#and after almost 600 chapters it seems like a good moment to do it | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

renneiscent · 2 years

Text

You Are All That Matters

As I told you on previous chapter, I might be changing some of the place’s details. I have done my own research to build the place based on what I have in my mind. Please be gentle with me since I got help from Mr. Google and exploring the mines and woods is none of my field. Thank you for bearing it with me and spending your time to read this.

Chapters: 11/?

< Previous Chapter | Next Chapter >

Walking to the Grimrock while holding hands with Jake is such a thrilling and electrifying moment, I mean my heart cannot stop pounding hard and please don’t get me wrong, I love holding hands with him but I don’t think I will survive until the next minute. Luckily the weather’s tonight… or this morning—since it’s already 2 in the morning—is kind of cold and helping my hand didn’t let out unnecessary sweats around my palm that Jake have been holding. After Jake embraced and kissed my forehead and how he always asks my condition every minute, my body is working really hard tills now to remain calm.

“Are you okay?”

“I’m okay, Jake. What about you?”

“I’m good. Are you cold?”

“No, it’s fine. You are not cold, are you?”

“Everything’s fine, MC. You tell me when you are not feeling well.”

“Of course, I return the same.”

“You sure you okay?”

“You are being fussy out of sudden, hm?”

“My apologise. I have no idea why but without I’m aware, I just want to check your condition every minute.”

“I feel safe since you are here, Jake. You don’t have to worry. I will tell you when I’m not quite well and you do tell me.”

And since that, he didn’t ask my condition constantly anymore. I get it he is worried as hell especially after Michael messaged saying that he have been waiting for us—I mean it's just me, mostly. Thinking about it, what will happen if I meet and face to face with Michael with just two of us? What are we going to discuss? I already have one question to ask him, though. I’m quite curious about how he knew me specifically my number since no one in the group—Lilly is different case—claimed that they didn’t pass my number to everyone else. Everything somehow didn’t fit.

The breeze is whipping through the woods as the tree branches are slowly dancing in the dark, while the moonlight illuminates in the sky giving its light as the spotlight. Our surrounding is so quiet and calm, the only sounds that accompany us are the breeze that slipping through the lattice of leaves and cracking undergrowth in every each step of our feet. I look at the sky above us through the trees and still wonder why on earth tonight’s sky look so sad and lonely? There is nothing but the moon as the only one that decorates as if the stars and the moon are having their own dispute.

“We almost there,” Jake warns with his quiet tone as he starts walking more slowly. His hand on mine is holding even tighter than before, makes me startled and look at him in confusion. But he didn’t say anything and only focus to lead our path.

As we are walking, we almost reach the end of the woods and now I can see there is a wide field ahead of us. I cannot see clearly because the darkness is enveloping and either of our flashlights or the moonlight isn’t so helpful, since the moon itself is suddenly swallowed up by the night sky yet our flashlights cannot explore all spots with its light. But there seems to be nothing particular there. I vaguely saw only a few fallen tree trunks lying down like they were waiting for their death.

“Is this Grimrock?” I ask sincerely. My eyes keep roaming to every spot of this place. I never had been in this place like this. I never walked into the woods, or mines, or strangely unknown field with trees lying around, in the middle of the night, under the dark sky. So, it’s kind of intriguing my interest to learn some things about other side of Duskwood.

“Yes. But not specifically the waterfall, the waterfall itself is more or less 600 meter from here. You don’t happen wanting to encounter Michael by yourself, do you?” Jake nudges my shoulder with his.

“I would love to, if he has more comfy place and something warm and sweet to accompany our ted talk.” I reply with nudge his shoulder too.

Jake chuckles then taking out his phone from his jacket’s pocket; without showing difficulty, his hand right now is full by holding the flashlight and now his phone. But it doesn’t seem to bother him since he has this big hand like mostly guys in common. What bothering me is how he chose to keep holding my hand while he could just let me go and hold his phone with another hand; it is flattering for me though.

After scanning whatever things on his phone, Jake then gestures me to continue our walk. We are walking just few steps from our previous position until my eyes are lying on this big hatch on the ground with a wooden block on top of it. The hatch is pretty big than I expected and the lid is made of wood. If we are here when the sun’s awake, we could notice there is this hatch immediately. But since there is nothing but our flashlight, it is hard to notice from the distance.

“I will try to open it and I need both of my hands, okay? I want you to help me by holding the flashlights so I can see and move the lid clearly.”

I nod and immediately let go of our hands and take Jake’s flashlight. He then walks toward the hatch and moves the wooden block that blocking the hatch. The block looks heavy for me but Jake is carrying it without trouble. How much exactly this guy’s energy? While I’m pointing both of our flashlights to shine into the hatch, Jake is moving to open the hatch. The hatch is easy to open since the wooden block has been lifted, perhaps that’s the reason why that block was there.

“Mind to give the flashlight?” he is now crouching in the side of the hatch, I hand him the flashlight then he is pointing the flashlight under the hatch; trying to see whatever it is down there. “Hmm, it is so dark down there and there is no ladder. How unfortunate my research didn’t help to tell me, but I need to know how much of the depth there before we are able to jump down.”

“We can throw something into the hatch and its sound will let us know.” I suggest while taking one of the stones near my leg then approach Jake and crouching beside him. I then throw the stone that was as big as my hand down there. The sound from the stone that I threw before is not that far which means the hatch is not that deep from us and it sounds like the range is safe for us to jump down.

“Good job. Now I will go first, you stay here before I tell you to. Okay?” his voice is firm and how his eyes are sharp; showing the authority that making me feel intimidated. Jake is as solid as the rock and I’m just a liquid that will follow him from behind.

“Okay, but be careful.”

He gives a nod then tries to have proper position before he jumps down to the hatch. My heart practically dropped down to my stomach after looking him jump inside, but thankfully Jake shout right away and it ease my worries, “I’m alright. You will also be fine. You can take your time to jump, I will catch you.” I can see the light from his flashlight.

“You don’t have to catch me, I will jump now.” I take a deep breath for preparing myself. It is not that deep, MC, you will be fine. After finding comfy position and my stable mental, I then jump into the hatch right away.

I’m landing with my feet and without breaking anything. So, it’s not that deep at all. I was being worried for no reasons.

“You okay?” Jake grabs my shoulder and there is close gap between us.

I smile at him and give him my thumb, “never felt better.”

“Very well. Now I want you to stay close. Keep focus and follow me from behind.” He didn’t wait for my response and just walking in front of me, leading the path like the parent that shielding their child. It feels like I’m with my own brother right now or probably I’m having two brothers already.

The place we are in right now is so dark and dreary; the only lights that accompany us are our own flashlights. Our surrounding is nothing but rough rock walls, meanwhile the path along our way there are broken rails for mine carts. The air is so moist and heavy, it’s so thick with the humidity and you also can smell the mix of cold stone and musty into one new smell; making you has difficulty to breath.

“Shit, the reception in here is very unreliable.” Jake sighs as he keeps his phone to his pocket. To be frank, I’m surprised hearing Jake said cuss word. I never thought he will be cursing too when everything is out of his control. I secretly laugh in amusement.

“We are already in Ironsplinter Mine, right?” I open new conversation.

“Yes. Why?” Jake still sounds so annoyed, probably because of the reception here.

“I almost thought we are in our Desert Island. It’s too comfy here.” I try to light up the mood.

He is laughing then taking a glance from his shoulder, “sorry if it’s not with what we have imagined. There is no power, even no strong signal.”

“No worries, at least I have someone that I can bother,” I shrug.

“That guy must been really lucky.” Jake murmur as he tries to take off his mask and put it into his other pocket. The air in this mine probably makes him difficult to breathe through that mask.

“I don’t know, you think so?” I tilt my head, trying to see the glimpse of his face from behind with silly smile on my face.

“Of course, he is the luckiest. Why do you think it’s not?” now it’s his turn to tilt his head and look at me while smiling. I didn’t prepare with that kind of response so I look away and pull my hood to cover my face even more, I don’t want him to see my face right now which of course already turned into rosiness on both of my cheeks.

“The mine is really extensive,” I clear my throat, trying to change the topic. “What if he’s been hiding here from the beginning?”

“Hmm, since I estimate that Michael has about 30 miles of tunnel at his disposal…” I take glance on Jake as he’s speaking, “it would be possible. And then he must know his way around here quite well.” He’s clenching his jaw then suddenly he is putting his hand in front of me as a gesture to stop walking like what he did now.

“Jake?”

“We have reached a shaft. Come on.” Jake quickly walks toward the shaft and I follow him from behind. He is standing in front of the shaft’s ladder and pointing the way down with his flashlight. “According to my research, the ladders in this shaft go down for about 200 feet.” He is explaining while his eyes are still fixated on the shaft.

I hold my breath while laying my eyes down there too, this is ridiculously scary. But there is no turning back, this is once in a lifetime, MC. Come on!

“I am going to need both hands for this part.” He is switching off his flashlight and keeping it into his backpack.

“And I will wait until your command telling me to climb down after you, and also…” I look at Jake who is still focusing his attention on the shaft; his face is expressing how worried he is. “I will give you the spotlight!” I move my flashlight as a sign that I will help him with the lighting. Jake turns his face and looks at me that already giving him my silly smile, he is grinning.

“Good,” his hand reaches my back head and pulls it to lean on his head; we are pressing our forehead as we are staring at each other. His eyes are so warm and deep making me not scared to fall in and be drowned there even for a bit. “I know that I can always count on you.”

< Previous Chapter | Next Chapter >

#duskwood #duskwood fanfiction #duskwood jake #duskwood mc #duskwood game #duskwood fandom #everbyte game #everbyte studios #jake x mc

31 notes · View notes

g0ldengubler · 4 years

Text

chapter 9 ~ ...and the after party

A/N: i’m baaaaaccckkkk! i hope u guys enjoy this chapter and expect 10 coming soon! also thank you guys for almost 600 followers! that’s insane i love u guys🥺🥺 get ready for the one shot coming right after this ;) (also i will fix this so it has the keep reading part sometime this week i’m on my phone lol)

Category: smut (NSFW18+)

CW: use of cannabis, hangover, lots of smut at the end.

Word Count: 2598

✨masterlist✨

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

You were awoken by the feeling of arms wrapping around you as the pounding in your head grew. Taking Spencer's hand, you covered your eyes thinking it would calm it down a bit as you thought back to last night. You couldn't remember much, but you did remember feeling happy and content, being surrounded by people you could actually call family and not feel the need the hold back anything about you. You remember feeling free, whether that was the alcohol talking or not. You've only known Spencer and the team for only a short time, and through that, you've gotten to know Spencer at, what felt like, a deeper level. That was something you never really could do or feel, growing up - to feel like you belonged.

Carefully moving his hand back to where it was before, you let your eyes flutter open as the pounding got worse. You looked around the room to see that you and Spencer had taken the couch and you were the first one awake. You saw Emily and Jj passed out on the floor, their heads on pillows and blankets wrapped around them. You figured that Garcia and Morgan were asleep in her room, as the two couldn't take their hands off each other last night, and Hotch had passed out on the recliner, his snoring being the loudest of them all which didn't surprise you until you realized you got wasted with your boss. You chuckle softly to yourself, knowing that this would be one hell of a story to tell in the future, hell maybe even tell Seth when you got back.

You felt the body next to you shift and looked to your right, seeing a sleepy Dr.Reid rubbing the sand out of his eyes. As he shifted the weight of his body onto his elbow, he smiled when he saw you before putting a hand on his head.

"How much did I drink last night?" He asked.

"Good morning to you, too." You said before leaning over and kissing his forehead.

Spencer wraps his arm around you and pulls you in closer. As the two of you talked about what you remembered, everyone started to wake up one by one, joining in on the conversation. Garcia came in before Morgan woke up and made everyone tea and gave each one of you some advil for the headaches.

"Where did Rossi go?" asked Jj.

"Rossi already had an Uber ready to pick him up from the bar," said Hotch, "I just checked my phone and he had texted me when he got home."

"Anyone up for food?" asked Emily, "I'm starving!"

"Anyone have any plans today?" asked Garcia.

Everyone shook their heads. "I haven't even thought that far since we got back from Michigan." you said.

''Good! Because I already had something in mind."

"You always do, baby girl." jokes Morgan, which made everyone chuckle to themselves.

She looks around the room as an evil grin grew on her face. All but Morgan were confused. "Ok, no," he says, "I don't think anyone would want to do that, especially Hotch."

"What wouldn't I want to do?" asked Hotch, looking even more confused than before.

Morgan sighs before speaking, as if he didn't want to say this in front of him. "Garcia has been wanting everyone over for a "proper smoke sesh", not like the last time. She's been like this ever since she got these new hemp blunt wraps."

"They're healthier than normal ones," she said, looking a little annoyed with Morgan, "they're better than getting leftover tobacco and nicotine in your system."

Hotch sat there for a moment, sipping on his tea while thinking about it. He put his thumb under his chin and his index finger on top, going through the scenarios and the pros and cons. "I mean," he spoke, "Jessica still has Jack over at Hershey Park from their weekend vacation, and I wouldn't have to be back until tomorrow...."

"...So is that a yes?" asked Emily.

There a was a pause for a moment, and in that moment you could feel the unnecessary tension in the room.

"...yeah I'll stay for tonight," he confesses, "but we do NOT talk about this with anyone else. I haven't smoked weed since college."

"Didn't you go to law school, though?" asked Spencer.

"How do you think we got through law school?"

Everyone cheered jokingly and laughed at the fact that their boss was getting high with them. Never did you think that within the beginning of your time with the BAU, you came at a time where the whole team was given their first uninterrupted, paid vacation that desperately needed, and was able to find love and do things you didn't think they'd do. You knew this night was going to be even more interesting than last night.

____

Something about getting high with others made you feel it more than usual. Could've been because it's more fun with more people, but that train of thought faded into the fog of your brain as your attention shifted to the cards in front of you. That night, Garcia had rolled the blunt and everyone passed it around until it was a roach, Hotch having a coughing fit at one point, but she had made her way to her room after and had the box of Cards Against Humanity in one hand and a bong and grinder in her other. Spencer cracked up the most out of all of you when Hotch had his coughing fit, you couldn't tell what was funnier.

As Changes by David Bowie played in the background, you were enjoying your own little version of the game. Whoever lost the round had to take a bong rip, and boy was Hotch having a rough night as he couldn't seem to get a win.

It came to the final round, and you and Spencer were tied on 9 black cards. The black card was, 'When I was tripping on acid, ____ turned into ____', and it was Jj's turn to pick. She luckily narrowed it down to two cards, one of them being yours. As she read them allowed, you noticed that she laughed at yours a little more than the other one. She ended up choosing yours and you cheered that you won the game, deciding that you wanted to take a victory rip. As you exhaled without choking, you caught Spencer out of the corner of your eye rolling his, which you pretended to ignore.

You lay back on the couch afterward and snuggled into Spencer as he wrapped an arm around you. Everyone talked amongst themselves, eating the snacks that were placed out on the coffee table. You felt Spencer lean in as he whispered, "That's not how you were last time," he said "you were completely gagging."

"Are you just jealous that you choked when you took a bong rip?" You teased. You knew where this was going, but you hoped that he had a plan and where to go.

Spencer looks around the room before leaning back to your ear. "Where it all started," he said, "follow 5 minutes after me and if anyone asks you're going to the bathroom, clear angel?"

You simply nod as you watch him get up. You pretend to look at your phone, keeping your head down, but you would look up a little bit to watch him stumble his way. After five minutes you get up and head to Garcia's room, where you see Spencer spread out on the bed looking up at the stars, just like that night.

"Well well well," You said after shutting the door, "someone looks spaced out." You sit next to him on the bed, where he sits up on his shoulder.

Spencer pushes a strand of hair out of your face smiling. "Nice one," he says, "but I'm going to be honest, I think we should skip all the foreplay."

He pushes you down on the bed as he gets on top of you. You felt the air leave your body as his lips went straight for your neck, devouring the blank space. "I need you so bad, y/n," Spencer says breathless, "it was hard hiding myself after in front of everyone as you took those rips. I couldn't stop thinking about pounding you."

"Well get to it then, daddy." You said as innocently as you could, palming him through his pants.

That was the push he needed. He quickly ripped off your jeans with your panties going with as you ripped him out of his. You saw his cock hit his stomach and you couldn't hold in your moan. Spencer quickly covered your mouth shushing you. "I know they have Bowie going on repeat, but I don't think it'll cover our beautiful voices, however. Can you be a good girl and try to be quieter?"

Muffled, you say yes. Spencer moves you up higher on the bed so your head could rest on the pillows. He doesn't even tease your entrance as he pushes all the way into you. Your jaw hits the mattress as you let out a silent scream. He wouldn't even let you adjust as he quickly moves inside you.

"Fuck daddy it feels so good!" You moan out.

