#and she immediately clocked that I was ill (and must have somehow clocked that it was worse than when I left bc I’ve been ill for WEEKS

[carnirat]

So you know John Smith's "Journal of Impossible Things" from Human Nature/The Family of Blood?

Years ago, I got a small copy of it at a nerd store and it's got every page from the journal in it. I'm sure these all exist out there already but here's some of my favorite pages and what text I can make out for those who haven't seen some of these

There's lots of repeating text and jibber jabber, I assume to fill space, so I won't write down stuff twice or the random stuff he tends to write over and over

I find myself wanting to draw a perfect rose, over and over although I cannot find a rose anywhere!

In my dream, I keep asking a girl where to find one, and she is dressed in the most extraordinary immodest way.

She will not answer me, and she keeps walking away.

I remember this girl I have drawn her although(?) I know her well in my dream

(The rest is stuff from the previous page and more jibber jabber)

I am a father in my dreams, I am certain, and a grandfather. A great sadness at these thoughts. As if they had not just died, all my (I can't tell), but had departed in a way somehow more final than death.

I am the last for some reason I am terribly afraid that my watch is broken.

I can't remember what they look like (idk) see shadows (idk)

The skies are a burnt orange. And the leaves on the trees are silver.

I know a man who lives on a hillside there. And the city has towers! And I dance(?) in my robes, and my collar I can never get it right. I am so ill suited for it and yet they tell me I am in charge! Ha ha ha!

(Repeating)

(A page about Capt. Jack Harkness)

I am traveling with a man in the military, only he isn't what he seems, and so I leave him behind after a battle, and he is stranded in no man's land, so alone and so far away from home.

(More repeating)

(Page about Martha, next page is immediately next to this)

She wants someone close to me someone I think I know in the waking world. And she is a doctor. She wants to heal me. Why is being a Dr so important? To her and to me. I wish she could turn around so I can see who she really is.

(More repeating)

The girl with the strange spikey hair is trying to take someone away from me

She dresses strange different

Her features are unclear

I don't know what she looks like

Black hair

(Lessgo badwolf rose)

A woman with the universe(?) poured into her and she becomes a lady!

Such grace!

She judges the living and the dead.

Everything changes as she (idk)

She judges(possibly) everything and everyone that she meets

She judges all that come in her path all and more.

She has gold eyes the universe is inside her

Powerful

Gold eyes

I have seen the opposite of a star. A darkness rather than a light on the void

There is a world that lives there, terribly close to disaster. It feels most like a vision, a prophesy. Like something out of astrology, that the placing of these stars is important.

(Jibber jabber)

And further into the nightmare, there was a pit. And there was a voice from the pit. And it wrote itself onto mens faces. It sought an escape into the world of men.

It was the beast, I am sure. The thing inside is all that we must not let out.

A broken clock or a broken mirror will let it out.

(Can't make out the last bit)

-

Hit the photo limit but I'm not done! I'm reblogging with the rest, here's the link to that)

[mybg3notebook]

Hypothesis: Gale proposes you to “cheat"

Another one in the long list of the strangest statements I've read in this fandom. 

Disclaimer Game Version: All these analyses were written up to the game version v4.1.104.3536 (Early access). As long as new content is added, and as long as I have free time for that, I will try to keep updating this information. Written in June 2021.

Let's proceed with the basics, because clearly, anyone saying that Gale proposes Tav to cheat has some faltering concept of the meaning of the word:

The definition of cheating depends on the terms that a couple or more members in a relationship mutually decide. In general, cheating is an act involving a third party that violates the standards or boundaries of a relationship between romantic partners. More specifically, it is a unilateral decision by one romantic partner to become involved (physically and/or emotionally) with an external party that is motivated by a perceived or real limitation in the romantic partnership. 

Now that this is clear, let's see the facts. 

To romance Gale, Tav needs to share the Weave, and this is a must. If Tav did not share it, there is no way to start a romance with Gale in EA. During the Weave there are 3 options that may lead to romance:

Imagine kissing him: We don't need to state that this is obviously romantic. 

Imagine holding hands: At first, we can't say if this is a romantic gesture, but immediately after the Weave, Gale will describe this option as: "Amid the madness that has befallen us, it seems almost out of place to think of a romantic walk". So, clearly, it is romantic. 

Imagine nothing: This is a friendship option, which in the Loss Scene unlocks a dialogue option for romancing Gale. 

During the Loss Scene, if Tav chose kissing or holding hands, an option appears in which Tav can bring the moment of the Weave into the conversation: "Come, you know I care about you. I showed you when we shared that spell/The Weave". This is a reassurance from Tav. After the end of the scene, Gale will bring this concept again in his line: "I often think of that moment we shared together – one under the Weave. I'm glad to know you think about it too. " This means that ever since the moment of the Weave, Gale has been frequently thinking about it, knowing its romantic potential/intention.

If Tav uses any of the other options which don't acknowledge the event of the Weave, by the end of the scene Gale will state: "I often think of that moment we shared together – one under the Weave. I hope you think about it too." This time it is Gale who implicitly reassures that the connection had happened and had an effect on him: “it promises things to come”. 

So, if Tav shared the Weave in romantic terms, the Loss scene will reinforce it. Gale and Tav are making a point that both are interested in what has transpired during the Weave. 

If Tav opted the friendship option during the Weave, a unique dialogue option appears in the Loss scene: *You sense a moment of unspoken affection. You want to know where it may lead.* 

Gale will subtly test the ground, carefully, to see if both of them are on the same page with the same intention. He will show somehow an “unspoken affection” that Tav can decide to pick up upon or not:

Gale: I consider myself very lucky to have found you. 

Among the options Tav has, we find:

"I think perhaps we could be more than friends". Again, we can see that this is the obvious romantic option.

"I consider myself lucky too." A complete friendship-based option, in which Gale recognizes Tav as a good friend.

"Don’t get carried away imagining feelings that aren’t there." And this option allows any player to completely remove the romantic option here. It is not clear if this option can prevent friendship as well in EA. 

As if this were not enough, after the Loss scene there is another confirmation of their romantic interest: the serendipity comment. 

Then, the Party Scene follows. If Tav talks with Gale after arranging a one-night stand with another character, Gale will accept the situation without any reaction beyond some jealous comments. These comments are always available, even with an unromanced Gale, so I'm not sure if this is the way this scene is meant to be or it's simply there because its in EA stage. One can speculate that these comments should appear only in the particular case when Gale was romanced and Tav picks another character to spend the night with. Despite this display of jealousy after being led on, Gale still encourages Tav to follow their whims and enjoy the night with the one they picked

If anything, this seems to show that Gale would accept (even though he doesn’t like it) Tav's one-night stand, assuming that this scene, being in EA, is not meant to be in another way and we are watching an unfinished work in progress. 

