it was only a bunch of drunk girls... I know it... They were probably only trying to chat me up..."

He whimpered. He nestled to his bestfriend, deeply afraid.

"I don't want them to do it again... Don't let them do it again please..." he begged.

The room felt silent. Liam didn't know what to say, but he stayed there, hugging his soulmate as best possible. A tear fell on his cheek. Why him ? Why did it happen to him ?

Nicolas Tuesday April 2 – Wednesday April 3

It was almost almost 10 pm when Archibald showed up. He went straight to Nate and asked for privacy. Nick frowned, a bit annoyed to be useless, but when he noticed Liam's face, he just obeyed. They knew eachother for approximately eight months now and he had never seen this expression. His roommate was like... so angry and sad at the same time that his face couldn't chose one emotion. They gathered in the living room, where Liam sat in silent. I don't know what to say. Or what to do...

"Did you know since the beginning ?" asked suddenly the chestnut lad to Damian Nicholas Smith Carrey.

This one sighed.

"Not exactly. I had my doubts, but he never shared with me what really happened. And he asked me to not tell any of you. That was his story to tell."

For a dreadful moment, only silent followed. Liam was a slow thinker, so he was probably realising slowly all the implications. Nick clenched his fist. What was the proper way to react ? What am I supposed to do with this knowledge ?!

"Can you say it ?" asked Liam. "What happened to him ? Or else I won't be sure..."

"I don't know the specifics..." mumbled his boyfriend. "But I think you got it right. Nate has been raped."

It didn't take long before Liam blew a fuse. First, he stood up and hit the lamp next to him. It fell on the floor and broke, but he didn't notice it. Nick immediately grabbed his console and games. His friend punched the wall. His breath was short, his body shaking. He took his head in his hand and howled like a wild beast. I feel you... The raven-haired lad glanced at Colton and Damian Nicholas Smith Carrey. Oh wait... that's new. Slowly, he approached Liam.

"Bud'... I know this must be very hard for you but please... you have to calm down." he whispered.

His friend glared at him with crazy eyes. If Nick didn't knew him, he would have run for his life.

"Liam... here just look there." he said while pointed towards Damian Nicholas Smith Carrey.

It worked pretty fast. The chestnut lad's breath simmered down. Well, it must be said, they had never saw such a face from his boyfriend. The Dean's grandson was sincerely feeling guilty. It something they weren't used to.

"I... this is not your fault Dami." stated Liam. "I just... I don't know what to do... I'm... I'm just lost."

Nick sighed. We all are.

"Shall we call the police ?" asked Colton.

"It won't help." suddenly intervened Archibald. "Okay guys, I think we need to talk."

The quaterback explained Nate had fallen asleep. According to him, it was a sort of panic attack triggered by some random girls which reminded the dramatic event to the poor lad.

"You must keep in mind this is normal." he assured. "Anyone who experienced a rape will have memories of it haunting them for a very long time, even forever."

They were all sat around Archibald and listening in silent. Nick heard his computer ring from a notification. His virtual friends were waiting, but it didn't matter. Not tonight.

"I don't intend to lie." he continued. "Nate needs to be seen. His body had been stolen from him but he has been also mentally affected of course. It won't heal easily, and maybe never completely. The Nate you knew will never come back. But it doesn't mean he can't overcome it. There are many ways to help, and most of them are very simple."

It picked Liam and Nick's interest. I think we're feeling the same thing. Clueless and useless. The raven-haired lad was already hating himself for not having noticed sooner. He couldn't imagine how his roommate was dealing with this feeling.

"First of all, Nate needs a safe environment while he works on himself and his newly acquired insecurities. Until now, you have been providing this place for him, and it worked very well. However, I advise you to never let him go somewhere alone, especially when it's dark. But in the same time, do not confine him in here. It's important he doesn't feel trapped."

They nodded. This is only logical I guess...

"I will say the obvious, but Nate needs you." carried on Archibald. "Thanks to your presence, he's constantly reminded there are people who actually care about him as an human being. This is why despite what happened tonight, you must act as normally as you always do. Being there to comfort him when he's feeling bad is only one aspect of the work you've to do. The more you show him a normal life with happiness, the better. Liam, this is were you part is very important."

"What do you mean ?" asked the chestnut lad.

"Well, he told me how much you're important for him. He's definitely trusting you more than anyone else. That's why he didn't want you to know : he doesn't want you to see him differently than before. I know it can be hard, but you've to carry on with your actual life. Go on dates with your boyfriend, enjoy your meals, talk about unicorns and stuff... Show him you want him in this life. If you're constantly looking after him, you'll only made him feel even guiltier."

"I think I understand... but I don't know if I'll be able to do it now that I know the truth..." Liam confessed.

"You'll." assured Damian Nicholas Smith Carrey. "If it's for his sake, you'll."

"Okay, I think this is it." concluded Archibald. "Oh... about the culprits... It is better if you don't think about them at all. Let me be clear, Nate knows his rapists, but there is no point in asking him, you'll only made him recall this night. Besides, collecting evidences is very hard in this kind of case... Nate will talk to the police only once he's ready to do so. Don't push him, okay ?"

They all agreed. He did say rapists... So several people... This was so... so disturbing. Something else tormented Nick. He decided to ask whatever might be the answer.

"How come you're so well informed about this stuff ?" he wondered.

Archibald looked at him. The others were also interested.

"We shouldn't talk about that." intervened the Dean's grandson. "It is private and not something you want to hear, trust me. All I'll say is : Archie has way more experience than anyone here, me included. So it's better to listen to him."

The answer is obvious tho... Nick nodded.

"It's past midnight. You should all go to sleep." claimed Damian Nicholas Smith Carrey. "Archie, a word outside."

To be continued

Well, a bit of everything.

Some development for our favorite couple. A crazy family part 2. And a sad story... Nate needs all the help and all the love!!