"You're so fucking tight, angel...And so wet-fuck...You like being fucked like a slut, hm? You like getting pounded into the mattress like this?"

"Yes yes yes yessss!"

He leans down and lifts your shirt up, showing that you weren't wearing a bra as your tits glow in the moonlight. He tsks at no bra before letting it slide and attaches his mouth to your right nipple. Your fingers tangle in his hair as he flicks your nipple with his tongue, intoxicated by the amount of pleasure you were feeling.

Shortly after, you felt the pressure in your lower stomach start to drop and you tighten your grip around his cock and he lets out groan.

"You getting close, angel?" He asks.

"Please let me cum daddy, please please please!" You beg.

He grabs the headboard with his left as he used his right for support, pounding you even harder and harder. Your grip on him tighten even more, making him tilt his head back at the friction.

"Cum for me angel, be a good girl and cum so hard all over my cock."

You throw a pillow over your face in fear of the other's finding out. You felt like you were screaming at the top of your lungs as he helped ride out your orgasm, but he didn't stop. He kept going at it, railing you to the mattress. You could feel yourself getting more and more sensitive as he kept going at it. You looked up to see him still holding onto the headboard as he throws his head back in pleasure. It was so hot to you that you felt yourself getting close again.

"Ca-I can't...take it daddy!" You whimper out.

Spencer looks down at you and gives you an evil grin as he chuckled to himself. "You can...and you will." He shuts his eyes tight and almost lets his jaw fall open as he felt you grip tightly to his cock again before saying, " I'm so close angel. You want me to cum in you?"

"Yes daddy pleeeasssee fill me up with all your cum!" You moan.

With a few more hard thrusts, they started to get sloppy as you felt him coat your walls and heard him moan and groan in your ear, cursing under his breath. Spencer falls on top of you as he finishes, trying to catch his breath. He falls to the side of you and watches his cum pool out of you.

Spencer's POV~

"You did so good, y/n," I say breathlessly, leaning down and showering her body in kisses. She immediately snuggled herself into my body, forcing me to wrap an arm around her. I think she knew the sex was great, and she told me she loved getting fucked like that, but I could tell she was falling as the vulnerability was starting to peak through.

"Hey," I say as I pepper her cheek in kisses, "You were such a good girl. Do you want me to get you anything? Water? Your pen?"

"Can you clean me up for now," She asks in a small voice, "I'm ok. Just let me try to stand first."

As she goes up to stand, she falls right back down to the bed. I tried to holding in my laughter as she kept trying before stopping her. "It's ok, let me go get something to clean you up and then we'll go back out there, ok?"

"Thank you Spence." She says, trying to hold back tears of embarrassment. I reach over and wipe a tear away from her face.

As I shut the door behind me to get a wipe from the bathroom, I noticed that everything was quiet. Too quiet. Not being able to find wipes in the bathroom, I slowly but casually (or as casually as I could act) walked to the kitchen. I couldn't even make it there as I froze where I stood in the living room, eyes darting on me with a few small grins poking out. I look at his team, as they look right back at me. It was Hotch who finally broke the tension in the air and started cracking up. No words, just laughter. Soon everyone else joined in, myself only giving small giggles and chuckles.

"You heard?"

"You're full of surprises, kid!" said Emily.

"That was you in there?" Morgan asked jokingly, "You. Pretty Rickey. You were saying all of that shit....Why do I feel like I need to learn from you now?"

That made Hotch laugh even more as he burst into another fit. Everyone looked over to him, some confused, some worried.

"Is he ok?" I asked.

Jj pats the top of his head and shook hers. "He'll be fine, he's gonna pass out any minute now."

"Where's y/n? Is she ok?" asked Garcia.

"Yeah she umm..." I was trying to think of the words to use but finally I just came out and said, "...Do you umm..have any wipes, Garcia? She's ok, she just uhh...can't get up without falling back on the bed."

As I gave my classic white, awkward smile, Garcia shook her head and told me she would take care of her. She grabs an ice pack from her freezer and then went over to her purse and grab a packet of baby wipes. She walks over to the hallway before stoping in front of me, making me nervous.

"Did you really have to have rough sex on my bed?"

"I mean, you and Morgan proba-"

"Never mind, just don't talk about it again."

She walks off pass me hurrying to y/n's aid. I look over to Morgan and he just chucked, motioning me to come sit next to him. I walk over and sit down, Morgan handing me the joint they were passing around. Hotch had finally passed out like Jj had said, and Emily put the music back on. I knew there were a lot of questions I wanted to ask, but I decided to save them for tomorrow as I continued to enjoy the night, waiting for y/n to come back out so I could hold her close and give her all my love after ruining her like that.

#spencer reid #spencer reid smut #spencer reid fanfiction #mgg #matthew gray gubler #criminal minds #criminal minds smut #criminal minds fanfiction

77 notes · View notes

slapshot-to-the-heart · 4 years

Text

When We Went From Friends to This - a. beauvillier

One day late, but here it is! I’ve been studying for the LSAT, but finally took it today, so I’ll have some more time to be writing more regularly now. Title is from Taylor Swift’s Paper Rings. I loved getting to write this, so please please let me know what you think, my inbox is always open! Reading the tags is one of my favorite things to do, and reblogs help me know people are liking my work.

word count: 7.7k+

September 18 (sat)

Astride Leclair was the kind of person you always wanted on your side. She’d drop anything for a friend, always be the first to reach out, and would never give up on something — or someone — without a fight. She was also incredibly stubborn. Astride had also always had a penchant for adventure, which is how she found herself in a new job 600 miles and one international border from her hometown. And she hated asking for help, it really didn’t matter the circumstance. Which is how she found herself alone, trying to heft an armchair up the stairs of her new apartment building after being very rudely informed by the width of the elevator door that it wasn’t going to fit.

The lump sum her firm gave her for relocation was enough to cover a fair amount of the furniture for her new place and she tried to bring as much as she could on the drive down, but it wasn’t like she was about to rent a U-Haul and there was only so much a Honda Civic could hold. And Astride was still her father’s daughter, still would rather step on a rusty nail than pay Ikea for assembly, so by God she was going to do it herself. And “doing it herself” apparently meant dragging an 80 pound box up three flights of stairs in 90º heat in September, when New York City seemed to have not quite yet gotten the memo that the rest of the Northern Hemisphere was now in fall.

Astride finally managed to get the chair in the door, propping the door open with one of her moving boxes, unceremoniously pulling the box through the entryway as she scooted backwards into the living room. The 600 square foot expanse of her apartment was covered in boxes, more boxes, and for good measure, extra boxes. There were moving boxes, furniture boxes, shoeboxes filled with anything except for actual shoes. There was her guitar leaning against the microwave, three suitcases worth of clothes in the barely-assembled bedroom, and her dog in a crate in the corner, who had started to whine.

“I know, baby, I’ll get you out soon,” Astride said, shooting a sympathetic glance towards the beagle mix. She had adopted Poutine a little over a year ago, soon after starting her first job out of university. It was never a question whether or not she would make the trip with Astride, and thankfully it was much easier than she anticipated to find a dog-friendly apartment in Brooklyn. It wasn’t too long a walk to Prospect Park, a little under a mile, and she was looking forward to getting out with Poutine later in the day. If, that was, she actually finished unpacking enough boxes to function like a normal human being. She had picked up her mattress-in-a-box earlier in the day, but it was still sitting in the corner of her bedroom and she wasn’t particularly looking forward to a night on the hardwood floor.

---

Three hours later, Astride had finally gotten all of the boxes out of her car and began to make decent headway on assembling the chair, finally having let Poutine out of her crate. The beagle trotted around the apartment, sniffing the baseboards, boxes, and single bag of groceries Astride had picked up from Whole Foods earlier in the day. The rest of her Ikea order was coming the next day, the actual bedframe and couch along with a couple of other larger furniture pieces that she had had to leave in Montréal. Whatever she couldn’t order online she’d find at a thrift store.

Astride looked tiredly over at the kitchen. She really wasn’t in the mood to cook, and was in even less of a mood to dig through all the boxes until she finally found her set of pots and pans. She really should have taken her mom’s advice and labeled everything, but Astride was stubborn as a mule, and once she was stuck in her ways, there was precious little anyone could do to convince her otherwise. Pulling out her phone, she navigated to her Uber Eats, feeling a tiny pang in her heart as she switched her location to New York. Not the language, though. Astride was so hungry that she literally clicked on whatever place could get there the fastest, which ended up being a Chinese place a mile or so away. After placing her order — she got an extra box of chow mein so she wouldn’t have to deal with breakfast the next day — she settled back into the hair, the only fully-assembled piece of furniture in the whole apartment. Her finger hovered over her Instagram for a moment before she clicked on it, liking a few photos before going to post one of her own. It was a picture of the Brooklyn Bridge as she crossed it that morning, Poutine’s head lolling out the front window. One tap and one caption later, it was posted.

---

Anthony flopped onto his bed, his duffel landing with a satisfying thump on the floor beside him. Training camp had just ended, and while he’d certainly been keeping up on his workouts over the summer, the hours upon hours of skating had nevertheless made him more than a little sore. He grabbed his phone, opening up Instagram and scrolling through the new posts, only half paying attention. Astride’s new photo caught his eye.

Sometimes, needing a change means a new haircut. Sometimes, it means a new country. Very excited to start this next chapter in my life. Salut, New York! Anthony quickly clicked onto her profile page and read her bio. International economics analyst. Eating my way through the world one pancake at a time. BCom McGill. MTL-NYC. He read the last line over and over again. MTL-NYC. He swiped back to the photo; she had tagged herself in Brooklyn. Brooklyn. She was less than an hour away, not even thirty if the traffic wasn’t bad. But she hadn’t told him, she hadn’t said anything. Anthony felt a pang in his heart. Astride knew who he played for — obviously — and she knew that of course he’d want to see her any time they were even remotely in the same place. She knew that. Right?

He spent the next twenty minutes typing out a message to her. Then deleting it. Then retyping it. Then continuing the type-delete-retype cycle until his head was spinning. This was his best friend. Why was he so nervous to talk to her? Because she was his best friend, and as much as he hated to admit it, he really wasn’t sure where they stood. He hadn’t been sure for a long time. Hey Asty! He internally cringed at himself at the use of her old nickname. I saw you moved to New York, that’s amazing! I’m over on Long Island, so I’d love to catch up with you for coffee or something when you get a chance. It’s been too long :)

It might have been a little petty — scratch that, it definitely was petty — but Astride didn’t respond to his text that night. She didn’t have read receipts on, thank God, but it sat in her messages, without response, like something she was too scared to confront. And she didn’t even know why. Okay, fine, she knew exactly why. She had moved and suddenly they were in the same city for the first time since they were kids and he was, had been, her best friend, but why now of all times? It’s not like he was never in Montréal during the year, or like they couldn’t have committed to a weekly FaceTime or something, or at least texted more than once a month. He could have done something. And that something, that lack of a something, was what kept her from responding until the next morning, tapping out a text as she halfheartedly made her way through a bowl of oatmeal. Hi, Tito, just saw your text! Lie. I did, an opportunity for a transfer came up and I decided to take it. I figured you were pretty close by, so it would be great to catch up. I don’t start at the office for a week, if you’re free any time between now and then. That much was true. She wasn’t stupid, she knew the Islanders played on, well, Long Island, and as much as she wanted to still hold a grudge against him, her heart ached at the prospect of finally being able to see him again.

Anthony responded almost instantly, Astride having just closed the door to the dishwasher — a luxury in New York, she was told — before seeing her phone light up with the telltale bubble. I’d love to, we just finished up training camp so I’m more or less free aside from practices. A second later. Is brunch still your favorite meal?

Astride laughed. It didn’t surprise her that he remembered, but it was still touching to see him say something about it. It is.

How about Tuesday? I’ll send you the directions. It’s this little café in Flatbush, I think you’ll love it.

I’m counting on it.

September 26 (sun)

Brunch had turned into dinner, which had turned into going to a Broadway show — Anthony had insisted the moment she told him she’d never been — which had turned into him coming over for Saturday night movies, an old habit of the pair’s from their days back in Québec. Which had turned into two movies and two bottles of wine, which had turned into Tito sleeping over on the couch instead of driving the thirty-odd minutes back to his apartment. Poutine sniffed him curiously, nudging one hand with her head. Astride stifled a giggle, opening the door to the balcony. “He’s very sleepy, Poutine. It’s not good manners to wake up your guests.”

“Even when they fall asleep on your couch and steal all your blankets?” Anthony said sleepily from behind.

Astride wheeled around, greeted by a half-awake Anthony Beauvillier, who was indeed bundled in all of the blankets she owned that weren’t actively on her bed. “Tito! Oh my God, you scared me. How’d you sleep?”

He shrugged. “Not bad, about as well as can be expected.” He tapped his phone, cursing when he realized it was dead. “Do you know what time it is?”

She glanced down at her watch. “8:52, why?”

Anthony jumped up, throwing his shirt back on and grabbing his still-dead phone. “I’m supposed to meet Mat for breakfast at 9:30, and the place is,” he paused for a moment, running through the grid system in his head, “probably half an hour away? I’m never the late one, can’t break that streak now.”

“Gotcha.”

He grabbed his keys, looking back at her. “Why don’t you come? You’re already dressed, and you remember Mat, right?”

She wiggled her hand. “Kind of?” She crossed the room, letting Poutine back in. “You only want me for my charged phone and navigation system.”

“You got me,” he said, laughing.

---

“You named your dog Poutine?” Mat snickered, taking a bite of his eggs.

“Would you rather I named him Tim Horton?” Astride deadpanned. “He’s a good Canadian boy with a good Canadian mom. He needed a good Canadian name.”

Mat raised his coffee mug, tilting it over towards her. “Touché.”

Anthony waved his hand in front of Mat’s face, trying to catch his attention from where he was utterly preoccupied with destroying his sourdough toast. “Hey, Mat.”

“Mmm?” He glanced up.

“Did you know that Astride lives right by Barclays? Like, right by Barclays?”

His eyebrows rose. “No way?” Astride nodded. “That’s a great area, would have been awesome if you were here a couple of years ago. Short walk to the games.”

“That’s what I told her yesterday,” Tito responded.

---

“You’re kidding,” Anthony said, looking up at her building, then across the street to Barclays, then back to Astride, one hand tangling through his hair. “We used to play right across from here.”

Astride laughed. “I thought about that,” she said. “You know I still watched your games, right? Even after we fell out of touch?” Anthony shook his head. “You were still someone I cared about, are still someone I care about, even when we only talked a few times a year.”

Beau stood there, unable to formulate a complete sentence. As far as he knew, the last Islanders game she watched had been the 2016 opener, his NHL debut and her first year at McGill. Why did he assume that? Why did he assume the worst? You can care about people even when they’re not in your life anymore. And sometimes, if you get really, really lucky, they come back.

October 9 (sat)

“Ebs is having a barbeque thing over at his house this weekend, just stuff to celebrate the beginning of the season if you wanted to come. No pressure if you’ve got plans already, though,” Anthony said over the FaceTime.

Astride nodded enthusiastically. “That sounds great, I’d love to come! Just let me know when to show up and what to bring, and I’ll be there.”

It was almost a fifty-minute drive for Astride from her apartment in Prospect Heights to the house in Garden City, but there wasn’t too much traffic and besides, she had always liked driving. So she set off in her Civic, plugged her music in, and headed down 495. Anthony met her outside of the house, greeting her with a warm hug and a kiss on the cheek as he cocked his head towards the backyard. “Party’s this way. Come on, I’ll introduce you to everyone.”

Astride dutifully followed, trying not to let her nerves take hold of her. Everyone might have already been Beau’s friends, but she didn’t know them, or the dynamic of everyone’s relationships, or really, what to expect at all.

He noticed her apprehension, stopping her with a feather-light touch on her arm just before walking through the back gate. “Hey, Asty. What is it?”

She let out a little huff, still upset that he could read her like a book even after all this time. “I’m just worried that I’ll feel like I’m intruding on everything, like everyone already has their friends and a group and everything, and here comes some random Québécoise who’s a friend of Tito’s—”

He laughed, turning her around to face him. “Astride, they’re going to love you. As long as you’re the hilarious, witty, caring person I know you are, they’re going to love you as much as I do, and you’re going to fit in just fine. Do you trust me?”

She gave a tiny nod. “Yeah.”

He smiled, squeezing her hand. “Good, now come back, everyone’s waiting.”

They walked through the gate, greeted by a crowd of smiling faces as Anthony brought her around to everyone to make their rounds. There was Anders, he was the captain, and his wife. There was Jordan and Lauren, and she already knew Mat, and JGP — who was excited to have another person to speak French to — and a dozen or so others, along with their respective partners and children. Anthony had gone over to talk to Mat and some of the other players, while Astride had wandered over to the drinks table. Some of the other women were chatting nearby; one of them caught Astride’s eye and waved her over to join them.