Once Tav sleeps with their new LI and talks with Gale about the bedtime story, Gale will propose to retake what had been left up in the air during the party. The player should remember that Gale has been explicitly informed that Tav had romantic interest in him. And if this happened in the Weave, that confirmation has been done several times. The player could have been clear with Gale and stop the romance during the party by choosing the option "Let me stop you right there. That's not something I'm interested in." But this option is sometimes not available depending if you speak with Gale first or later (again, the Party scene is very unpolished). 

So far, what Gale has understood of that situation is that Tav had a one-night stand, but the commitment connection mind-to-mind and the relationship—will be established with him. 

This is the reason why in the next day Gale says:

Gale: You spent the other night with someone else, and I hope it was all you wanted it to be, but…  [romantic weave+ romantic loss scene] we shared a romantic moment of the mind while clocked in the Weave, didn’t we? And I seem to recall a fond allusion to that moment afterwards.  [more than friends path] we had a moment, you and I, a moment in which we expressed the possibility of becoming more than friends.

Gale is accustomed to being only another name in a list of lovers.. He says it during the revelation when he explains that Mystra had many other lovers, and this fact did not intimidate him because, in his youth, "he thought himself favoured among others": he was the “special one”. So, from Gale's perspective, Tav has shown interest in a deep connection with him, so he clearly understands that the night with another companion is a simple, casual thing. There is enough context for Gale to think that he is “the special one” for Tav. 

As a person who respects privacy, Gale will not use the tadpole on Tav to know exactly the degree of commitment they have with that person. He is merely assuming. As he explicitly says afterward if Tav says they will remain with the other LI:

Tav: I’m sorry, but I won’t betray *companion* Gale: I… I see. She/He ‘s a lucky woman/man. Loyalty is such a… such a very rare commodity. Dev's notes: Hurt by the player’s refusal. The reference to loyalty foreshadows Mystra leaving him. Gale: Apologies, I really did think you and I… Dev's notes: Hurt by the player’s refusal. Gale: But no. Perhaps it’s for the better. In fact, I’ll let you be the judge of that. After all, I still have a story to tell. Dev's notes: Composes himself.

From his perspective, he and Tav had been actively pursuing "a romantic connection of the mind". This rejection immediately makes him remember Mystra, so he alludes to her in the line of loyalty: he has been led on once more, similar to what Mystra did. For more details about Mystra’s style check "Mystra and her Chosen ones". If we see the datamining information gathered by pjenn, it's explained in the dev's notes that his comment of loyalty is directed to his experience with Mystra. 

I don't understand people that claim that Gale wants Tav to cheat. Tav has been leading him on in many scenes and then, during the party scene, they changed their mind. Gale—like Wyll—needs a connection to engage into romance (and sex "intimacy); this means that if Tav never expressed their romantic interest towards him, Gale will not look for a romantic relationship. Considering his surprise during the Weave, we can speculate that this aspect of his life had been forgotten or at least, rejected, since he is stuck in the bad experience of Mystra and his folly with the “orb”.

For some unknown reason to me, these people love to spread the misinformation that Gale invites Tav to cheat for this situation. A plain lie. 

What they think the game shows: Gale is asking Tav to cheat on their significant one.

What the game is showing: Tav led Gale on to believe they were interested in a romantic relationship. There is an option available during the party to make Gale stop the romance, but it depends on the interaction order chosen by Tav. After Tav slept with another LI, Gale will inform them that he is fine with that casual night and will propose to spend the next night together. Some people state this is Gale inviting to cheat. With the exception of Gale and Wyll, the rest of the companions state that such night is a mere casual encounter for pleasure. Shadowheart may be more obscure on that matter, though. In any case, there was never any commitment with the other companions either, so all that speech of “cheating on your significant other” is very ill-intended. The closest to a negotiation/promise we have ingame with any companions are the constant reassurances that Gale and Tav have several times along the EA and the subtle meaning for commitment during the explanation of the book of Arm.

Gale: A stolen glance- that sudden heartbeat... Sometimes the little things are worth more than kingdoms. They promise things to come. 

Gale: I often think of that moment we shared together – one under the Weave. I hope you think about it too. /I'm glad to know you think about it too.

Gale: I'm not a big believer in fate, but I do believe in serendipity. Life is a tempest of events that sometimes we brace against and sometimes embrace. You're one such event that one day soon perhaps I'd like to embrace. 

Gale: There is a book that circulates in Amn, detailing the first thousand nights of a newly-wed king and queen. They turned everything they did into an art. The art of conversation. The art of taste, time honoured and newly acquired. The art of the body. The exploration and acceptance of the self and the other. The art of the night itself. I say we take a page from their book.

So, if anything (if we truly want to force this concept even when nobody is in a relationship still), Tav is the one "cheating" on Gale, violating the implicit mutual interest in a potential relationship. 

In conclusion, Gale seems to be very obvious in wanting a commitment that could prevent Tav from abandoning him like Mystra did. He has an immature idea that sleeping with Tav would increase his chances for acceptance (not by chance Gale talks about the book of Amn in the way he does. It's not mere poetry or euphemism in my opinion. He is indirectly saying he wants those many aspects that a married couple turned into art, he won't mind making this relationship a "prequel" of that book: one can interpret this line as a suggestion that Gale wants to end up in a deep commitment.)

When we analyse this aspect of Gale, we can see that words like promise, loyalty and abandon are a bit frequent in his speech, and it may be displaying the constant abandonment issues echoing in his mind. A final example of this can be seen during a non-romanced Gale who receives Tav’s proposition to spend the night together after arranging the same with another LI:

Gale: You are all too quick to abandon the one you promised yourself to. It’s not a quality I admire

Again, Gale’s character is strongly attached to the concepts of loyalty and abandonment. For more details, read the post about "Gale Hypotheses- Part 1", section: "Abandonment Issues"

This post was written in June 2021. → For more Gale: Analysis Series Index

[n0wornever]

Skip Day - Present Day!Luke Patterson

Request- so to me, Luke look like never a big fan of school. So can you do one please where he forgets to finish a report worth half semester grade and fakes sick to stay home and finish it....”

This is one is short, but cute. I made it present day because it just came naturally to me! Thank you so much for this request! Also, lil bit of reader involvement in the end :)

Emily ran over to his bed, thermometer in hand. Luke pulled out the perfect pout as she rushed to his side, swiping her hand through his hair. She told the boy she didn’t feel a fever coming on, but with the way his hand held his stomach and those big sad eyes, she had rushed into overprotective mom mode in seconds.

“Open your mouth Luke,” She said, sticking the instrument under his tongue. 

As she sprinted to the bathroom to wet a washcloth, Luke took that moment to stick the device underneath his arm. He had seen the armpit trick work in a movie once, and he had done several jumping jacks before his mother had walked into his bedroom, so he hoped that the heat would do the trick.

As he heard the sink turn off and the turn of his mom’s heels, he stuck the thermometer back in his mouth and hoped for the best. His mom set the cool rag on his forehead as she ran a hand up and down his arm. When the device finally beeped, she grabbed it from him and read it with a sigh.

“100.8,” She said, her eyes narrowing at him. “Looks like you’re staying home today baby.” 