“Beau didn’t tell us he was bringing anyone!” one of the women said, pulling her over to the group with a bright smile and handing her a glass of sangria.

“Mhm,” she replied, taking a sip of the drink. “I’m new to the city, obviously, so I think he wanted me to have some people I know outside of just work.”

They all nodded. “How long have you two been together, though?” another asked. “I didn’t even know he was seeing anyone, did you?” She looked around at the others, who shook their heads as Astride’s eyes bulged.

“Together? No, no, we’re not together. We’ve been best friends for ages, but,” she shook her head.

“Could have fooled me,” Lauren said with the smallest of winks.

Astride suddenly became very interested in the floating berries in her sangria. She looked over at Anthony, who was throwing his head back, laughing at something one of the rookies had said, and smiled. But Lauren’s words kept lingering in the back of her mind. Could have fooled me. Okay, it wasn’t like it was the first time they had been mistaken for a couple; whenever she’d make the trip up to Shawingan to visit him when he was in the QMJHL, more than once she’d have to explain to his teammates that no, she wasn’t Beau’s girlfriend, they were just best friends who had known each other forever. Just best friends.

Astride had always equated her lingering feelings for Anthony to the nostalgia of a childhood crush, the safety and security that came with remembering something from a time that seemed so simple and so easy. But childhood crushes didn’t last for ten years. And that wasn’t something she hadn’t wanted to come to terms with, something she’d been putting off for years if she was being honest with herself.

“You didn’t tell me Astride was coming,” Mat commented, seeing her mid-laugh in conversation with the other girls.

Anthony nodded. “Yeah. She didn’t have any plans for the weekend and I thought it would be nice to introduce her to everyone. I remember how shitty it felt to be in a new city away from your family, don’t want her to be lonely. Plus, I genuinely think she’ll fit in great with everyone.”

Mat hummed his agreement. “She’s changed since Switzerland, don’t you think?” he asked appreciatively, referring to over five years ago, the last time he had seen her in person.

“Don’t even think about it,” Beau mumbled to Mat, seeing his eyebrows go so far up they were hidden in his hairline.

“I see a hot girl, I appreciate a hot girl,” Mat shrugged. “But don’t worry, I won’t try anything. I know she’s off-limits.”

The rest of the afternoon passed quicker than she would have thought, and after a few hours and more good conversations, it was time for Astride to leave. “Have a safe drive back,” Anthony said, giving her a hug.

“I will,” she responded.

He opened the driver’s side door for her. “I’m really glad you came, you know. Everyone liked you, you fit in great.”

“It wasn’t all me,” she said, sliding into the seat, turning her head to Anthony to continue the conversation. “Everyone really did seem to go out of their way to make me feel included, I think they understood the feeling of moving to a whole new place without a big support system and wanted to do what they could to help mitigate that for me.” Astride consciously left out Lauren’s little comment, four words that had been bouncing around in her head for hours since they had been said. He didn’t need to know. She didn’t need him to know, it could confuse him and complicate things when they were just getting back into the rhythm of friendship, of being each other’s person.

Anthony tapped his fingers on the car door. “I’m glad.”

“Me too.”

Beau went to sleep that night, Mat’s words bouncing around in his head. “I know she’s off-limits.” It’s not like Cass was his sister or something, someone who would inherently be barred from his best friend’s dating pool. But Mat seemed to know right away, without having ever been told, that she wasn’t someone he could ever even consider pursuing. Why? And what did Mat seem to know that he didn’t?

November 12 (fri)

It was early November, and Anthony and Astride had just settled down at a table in Prospect Park, coffee cups warming their hands through the late fall chill. “How do you feel about last night?” Astride asked teasingly. He had a three point game, two goals and an assist in a 4-1 win over the Canes, so there really wasn’t any question that he was still riding on the high.

Beau rolled his eyes. “Good, obviously. It would have been nice to get a hat trick, but I know that’s asking for a lot and I didn’t want to tempt fate too much. They made a really good push late in the second.”

“But you won,” she said, poking his shoulder with the hand that wasn’t wrapped around her mocha.

“But we won,” he agreed. He suddenly got quiet, the kind of quiet where, if you know the person well enough, you can tell that something’s up. That they’re thinking of something. And Astride was right. “Do you ever think about Switzerland?” he asked.

Astride looked at him from the side, knowing right away that he wasn’t asking about the country. “All the time,” she admitted.

---

It was the spring of 2015, and they were in Lucerne. By they, Astride meant her, Tito, and the rest of the 2015 Canadian U18 World Cup team. And by in Lucerne, she meant crowded into someone’s hotel room with no adult supervision. Anthony wasn’t sure where any of the coaching staff had gone, but if he was being honest, he was riding on way too big of a high to even care. They had clinched the bronze medal earlier that day, celebrating with the family and friends who had made the trip out, gotten dinner, and then packed into the first team room they came to. Well, technically, Astride, Tito, and Mat had made a stop at the grocery store before meeting everyone else back in the room. The drinking age in Switzerland was 16 for everything but spirits, and everyone was planning on taking full advantage of that. The cashier gave them a look as she took her and Anthony’s French licenses and Mat’s English one, but the charge went through just fine, and fifteen minutes later they were walking back through the doorway with three cases of beer and a few bottles of sparkling wine for good measure. Astride had never been so grateful to have her own checking account.

“You ever drink before?” Mat asked her as they opened the cases.

Astride shrugged. “Not really. A glass of wine every now and again back home with my parents, but nothing too crazy.”

He held out a bottle for her, fishing around in his pocket for the bottle opener they had picked up at the store. “Have fun.”

And have fun Astride did. She had finished off two of the beers, and one of the younger teammates — she didn’t remember who — had popped open the wine. In his slightly inebriated state, it took longer than it should have to twist off the muselet, which then led to foam all over the floor and fifteen sixteen and seventeen-year-olds running to the bathroom to grab towels to try and mop it up with. And then running back to the bathroom to get the water glasses because they needed something to drink it out of, right? And then to everyone else’s rooms because they quickly realized that two cups definitely wasn’t enough to go around, and then everyone was back in the room, on the beds and around the beds, finally letting themselves celebrate. Astride was just finishing her glass when Mat spoke. “Anyone up for never have I ever?” Nobody said otherwise, so two minutes later, they were all arranged in what could very generously be called a circle, fresh drinks in hand. After a solid five minutes of repeating the rules — there was always at least one person who seemed to genuinely struggle with the idea that you drank if you had done the thing, not if you hadn’t — they were slowly but surely making their way around the circle.

Questions ranged from the mundane — “Never have I ever gotten detention” — to the raunchy — “Never have I ever had my parents walk in on me” — neither of which Astride or Tito drank to.

By the time it was Mat’s turn, he had had plenty of time to think, looking around the group with a conspiratorial grin. “What is it?” Tito asked skeptically.

He shrugged. “Never have I ever...kissed anyone in the circle.” As expected, nobody drank, but apparently that wasn’t expected, not for Mat, at least. He looked between Anthony and Astride incredulously. “Seriously? You two have never kissed?”

Anthony shook his head. “Nope.”

“How? You’ve been friends for, like, a million years, not even when you were little or anything?” he asked.

“Never,” Astride said. “Kind of hard to kiss your best friend when you haven’t kissed anyone before.” She barely even realized that everyone was still listening in.

“You’ve never kissed anyone?” Anthony asked, surprised.

Astride looked down at her hands, sipping her beer. “Nope.” She gave him a brief smile. “I know it’s nothing to be ashamed of, but no. Just hasn’t happened yet.”

Maybe it was the alcohol talking, or maybe it was feelings buried so deeply in Anthony’s mind that he didn’t think would ever see the light of day, let alone have to be confronted, that made him say what he did next. “I could—if you wanted—you don’t have to, but—” he stammered.

Astride laughed, looking at him curiously. “What is it, Tito? You’re not normally one to stumble over your words like that.”

He picked at his fingernails, an old nervous tick from his childhood that his mother was never quite able to get him to break, keenly aware that the whole room had decided to listen into their conversation. “I was just trying to say...I could do it, if you want. Kiss you, I mean. If you just wanted to get it over with, or whatever. I just figured. You know me, you trust me, you’re comfortable with me. Better that than some idiot at school who doesn’t care about you.”

Her cheeks burned as she looked over at him, but even though it took her nearly a minute to respond, she had her answer after five seconds. “Why not?” Astride flashed him the purest, gentlest smile, the kind that let him know just how much she cared about him and how deeply she trusted him. And the look on her face meant the world to him.

Anthony leaned in, his hand coming up to rest on her shoulder, his fingertips just barely touching her cheek as their foreheads leant together. “You sure about this?” He needed her to be sure.

She nodded. “I’ve had a couple of drinks, and I never imagined my first kiss would be in front of an audience,” she paused to giggle at the rest of the team, who were giving the scene their full attention in a way that somehow wasn’t uncomfortable at all, just wholesome and supportive, “but yeah. I’m sure.”

That was all the permission Anthony needed to lean forward, pressing his lips against hers, in a kiss that was soft and sweet and somehow everything Astride needed all in one. He pulled back after a moment, a goofy smile on his face. “How was it?”

Astride couldn’t help but let out a laugh. “Good, it was really good, Tito. Thank you for that.”

“What are friends for?”

---

“Friends are for kissing each other, apparently,” Astride giggled, leaning into Anthony on his couch.

He laughed, wrapping his arm around her shoulders, absentmindedly rubbing his thumb over her arm. “Did you ever think something was going to happen between us?” Anthony asked curiously.

Astride shrugged. “At some point, yeah. I think it was kind of hard not to, with our parents and literally everyone we spent time with saying we were destined to fall in love.” She looked down at her hands, trying not to give away the fact that at one point, she had believed them.

November 30 (tues)

“Do you want to come over Friday?” Anthony asked, sprawled out across her couch on one of his rare nights off. He had made the drive over to Astride’s apartment, cooking salmon and roasting vegetables while she took the much more daunting task of picking what to watch on Netflix. She settled on Back to the Future. “I can order in Thai, I know we’re trying to work our way through the Mission Impossibles.”

Astride grimaced. “I actually...kind of have a date Friday night,” she admitted.

Anthony made a hum of surprise. “You do?”

She rolled her eyes. “Don’t act so shocked, Tito. There are men in this city of nine million who want to take me out.”

He sputtered. “It’s not that that shocks me, Asty. You’d have men lining up around the block for you if you’d give any of them a second glance. It’s just that. You never seem to bother actually going after any of them. What made this one different?”

“I mean, honestly hour?” Astride said, shrugging.

“Honestly hour.”

“I haven’t been on a date since I left Montréal, you know that. It had been a few months there too. And I’ve loved hanging out with you more, getting to know Mat and the team and everyone’s partners, but...I needed something different, too. Something that felt like a part of my life that wasn’t directly connected to the team. Which, don’t get me wrong,” she added hastily, “I love them, and it’s been so nice to be a part of that group, I just…” Astride trailed off.

“You can’t let that be the only part of your life. I get it,” Anthony added helpfully.

“Yeah,” Astride agreed. “So enter Cole. He works in a different division of the IE department, I’m obviously Europe and he’s Asia, mostly does work with Taiwan and Singapore. Um,” she said, her eyes turning towards the ceiling, “he seems really nice, did international business at UPenn, which is a great program. Speaks fluent Mandarin, uh, I think he mentioned he’s got a few fish at home.”

Anthony snorted. “What’s wrong with fish?” Astride asked defensively.

“Nothing, nothing’s wrong with fish,” he said. “Just seems like an odd choice. Maybe his building doesn’t allow pets or something.”

“Maybe,” Astride responded. “I wouldn’t know, he lives in Manhattan, over in Tribeca. Bikes to work.”

Tito laughed again. “I don’t trust people who bike to work in New York City, Asty. They have zero regard for their own lives or safety.”

She giggled. “That might be true. But I’m looking forward to it, the date, I mean. I really am. It’s been a while since I’ve really put myself back out there, and I’m ready for something good. Something real.”

He gave a half-smile from his side of the couch. “I’m happy for you, Astride. I hope you have a great time, and I hope he treats you right. If he doesn’t, just let him know that you can sic an entire professional hockey team on him with a single phone call.”

“I will,” she said. “I’ll call you when it’s over, tell you how it went.” “

I’ll be waiting,” he said.

Anthony thought back on the conversation as he sat on the corner of his bed that night, about to go to sleep. He turned his phone over and over in his hands, his eyes fixating on the chip in the crown molding that he hadn’t gotten around to fixing yet. He wasn’t lying to Astride when he said he was happy for her. He was, of course he was, who wouldn’t want their best friend to be happy? But while he wanted nothing more, nothing more, than to be able to give his full-throated support for her date, and the potential the future held for her and this Cole guy, he couldn’t do it. There was something stopping him. And the worst part of it all was that Anthony was starting to realize what it was.

---

Astride had said that their dinner reservation was at 7, some brasserie in the West Village. “That’s a French thing, right?” Cole had asked.

“It is,” Astride responded, gearing up for her translation skills to be used for the first time in months. She spoke almost exclusively French around Tito, and with JGP and Brassard, but the majority of her day was spent in English. Cole said that the restaurant had come highly recommended from one of his Wall Street friends, something that should have been the first red flag.

“Never trust the finance bros,” Reese, a German specialist and one of her friends at the office, had said. “They all think they’re God’s gift to mankind when I can guarantee you they ain’t shit.”

She had said it was at 7, so Anthony wasn’t expecting to hear from her until much later; honestly, he would have been surprised if she had called before 10. He tried not to think about what it could mean if she didn’t call at all that night. She had said it was at 7, so when he heard a knock at his door at half past nine, he practically jumped out of his skin before scrambling to open the door. His eyebrows rose when he saw Astride on the other side of the door, then his face contorted into a look of sympathy as he saw the sad smile on her lips, her jacket slung over one arm.

“Can I come in?” she asked. He nodded without question, holding the door while stepping out of the way. He padded to the kitchen, bringing out a bottle of Moscato and two glasses. Astride smiled gratefully at him as he uncorked the bottle and poured. He knew that she couldn’t do red wine when she was upset, and she was upset.

“Do you want to talk about it?” he asked tentatively.

Astride shrugged, sipping the wine. “Not much to tell other than it was probably the worst first date I’ve ever been on.”

That piqued Anthony’s interest. He’d never be happy that she was upset, but something told him the story wasn’t quite that simple. “What about it was so bad?”

“Where do I begin?” she sighed. “He was on time, but that’s pretty much the only thing Cole did right the entire night. He was rude to the waitress when we had to wait all of ten minutes until our reservation was ready, because the couple ahead had gone long. Then he ordered the most expensive bottle of red wine they had, without even asking me to see what I wanted. He really just was trying to show off that he could afford it. And it was a Sangiovese, and you know I hate dry wines, so I was just trying to choke the whole thing down. And then he insisted on ordering for me, which is probably the most chauvinistic thing I could think of, I mean, who does that anymore?” she asked incredulously.

Tito shrugged. It was disrespectful, absolutely, but more than that, it was just weird. If women have mouths that work, then they’re more than capable of doing something as simple as ordering their own food.

“And he kept trying to pour me more wine after the first glass, even when I told him a million times I was good.” Anthony’s grip on his glass tightened. Astride rubbed her temples with her free hand. “He just kept going on and on about work, and this big promotion he’s insisting he’s going to get even though I know for a fact that they want Maria for it. I could barely get a word in edgewise. That’s when I just decided I couldn’t take it anymore. I faked that Jean-Claude was calling, grabbed my jacket, and caught a cab over here.” She looked up at him, the same disappointed expression she had worn when he opened the door. “I was really hoping this one would pan out, Tito.”

He felt an ache in his heart. He may have been less than thrilled about the prospect of Astride going out on a date, but that didn’t mean it hurt any less to see her so despondent. He leaned over, tucking a piece of hair behind her ear that had fallen loose. “I know, Asty. And I’m sorry it didn’t.”

December 13 (mon)

Anthony and Mat were the last ones in the locker room after a morning practice. “I found this new place nearby last week that’s got great smoothie bowls, want to get one after you finish packing your stuff?” Anthony asked, looking over at Mat.

“Yeah, yeah. Sure, Sounds good,” Mat nodded, half-listening.

Anthony glanced over at him, a weird look on his face. “You good, dude? You sound distracted.”

Mat spoke abruptly, looking over at Tito with a laser-focused expression. “How long have you been in love with Astride?”

Anthony’s eyebrows jumped a foot. “In love with Astride? Why would you think that?”

Mat gave him a look, the kind of look that let Anthony know he was dead serious about what he was saying, and more than that, that he believed it. “Tito, I’m dumb, but I’m not stupid.”

Anthony leaned forward, elbows on his knees and his head in his hands. “It’s that obvious?”

“Yep,” Mat said, popping the p.

“Do you think she knows?” His voice had dropped to barely above a whisper.