He tried to hide the elation that sprung from his body as she announced the results of his work, but a small smirk perked up when his mom’s eyes temporarily left his to put the tool back into the first aid kit. She turned back over to him with a soft smile. 

“Are you okay being home alone?” She asked, and Luke nodded quickly. She nodded back at him, touching his forehead with her hand one more time. “I have a can of soup in the cabinet if you get hungry, and text me if you need me.” 

She leaned in to give him a quick hug, squeezing his shoulders as she rose back up to a seated position.

“I hope you feel better soon, Lu.” 

Hearing his nickname made him feel a sense of anxiety and a smidge of guilt, but those feelings wiped away when he remembered why he put on this act. His English midterm. He hadn’t written more than a page of his final paper that was due today at 11:30. This assignment was worth 50% of his overall grade and he couldn’t explain away it’s significance. 

He smiled at her, sending a quick nod her way. She stood up from the bed and walked toward the door. As soon as he heard the clasp shut, he sprung out of his bed and over to his desk. He pulled out his laptop and pulled up the word document he started last night. 

“I’ll definitely be better after I ace this paper, momma.” He said to himself, chuckling as he cracked his knuckles.

He quickly typed on the word document, writing frantically against the clock. After a few paragraphs, he stopped and his hand moved to a drawer on the lower left hand side. He pulled out the gummies that Reggie had bought him the day before, and a soda that he had stashed several days ago and placed them both next to his computer. 

After he had finished a few pages, his phone went off. He picked it up and saw her name across the screen. 

Baby: “Did you really skip. Luke Patterson, you are unbelievable.”

Closely followed by another text. 

Baby: “I’ll see you at 2.”

He smirked at her quick change of tone before pressing the device back to the wood. He cracked open the orange soda and guzzled down a few sips, grabbing a peach ring and shoving it in his mouth before he started typing again. 

As the sun hit a mid point in the sky, Luke finally let his back relax against the chair. Somehow he did it. He had finished a 6 page paper in less than 5 hours. He shook out his wrists as he scrolled through the pages for spelling and grammatical errors. It definitely wasn’t his best work, but he had something that would stop him from immediately failing Ms. Johnson’s 3rd period class. 

He stood up from his chair, reaching his arms left to right to stretch out his sides. He turned back to his bed and flopped down on his stomach with a smile. He curled himself back up to the top, crawling under the covers before closing his eyes. 

His peaceful sleep was interrupted by loud knocking on his door. Luke’s eyes opened wide as he turned toward the open frame. There she sat with a smart grin on her face, hand on her hip. She moved over toward him and sat down on the soft blue comforter. 

“You’re impossible.” She started, reaching under the blanket to grab his hand. “You know, Johnson actually seemed worried about you today. You must have really convinced your mom that you were ill.”

He let his thumb run across hers as he gazed at her. “Mom didn’t even put up a fight this morning,” His smile growing larger as he spoke. “I think I should become an actor.” 

She rolled her eyes, leaning back to lay next to him on the bed. She turned her head to meet his eyes again and let out a soft chuckle. 

“A comedian too?” 

He narrowed his eyes at her before laughing with her. He brought her hand to his lips and kissed her knuckles lightly. 

“Oh hush, you know you love me.”

“That I do,” She said cooly, leaning in and pressing her lips to his. 

.

.

.

Tag list: @xplrreylo​ @lovesanimals​ , @anythingandeverythingfandom​ , @crybabyddl​ , @oswin05​ , @themaddies-obx​ , @lukeys-giggle​ , @bumbleberry-pie​ @kiss-themoongoodbye​  @marinettepotterandplagg​ , @lolychu​ , @bathtimejish​ , @dasexydevitt13​ @musicconversedance​ , @txrii​  @bestdressedandstressed​ @daisiesforlacey  @epikskool​  @bookfrog247​ @carleywhittaker​ @princessvader15​ @rudysbay​ @spooky-season-bitch​  @kcd15​  @meangirlsx​ @itz-jas​ @parkeret​ @writerinlearning​ @calamitykaty​ ​ @whatever-happens-imma-stand-tall​

[cynical-mystic]

ZKMonth 21 Day 5 - Soulmate Marks

On the day you were born, you were given a necklace that was one half of a design. The other half was given to your soulmate. No one knows where the necklaces came from; they just appeared around the necks of infants and grew as they did. You couldn’t take them off until you met the person you were destined to be with. This made it a bit easier to find your match.

Katara didn’t really care whose necklace matched hers. Sokka, her brother, had always been obsessed with finding the other half of his.

She just wanted to live her life, get her degree, and get a good job so she could help support their grandmother.

Her necklace was half of a crescent moon with some kind of design carved into it. She didn’t have the whole thing so she couldn’t tell what the design was supposed to be. When she was little she’d drawn pictures of it trying to guess the full thing, but none of them ever looked right.

One day, as she was sitting in her Intro to Literature class, someone who wasn’t the professor walked in. She knew this class had a TA, but he’d never come to class before as most of his job was helping to grade their smaller assignments.

“Professor Wu is ill today,” he said, not looking up at them as he sorted through his materials. “I’ll be leading discussion on Darcy and Elizabeth’s refusal of their matching necklaces in Pride and Prejudice.”

He looked up and met her eyes, and her necklace grew warm.

It was as though time froze. Both of their necklaces fell from the choker position to a normal necklace length, and they took each other in.

He was good-looking despite the scar that covered half his face. He seemed well put together based on how he was dressed and the state of his bag.

But she didn’t even know his name.

Not participating in class discussion was out of character for Katara, but today she felt like it was excusable. Somehow he was still able to teach class, but she couldn’t focus.

Should she go right up to him after? Should she just ignore him and leave?

When the clock chimed the hour, he made the decision for her, packing up his things as quickly as possible and all but bolting out of the auditorium.

Suki, her best friend, put a hand on Katara’s shoulder as she stared after him.

“I saw your necklaces,” she said, gesturing to Katara’s neck.

Out of habit Katara grabbed for her pendant but it wasn’t where it usually was, as she already knew. She pressed it against her chest and found she couldn’t speak.

“So much for finding your match not meaning anything,” Suki teased. “You’re starstruck!”

“I don’t even know who that guy is!” Katara moaned.

Suki pulled out her folder for this class and thumbed through the papers. She pulled the syllabus out and handed it to Katara.

TA: Zuko Tamura.

“It even has his email,” Suki pointed out. “You could email him!”

“I’m not going to email him,” Katara said, shoving the paper back at Suki. “Did you see the way he ran out of here? He has no interest in me.”

Suki shook her head, but really couldn’t say anything to this. She’d seen him bolt just like Katara and the entire rest of their class had.

Later, Katara was studying in the quad, her books laid out around her on the blanket she kept in her bag, when a shadow fell over what she was reading.

She looked up to see Zuko, fiddling with the strap of his messenger bag.

“Can I help you?” she asked cooly. “You’re blocking my light.”

“Sorry,” he said, stepping to the side. “I just wanted to talk to you.”

Katara nodded her head to the open spot on the blanket and Zuko sank down, setting his bag down beside him.

“I’m sorry I freaked,” he said. “I was not at all prepared for what happened to happen.”

“Neither was I,” she admitted.

“You probably know my name already, because I’m your TA, but I’m Zuko.”

“My name is Katara.”

He nodded, recognition flashing across his face. He’d graded her papers, so he’d had some idea of who she was already.

“I just needed to tell you something,” he said, still fiddling with the strap of his messenger bag.

“Yeah?”

“I...um...I have a girlfriend.”

This didn’t surprise her. People often had significant others while they were waiting to meet their soulmates. Some people even married those who weren’t their soulmates because of various reasons.

“That’s okay,” she said. “I’m not interested in a relationship right now, so it doesn’t matter.”

Zuko nodded and stood up.

“I’ll see you around, then?”

“Sure.”

As he walked away, Katara wondered if they would see each other around, or if they would both avoid each other as much as she intended to avoid him.

Like she’d told all her friends and family, it didn’t matter who her soulmate turned out to be. She wasn’t interested in a relationship.

A few years after her first encounter with Zuko, Katara was a senior and working in the college’s library.

One day he came in, looking a bit frazzled, and approached the counter where she was running check-outs and checking in books.

She recognized him immediately, of course, but what she hadn’t counted on was him still wearing his necklace.

Hers was tucked into her backpack. Always close, but no longer around her neck. It was the easiest way to keep most guys away.

He looked up and stepped back when he recognized her.

“Katara!”

“Zuko.”

Her tone must have confused him, because he looked at her for a moment before looking back at the paper he had in his hand.

“I have a few books on hold from other libraries.”

“I’ll get them.”

She retrieved them from the shelf behind the counter and took his ID card from him to check them out to him.

“What are you still doing around here?” she asked. “Shouldn’t you have graduated last year?”

“I’m doing my masters in English.”

She nodded.

Finally, the books were checked out and the ticket printed. She stuck it to the cover of the book on the top of the stack and pushed it towards him.

“Here you go. Have a nice day.”

“Thanks.”

He took the stack of books into his arms but didn’t walk away.

“Is there something else I can help you with?”

“I was wondering...would you be up for coming to my place and watching anime?”

Her eyes widened.

“Are you really that desperate for a relationship? We don’t know each other at all!”

“Not a relationship,” he muttered. “I don’t really have any...any friends? And you seem nice.”

To her surprise, her heart went out to him.

“What about your girlfriend?”

“She dumped me when she saw my necklace,” he explained.

Katara nodded thoughtfully.

“Sure, I’ll watch anime with you,” she said, grabbing her phone. “What’s your number?”

They exchanged numbers and as he left the building with a friendly wave, Katara couldn’t help but smile.

Maybe being friends with her soulmate wouldn’t be all that bad.

Months later, after weeks of anime binging and laughing over stupid sitcoms Katara had loved as a child, Katara realized she’d fallen for Zuko.

Not in the passionate, the love is burning inside of me, kind of way, but a softer way. He’d slowly become the person she wanted to hang out with the most, and she found she wanted to spend even more time with him than she already did.

When she suggested moving in together, he raised an eyebrow at her.

“Don’t you think that’s a little much?” he asked. “We aren’t even dating.”

Katara shrugged.

“We don’t have to share a room or anything. I think it would just be nice to coexist. I like being around you and want to be around you more.”

Zuko nodded slowly.

“That doesn’t sound so bad,” he admitted.

When she told her family they were moving in together, they were thrilled until she emphasized that they weren’t romantic in any way.

“Why are you moving in with him then?” Sokka asked. “Just because he’s your soulmate doesn’t mean you have to spend your life with him.”

“I don’t really want to spend it with anyone else,” she said, shrugging. “And I want to be around him more.”

“Do you love him?” her father asked.

“I do,” she admitted.

He nodded thoughtfully.

“I support you, Katara,” he said.

“Thanks, Dad.”

Katara was pleased when Zuko seemed to be even more similar to her than she’d thought he was. They spent a considerable amount of their free time together and engaged in a lot of physical touch such as hugging and snuggling and holding hands, but he never tried to make it sexual. Which was more than fine by her.

Eventually, though, he did bring it up.

“Are you sure you’re okay with this life we have?” he asked.

“What do you mean?”

“Well usually things would be, I don’t know, more physical?” he said. “Aren’t you interested in sex?”

“Not really,” she admitted. “I was a bit worried that would be a problem.”

Zuko let out a huge breath.

“Thank goodness,” he gushed. “I’m not interested in it either, which was another reason why my ex probably broke up with me, but that’s beside the point. You make me happy, Katara, and I’m glad we can be happy just the way we are.”

She reached out and took his hand in hers.

“So am I.”

@zutaramonth​

[javajunkieao3]

Being Alive: Beth/Benny Fanfic

It’s six months after Russia and nearly that long since her last drink.  All those months ago, sitting across Borgov with her face tilted up to the paneled ceiling, she learned that she didn't need alcohol to quiet her mind.  The chess board still appeared, the pieces moving with a grace that Beth still hadn’t witnessed elsewhere.  But, it didn't mean she didn’t want the drink, and Beth had bore witness to a casual alcoholic for enough years to understand that both the need and want weren’t pre-requisites to addiction.  Because while she didn’t need a drink, she also knew that once she started she wouldn’t be able to stop.

She’s at the US Open Chess Championship in Chicago and she keeps walking past the bar, her pacing taking her steps closer to the wooden counter with each pass.  It was all because of damn Gorsky.  He was new.  An up and comer out of Bloomington, Indiana and he almost beat her.  She faced off against the giants in Russia, and yet somehow, this Midwest nobody threw her.  Dimly, somewhere between her fourth and fifth pass in front of the bar, she reminds herself that she had once been that nobody, but she quickly dismisses the thought.

At her sixth pass, she almost gives in, her mouth already anticipating the heady combination of the gin and vermouth tempered by a refined pearl onion (Mrs. Wheatley had been right about that part), but then a young girl recognizes her and asks for her autograph.  The girl holds out an old copy of Life magazine with Beth’s face on the cover.  The magazine was about two years old, and Beth thinks about how this girl must have seen the Open was taking place in the city and made a special trip just for her to sign the magazine.  Her face burns with shame as she recalls the one to three Gibsons she had been on her way to consume, and she makes a point to strike up a conversation with the young girl, trying to replace her guilt with a good deed.

When she's finished, she heads back up to her room, but she can already picture the room service menu and she can feel her finger moving the heavy dial of the rotary phone, and so she makes a detour, ending up at his room.  She doesn't know if he’ll be there, but he answers after one knock.  He’s shirtless, his striped pajama pants slung low on his hips, but it’s nothing she hasn't seen before.

“Hi Benny.”

“Beth Harmon, to what do I owe this honor?”

The tone of his voice reminds her of the distance between them.  While he helped her in Russia, she was well aware there was still damage between them to be repaired, but all the calls she meant to make didn’t happen, and then her phone didn’t ring, either.  She hasn’t seen him since before Russia.