“I don’t know,” Mat said, shrugging. “I don’t think so, she doesn’t seem like the type of person to really be able to know about something as big as that and not address it. Doesn’t like to keep things bottled up, it’s not really her style.”

Anthony nodded. “It’s not.” He raked one hand through his haid, his head still leaning on the other one. “God. How do you tell your best friend you’re in love with her?”

Mat put one hand on Beau’s back, comforting him as best he could. “I don’t know, Tito. I wish I could help. What I do know,” he said, “is that you’re going to have to eventually. Because it’s going to tear you up if you don’t.”

December 18 (sat)

Astride tossed one final empty can into the garbage bag. “I think that’s it,” she said, giving his living room a cursory look. What had looked like a warzone only less than an hour before now more closely resembled the somewhat-messy but perfectly respectable bachelor pad of a man in his 20s, like it should have. With the holidays approaching, Anthony had decided to take it into his own hands to host a party — alongside Astride, who he had practically begged for help — intent on showcasing his newly-acquired skills by playing bartender the whole night. He was surprisingly capable, Astride had thought, if her Sazerac was anything to go by.

He smiled at her. “Thanks, Asty. And thanks for staying and helping clean everything up, you really didn’t have to.”

She tied the bag off and set it by the door with the other one. “I wanted to. And besides, I’m staying over,” she said, looking over at Anthony, “so what did you think I was going to do? Lock myself in the guest room while you cleaned up the whole apartment by yourself? What kind of a woman do you take me for?” she asked in mock offense.

Anthony laughed, sitting down on the couch with a satisfying thump, pulling Astride into his side when she settled next to him.

“I’m so glad we got back in contact,” she said, muffled against the fabric of his hoodie. “I’m so glad we’re friends again.”

He felt guilty; more than that, he knew that the guilt, at least some of it, was deserved. “I should have done more,” he lamented. “I should have done more to keep in contact, more to show you I cared, more so you’d know that your friendship is one of the things I value most in my life.”

Astride gave a small smile. “It’s a two-way street, Tito. Sure, I won’t lie and say that you really put all that much effort into keeping in contact. You didn’t.” He winced, she shot him a sympathetic look. “I love you, but you know me. I don’t mince my words. But I definitely could have done more than text you congratulations or leave a thirty-second voicemail on your birthday. We both could have done more. We both should have done more,” she said, correcting herself. “What do you think happened, though? Where did we go wrong?” As much as she might have hated it, Astride was that kind of person. She went through every bad decision in her life with a fine-toothed comb, needing to know what went wrong, needing to know what she could have done differently.

“I think,” he began, “that it was just so easy to get distracted from ‘back home’ things. From our friendship, from my relationships with my family. From the important things, the things that I should have made an effort to prioritize even when the season got hectic and games got hard. And I’m not trying to make excuses,” he added quickly, “but there was just something about where I was, physically and mentally. I was 19, a rookie in one of the biggest cities in the world, and I think I just lost sight of things. Between the practices and games and going out and community events and trying to get in more than five hours of sleep a night, it was a lot,” he admitted. “It was stressful, probably weighed on me more than I wanted to admit. And I don’t want to sound ungrateful, because I’m well aware I was — and am — living a life thousands of kids would kill for, but there’s a lot that goes on behind the scenes that you don’t really understand unless you’ve been through it. I don’t have many regrets from my rookie season, or really many in my career so far. Don’t regret moving for minors, don’t regret going to the Isles, don’t regret any of the contracts I’ve signed or plays I’ve made. Well,” he smirked, “maybe a few. But the one big one? The only real regret I’ve had? Letting you go.”

Astride swallowed hard, choosing her next words carefully. “What do you mean, letting me go?”

Anthony let out a hard sigh. He’d put it off for long enough. He couldn’t do it any longer. “Never telling you how I feel.”

“How you feel?” Her voice had dropped to a whisper, her fingers tangling in the fringe of the fleece blanket that was slung over the couch cushions.

“Like I love you so much my heart could burst.”

Her breath caught in her throat. “How long have you known?”

He looked at her with a soft smile. “Ever since Switzerland.”

“Six years?”

“Six years.” He reached out slowly, so slowly, pushing a stray piece of hair behind her ear when she didn’t move back. They sat in silence for a moment, and when Anthony spoke again, his voice wavered. “Asty? Say something.”

Astride’s lifted her head, finally meeting his eyes. “I knew since I was 15.”

His face split into a grin, wider and wider until she was sure she’d never seen a bigger smile. “You did? You do?”

She nodded, leaning forward so their foreheads were touching. She put her hand on his chest, feeling his heartbeat fluttering butterfly-fast underneath her fingertips. “I’m pretty sure I’ve been in love with you since I knew what love was, Tito.”

He pushed forward, pressing his lips against hers for the first time since 2015, the first time since Switzerland. It was gentle and meaningful and somehow communicated all of the love and emotion that had been built up between the two of them in the past six years. Anthony pulled back after a minute, his lips pink and slightly puffy. “Tell me where your head’s at, Astride.”

“Is it too cliché to just say that this might be the happiest I’ve been in years?”

He shook his head, smiling. “Not at all.” But there was something that she wasn’t quite letting go of. “What is it, Astride?”

Astride sniffed. “I want this. You and I, I want it so mad it hurts. I just hate the idea that we’d turn into some sort of cliché. Childhood friends who grow up and fall in love, but something goes wrong and they split up and suddenly the dynamic of everything is messed up and I don’t want that, Tito. I don’t know if I could deal with you hating me because of how things ended.”

“But things don’t have to end, Asty. Every broken heart, every date where some asshole has stood you up has led you to know that you deserve more. You deserve so much more, Astride, you deserve the sun and the moon and someone who would hang them in the sky for you. It doesn’t have to end in heartbreak. It doesn’t have to end at all.”

Astride had always been someone who was cautious, someone who thought before she acted and never spoke without thinking through every possible outcome. But this was one of the times that she couldn’t do that, one of the times when, as much as she may have hated it, she needed to take a leap of faith. And so she did. “Okay.”

“Okay?” Anthony asked, his voice lifting.

She nodded, the happiness on her face unmistakable. “Okay.”

And as Astride and Anthony FaceTimed her parents to break the news, her mom slapping her dad’s shoulder, claiming that she had “called it” back in 2014, Astride was filled with a sense of undeniable, irreplaceable joy. The kind of joy that the poets write about and artists put brush to canvas trying to depict, the kind that most people go their whole lives only hoping to get a glimpse of. The kind that made Astride more certain of one thing than she had perhaps been in her entire life. It didn’t have to end in heartbreak. And this one didn’t have to end at all.

And as they stood two years later in a little church in their hometown, promising in front of their family and friends and the entire New York Islanders to love each other for the rest of their lives, Astride finally believed it.

#anthony beauvillier #hockey smut #hockey writing #hockey imagine #hockey imagines #nhl imagines #nhl imagine #nhl smut #nhl writing #new york islanders

168 notes · View notes

brandyllyn · 4 years

Text

In our own image... (02)

Chapter 2

(Poe Dameron x OFC)

Other chapters... My Masterlist

Word count: 2200. Read it on AO3.

Rating: Teen & Up (PG) No warnings?

Kina brushed her hair away from her face with the back of one hand, holding the tool in it well away from her face. She’d burnt herself one too many times with a soldering iron to not be careful of the thing now. She wouldn’t even have risked it except that her other hand was occupied holding part of the droid’s circuitry together and if her hair continued to fall as it was she was going to set it on fire.

She waited a moment, then added another bit of solder. "There," she whistled and sat back, dropping the tool back into its cradle. "How do you feel?"

The little round droid flashed through a series of colors before spinning in place. "Much better thank you."

Kina smiled and patted the droid. When they had first arrived they had been full of long, pitiful stories about being shot at by tie-fighters and then covered in sand and tar and something that sounded like saliva. Amid the telling, BB-8 kept mournfully beeping that they were not functioning optimally, as though they were revealing some great secret.

It had been cute. In fact, it had been really cute. Enough so that she had actually missed the arrival of the droid’s companion. It didn’t matter, as he had only wanted to talk to K-0 - which was odd but also fine by her. There was something about being unable to to speak Basic that made people assume she lacked intelligence. Anytime she could avoid talking to people entirely was better off all around. It didn’t really matter that he was easy on the eyes.

As soon as the man was gone the BB unit had proceeded to tell her story after story of Friend Poe. Even when she had half the droid’s panels off and was doing a deep clean, BB-8 kept up an endless chatter about how Friend Poe always made sure that they were clean and functioning well. And how sad Friend Poe had been that he couldn’t take good care of the BB unit on Ajan Kloss.

The information had made Kina feel marginally more gracious towards the pilot. BB-8 was in bad shape, and not all pilots were known for taking good care of their droids. Most seemed to see the units as expendable.

"BB-8," she whistled, ending in a series of clicks, "why do you call him Friend Poe and not Master?"

"Friend Poe asked me to," BB-8 whistled back. "Friend Poe does not like being called Master."

Kina tilted her head, studying the BB unit. That was… interesting information to have. Basic droid programming defaulted to the use of the honorific 'Master' for their owners. The only people she knew of who made an effort to change it were other droidsmiths, like herself. You could often follow the trail of a droid’s repairs based on the terms they used. Some went for gentler monikers, like Friend. Others went ever further past Master. Hells, Hukkin, on Tattooine, taught his droids to call him 'Oh Great One,' which was a bit of an ego stretch but he was also a damned good droidsmith and he had a gentle touch with them. He also had as great of a hatred for restraining bolts as Kina herself so she only barely faulted him for it.

She was so lost in thought she nearly missed the droid’s sudden movement. She barely had time to throw an arm across the table to stop the droid from leaving. "Whoa there little one," she whistled and clicked, "I’m not done with you yet. Let me get you put back together and then you can go back to Friend Poe. Okay?"

The droid settled back, turning their upper unit to her. "Okay."

Snorting, Kina glanced behind her, then up into the rafters. Once she’d gotten the BB unit cleaned out there was a maze of wiring and 'improvements' that she’d needed to sort through. Friend Poe had apparently been doing his own repairs which was… well she knew why people did it but Chasī above - she didn’t try to fly X-Wings, why did people think that just anyone could repair a droid?

She clicked her tongue, "K-0?"

The droid darted out from a small gap between the crates. They were always doing that, finding weird little bolt holes to go exploring. "Where are the converters? The 600 series."

K-0 immediately crossed the floor, bumping into a crate to Kina’s left. She squatted to read the lowest crate before moving to the next. The one she wanted was about three up, with two more stacked on top of it. Two heavy ones. Sighing, she gave herself the mental 'lift with you knees' reminder and started to shift the upper crates away.

"Hello?"

She dropped the crate, jumping back and letting out a sharp whistle. Behind her, she could hear BB-8 trilling happily. "Hello friend! I am much improved since you last saw me."

"Hey BB," the voice said and Kina turned to it. A young woman was cautiously standing near the entrance to the workshop. "May I come in?"

As was their usual wont, K-0 happily translated the woman’s words directly into binary. It was a programming flaw, one that Kina hadn’t been able to fix without wiping the droid’s entire core memory. And she wasn’t going to do that. No harm in letting the droid chatter to themself.

Kina nodded at the woman, gesturing to the BB unit to let her know she could approach them if she wanted to. The woman did, running a hand along the droid in a familiar greeting. "Hey there big guy."

"Friend Rey, I am enthusiastic to see you. Have you met new friend?" BB-8 beeped at her, flashing their recently cleaned lights.

"I haven’t met your friend yet," the woman turned with a smile and held out her hand. "I’m Rey."

Kina stopped thumbing through the crate’s contents to hold out a hand, palm turned open and upwards to show she had no weapon. She whistled at K-0, who translated for her. "This Kina."

Rey’s gaze swung between her and K-0 and Kina waited for her question. It was the same every time. "It’s nice to meet you Kina."

Okay, so maybe not the same. Rey smiled at her and Kina couldn’t help but return it. Then she turned to BB-8. Clicking to get their attention she told them, "I have a new memory convertor for you, but you’re going to need to power down completely so I can be sure this gets transferred correctly. May I do that?"

"I will not lose memories will I friend?"

Kina smiled, patting the droid reassuringly. "I promise you won’t lose a thing. I am very good at this."

BB-8 nodded it’s top unit before beginning a full power down. Kina waited, aware of the presence of the woman at her side. The slight furrowing of her brow.

"You speak Binary?" Rey asked.

Yep, there it was. Kina nodded, tilting her chin at K-0 before replying in a series of whistles and tongue clicks. "I understand Basic, but I don’t speak it." The droid translated for her almost simultaneously, which was immensely helpful, but their language processor left a little to be desired. It was necessary - otherwise K-0 was prone to add their own… color to the conversation. But her sentence ended up becoming "Know Basic. Can’t speak."

"That’s… I’ve never met any life form that spoke Binary. I thought only droids could." Rey sounded a little awe-struck which was the only reason that Kina didn’t start into her usual speech about the ill-defined lines between those who were considered alive and those who weren’t.

"It’s not perfect," she said instead, listening to K-0 translate about half of what she was saying, "it can take some units a little getting used to, especially the older ones, but I get by."

BB-8 was done powering down, slumped on the table, and Kina pulled a stool up to the workstation, swinging a looking glass down and turning on one of the brighter lights. She felt, more than saw, Rey pull up a stool next to her.

"Do you mind if I watch?" Rey asked, hesitation in her voice.

Kina gave her a sideways look and then shrugged. "Doesn’t bother me."

As she worked, Kina could feel Rey leaning in closer, trying to peer through the magnifying lens. After a minute Kina reached up and swung it slightly towards the other woman. Then she began to speak, listening to K-0 mangle the full meaning but getting the gist of it.

"The thing about a memory converter is that it’s all about the order. Most people don’t realize that. They think if you backup the unit then you can be sloppy about the part replacement," Kina pointed with a set of pliers at the bundle of wires she was poking into. "Each of these has a specific function. They’re like nerves of a body. I can replace one from one part of your body to another, but it will be different. It won’t feel the same." Kina gently nudged the bundle, pulling one free, and then another. "But if you do that too much or too often the whole system won’t work."

Next to her Rey nodded, eyes focused on Kina’s work. She’d never had an audience before, and she appreciated the other woman’s quiet presence beside her. There was something about Rey that was comforting - something she hadn’t felt since she’d left home.

"There," Kina clicked, setting the unit back into its place inside the droid, tightening the braces that held it. Over an hour had gone by and she stretched, feeling bones crack and rumble as she did so. "That should do it."

Tapping the droid’s power panel in a staccato series she felt the low vibration begin and then the top unit slid so that it was completely upright. "Friend!" BB-8 trilled, turning its photoreceptor to look at both Rey and Kina. "Friends!"

"Welcome back small one," Kina whistled. "How do you feel?"

"All systems functioning optimally!" BB-8 replied, spinning in place before wobbling slightly back and forth.

Kina raised an eyebrow, giving the droid a dubious look. "Are you sure your orbiculate motor is functioning correctly?"

"It’s odd," Rey said from beside her, "It’s as though I’m listening to someone speak in a dream. I feel like I should know what you’re saying, like the meaning is right on the tip of my tongue. But I just can’t get there."

Kina jerked her head to Rey, looking down and realizing that K-0 had disappeared at some point. She turned back to the droid on the table, "BB-8 can you repeat what I say in Binary please?"

"BB-8 can you repeat what I say in Binary please?" The droid parroted before titling to look at her. "Friend, for what purpose is this? You are speaking in Binary."

"Yes, but Friend Rey does not understand me," Kina told them. "BB-8 I’d like to check your orbiculate motor. I don’t like the look of that wobble."

"Oh, he does that when he’s happy," Rey interjected, looking between the two of them.

Kina looked at her, then back at BB-8. "Is this true? Do you move like this when you are happy?"

BB-8 flashed their lights, repeating what Kina said before adding, "I am functioning optimally and I am enthusiastic to be doing so."

Kina raised an eyebrow before gesturing at the table, "Can you get down on your own?"

Rather than replying, the orange droid rolled towards the ramp, hitting the floor at a steady clip and circling between the two women a few times before settling to a stop. "All systems are functioning optimally!"

Rey laughed and Kina felt her own shoulders shaking. It was hard not to be amused. BB-8 rolled over, bumping into Kina’s shins and she squatted down to eye level to the droid’s photoreceptor.

"I may return to Friend Poe?" The droid asked.

"If something happens to you between here and there Friend Poe will be very upset with me," Kina started but felt a hand on her shoulder.

"I’ll make sure BB gets back to him, I’m going that way." The woman smiled at her and Kina smiled back standing and leaning against the table.

"Well as long as it’s on your head…"

As she trailed off Kina heard a thump, and then K-0 was back, translating her whistles into Basic even as BB-8 repeated it in Binary. The two droids looked at each other and then K-0 knocked roughly into the larger droid.