“Can I come in?”

“If you’re here to take more of my money with speed chess, you’ll be disappointed.”

Attempting levity, she says, “Does that mean you got better, or we’re not playing?”

He smiles slightly and steps back to let her in.  Behind her, he flips open a suitcase and she turns around just as he’s pulling a worn grey t-shirt over his head.  “So, what are you doing here?”

She doesn’t answer, suddenly feeling foolish for going to him at all, and he says, “It’s Gorsky, isn’t it?”

“I still beat him,” she returns sharply.

“Yeah, well, you almost didn’t.”

She bites the inside of her cheek hard enough to draw blood and sits on the edge of the bed.  

“Do you want something to drink?”  Benny asks, and while she knows he doesn't mean alcohol, she says, “I want a Gibson.  I might as well, right?  You warned me that if I kept drinking like I was, I’d end up washed up by my twenties.  But, it looks like that may be happening, anyway.”

“Beth, you’re not washed up.”

“I didn’t see the move, Benny.”  

She had gone through various phases while analyzing the game previously.  Anger.  Blame.  But now, she is just tired.  She considers excusing herself to go back to her room, but if she were being honest with herself, she doesn’t trust herself alone.

“Sometimes you don’t, but then you’ll see it the next game.  Just because you’re good doesn’t mean you’re infallible.”

"I shouldn’t be this thrown by it.  I beat Luchenko, Borgov.  I beat you.”

“Thanks for the reminder,” he returns drily.

She rubs at her eyes irritably and when she opens them again, he’s walked toward her and he sits on the bed next to her.  There is still a sizable distance between them, but she takes comfort in the way the mattress dips.  It makes her feel less alone.

“You are not washed up,” Benny says for the second time that night.  “But, you’re going to have games you lose.  It doesn’t make you any less of a player.”  Beth scoffs at that and he continues with, “Did beating Borgov make you think any less of him?”  

“No,” she admits.  She looks over at him, “And it didn’t make me think any less of you.  Although, you could improve your endgame.”

Benny smiles slightly.  “I’m going to choose to ignore that last part.”

Beth looks down at her shoes.  “I came here because I wanted a drink.”

Benny is quiet for a moment.  “Do you still want one?”

“Yes,” she answers immediately.  “But it’ll pass.”  She looks over at him, her nerves pulled tight, and asks, “Can I-”

“Yes,” he says.  “You can stay here.  As long as you need.”

They order room service - burgers with extra pickles for him and cheese for her - and she tells him she’ll be going back to her room soon, but that doesn't happen.  Instead, they play a few games of chess and then she stretches out on the bed, ignoring his offer for her to change into one of his oversized shirts to sleep in, and he settles in the bed next to her.  He shuts off the light, and she turns onto her back.  The darkness emboldens her to say what she had never been brave enough to tell him in the light.

“I didn't choose drinking over you.”

He doesn’t answer for a long moment, and when he does his voice is gravelly.  “It sure seemed like you did.”

“I chose being numb.”

“Is that supposed to make it better?”

“No,” she says honestly.  “But, it’s the truth.”  Staring up at the blank ceiling she says, “When my mother killed herself, she told me to close my eyes.  I think, in  some way, I’ve been trying to do that ever since.”

She hears the rustle of his hair against the pillow as he turns his head to look at her.  “Shit, Beth-”

“But, I don’t want to be numb anymore.  I don’t want to close my eyes.”  She turns her face toward him.  In the pitch darkness of the room, she can just make out the outline of his face, but his eyes gleam bright.  

“I’m sorry that I hurt you,” she says.

“I’m sorry that I didn’t go with you to Russia.”

“You were still there when I needed you,” Beth returns, recalling the immense sense of relief when she heard his voice on the phone.  

“I couldn’t pass up an opportunity to beat the Russians.”

His voice is light and teasing, like it used to be, and she doesn’t know what to say next, but then he reaches forward and smooths her hair away from her face.  Without hesitation, she reaches up and grabs his hand, keeping it pressed against her cheek.  She doesn’t know if she leans in first, or him, but they meet in the middle, the kiss gentle and unhurried.  Her body yearns for more, but then he pulls away, pressing a kiss on her forehead as he says, “We should get some sleep.  We both have games at seven tomorrow.”

She knows that he’s right, because he’s an addiction in his own way, and if they started something she knew they would get little sleep. She turns on her side, her mind wonderfully blank as he blanketed her body with his.  She falls asleep within minutes.

The next morning, the twins catch Beth leaving Benny’s room to change for the day, and one of them does a low whistle while Beth jauntily responds with her middle finger.  She changes into one of her favorite dresses, a checkered number with a high neckline that dipped to a lower “v” in the back, and she proceeds to win all of her games, even achieving a new personal record for time.  Benny does the same, and then it’s just the two of them, facing off at the top table.  There’s a break before and he presses her against a wall in a back hallway, his mouth against hers.

“If you’re trying to distract me, it won’t work,” she says, fingers caught up in his hair.

“Don’t worry, I know better than that.”

Fifteen minutes later, they are seated opposite each other, attention finely tuned to the action on the board.  Benny has improved since Beth last played him, but then again, so has she.  Both of them nearly run out their clocks, but in the end, it is Benny who extends his hand across the board.  She knows how much he hates to lose, but there is not a trace of ill will on his face when she shakes his hand.  Instead, there is admiration, respect, and something else that she is hesitant to name.

Afterwards, they go directly to her room, and they don’t even make it to fully undressed before she takes him in, breathing a sigh of relief against his neck.  When they are finished, his fingers languidly run along her side and he says, “You should come to New York.”

“I can’t,” she says, looking up at him.  “I’m coaching at one of the high schools and they have a major tournament next week” 

“Okay,” he says.  “Then what if I come to Kentucky?”

While this isn’t exactly a surprise, it still thrills her to hear him say it.  “Really?”

“Yeah, really.”

“Okay,” she says, trying to keep an impending wide grin at bay.  She runs her hand along his chest and Innocently says, “I think I have an air mattress in the closet.” 

[3pirouette]

Fic: The Honey Trap (6/?)

Title: The Honey Trap

By: TriplePirouette/3Pirouette

Disclaimer: They're not mine.

Distribution: AO3 Anyone else please ask first :) 

A/N- Again, thanks for your patience. I'm not sure what's going to happen with this story come Steggy Week as I plan on posting something for every day that week, but it's not being abandoned. 

Quite the opposite. Once again, I've managed to write a good chunk of the end before I've finished the middle.At least I know where it's going.

Enjoy!

Chapter Summary: Peggy meets Steve at the Pub, and everything changes.

Chapter 6: With My Life

January 2, 1945, 7PM

Peggy could feel their eyes on her. It wasn’t her normal Hydra handlers she’d spotted weeks ago, but they stuck out to her anyway.

She idly wondered, as she moved through the chilled street, if anyone else noticed people who didn’t belong, or if it was something that caught her eye because of who she was and what she did, just like her Mum could spot rot on the tomatoes two days before the black spots showed up in the garden. It felt like she could always just see things and people who stood out, who didn’t belong, little clues plastered here and there that others didn’t.