"No. Go. No. Bad." K-0 said quickly, continuing to ram into the other droid. BB-8 tilted his upper unit at them quizzically but was barely shifted by the smaller droid’s efforts.

"You two should go," Kina grinned, "before K-0 decides to bite someone."

Thankfully, BB-8 continued to repeat her words because K-0 just kept thumping into the droid, repeating "Go. Bad. Go. No. Bad."

Rey smothered a laugh, ducking around the crates to the front of the workshop, BB-8 close behind her. A few seconds later her head popped back around. "May I visit again?"

Kina nodded and watched K-0 chase them off. When the droid returned, mumbling to themself, Kina blushed. Then she began scolding them, but her heart wasn’t really in it. After a minute she dropped to one knee, stroking a finger along the side of her friend.

"No one will replace you K-0. I promise."

Chpt 3

#poe dameron x ofc #Poe Dameron #star wars sequels #star wars #fic #fanfiction #writing

29 notes · View notes

doctorreids · 4 years

Text

folklore - spencer reid x reader

CHAPTER EIGHT - august

previous chapter | next chapter

word count - 1.7k

a/n - see @ the end !

warnings: slight sexual content, nothing explicit though.

“i never needed anything more, whispers of ‘are you sure?’ ‘never have i ever before.’”

The glare of headlights filtered through his car as he drove down the main street, few cars passed. Red and green lights mixed together as he reached each stoplight.

The reality of what he was about to do hit him, just 20 minutes from her apartment he thought about turning back.

The ‘what if’s’ swirled around in his head. What if he wasn’t good enough? What if he truly hadn’t changed and he was just kidding himself? What if she was better off without him?

He would be lying if that last thought didn’t make tears pool in his eyes.

The late-night drive, however, did remind him of August's past. When he pulled up outside her apartment when they had the rare week off and told her to get in. Alex Blake had kindly given them the use of her beach-side Hampton’s summer home. The five-hour drive stretched well into the night.

He could remember her laughter in the passenger seat and her soft snores as they travelled down the highway. Talking nonsense and playing ‘I spy’ to pass the time before the sun began to set, the sky turning from blue into a purple-pink sky with red hues.

Before she drifted to sleep she turned towards him and whispered, “Red sky at night shepherd’s delight, red sky in the morning shepherd’s warning.”

The memory made him smile.

It also made him wonder if this was worth it. If he was too late.

…

“So you’re telling me you’ve never played ‘Never Have I Ever’?” She giggled.

“Nope.” Popping the ‘p’, he shrugged.

Pulling herself onto his lap, she peered up at him.

“Well then,” she sighed comically, “guess I’m just going to have to take your Never Have I Ever virginity! Pass me the wine.”

Tipsy and thinking nothing of it, he passed her the wine.

Hours passed and the questions got dirtier and dirtier. No longer did he blush or feel awkward at her suggestive comments, he made them himself.

They were both slurring, roaring with laughter at times. He had never felt more whole.

“Awk, Spencer, pick your jaw up from the floor.” She straddled him, her finger traced along his jawline.

He smiled up at her before pressing his lips to hers. His hands rested on her hips, she was fully pressed into his chest. She toyed with the buttons on his shirts as he kissed her neck.

He could not describe the utter state of bliss he was in; all he could feel, see, and hear was her. Her soft whimpers at his touch, her soft butterfly kisses on his chest, her bright eyes staring back at him, so full of love and adoration. He never wanted that feeling to end. He had never felt braver as he slipped off her top, placing kisses down her stomach and her thighs, watching her body react to his touch and the soft gasps that escaped her lips. He was on a high that he believed would never end, her touch was like ecstasy, he was filled with complete euphoria.

Whispered ‘I love you’s’ passed between them, he finally knew how it felt to be a teenager falling in love for the first time. She was his true first love. She was the kiss under the bleachers that he never got. She was the prom date he had waited for. He felt 13 years younger with her - shy, bashful and unsure.

The universe and all its questions had all its answers when he was with her.

“august slipped away into a moment in time, cause it was never mine, and I can see us twisted in bedsheets, august sipped away like a bottle of wine.”

The memory of the past August made him smile. They spent the day on the beach, reading and Y/N pulling him into the water despite his protests of it being too cold. They cooked together, showered together, and spent every other moment with each other. If he thought hard enough he could still remember the smells of the local Italian restaurant, the smell of each bottle of red, white and rose wine they drank. He could recall every word that was said.

“I love you.”

“The earth has rotated roughly 212.9 times in the seven months we’ve been together.”

“Not a more accurate figure, no?”

“I’m not a calculator, my love.”

He laughs audibly at the memory. He took so much for granted; how she would listen to his ramblings about everything and anything, especially things she didn’t understand. She would listen so intently, her eyes following his every word and gesture, and she would try her best to talk about astrophysics or whatever his chosen topic was in her own vocabulary, in a way she could understand.

She thought his mind was amazing, he thought her mind was too.

She was patient. She was kind. She was kind.

The memories don’t feel like they are his. They are only a slippery slope into madness. Tempting him back to the days of curling up on his sofa clutching some novel that reminds him of her.

His copy of Pride and Prejudice is now completely worn as he finds himself reading it over and over, remembering the sound of her voice of one summer afternoon in which she read it to him.

He had it memorised cover to cover but he couldn’t bring himself to read it aloud, only her voice could gently relay one of the greatest love stories of all time. A story he had hoped they would rival.

Maybe it was too big of fantasy to maintain hope but without hope, he was lost.

He didn’t feel as though he owned the memory of the past August. Almost as though he was out of his own body, watching it happen. Watching things be so perfect and then watching them fall apart. It was a vicious cycle.

“your back beneath the sun, wishin’ I could write my name on it.”

The morning sun flooded the room as he rolled over to face her. The thin white curtains did little to keep the light out. He couldn’t figure out what time it was and he couldn’t be bothered to look at the small alarm clock beside him.

Her back faced away from him, soft snores came from her mouth. He traced his finger all so gently along the lace of her nightdress to the base of her neck, along the straps and soft cotton material. The sun illuminated her skin, an angelic halo encircling her.

Not even Michelangelo could paint something so heavenly.

Each time he looked at her he felt winded. He was not one to dwell on luck, he focused rather on what was guaranteed and soundproof, but he knew he was so lucky to call her ‘his’. To be able to hold her, to watch each sunrise and sunset with her, was everything to him.

It was at this moment he decided on their future - the girl before him was the woman he knew he was going to marry. Someday, he promised himself.

“I can practically feel you burning holes into my back, Spence.’ Her laugh cracked with sleep as she turned to face him.

They lay there for a few moments holding each other’s gaze, irises swimming with love. He grabbed her waist, a soft muffled hum as she rested her hand on his chest.

“I can also hear you thinking. Penny for your thoughts?” Her voice was gentle.

He hummed.

“I think you can hear my aching head rather than my thoughts, sweetheart.”

“Aw, does poor Doctor Reid have a sore head?” She teased.

Lifting her head with his index finger, he said, “Now, what did I say about calling me Doctor Reid.”

“Ah, yes. How could I possibly forget! At least one of us can remember last night with some degree of clarity.”

He laughed, “I just have a hangover, I remember everything. Not like you on some of your girl’s nights with Garcia.”

Pulling her pillow from underneath her, she hit him with it.

“You promised you wouldn’t speak of that!” She groaned.

“And you promised you wouldn’t call me unless…” He trailed off.

He wished he could stay there forever as their laughter mixed together.

…

There are moments after laughing, those deep belly laughs, where silence fell upon them both and she would look at him with that mischievous look in her eye and he would fall over and over again. It was pure, unadulterated joy as they caught their breath.

These are the moments he wishes more than anything that he could live once more.

The empty passenger seat reminds him of the silence of their apartments as they grew further apart. It reminds him when she would sit there and stare out the window without as much of a glance towards him. It also reminds him of the drive home from their august trip. She was glowing, happily chewing on a piece of candy or eating the Cheetos they’d specifically bought for JJ and claiming she would buy more packs when they got back. (She never did.)

Time seemed to slow as each stop light turned red. The drive extended by a few extra minutes. More time to psych himself out. To tell himself to turn around. To remind himself that she wasn’t his to lose.

She was her own person, it was the reason he loved her so. She couldn’t be owned by anyone. In another way, neither could he. Maybe it’s why they clicked together like missing pieces of a puzzle. It’s a possibility why they fell apart so quickly, those pieces must have gotten lost somewhere along the way.

He no longer felt the anxiousness of before, determination surged through his veins. Each red light he stopped at reminded him of each mistake, each time he missed the cracks and signs. This time, he promises himself, he would be better.

He took the next right, knowing that she was 10 minutes away.

He was 10 minutes away from either making the best or worst decision of his life.

600 seconds away from his heart’s home.

799.

798…

a/n: hi guys!! sorry for the long wait - results week was very weird for me, and i had to get my grades reassessed and that was another week before i found them out too (which i went up to 2A*s and an A which was way more than what i originally got) which was amazing! i’ve just been going through a rough patch mentally and i’ve been busy sorting out university etc. i feel as though i owe you all an apology for not updating as often - this chapter just took it out of me but i’m looking to update at least weekly or maybe twice a week!! thank u for all the support it means so much <3

taglist: @itsfangirlmendes @toosassy2handle @supernatural-strangerthings-1980 @rexorangecouny @myheartbelongsintz @toizerdecker @baddestbau @haylaansmi @hess016 @blameitonthenight21

#spencer #reid #dr spencer reid #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x you #spencer reid/reader #spencer reid/you #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid angst #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid series #criminal minds #criminal minds fanfiction #reidxfolklore

110 notes · View notes

thetypedwriter · 4 years

Text

Midnight Sun Book Review

Midnight Sun Book Review by Stephenie Meyer

Oh my god, you guys.

Just. Oh. My. God.

This book took ten years off of my life.

As a heavy reminder, these book reviews are entirely subjective and my very personal opinion. I don’t need the hoards of Twihards coming after me with pitchforks and pretend fangs from Party City because I didn’t fall head-over-heels with this canon spinoff like my fourteen-year-old self would have.

With that measly disclaimer out of the way, let’s move onto the actual book review. If you haven’t heard of Midnight Sun or don’t know what it is, then I don’t know what to tell you except that you avoided 600 plus pages of stream of conscious ranting.

For those of you that would like to be enlightened, Midnight Sun is the retelling of the infamous Twilight book-yes, that Twilight, Robert Pattinson as Edward Cullen Twilight, complete with vampires, not so-stellar acting, and the more than notorious forest scene of Edward demanding she say… “vampire!” Gasp.

But no really, like most women in my now mid-20’s, as a teenager, I was obsessed with the Twilight saga and everything it had to offer, especially the dreamy, chivalrous, too good to be true Edward Cullen (fuck Jacob).

I voraciously devoured the books while I was in middle school, attended the midnight book premier for Breaking Dawn, and stayed up way too late for each and every movie screening that followed, a loyal fan to the end. To give you some perspective, I even joined the Twilight club my freshman year of high school.

Yes, if you were wondering, I was indeed that cool.

I was obsessed and in love and outside of Harry Potter, it’s still one of the few book fandoms and series that I was truly enveloped and consumed by. Whether that was due to my age, the experience of the fandom, the cultural phenomena that was following the movies and new releases, or for other reasons, it was an experience I look back on now with simultaneous fondness and slight embarrassment.

I wasn’t embarrassed by my involvement or my experience in the fandom, like many other people, I made great friends through Twilight (including my best friend, whom I met in college when we mutually bonded over our love of Twilight), read countless fanfiction that, to this day, I still remember and cherish with my heart, and it was one of the series that cemented my love of reading and book culture as a whole for me.

However, like everyone else, I inevitably grew up, matured, and my reading tastes changed and became more refined. As an avid re-reader of books, I have tried going back to re-read the Twilight saga multiple times...

...and failed.

The books had simply lost their magic for me.

The story seemed dull and nonsensical, Bella had become the epitome of a Mary Sue, the writing was now apparently mediocre, and Breaking Dawn’s lackluster climax angered me to the point of speechlessness (it still does).

So, I gave up re-reading the series and while I deemed that it was perhaps not as wonderful and life-changing as it had been for 8th grade Melissa, I still appreciated what it had done for me personally and the experiences that I had gained through the books.

Speaking of 8th grade Melissa, the original Midnight Sun, that being twelve chapters of the original manuscript that had been leaked back in 2008, had been put up on Stephenie Meyer’s website for all to enjoy.

Like the good, whipped fangirl I was, I devoured all 12 chapters with ease and lamented the loss of never getting more than that snapshot of Edward’s thoughts and musings.

Now, twelve years later, the full book has been written, published, and released to the delight and downright shock to many age-old Twilight fans that had believed that series to be dead and buried, myself included.

So, when the book came out this August, I swallowed my trepidation, knowing that my love for the characters was now long gone, but I believed that the sentimentality of 8th grade Melissa’s obsession would long linger, making this a pleasant blast from the past to lift my mood.

Unfortunately, this wasn’t the case.

Now, that I’ve told you my whole life story in an effort to explain why I have the feelings I do and to justify that I’m not just being negative for the sake of being negative, this book did not hold up to any of my expectations.

One, it was so freaking long.

Holy shit, was this book long.

As I have said countless times on this blog, I like big books (and I cannot lie). It’s the best feeling in the world when you get into a story and you realize that you have many days ahead of you of being engulfed within this new world that you’ve fallen head-over-heels for.

It’s the opposite, sinking feeling of dread when you feel like you’ve been reading the book for weeks and are getting nothing out of it.

Midnight Sun was a lot like that.

It was too long to be good, especially considering the length was not generally driven by plot, but instead driven by Edward thinking of every fucking thing to the nth degree and driving me crazy in the process.

Homeboy needs to take a chill pill, he overstresses, overthinks, and overanalyzes everything to the point of irritation as a reader.

Meyer’s editor really needed to step in and say, “Hey, Stephenie...is all of this really necessary?” and then proceed to cut out at least 300 pages of nonsense.

But that didn’t happen, probably because first and foremost, the book was already going to sell no matter what changes or edits were made, and this seemed like a book more for Stephenie than anyone else.

It was very much stream of consciousness like I’ve already said, a style of writing defined as a literary style in which a character's thoughts, feelings, and reactions are depicted in a continuous flow uninterrupted by objective description or conventional dialogue.

It wasn’t on the level of James Joyce’s Ulysses or other notable works, but damn was it close.

This writing style I found abhorrently repetitive and exceptionally dull.

Perhaps my fourteen-year-old self would have felt differently and would have sucked up anything about Edward Cullen eagerly considering he was the fictional love of my life.

Or perhaps this book would have made me go running and screaming in the opposite direction as Edward is...kind of awful?

One positive thing I can say about this book is that it paints Bella Swan in a very rosy light, which was actually very refreshing. One of the most famous criticisms that Meyer’s has received is Bella’s lack of character, development, and attributes.

Seeing Bella from Edward’s perspective instead of vice-versa actually showed how kind, thoughtful, and selfless she is, all things that I had never really picked up on before.

I still find her inexcusably dumb sometimes, but much of time during this book, Bella was actually far favorable to Edward or any other character, a blasphemous statement of irony if I had ever heard one.

The payoff, however, is Edward’s reveal as not chivalrous, not gentlemanly, and not as wonderful as I remember. He’s arrogant, selfish, obsessive, and honestly? Downright creepy.

The stalking reaches new levels of not okay, often with him trying to justify his less than criminal activities with the notion of her “safety” as the priority, which I found complete bullshit.

I found Edward domineering, cold, aggravating, and lackluster, statements which would literally have made my old self sob, which I honestly did when Edward left in New Moon.

I used to be an avid Jacob hater and lover of Edward to the extreme back in the day. Now, I would weep for joy if he left, root for Jacob all the way, and hope that the horrible name of Renesmee never needed to come to fruition in the first place.

Oh, how the turns have tabled.

Other than the atrocious length, my other large criticism came in the form of well...the book was naturally boring in my opinion. Meyer tries to create tension and moments of suspense, but...we already know what happens.

We know the next few years actually. We know they get married, have a baby, and Bella gets turned into a vampire. So all moments of tension and suspense are unceremoniously tossed out the window.

You might say, typedwriter, that’s unfair! We didn’t read this for the tension and suspenseful plot that we already know! We read this to get new information and insight into the Cullens and Edward especially. What do the Cullens do at home? How do they interact? What does this juicy insider insight look like?

Well, I still don’t know because we hardly saw any of it.

I was the most curious about the Cullens as a family unit and more information into how they functioned, interacted, and cohabited. I even wrote a fanfiction back in the day about what freaking Esme did home alone because I was so intrigued by the idea, but nope!

Edward was always stalking Bella 24/7 so almost no new information was gleaned about the Cullens, sucks for you.