The thought kept her occupied, able to keep her face blank as she moved to the pub. It wasn’t the pub Wallace took her to, which thankfully made it just that much harder for the men watching her. With a pub or the equivalent on nearly every corner, London was a haven for a spy like her. She turned the corner, only a block away, and started to review the codes in her head. Words they’d used, phrases they’d said that she might be able to slip into conversation to let him know what she knew. She’d been trying to avoid thinking too much about her cover being blown and what that could potentially mean, but the thoughts still simmered deep in her brain.

It made everything more treacherous.

It made everything just a little more fun.

She’d been feeling that things were going sour, and she could kick herself for not trusting her gut. She’d known for weeks something was off with Wallace, but she’d gone along because she knew she didn’t have all the information.

She was about to, and it gave her a little thrill to know she was going to finally have the upper hand and a chance to use her skills to make a real difference.

As she neared the Pub, she realized this must have been what Steve had felt so long ago: the dancing monkey, left with nothing but the crumbs that others would toss his way, so close yet so far from his goal. She didn’t like the feeling, and suffered a deep pang of regret for him.

The warmth of the pub was a welcome change from the biting cold outside, and she spotted the Hydra agent at the bar with no more than a glance. No, she didn’t care very much for the man at the bar, but rather she cared about the man trying desperately to make himself look smaller in the back corner, dressed in civilian clothes that he must have pieced together from the men at the base based on their ill fit. She moved towards him slowly and sat, working hard to keep her face a blank slate as she took off her coat and slipped it around the chair.

Steve’s jaw twitched with the effort it took to hold back his smile, but she could also tell he was fighting to avoid looking concerned and serious, the downturn of his eyes spoke of the danger she was in. “Peggy,” he whispered, somehow making the word full of excitement and fear and pain all at the same time.

“Steve,” she replied, her voice just as heavy with emotion. She took a deep breath and blinked twice, waiting for his answering double blink before speaking. “You should buy me a drink, or three, just for coming out tonight.”

She saw his eyes dart to his 3 o’clock: the code sent and received. His gaze fell right back to her, and his lip curled up. “I think I knew that all along,” he replied, sounding conversational but letting her know he’d clocked the agent long ago. He sighed and reached out over the small table, taking her hand in his and twining their fingers. “We need to talk about us, Peg.”

Peggy took a moment, acting dramatically. To any bystander, they’d see a woman avoiding the stare of a former lover while still preening her hair and trying to catch his eye. Steve, while appreciative of her form, caught the way she played with her earing for just a second longer, how her fingers covered her lips in what was supposed to look like a moment of indecision. “I just don’t know, Steve.”

He nodded, eyes bright up close, letting her know that he understood: she didn’t know how much they could hear, or if they could read lips. “Are things all that different?” His tone asked a lover if she was still in love with him, but his words enquired about the state of Hydra’s spies.

“I’ve been away,” she answered, “far away, and I just don’t know the answer to that.” She sighed, trying to figure out how to tell him more, how to let him know that Wallace hadn’t just been secretive, he’d shut her out of all the decisions and the planning of what they were doing. It was looking more and more that defecting had been his plan all along.

A waitress stopped by their table, and they spent a moment ordering food that she knew would be dry and tasteless and beer that would be flat and warm. Once upon a time, she and Steve would have remarked about that, talking about all the things they’d do once the war was over, once he could take her to the ballpark and out to see the Brooklyn Bridge, and once she could get a descent full English for breakfast somewhere. Those plans seemed so small now, so inconsequential, but she desperately wished they could talk of them, that they could have just one more minute—

“Remember how we used to talk about after the war?” Steve started, as if he’d read her mind. He squeezed her hand tight, smiling. “When we could have a chance to just… just be people?”

Her breath seemed to slowly deflate from her lungs. It’s was such a simple sentiment, but to know that he shared it, in the face of everything, made her heart pound just a little faster. “It used to be all I held on to, that one day this would be over.” Still do she tapped out furiously on his wrist with her finger in morse code.

He smiled as she tapped, nodding his head, but she could still see how he was coiled tight. They paused again, waiting as the waitress dropped their beers on the table. Steve waited, but didn’t pull his hand from hers. “I want you back, Peg.” He said sharply, eyes and lips tight and serious. “I want you to come back.”

She took a deep breath, knowing things were about to escalate. “I left for a reason, Steve.”

He held her gaze, didn’t even blink as he spoke. “It was a mistake. I know it. You know it. Even Phillips sees that now.”

Peggy pulled back her hand just in time for the waitress to return, their plates in her hands. Peggy busied herself with her napkin in her lap. She finally looked back up when the waitress left. “I think I should stay.”

The corner of his lip turned down. “I didn’t come all the way out here—"

She stopped playing with her napkin and set it back on the table, standing. “I need to go wash my hands.” She stood and started to move past him to the back of the building where the bathrooms were, but he stood and caught her arm. He held her gaze for a long second before leaning forward, his lips covered by her hair to keep the Hydra agent from reading them, his words barely a whisper to be picked up even if there was a microphone somewhere. “I’m here to pull you out.”

Peggy stepped back, eyes flat and serious. “And that’s exactly why I should stay.” She pulled her arm from his grip and moved past him, to the back of the restaurant and the little hall that was out of sight from the rest of the bar.

She slipped into the small bathroom and immediately began to look it over, running her fingers under the sink and checking along the light switch to see if the cover had been tampered with and a bug hidden behind it. She turned over her shoulder as there was a knock on the door. “Peggy!”

She shook her head and nearly laughed at Steve’s theatrics. While he was passable, he certainly was no spy. “Don’t you dare!” She called out, leaning over and running her hand over the back of the toilet. She didn’t find a bug, but immediately shoved both hands under the faucet, turning on the water as hot as she could get it.

Steve remembered enough to at least pretend fighting with the door, though she’d left the lock undone. He slipped in, filling much of the available space, and pressed himself against the back of it, turning the lock with a sift flick of his wrist. Clear? He mouthed.

“As far as I can tell,” Peggy whispered, drying her hands. She took no time in closing the space between them, pressing her lips to his. Steve lifted her from her feet as he deepened the kiss, turning them to press her between the door and his body. “Good lord I’ve missed you,” she whispered against his mouth, her hands running through his hair.

He pulled back, pressing his forehead to hers. “I have to get you out.”

“And that’s exactly why I have to stay.” She gently pressed her hands against his cheeks, pushing his head back. “Quickly- all that you know.”

“Wallace has been pulling information, hiding things. We haven’t gotten one of your communiques in over a month.  Phillips has been suspicious for weeks now, but last week he gave us a false lead on a Hydra camp. It was a set-up and if we hadn’t done our own recon it would have been…” He trailed off shaking his head. He looked back at her, blue eyes sad and pleading. “Whatever he originally told us, it was a lie. He hasn’t been sharing anything of value, and we’re starting to see his name pop up in places it shouldn’t be. We don’t know what he’s trying to lure us into.”