There would be little nuggets here and there, little bouts of cool information (Apparently Esme just stays home all day every day doing….nothing?), but not nearly enough to justify a 600+ page book of a recycled plot that we were already familiar with.

I needed more from this book, craved all the little moments in between, and it was a letdown to the most extreme proportions.

Recommendation: I didn’t really enjoy this read despite my past involvement with the series, my lingering fondness for the movies on a cold, rainy day, and the still sporadic delves into Twilight fanfiction that maintains its reputation of quality and characters.

Twilight will always have a special place in my heart for what it did for me and the people it brought into my life, but I wish I had remembered Midnight Sun as the 12 chapters I read on Stephenie Meyer’s website when I was fourteen and infatuated instead of 26 and uninterested and unforgiving.

Score: 4/10

#midnight sun #stephenie meyer #twilight #new moon #eclipse #breaking dawn #twihard #book blog #book review #Book Recommendations #YA Books #YA Book Review #edward cullen #bella swan #fanfiction #book blogger #book photography #book analysis #book aesthetic

102 notes · View notes

mimssides · 4 years

Text

One Spade for five Hearts: Chapter 1

Read on AO3

Masterpost | Taglist

First | Previous | Next

___

Warning: Talk about transition, periods and dysphoria.

___

A usual Tuesday.

■ Waking up 07:30.

□ Leaving the house on 08:30.

□ Math from 08:30 to 10:00.

□ Break from 10:00 to 10:30.

□ Spades History from 10:30 to 12:00.

□ Lunch break from 12:00 to 13:15.

□ Chemistry from 13:15 to 14:45.

□ Break from 14:45 to 15:00.

□ Fencing from 15:00 to 16:30.

□ Arrival at home 17:00.

□ Doing homework until dinner at 18:30.

□ Finishing homework until 21:00.

□ Getting ready for bed 22:00.

□ Going to sleep 22:30.

Logan Ward was as organized as ever. He had to be. He was a Ward after all. Which was why he looked over his list again before crossed off the second checkpoint.

■ Leaving the house on 08:30.

He called his mother goodbye over his shoulder and left the house. Quickly, he walked down the driveway, waving to Virgil who was already waiting with his bike for him. As usual he looked tired, was slightly bobbing along the music of his headphones, music Logan couldn’t hear, and only after a few seconds returned the wave of his oldest friend.

As usual Logan joined Virgil and they silently walked to school. As usual Logan thought that Virgil was ridiculous for taking his bike with him even though he wouldn’t drive it. As usual Logan didn’t mention these thoughts because, despite it being illogical, he was happy to walk alongside Virgil.

■ Math from 08:30 to 10:00.

His first class in the day. Virgil was in a different course than him, so they parted before the class started and Logan found himself in the company of Remus Butkus. A terribly smart Club, who had no sense of decency and tact. And while he liked algorithms and geometry well enough, he had to admit that with kæm they were expansionally more interesting with the freckled redhead by his side.

■ Break from 10:00 to 10:30.

Meeting up with Virgil again and telling Remus goodbye until lunch.

■ Spades History from 10:30 to 12:00.

Usual class. They were to do a group project about the history of Spades before the equality treat had been signed 600 years ago. Virgil was his partner, as usual, and they would meet up in Thursday after class to talk about the details, as they usually did when they had a group project.

■ Lunch break from 12:00 to 13:15.

At lunch Logan and Virgil re-joined with Remus. Kæ had brought kæs boyfriend Patton along. They smiled at the two Spades before they kissed Remus and started talking about their day. As usual they asked Virgil how his day went and Logan greeted N (apparently going by Janus today judging by the bowler hat on their head) and Roman, Remus’s twin.

As usual Janus made a snarky remark about Patton’s all too positive attitude and Remus laughed at kæs boyfriend’s pout but helped them defend themself against Janus’s bickering. As usual Roman –

No, Roman did not get involved into the quarrel for once. He was uncharacteristically quiet and Logan shot him a look. The otherwise always boisterous boy looked figuratively down and almost seemed to have waited for Logan to acknowledge him. Confused Logan was about to ask what was going on, when Roman pointed to Logan’s phone. Logan looked down to it and unlocked the screen. On the lock screen a message from Roman was showing and Logan silently read:

Roman Butkus:

you have pads? frogt mine at home

Logan looked back up to Roman. Gave him a short nod and stood up from the table. Virgil shot him a funny look and Logan simply said, as he took out his little necessity bag from his satchel: “I need to go to the bathroom.”

“I’m coming too!” Roman announced immediately and was already on his feet following Logan leaving the cafeteria.

Logan walked quick and did not look back, knowing perfectly well that Roman could keep up with him. And not a moment later, the shorter boy walked next to him, arms folded over his chest. He looked uncomfortable and Logan suspected that he might have been wearing his binder too long or that he felt more sensitive during his period or in the worst-case scenario both.

Finally, they made it to the bathroom and entered. Logan quickly walked along the stalls and checked if they were alone, which was the case, and then took out a pad of his little necessity bag and handed it to Roman. Grateful Roman took it and disappeared in one of the stalls, as Logan leaned back against the wall waiting for Roman to finish.

They didn’t need to be secretive about having periods. Everybody knew and they were generally accepted. But Logan understood quickly after getting to know Roman that he tended to struggle with some parts of his body when he didn’t feel like he was a woman. For himself that was not the case but he understood that gender was different for everybody and he would do anything to support Roman in the way he could and needed to.

“Fuck.”

Logan’s train of thought was broken. Roman’s tone sounded watery and Logan got alarmed.

“What is it?” Logan asked not quite certain if he was approaching this the right way.

“I – I uh, fuck.”

Roman was definitely crying and Logan walked up to the closed stall door. He just stood there and waited, not knowing if there was anything he could even say.

“Blood got onto my jeans. I – I -”

Roman broke off and Logan heard some small sobs. He sighed and opened the little necessity bag again. Silently, he crouched down and slid a little package through the slit close the stall door.

“It is okay, Roman,” Logan said trying to sound soothing. “It happens. It happens to me too sometimes. If you open the package, you’ll find a cleaning cloth. It’s enhanced to get blood out of the fabric, so no one will notice.”

Logan listened to the movement inside the stall, heard the package being opened and how Roman apparently cleaned his jeans. There were still some sniffles but Logan felt himself relax.

A minute went by and you could hear Roman flush. Logan awaited him coming out but Roman let him wait.

“Thank you so much… I’m sorry for making you wait here with me,” Roman finally said.

Logan frowned and looked at the door as if he could send a look through the wall. But knowing that he could not do that he instead said: “It is quite alright, Roman. Periods are not the most comfortable topic among our peers, even if they are cis girls. It is okay to struggle with it. Just try to remember that is normal and that you do not have to be ashamed of having the parts you have.”

A sniffle.

“I’m trying. But dysphoria is mean… You don’t have to answer but do you have it sometimes? Do you sometimes think your body is wrong a little? Not really you?”

Logan looked up to the ceiling and mused for a moment.

“I don’t think so. I am fine with how I look. But that might also be because I never had to wear things I did not want to. That my parents didn’t had me have long hair or anything. It does have its perks to have an older sibling who came out as nonbinary when they were twelve, I guess.”

“You wear a binder, though?”

“I do sometimes, yes. I do so today and I probably should change out if it now, but I do not do so because of dysphoria. I just like how I look with a flat chest. Which is not that hard to accomplish with my cup size, I presume.”

A little snort.

“You’re quite lucky, Ward. Quite lucky indeed.”

The stall door was opened and Roman washed his hands. Looking at Logan through the mirror he continued: “Not that I’m jealous of you. It’s not like we could influence it. And quite honestly, some days I have the feeling that I am way more into being trans than you are. Like, it’s so fun to tell teachers that they are actually wrong and I use she/her or he/him today. Still, I’m stoked for when I finally evoke my powers and get to transition. It will be awesome!”

Logan grinned a little and shrugged his shoulders before Roman fully turned around, leaning against the sink and asked: “Do you wanna transition once your powers show? Like top surgery and stuff?”

“I don’t think that I want top surgery, but I am thinking about hormone magic, so my voice gets deeper. I think, that would be the one thing that sometimes puts me off a little. Also, I might grow a beard and that sounds pretty appealing to me.”

Roman laughed and the tiny gap between his front teeth was showing just in the way Logan liked it. It suited Roman far more than the sad expression from before. And then he suddenly stepped closer to Logan, his heart skipping a beat, and he tapped on Logan’s shirt with a grin.

“And don’t you think, I didn’t notice you trying to manipulate me to take off my binder, smart cookie!” Roman teased with a grin. “I will change out of it after the next period and you don’t have to change out of yours just to make me do it. I feel fine. Promise.”

Logan cleared his throat and scratched the back of his neck. A little flustered he looked to the side and mumbled: “That is reassuring. Thank you.”

And then Roman gave him a hug, took him by the hand and led them back into the cafeteria, talking about some nice outfits he had seen the last time he had been in the mall. It all went down a little too quickly for Logan but in the end he didn’t care. Roman was in good spirits again and that was all what mattered to Logan. When they joined back at the table Janus asked Roman if he was alright, which Roman confirmed and gave Logan a little wink.

“Flirting with the shovel knight? That will work out perfectly fine, won’t it?” Janus teased and Roman laughed but hit them on his upper arm.

“Since when are you playing video games, Mx. Technology-Has-Its-Limits-And-No-Flair?” Virgil inquired deadpanned and a series of mocking insults got exchanged between Janus and Virgil until their lunch break neared its end.

■ Chemistry from 13:15 to 14:45.

Virgil, Remus and Logan left the lunch table together and got into one of the few classes they all shared together. Nothing unusual came to be, expect for Remus somehow enhancing one of the mixtures they made so it sparkled and smelled terrible. At least it did not explode this time.

■ Break from 14:45 to 15:00.

Virgil broke off the group to get to track training, while Logan and Remus went to change for fencing practice.

■ Fencing from 15:00 to 16:30.

The usual training. Remus got closer beating him today. But not yet.

■ Arrival at home 17:00.

Virgil had met up with Logan after training and the two said goodbye to Remus and leisurely walked towards their respective homes. They arrived at 16:52 in front of Logan’s house, as usual and talked for a few minutes before Logan needed to get inside and wished Virgil a pleasant evening despite knowing fully well, they would text later tonight.

■ Doing homework until dinner at 18:30.

Taking a shower after fencing practice. Then homework. Finishing up an essay for Common tomorrow.

■ Finishing homework until 21:00.

Dinner was fine. They had noodles and green salad. Father wasn’t coming home today and Grey was staying out later due to a trainings exam he had. Logan didn’t mind. He managed to finish his homework around 20:34 and began to prepare for the night.

■ Getting ready for bed 22:00.

Logan had sent the last text to Virgil for the night and laid out his clothes for tomorrow. Comfortably, he packed his backpack and then went to brush his teeth, and clean whatever had been stuck in his braces before heading to bed.

■ Going to sleep 22:30.

Finally, Logan took of his glasses and turned the light off. It wasn’t entirely dark in his room though. There were stars glowing at his ceilings, playful little gadgets, his father had hung up there for his seventh birthday. Logan didn’t feel like taking them off yet and closed his eyes.

A usual day, he thought. Well, maybe not, he corrected himself. Since the twins, Patton and N had bullied their ways into his routine, had become part of his routine, he was never as sure as he used to be that his days would follow a certain pattern. A clearly laid-out path that he had thoughtfully created for himself over the years.

But maybe unusual, was not so bad after all, Logan Ward thought as he fell asleep.

___

@varthandi

@sammy-is-obsessed / @exhaustedfander

@alexisrealgay

@softie-sushi

@wolfs-feder

@just-a-neoclassical-painting

@winter-jay-official

@a-ghostlight-for-roman

#sanders sides #logan ward #remus butkus #patton gygax #Suits AU #eir writes #please reblog #virgil caron #janus lucas #sanders sides fic #ts logan #ts virgil #ts remus #ts patton #ts janus #ts roman

24 notes · View notes

enithinggoes · 3 years

Text

Wanderer’s Refuge, chapter 2: caught red-handed

Agatha and Ursa knew they wouldn’t be able to stay flying for long, by morning they were already starting to feel hungry and thirsty, so Ursa pointed them to a nearby town she’d heard of so they could get supplies and maybe some maps of the country, they brought the train down as they approached and parked it hidden in a small clearing, then the girls went together into town, looking to find some means to get by just for the near future, as luck would have it, a very important opportunity was waiting just around the corner…

A young red haired man who preferred to go just by his first name was leaning against a wall, gathering his thoughts. He had the plan, he had the smarts, he had the stuff, he just needed the extra hands, someone desperate enough to take the risks and not ask about a big cut…

“We’re gonna need a way to make money.” Said Ursa, pushing Agatha’s wheelchair along the busy streets “and I don’t think people are gonna be super keen on hiring two teenagers that came out of nowhere.”

The man reacted instantly upon hearing them, “Perfect!”, and pushed himself off the wall, catching the coin he was flipping with a flourish and quickly turning to the girls and extending a gloved hand, he wore a dapper suit and a cheeky smile. “Good morning, young ladies! Haven’t seen you around here, are you two looking for a quick job?”

Agatha was a bit stunned by this sudden encounter, so it was all she could do to put her hand out, which the young man vigorously shook.

“Who are you and what the hell do you want with us?” said Ursa, clearly on edge.

“The name’s Lawrence, and there’s no need to be so rude. I want to take you two to lunch, my treat; I know this great place downtown. There, we can discuss a way you can both make 100 shillings in less than a week.”

The two girls glanced at each other, this man was twelve kinds of shady, but 200 total pounds was enough for not only basic supplies, but probably a few mattresses and an ice box, maybe even some coal(they hypothesized that maybe giving the train’s engine some steam might make Agatha less tired from flying).

“We’ll talk over lunch, but we do reserve the right to back out even if you pay for us!” Ursa answered, eyeing Lawrence suspiciously

“Of course, of course. Right this way, then!” The redhead did something close to a twirl turning back and leading them quickly down an alley.

At the restaurant, Lawrence had impeccable table manners, even better than Agatha’s, and definitely than Ursa’s, who was scarfing down an expensive cut of beef when he asked “So, I’ve told you ladies my name, it would be rude if you didn’t give me yours.”

“I’m Agatha Clarke, it’s a pleasure to meet you. And this is Ursa Martin,” said the white-haired girl, Ursa just mumbled in agreement while still chewing.

“Now, an illustrious coal baron, mr. Robert Evans, is coming to town with an entourage to visit the local mines, which have been drying up for a few decades. And I’d wager, with proper prestidigitation we can make a deal with him that shall be quite lucrative for us.” Lawrence explained with a devilish smile.

“So you’re a scammer.” Ursa said matter-of-factly.

“I prefer to think of myself as a merchant that really knows how to make a sale.” He said, entirely unperturbed.

“Alright, I’m down to scam a coal baron, what’s the game?”

“I’m glad you’ve asked, partner.”

Over the next few days, Lawrence brought the girls over to where he’d been staying, it was a small hotel room, surprising considering the apparent quality of his suit, Ursa had to carry Agatha’s chair up, since there were only stairs. There, he showed them a few large bags of oddly shaped rocks he’d collected plus some soot-based paint, “made it myself!” he commented with a wink.

They spent their time painting the rocks very thoroughly to look as much like coal as possible, while putting them out to dry, Agatha innocently asked “Sir Lawrence, I hope you don’t mind but why do you keep all your belongings in bags and pouches, is there something wrong with the room’s lockers?”

“Well, you see, I just like to keep my things close at hand.” The red-haired man seemed bashful, like that was only half an answer, still, Agatha didn’t want to pry. “You’re a very wholesome woman, aren’t you? I was actually a bit worried you’d be against my business model.”

“Well, you see, sir, I don’t think a baron of anything is going to be hurting for money anytime soon. And we don’t have many options in the present moment.” Agatha avoided mentioning she was already, by all accounts, a criminal.

Lawrence put his knuckle to his chin and said “I see, I guess I misjudged you a little. Well, then we’d best get back to work, we have some rehearsing to do!” He felt like he understood her a bit more, but cut the conversation short, he didn’t like getting too attached to his “coworkers”

The three of them slept in Lawrence’s cramped room, Agatha and Ursa wanting to avoid the hassle of moving back to the train and the possibility of revealing their magical artifice, who knows how Lawrence could react?

The guests shared a sleeping bag of his cuddled together on the floor, while Lawrence rested on his bed, never taking off his gloves or turning his back to the door.

When a total of 5 days had passed, the final preparations were made in the morning and the three headed close to the city’s entrance, when they saw a man in a strikingly black suit accompanied by three burly lads, his eyes and nose turned slightly upwards as he strode, Ursa and Lawrence, both wearing dirty overalls, walked down onto the street, shouting at each other.

“Ya can’t sell those, those are all that’s left of Pa!” said Ursa, faking the accent people imagined miners to have.