“So, no immediate danger,” Peggy whispered with a smirk.

Steve stepped back, letting her feet touch the ground, hands holding tight at her hips like he wanted to sling her over his shoulder and run for it. “Yes, there is. If he knows he’s been found out—”

“We don’t let him know,” she whispered, taking his hand in hers. “This gives us the upper hand. He thinks he’s in control, but we are.”

“That will make him desperate,” Steve pleaded softly. “Desperate men do desperate things.”

“Desperate men are also stupid and miss things right in front of them.” Peggy leaned up and kissed him softly. “I know how we’re going to do this. And it’s going to be us. You and Me. There’s no one I trust more than you, Steve. Do you trust me?”

“With my life,” he answered without hesitation.

She smiled, running her hand over his cheek. “Then you’re going to go back to the table, and in full view of the Hydra agent wipe that lipstick off your mouth.” Peggy stilled his hand before it got to his lips. “We’re going to have an affair right in front of Hydra, and I’m going to find a way for us to win this war by giving them false information and stealing everything we’re going to need while using that as a cover.”

Steve pressed forward, kissing her desperately and quickly. “I can’t just leave you here.”

“You’re not.” She let her hands run through his hair gently. “You’re trusting me, and we’re going to come out on the other side of this, just like we planned.”

“I’ll take you on a real date,” he whispered, gathering her tight in his arms.

She laughed. “You can date me properly once we’ve finished our affair.” She pulled herself out of his arms. “Now get, I’ll be right behind you.”

He kissed her one last time, deep and intense. He smirked as he pulled away. “How’s this color look on me.”

His joke hit her in such a way that she wasn’t sure if the sound that came out of her was a laugh or a sob, but she had to bite her lip to keep more from erupting. “Go!”

The rest of dinner passed by both too fast and too slow. The codes were done with, the important information exchanged, and what was left was little more than an emotionally and sexually charged date, shared by two people who missed one another but couldn’t do anything about it.

She kept catching his eyes on her lips, and she kept finding herself drawn to his fingers. She couldn’t quite remember eating at all, but the food was tasteless, anyway, and the waitress took their payment far too soon for her tastes.

Peggy bit her thumb, looking at him from across the empty table. She moved as soon as she made the decision, standing and taking his hand, pulling him quickly and decisively out of the pub and around back to hide by the trash cans. She pushed him up against the bricks and he didn’t fight back. Instead, he pulled her to him, curling down to kiss her with all the fire she remembered.

The trash cans around them clattered as they moved, ensuring two things: they were going to be found, and that no one could sneak up on them.

“Quickly,” she whispered, biting at his earlobe, “something that can prove to Hydra I’ll have information but that won’t hurt anyone.” Steve stopped kissing her and pulled his head back. He started to ask her what she meant, but she shook her head. “Now, and loudly.”

She began kissing down his neck and he could do nothing but close his eyes and comply. “There’s an empty allied base six clicks south of the Nazi hold along the French border.”

“We could go there,” she stage-whispered loudly, turning his head to look at just her with her chilled fingers. “Meet there.”

Before he could even think to tell her no, the trash cans to their right clattered. They both turned to see the Hydra operative, eyes wide and surprised that what he thought was a sturdy hideout had collapsed on him. “Just uh…” He cleared his throat and shrugged. “Just gonna take a piss.”

“Take it somewhere else,” Steve replied harshly, holding Peggy tighter to him.

Peggy turned her head away, pretending to try to hide, “afraid” she’d been caught, but she hid her smile against Steve’s chest. She’d seen the man stand and start to follow them long before they’d even been out the door of the bar. If she’d tipped some of the rubbish bins just a little as they’d made their way out, made them just that much easier to push over, well, maybe Hydra should get some better spies.

The agent looked the couple up and down and smirked. Peggy risked a “fearful” glance that lasted just a second too long, a second long enough for the Hydra agent to be able to positively identify her. They stood quietly, listening as his footsteps echoed away.

Steve slowly dropped his forehead to hers, smiling as he whispered. “How did you know he was coming?”

She smiled and pecked his lips, whispering back. “Spy, darling. It’s what I do best.” She interrupted his little chuckle with another kiss. “What’s the base disguised as?”

He shook his head. “It’s not. Just a shell from earlier in the war. Phillips wanted to use it to stage a push forward.”

Peggy snuggled in his embrace, the chilled wind finally breaking through the heat of the moment. “Would Wallace know about it?”

“No,” Steve pulled her coat from where she’d slung it over her arm when they left and wrapped it around her shoulders before cuddling her back close. “Only Phillips and the commandos.”

“Phillips may have my head, but we need a bit of proof of concept here.” She took a deep breath and looked at him seriously. “Tell Phillips that plan is out. I’m going to slip the existence of the base past Wallace in conversation tomorrow. Monitor the base. If Hydra comes running for the empty base, we’ll know we’ve got him hooked.”

“I’m less worried about the hooking and more concerned about the reeling in.” Steve mumbled, rocking them gently. “I don’t like you staying out here.”

“And I don’t like you going off and getting yourself shot at, but here we are.” She pulled back. “Talk to Phillips. Get him to pull in the Commandos and Howard, and anyone else at the SSR he trusts. We’ve got a rogue agent and that’s more dangerous than we were prepared for.”

“If. If I manage to get them on board?” Steve asked cautiously, not even bothering to finish the sentiment. “I was supposed to be bringing you back with me tonight, you know.”

Peggy hummed a sad, frustrated note. “While heading back with you tonight sounds just about the most wonderful thing I could think of, we can’t waste this opportunity.” She smiled up at him, “We engage in a salacious affair, which won’t be difficult as I quite miss you, and we use that to plant what they will believe is real information for Wallace to find.” She kissed him softly. “We get Wallace.” She kissed his cheek. “We get Hydra.” She snuggled herself under his chin. “And we end this damn war so you can take me on a proper date.”

She felt more than heard his chuckle as it rumbled in his chest. “A suit, flowers, and everything as soon as we get leave,” he whispered.

“Until then, we’ll have to set up trysts. Exchange information as best we can.” She sighed. “Without a clear line of communication with everyone, the best I can do is feed him information, I can’t help you create the scenarios.”

“I’ll hold up my end, Peg.” He let his cheek fall against her forehead. “You just stay alive. Deal?”

“Deal.”

“One week from now. Same place, same time.” Steve wasn’t asking, he was telling.

Peggy smiled. “I won’t be late.”

“Don’t you dare.”

[2seokfan]

Scarlet & Hazel | Ch. 1

pairings: hoseok x reader x yoongi

genre: fluff, very light angst, smut (future)

word count: 3.6k

chapters: ch.1, ch.2, ch.3, ch.4

summary: 

Just cause you’re living paycheck to paycheck in a tiny apartment even after graduating college doesn’t mean you’re not happy. So what if your best friend is working her dream job making close to six figures every year?  So what if she’s in a loving, committed relationship with her perfect boyfriend that you’re 99% sure is going to propose to her sometime next year? It doesn’t matter that your idea of a perfect relationship is a $9.99 bottle of wine on Friday nights while you binge watch Netflix specials.