“Well he worked himself ta death findin’ these so we could live a decent life!” retorted Lawrence, carrying a large, metal bucket full of painted pebbles.

“We could take over this whole town if ya just worked in that mine for a few more weeks!” she grabbed onto Lawrence’s shoulders, shaking him.

“We ain’t gonna be alive for more weeks if Ah don’t sell these!” He pushed her away, purposefully letting the rocks shake and make noise inside the bucket.

The baron’s bodyguards were about to push the two away from his path when, with an elegant, but firm hit of his cane onto the sidewalk, he commanded them to stop. Lawrence and Ursa turned to face him, feigning surprise.

“Now now, there’s no need for such vulgarism. Young man, would you kindly show me what you’re holding there?” He spoke to Lawrence slowly, like one speaks to a child.

As Ursa pretended to hold Lawrence back, he proudly showed the contents of the bucket, saying “This is what Pa used to call ‘charboné eterinow’, said he’d heard of it when he was young like me, burns as long as ya like, it does.”

“’Charbon eternél’, hmm, the eternal coal” Mr. Evans was clearly proud of his french, “could you show it to me in action?”

Lawrence put the bucket on the floor, smiling widely as he bragged “of course, mistah! Let me just get it burnin’ real quick” he took a little flask of moonshine from his pocket and let some drip onto the inside of the bucket, before setting it on fire with a simple tinderbox and quickly removing his hand before the flames flared to life.

“Easy there!” He quickly leaned back, his hands hovering at the sides of the bucket as they watched the flames cover the entirety of the bottom of the bucket, making the rocks hard to even look without feeling pain in one’s eyes.

Ursa was very nervous about this step, in theory, there should be nothing stopping the flame from fizzling out once all the alcohol was consumed, but Lawrence had assured her he “had a plan”. Lo and behold, the fire didn’t go out, instead it flared beautifully up, almost burning the coal baron’s clothes as it seemed to reach towards his eyes before stabilizing inside the bucket.

Whatever it was that Lawrence had done, it seemed that he was quite anxious too, as he stuck his tongue out the corner of his mouth in concentration and quickly started to sweat, thought that might have been from the heat, while his hands hovered near the bucket for more than two minutes before he quickly turned it upside down, fast enough for none of the rocks to go flying.

“That should put it out in a few” said Lawrence, holding the bucket while the oxygen from the bucket depleted until he raised it up to reveal the still perfectly intact rocks underneath.

“See! Not one bit a wear n’ tear! Pretty special, right?” Lawrence turned looked up towards Robert Evans.

The coal baron hid his amazement by biting his lip and muttered “Special indeed.”

“Well, waddaya think? Pa told us these would be worth a fortune, how’s 600 sound?” Lawrence named a tall price, all part of negotiations.

“No, no, this is certainly impressive, but 600 is too much for a novelty, I’ll be generous with you and give you 300.”

“That’s a done deal!” The men shook hands, and after the money was exchanged, he paid Ursa and said he still had “some details to deal with really quick” so she and Agatha could go back to the room or wherever they wanted now.

Ursa met up with Agatha nearby, and excitedly told her about how the plan had worked, how they had enough money now to buy the things they would need to live for a while. Agatha asked about Lawrence, but Ursa said they shouldn’t expect him to hang around for long after the job, he was clearly a man with no interest in roots, ready to leave at any time.

“Guess that doesn’t make him very different from us.” Agatha commented with a sympathetic smile.

“huh… guess not.” Commented Ursa, made somewhat aware of her cynicism.

Meanwhile, Lawrence was making the “real” part of this plan come to fruition, he brought mr. Evans(at his request), to the “source” of the “charbon eternél”. A field of bare stone around a dark cave, were he’d half-buried, just conspicuously enough, dozens of painted rocks just like the ones in the bucket he carried, he counted on the baron’s arrogance to make him believe Lawrence wouldn’t see the potential something like a “mine of ever-burning coal” could have to completely destroy the current state of the economy.

“Here it is mister, this is where Pa found ‘em, spent 25 years looking for ‘em, he did.” Lawrence said, pointing around the area on the outskirts of town.

“I see,” said Robert Evans, “the site of such an interesting find should definitely be preserved, would you be willing to sell it to me for about 500 pounds?”

“Fahve hundred! Why that’s too kind, sir! I’d love to give it to you, I’ve been trying to get off this town and make it in the big city.” Lawrence rapidly shook Evans’ hand, keeping up the farce that he was the one being tricked with a lower value than this could really be worth, his plan had worked perfectly.

Lawrence went back to his room, with a score like this, 600 pounds all to himself, he really should take the chance to exit the scene as quick as he could, before anyone caught on and came to ask him for refunds.

He put his suit back on and gathered his things, his clothes, his sleeping bag, his toothbrush, his switchblade, any trace of the time he’d spent here, the only thing he left behind was a note with “good luck out there, don’t look for me.” For the people who had been his roommates for the last week, he pushed a pang of guilt at giving them such a small share of the score and just disappearing without a word away with the thought that this was just “the game”, and he’d just learned to play it well.

Lawrence thought a bit about where he could go now, probably somewhere with a big market and lots of gullible tourists. Yeah, that’d be good for a few more months, maybe even a year and a half.

After picking out a town south of where he was, he bought his ticket and waited inside the station, it would still a few hours until the train he’d booked came, but he didn’t want to risk any unfavorable encounters by walking around outside.

Unfortunately that didn’t stop two burly men, who he recognized as the coal baron’s bodyguards, from coming up to him and telling him to get up and come with them. Ok, a little snag, nowhere to just run away, no trains for a long time, but it’s fine, he can weasel his way out of this.

They brought him into an alleyway, where he met mr. Robert Evans again, he didn’t seem upset, but was definitely not friendly, as soon as Lawrence saw him, he started saying “I can explain,”.

“So,” interrupted the baron, “It appears to me you were not fully honest with your description of this ‘ever-burning coal’, were you?” He showed one of the painted rocks with a part broken off, showing the gray center.

“Alright, you got me, I was trying to pull one over on you, you’ve gotta know it’s a common thing around here, that’s the game, and you won! I’ll pay you back with 50% extra, promise.”

The coal baron took a step forward, smirking at Lawrence dropping the façade he’d adopted when speaking to him. “I see, but I think I have a better idea of how you could… reward me for this “win”. Would you mind telling me how you got that fire to keep burning that long?”

“It was the alcohol!” Lawrence sputtered out, “I-it is mixed with a slower burning substance that kept it bright longer!”

“Seize his hands, please.” The two bodyguards grabbed onto Lawrence’s arms, he was shoved to the ground, bruising his chin and getting his arms held behind his back, his left glove was pulled off, revealing crimson-red fingers.

“Ah, the devil’s hand, I suspected it when I noticed your gloves were the only thing you wore on both occasions where we met, so I think I know a way you can repay me even better:” Evans put his foot on top of Lawrence’s head, pressing it to the floor. “You see, I happen to know there’s a 500 pound reward for capturing your kind, dead or alive, so along with taking back the money you stole from me, I’ll be making quite a big profit.

Lawrence tried to look forward, find something he could do to escape, at the end of the alleyway, he could just barely see two girls in new clothes, one of them in a wheelchair, maybe it was Agatha and Ursa! They could help him, right? No, he left them before, and maybe they even knew he’d lowballed them, why would they risk their lives for someone like him?

“Anything to say for yourself, monster? Aren’t you gonna squirm some more? Or can you at least face death like a man”

He couldn’t find anything, after all, he’d tried everything before, nobody ever listened, ever saw him like a person after knowing what his hands meant, they called him a living timebomb, a danger to society, he’d grown used to it by now, he could try to burn them all to death, become fitting of his description, use this supposed power that had made him a target all his life…

Before he could finish weighing if he’d rather risk trying to escape while they dragged him to the local precinct or give up on trying to subvert their judgment of him by just leaning into the raging fire, the weight over his body suddenly disappeared as Ursa launched her whole body with a burst of steam it into Robert Evans, her elbow connecting with his back and the force throwing him into his bodyguards and knocking them off their feet.

“Can you run?” she crouched down and asked him while untying his wrists.

“Certainly better than the alternative.” Lawrence answered, already getting up onto his knees and putting his gloves back on.

They ran out of the alley and Lawrence followed Ursa as she wheeled Agatha out of town and towards the nearby woods, he didn’t know where they were going but if they had a route to get away from here it certainly beat staying.

When they came to a clearing, the young man had a hard time believing what he saw, a two wagon train in the middle of a forest.

“Get in!” Said Ursa, lifting Agatha’s chair onto the train as Lawrence followed them inside

“I don’t know if I can give it liftoff, last time we were already in the air when it manifested.” Agatha went to the train’s caboose and lifted herself to the conductor’s chair, focusing on visualizing the train in flight as she’d seen before. The train started moving as its tracks began to form, but it couldn’t quite accelerate quick enough to beat the upwards incline, the boiler made a roaring noise, like a starved tiger crying out in rage.

“Shit, I forgot to get any actual coal while we were out!” said Ursa, looking for something flammable she could part with, maybe they’d have enough time before someone came for Lawrence to go out and cut down some trees.

Lawrence clutched his own arms, hesitating a bit to do something he knew would be an unnecessary risk, but he owed at least some help to these people, right? “You’ve already collected the necessary water for the boiler right?”

“Yes, we’ve even already filled it, we just need a flame to light it,” replied Agatha, still concentrating on trying to move the train through her sheer will.

Lawrence pulled back his sleeves, he didn’t want to burn them with an effort this large, he extended his hands into the boiler and flames entirely engulfed the inside of it, barely licking at his forearms. The heat quickly started transforming the water in the boiler into steam, launching the train into motion forwards and upwards.

Agatha and Ursa stared at Lawrence’s hands, marveling at the beauty of the flames and their incredible power before Agatha had to focus on guiding her machine and Ursa had to hold on to avoid falling over from the sudden acceleration.

After they’d picked up some good altitude and speed, Lawrence pulled his hands out of the boiler and turned to look out the window, seeing the world from above for the first time, right here, it felt like nobody could hurt him, no one could look down or him or hunt him down for a strange birthmark he never asked for, it was beautiful.

“So…” He turned to Agatha, “how long can I stay here, could you at least drop me off at the next town you come to?”

“Oh.” Agatha didn’t turn away from the blue sky she was plowing through, “You may leave if you’d like, sir, but you’re welcome to stay as well.”

Lawrence did a double-take, why would anybody take this risk? Put their own lives at stake sheltering a man who could never not be a target for the rest of his life? “Really”

Ursa came up to him, tapping him on the shoulder, “yeah man, we’re not throwing you back out there.” She pointed at the town, now tiny from the window of the train.

Lawrence smiled, putting his forearm in front of his eyes, maybe to shelter them from the sun, or to shelter himself from showing his watery eyes.

“Thank you.”

#Wanderer's refuge #Magic #pyromancer #steampunk #Original Work #original writing #original story #disabled character #train #lesbian character #trans character #hurt #comfort #weekly

4 notes · View notes

detroit-become-human-analyze · 5 years

Text

Is Daniel/Simon (PL600) a sexual companion like North or a Traci?

Analyzing the game again, a controversy has sparked because of this picture, so let’s take a look at how much of “canon” (real game canon) might or not be behind it:

Now, we see this PL-500 picture that clearly states that, although “romantic mode” is optional, the PL-500 is intended as a intimate (sexual) partner, and if one thing we’ve notice from the androids in this game is that the first two letters usually determine “the category” (just like RK are military/police, or the YK are children). And there are two major characters on the game that are later versions of this “PL-500”, and that is the PL-600 Daniel and Simon, that although are described as “household/caretakers/companions”, it’s never specified up to what point.., and possibly the fact that they can cook meals and care for your kids is actually the NEW feature, as PLs where originally sexual/romantic companions on previous models.

This is never actually “explicit” but it’s weirdly hinted during the entire game. - So, we mostly see Daniel, a PL-600 android during the chapter “The Hostage” (witch is also the demo of the game) and maybe a bit of him (depending on what you do) at the end on the chapter “Last Chance Connor”, but we can all conclude that Daniel life was at the house of the Phillips.

At first glance everything was good at the Phillips house, and, there’s even this very nice picture of them as soon as you get off the elevator with Connor.

Connor is given very little time to determinate the best approach to rescue the hostage (Emma) from their now deviant android Daniel.

One of the first interesting things I’ve noticed, despite the fact that the Phillips are actually quite rich to be living in such an apartment (during such rough economic times in Detroit, as Kara sees it on the trip at the beginning, on Todd car), is that the mother never, EVER says ANYTHING about her dead husband. Never laments or screams or even mentions it (her husband is right there dead on the living-room, I mean...), Caroline Phillips (little Emma’s mother) is only focus on saving her daughter, and spitefully says “keep that thing away from my daughter” referring Connor, but we all assume her hate is shared to all androids (witch it’s odd, she owns one that even plays with her daughter).

This very vaguely hints the mother of the house has a quarrel with androids (for some reason) from BEFORE the incident at hand, and when you go see Captain Allen, you walk into the main bedroom.

One thing that caught my eye is that, despite having a household android, it’s nighttime and the incident has being occurring -since one hour- before Connor arrival (meaning an hour ago wasn’t the morning either, you see this on the news on the fridge area), AND, for some reason, the bed sheets are all messed up on the parent’s bedroom.

If you (Connor) analyze/re-construct where Daniel got the gun of the father, you see he never touches the bed when he goes for the gun.

I doubt Captain Allen is letting his SWAT team fool around in the bed, so that’s discarded.

The father of the family (the now “late” John Phillips) has being watching TV and using the tablet to order another android... so... why are the sheets on the parent’s bedroom undone?

If the wife was suffering depression or simply “in bed”, she would have seen Daniel go into the room in panic and get/load the gun right in front of her.

This indicates that possibly the mother was either out of the house at the moment of the event, or somewhere else (the bathroom, etc).

If you examine Emma’s room you will see that she was listening to music, as Connor concludes that this is why Emma didn’t heard the shooting, again, the mother must have being out, if not, she would have heart the entire thing... but there is a darker twist as to why Emma might have being with her music full on... Yes, there is a high provability that John Phillips, “dear old dad”, was having sex with Daniel in the bedroom next door, and there is a grater chance that obviously this was “a regular thing”. Therefore a broken relationship with his wife and that “rich people perfect family photo” was just a charade, thus, also, why “mom was out of the house”. - Even if all evidence is circumstantial, it just fits right in too fast and too perfectly to ignore in a game that pays so much attention to details and talks so much about abusive relationships and dysfunctional families.

Connor can reconstruct events but not “audio”, if you examine the late John Phillips body, you will see that Daniel stood up behind him and they actually had “a talk” BEFORE Daniel starts shooting.

By the food that was left overcooking in the kitchen, the bet is that “dad” had it with Daniel at the main bedroom (maybe even realizing at that point that having sex with the same android was “getting boring”, thus, since they obviously have the money, start considering buying another “sex android toy”).

Then Daniel went to do dinner, oversaw the same men that just had sex with him ordering another “replacement” android, got pissed off like a lover would (this is very common actually, a couple or sexual/romantic partner shooting the other if they know that they’ll being left for “someone else”), run to the bedroom, takes the gun, confronts John (his lover) verbally, Daniel finally snaps, shots him to death, and then runs (like a mother would), to get Emma.

Possibly THAT was the moment where Caroline Phillips returned to the apartment and Daniel saw/heard the elevator blocked, so he head outside.

Now, another interesting thing is that Daniel has a very close relationship with Emma (the little girl), almost “motherly like”, up to the point in witch after shooting the dad, the first thing he can think of is taking Emma (much like Kara when shooting Todd and gets Alice).

Sure, then in desperation and confusion, is shoot by the first cop that arrives and everything escalates “pretty quickly”, but any mother would tell you that after a traumatic event, the first thing you get with you is your kids.

This talks a lot about how Daniel at least “felt” he was indeed one of Emma’s parents, he has a mother instinct until Emma starts to reject him due to the situation and he realized that the girl doesn’t see him the way “he sees her”, feeling all the more betrayed.

* On a side note:

If you see where Daniel and Emma video (tablet, Emma’s room) was taken, you will see the background well enough to realize it’s the same park that Markus cross every time he goes to get paintings for Carl Manfred. - As we established before, Markus is a “patient zero” regarding deviancy.

Markus has the “virus” of deviancy (possibly implanted by Kamski itself before giving him as a “gift” to Carl Manfred), and unaware of it, spreads it to any android near him (remember the “androids are constantly shearing information, and during Freedom March, when Markus becomes aware of his ability, he can turn deviants from almost a couple blocks away from his location).

Then, if the infected android gets into a traumatic or emotional event, the “symptoms” of deviation occur. - Thus, there is a high chance that Markus infected Daniel with deviancy without even noticing when crossing the park one day, and the detonating stressful emotional trauma was later on when Daniel saw, what he obviously considered “his family” replacing him.

Simon, being also a PL-600, has also relevant behaviors to that matter, especially regarding Markus.

For instance, it’s only him and North the only ones who can “give Markus their heart” (source of power, AKA “battery”) if Markus gets wounded during the violent final protest. - This is interesting because while North might or not have an “intimate relationship” with Markus at that point, and Simon validates his point by “if you (Markus) die, our cause dies with you” kind of thing, he does seems a lot emotionally involved, and, plus... Why isn’t there a scene where, let’s say, equally important character like Josh, offers to sacrifice himself too for the good of the cause??? (let’s say you never develop a relationship with North, you let Simon die at some point, and, North being an egocentric psycho-maniac that only wants to “kill and burn”, I guess Josh would have had more chances to give his life for “the cause”).

* By the way, North has NO excuse, I’ve already explained this before, she killed (strangled) the human that “rent her” (so her immediate abuser is already dead), but also she wants to kill all other humans as well, AND!, she is quickly to say “let’s kill androids too”, so... other androids are North “victims” too, either it’s because she wants to fight and they’re being slaughter, or because “Shoot Simon!” (when, there where a lot other options).

By the way, this scene where Simon gets shot at the roof is one that makes you wonder, developers (as it’s obvious in the EdenClub chapter and Hank later reflections over it, as if it was a future where all sexuality is embraced as normal), have no issue regarding the sexual orientation of any character (if per-se’ androids are genderless and only assigned a gender to look like humans making interactions more comfortable). - If you take the gun and follow North “orders” to shoot Simon on the roof, you’ll be given a second chance to reconsider things, as Simon reminds you that “there is always another way”, but it’s up to you (Markus). - If you decide to put the gun down (disappointing North lust for blood of any color), next time this two characters meet, they hug each other very warmly, ...witch isn’t odd given that Markus thought that Simon was death and left behind... but still, quite an emotional response, because this isn’t Kara and Alice “hugging all the time”.

Add to this, during the Freedom March, Simon, being basically “the coward” throughout the whole game and avoiding conflict, if Markus gets shot (and you don’t have any other androids that came with you from the where house of Cyberlife), jumps into the fight like crazy and even dies for Markus at that point. - This goes basically against every fiber of Simon good judgment and behavior traits from the star, he is always scared and passive, even pessimistic regarding the android revolution although it supports it.

Conclusions:

Overall there aren’t hard evidence, there isn’t a “fools-proof” signature telling you any of this things, but when too many circumstantial evidence piles up, you also have a case...

The entirety of the situation with Daniel might be interpreted differently, if you stretch things up, to a more “innocent like” explanation (that I personally don’t see how could fit at this point). And trust me, this blog is for analyzing the main canon of the official game, if there was any other feeling or evidence, I would point it out... but some things are beyond any explaining, like why the bed is all messed up at night if you have a domestic android just to take care of stuff like that (even Kara makes Todd’s bed).

So, for me, the first chapter (or “demo”) sums up the end of an abusive relationship on a love triangle that torn apart a marriage and a family (like even Magazines during the game indicate, that because of “sex androids” couples where getting divorced).

But tell me what you think or if you have found any other evidence that points out otherwise!

#dbh daniel #dbh simon #dbh sex android #dbh headcanons #dbh cannon #pl500 #pl600 #simon #daniel #the hostage

508 notes · View notes

idaintykeith · 4 years

Text

LOVE GUN (MacCready x fem!sole)

Summary: MacCready gets hired by one, if not the most mysterious woman of the Commonwealth.

No name, no talking. MacCready didn’t even know her name or voice but there were two things he could be certain about that peculiar job: he would be handsomely paid and that his boss carried a heavy past on her shoulders and hid it away in the depths of her heart.

MacCready had a policy of not making questions, but it wouldn’t be long until he would drown in a sea of questions.

Rating: M

CHAPTER ONE “It’s Not Unusual”

He was laying comfortably in one of the VIP room chairs with both of his hands on the back of his head. “ Caps… ” he thought, “ that’s what I need right now.”The room was wide and with no one except for himself, tranquil under the warm lights on the walls and ceiling. From where he was, he could clearly hear Magnolia’s beautiful voice, singing jazz as usual. He passed his thumb through the rifle that rested by the side of his chair, close to him. He thought about getting a drink to let the time pass by and wait, but he reminded himself he was on business.“Can’t do that right now, MacCready .” He muttered to himself.Even if he didn’t take a drink like he would always do, that day was like any other; waiting for caps to roll in—or so he assumed.

“Can’t say I’m surprised to find you in a dump like this, MacCready.” A man said while walking into the room.

It was no other than Winlock accompanied by Barnes. Both walked their way to MacCready and took a menacing posture towards him.

“I was wondering how long it would take your bloodhounds to track me down, Winlock.” He started with an annoyed smile.

MacCready knew the Gunners wouldn’t stop being on his tail. Not while he was taking jobs. But he had no choice, he would fight his way through if he had to, but even himself thought it was rare to not see them for a while now—really unusual.

“It’s been almost three months… don’t tell me you’re getting rusty .” He mocked while slowly approaching his rifle with his right hand, preparing himself “. Perhaps, should we take this outside?” MacCready asked while steadily gazing Winlock in the eyes.

“It ain’t like that. I’m just here to deliver a message,’ Winlock replied.

“In case you forgot, I left the Gunners for good .” He hissed.

“Yeah. I heard. But you still are taking jobs in the Commonwealth. That isn’t going to work for us.”

MacCready wasn’t going to have it. “I don’t take orders from you…”

He remembered the days he served as a Gunner, when the money was good but not the things they did for it. A word that fitted those memories perfectly was no other than “shame”; the shame he felt for the things he had done.

“not anymore,” he continued. “So why don’t you take your girlfriend and walk out of here while you still can.”

“What?” Barnes whimpered in displeasure “. Winlock, tell me we don’t have to listen to this shit…”

MacCready stood up from his chair and faced Winlock. He wanted them to leave at that moment if possible.

“Listen up, MacCready. The only reason we haven’t filled your body with bullets is that we don’t want a war with Goodneighbor” Winlock grunted “. See, we respect other people’s boundaries… we know how to play the game, something you never learnt.”

MacCready smiled and crossed his arms. “Glad to have disappointed you.”

Winlock chuckled a little and dedicated him a menacing glance. “You can play the tough guy all you want, but if we hear you’re still operating inside Gunner territory, all bets are off. You got that?”

MacCready clenched his jaw and furrowed his brows. His chest puffed and his hands were closed in a tight fist.

“You finished?” He questioned with a mad and daring look in his eyes.

“Yeah… We are finished. Come on, Barnes.”

MacCready watched them leave through the door with heavy steps. That was their last warning. Then, he sank into his comfortable chair and decided to ask for a drink, which he surely needed to relax. He softly swayed the drink in his hand and took a sip from it.

As he continued his drink, someone approached him across the room: a young lady. Perhaps she was lost, he thought. She looked far too young to request his service, but as long as she had money everything could be handled.

She had short black hair and long bangs that fell behind her ears, and as his gaze went further into her, more he found mesmerizing and magical. Her eyes seamlessly looked like they had been shaped by knives and their irises were a beautiful pitch-black color, her scar-less skin was pale like pre-war porcelain and it looked beautiful with the blue vault-suit covered in great green armor. A vault-dweller.But again, he wouldn’t have it. Certainly, she wanted something from him he didn’t have.

“Look, kid. If you are going about the Atom, or looking for a friend, you’ve got the wrong guy.” He remarked uninterested. “But if you are looking for a hired gun… then maybe we can talk.”

MacCready got up from the chair and left the drink on the table next to him. He noticed how small and slim she was compared to him, almost feeling like he could easily hold her.

The young lady opened and looked inside the many of the pockets of her light armor searching for something. She took a paper that was carefully folded and then she handed it to MacCready lay open.

He took it gently and read it. In a simple handwriting, the letter said: “I want to hire you. ”

He smiled. “I’ll tell you what. The price is 250 caps… up front, no bargai—”, and suddenly he was interrupted when she threw him a small and heavy bag.

He caught it on the air and felt the sharp ends of some kind of metal. As he opened the bag, he saw a large amount of caps in it and instantly knew it was more than he asked—it was almost the double, probably more. He frowned in confusion.

After she knew with certainty that he checked the bag, she handed him another letter. “ 600 caps… up front.” It said.

He walked around the room, thinking. “ How dangerous is the job if she is paying me this much? ” was one of the many thoughts he had. He crossed his arms and kept wandering around the room to ponder. All he could imagine is that the job was seriously risky that he could die while accomplishing—something he definitely couldn’t afford, but the money was worth the risk, for Duncan .

Another question that came to his wondering mind was another simple but important question: Who is she? A vault-dweller usually knows little to nothing about the world but most importantly, a dweller would never be alone and wouldn’t have that much money.

McCready when he stopped and looked at her again, he noticed the tip of a colorful tattoo on her neck that was hidden behind the blue vault-suit. It seemed like ocean waves; he wasn’t really sure about it. She didn’t feel from this world.

“So… What’s the job?”

So much paper. The lady gave her another piece of paper with something written on it, demonstrating her prior preparation for this situation.

“ Work for me. I need an extra hand in the Commonwealth. That’s all. You’re in? ”

MacCready stared at the letter for some time. 600 caps up front. He couldn’t let her pay so much, he knew real’ well how someone could need a lot of caps to get something they need or want. His morals told him to be fair, even if he needed them too.

MacCready gave her the bag back. “It’ll be 300 caps then. No bargaining.”

| AO3 (to read more chapters) |

#robert joseph maccready #FO4 #maccready x fem!ss #Nick Valentine #rj maccready #female sole survivor #fem!sole x maccready #fallout 4 #fallout #fanfic #AO3 Fanfic #Fallout 4 fanfic #fem!sole #slowburn fanfic #CHAPTER 1

28 notes · View notes

mistwraiths · 3 years

Text

2 stars

Apologies for the blurry picture but I couldn't seem to find a good one. The Crown of Gilded Bones is the third book in the From Blood and Ash series. I want everyone to know I'll be putting on my clown makeup after I post this review because despite rating the first two books low and having issues with them, I somehow deluded myself into thinking this one might be better! It wasn't and dare I say it I think this was the worst one by far.

I'm genuinely trying to find something good about this book ot at least something I really enjoyed. I do like that the books pick up right where the last book ends up. The first few chapters are pretty exciting. Around page 600, the last few chapters are fast paced and things are happening. Other than that, I can't really think of anything I really liked about the book.

Crown of Gilded Bones majorly suffers, like its predecessors, in the same four ways. Being too long, repetition, world information and building, and nothing important to the central story or plot happening for huge chunks of pages.

I firmly believe that all the books were half their length and the story beats were quicker coming and longer, it would be far more enjoyable. Instead you're forced to slog through inner monologues that don't add anything new, Poppy getting dressed by Casteel, showers, and other mundane parts. I thought knowing that it would be slow would help me enjoy the book but nope. The whole deciding to go to the realm of the gods literally doesn't happen until nearly the end of 500 pages in.

The worst part about the book being far too long and nothing happening is that when something does happen, it gets rehashed several times to the point where I, as a reader, am exhausted about reading about talking about it. I'm a big lover of communication. I love it when characters who are working together or are together tell each other important information and trust each other, but this is different. Once something happens, it gets talked about it detail for a handful of chapters, usually lasting longer than the actual event itself, and then is brought up again to go over, and then again. It's frustrating because I just want to move on but the story is so determined to go over everything again.

That's not the only instances of repetition. I know authors tend to reuse certain words over again. SJM and her "croon" and "toes curl" and "barked/roared". I can forgive stuff. I can look over Jennifer's constant use of dimples. The honeydew part is the most disgusting. I don't care what flavor Poppy's vagina is. There's a difference when it comes to the same thing happening with the near similar responses/situations being used over and over again as an attempt in humor but it falls flat after its been used several times. I'm talking about the "I have a question" "No one is surprised by that" parts and the Poppy being prone to violence makes Casteel horny and Poppy has to be like you're disturbing. If it showed up once or twice after the initial one, I could get over it. But it's reused every so many chapters. If it's an attempt at humor, it is a poor one.

This book is number three in a series and this book is still chock-full of world building and world information. I could possibly forgive it since I suppose at the start Jennifer didn't plan for a big fantasy series, but it's too much. There's so much information being crammed at you and it's in a very obvious way. Poppy asks and Kiernan or Casteel answers. That's pretty much the only way Poppy and the reader learns anything. At this point, I feel like I need a glossary and timeline because there is so much information.

In fact, despite nothing happening, l don't know how it still feels that there is a lot going on. There's the Solis problem. There's the Poppy should be queen problem. There's the people have concerns of Poppy being queen. There's the Unseen problem. Another Dark One problem? Poppy's lineage/past mystery. Something about waking up the Consort? And a little bit more. It's a lot.

In the second book, I liked Poppy (sort of), Casteel, and Kiernan. However, I find myself not liking any of them that much. From personality to saying similar things, they all feel very much the same character. There's not much difference in personalities or dialogue. About the only difference is that Kiernan is cool, Poppy is compassionate when it suits the narrative, and Casteel is protective. Other than that, there's not much of a difference between any of them.

Poppy is pretty much the same as always. Massively overpowered and incredibly special, doesn't know anything about her world that she lives in, and somehow despite being so special and powerful, she's kidnapped and hurt and then levels up again. We are forcefully spoon-fed how Poppy is so strong, so beautiful, so intelligent and clever. I haven't found one instance that I've been wow that was smart. Poppy's powers she inherently knows how to use perfectly the moment she gets them.

There's also almost no female interactions or female friendships with Poppy. Tawny was barely there in the first one but when she surprisingly shows up here, she's immediately rendered injured and unconscious. We're told Vonetta and Poppy are friends, but there's been almost no interactions. Vonetta gave her clothes once and then delivered a message later. Is that a basis for friendship? Vonetta eventually falls in a hole and Poppy saves her. That's about it. Ileana and Eloana are both older motherly types but also significant worrisome individuals for Poppy internally. Again, there's like one conversation each with them individually. Lyra is introduced to us by giving Kiernan a blow job but no interactions. Hisa and Nova are soldiers but no interactions. It's even mentioned that female draken are rare, but I'd argue that female characters are exceptionally rare. It's ridiculous. It's like there isn't any female that's allowed to have a moment of spotlight or competency other than Poppy. Poppy also has a moment of nastiness that's out of character when she threatens a woman who admitted to her that she had no interest in Casteel and Casteel had said the same and he wasn't interested in her, and she threatens to rip her limb from limb. It's so sudden and startlingly and leaves a terrible taste in my mouth.

As for Casteel, I no longer like him nor do I think he's a good guy. I think he's capable of good, being good, doing good but there's too many times where he's been vocal about killing anyone and burning his own kingdom down if Poppy doesn't get her own freedom of choice or what she want and what not. It's played out as the most truest love but to me, that's like a villain kind of love. If someone I loved burned down a city because I didn't get to choose what I wanted, I'd call the police. The craziest thing I had to read is people believing that Casteel would make a good king when he legitimately states that Poppy's needs comes before his own kingdom's needs. And if hers are met, the kingdom's could be met. That's not how any of that works!

He also does something incredibly reckless. I get it, he couldn't live without Poppy so he chooses to Ascend her. I can wrap my head around it. The fact of the matter is that Casteel refuses to take the blame or even entertain the consequences that could have resulted in that and how reckless it was. Poppy even refuses to allow the conversation. They are both like: I am not a vampry. Nothing bad happened so let's move on. It's astounding. Not only that but I felt it extremely odd that Poppy would have been okay with Casteel making her into a vampry, something incredibly dangerous and something she hates and would never want to be. It's just oh okay well luckily I didn't turn into one. And that's... it? It would have made good tension but no. Instead, they're just in love so much we have to listen to Casteel tell her how strong and beautiful she is every twenty pages.

I was excited to learn more about Kiernan but I still couldn't tell you much about him. Best friends with Casteel, a wolven, and he's always like "no one is surprised by Poppy having question". That's about all I know of him. Those are all things I knew about him in the second book.

Some other things I had issues with is that the villains are eager to spill everything about their plans. I feel like I'm watching a cartoon show with their villain monologues going on and on. Everyone except for Poppy is knowledgeable about everything!! People are constantly apologizing for things they have no control of. Characters somehow know exactly what to say to Poppy all the time like mind reading. I'm annoyed that the gods realm and the draken were such short parts.

When the reveals and the action which took 600 pages to get to happened, I really couldn't find myself caring. Reading felt like a chore. I'm not worried about any of the characters. I don't know if I'm interested anymore in reading this series because it feels like work trying to read it. I'm here for enjoyment and I'm not having a good time.

#jennifer l. armentrout #the crown of gilded bones #steph's book review #steph reads #book review

3 notes · View notes