Ok so maybe you’re a teensy bit miserable. Maybe you have no idea what you’re doing with your life. Maybe all you need to do is accidentally cross paths with two hybrids who will drastically change that.

Meet “Scarlet” and “Hazel”, two of the most gorgeous hybrid men you have ever laid eyes on. With their help, you learn that life is an adventure, a rollercoaster with ups and downs, and you were too preoccupied with yourself to climb out of your own predicament. And hey, you’re not much of a romantic, but with these two, you just might change your mind.

note: Hi! This is my first fic ever! I don’t even know if anyone’s gonna read this but I’ve had this idea in my head for awhile so fuck it.

You kicked off your shoes and threw your purse on the couch.

“God my back hurts!” 

Honestly with the amount of random bodily aches you experience on a daily business you could pass for being 70 years old. But this time you knew where the pain stemmed from. You just had to fall asleep awkwardly after a night on your phone. And of course today was a work day and you slept past all THREE of your alarms. But you know that feeling when you sleep for a suspiciously long amount of time and something doesn’t feel right? That’s the sixth sense that saved your ass this morning because your internal body clock was like sweetie I think you’re late. 

You only had time to slap on some makeup, hoping it looked semi decent, and throw your greasy hair into a messy, but passable bun because no one wants to see an ugly receptionist. You had to skip your morning Starbucks drive-through routine because you’re about to be LATE, late so you grab your keys and start your car, booking it to work.

You work at a private hybrid clinic which pays a little better than most but that means you also have to deal with a lot of attitude from rich “owners” (you hate that word). And you sat weirdly at work today so that did nOThing to help your back pain. Also how come everybody decided to book an appointment today?? It’s Friday for god's sake why does everyone and their mothers decide it’s time to call the clinic and book a checkup. They get so mad at you when you say this whole month is filled. You can’t change the schedule though?? The calendar’s filled lady either get over it and settle for next month or fuck off (of course you don’t say that out loud cause you’ll get fired). Also someone yelled at you today because they didn’t like the magazine choices in the waiting room.

Anyways your day sucked and you couldn’t be happier being back in your tiny apartment to binge watch netflix stand-up comedies until you collapse. Well you say it’s your apartment but you actually have a roommate. She’s nothing like you though, she’s the epitome of responsibility. You agreed to live with her even though you met her through Craigslist because once you met her in person you deemed her genuine enough, and also found out she’s hardly ever at the apartment but she still pays rent on time?! You really hit the jackpot with her honestly. Cause you can be a little bit messy sometimes but even when she is home she never complains. The only negative side of having her as a roommate is that you never really had time to bond with her cause she’s so busy and over your league that even after a year you two still aren’t anything more than friendly acquaintances.

Alright time to get out of your work clothes and into nothing but your favorite oversized t-shirt with no pants on because that is what you deem home-appropriate attire. But before you turn on netflix your tummy is making “feed me” noises so it’s time to check the fridge. Damn no leftovers. Time to crack open one of those Trader Joe’s frozen meals you have stacked in the freezer. You blindly pick a box. Guess you’re having vegan tikka masala tonight. Not gonna lie though those frozen meals are actually not half bad. Or maybe you’ve been away from good home cooking for so long you’ve become desensitized? Who cares, you’re hungry. Also it’s Friday, so no harm in cracking open a bottle of wine right?

When you’re all settled on the couch with your favorite plush blanket on your legs, a random comedian on tv, and a full tummy, your mind drifts away. It’s Saturday tomorrow and you have the weekends off. Maybe you should do something fun for yourself to make up for the crap you had to deal with today. You text your best friend Karli. You know she’s awake since it’s only 10pm.

You: Hey girl wanna go to the beach or smth tmrw?? <3

Karli: Yaaas ok I don’t work!! What time?

You: and we can walk around all the fancy stores and get coffee from that place we love.

You: hmmm how bout meet there @11??

Karli: Sounds good sweetie want me to pick you up?

You: no its ok ill meet u there i need to buy groceries after

Karli: Kk love ya see you then!!!

You: love ya! night bby

Karli knows that when you say “go to the beach” you really mean walk along the beach and the nearby stores because it’s early June and prime tourist season. That means the sand is packed with people and their kids and the water’s probably filled with pee so you’re not really down for that. Also the expensive shops near the beach are so cute and you love walking around window shopping, pretending like you can actually afford any of the items on display.

The wine is now getting to you cause before you know it you find your eyelids getting heavy. You muster up your last ounce of strength to turn off the tv and force yourself out of the couch cause your poor back doesn’t need another excuse to keep hurting. As much as you don’t want to wash your face and brush your teeth, you have to because you don’t want makeup on your pillowcase tonight. And when you finally crawl into bed you knock out instantly.

BEEP BEEP BEEP

“Oh fuck…”

You forgot that drunk you last night set an alarm today for 9am. Thank you drunk Y/N. 

Why 9am? Because you need to shower and get ready, plus the beach you’re going to is near the north part of the city, which is also the expensive part of the city, meaning it’s a LONG ways from where you live. But the stores are aesthetically pleasing and it contains both you and Karli’s favorite coffee shop so you’re willing to make the 25 minute drive. Karli doesn’t have to worry though because she lives a lot closer than you do. Girl has got her shit together. Honestly you’re just glad she decided to move back after graduate school cause the long distance friend thing sucks balls.

You hop in the shower and rinse yourself awake. The weather is perfect, warm but not too hot. Unlike many people who prefer to dress up for a nice outing, you’re just the opposite. You’ve been forced to dress in nice business attire with a full face of makeup all week. Hell no are you dressing up on your days off too. It’s a sweatpants and tank top kinda day so that’s exactly what you wear. Ever since college you’ve spoiled yourself into only wearing comfy clothes whenever you have the chance and it’s become a minor problem in your life. You have some perfectly nice jeans in the closet but you haven’t worn them in forever. And you’re not gonna wear them today either. And makeup? Who needs makeup? You’ll just go barefaced since you have no one to impress. Actually just kidding maybe a little concealer just to cover up a few rough spots but that’s IT. You’re still a little self conscious and you know you have to work on that but not today.

It’s now 10:15. You grab your purse from the couch, slip on your favorite pair of slides and head to your car. You’re the kind of person who absolutely needs music when you drive so you quickly start blasting your favorite playlist. Before you know it, you’re pulling up to the beach area. Parking is hard to find on the weekend but your lucky ass managed to squeeze into a street parking spot right as someone pulls out. You lock your car and make the trek to Cozy Coffeehouse, your favorite coffee shop hands down.

Karli is already here and she’s hopping up and down, waving at you. She looks super cute today in her little black dress and fishnets. She’s had the same taste since high school and you’re glad that even a Master’s degree hasn’t stopped her from dressing all punk on her days off. You jog over and give her a quick hug.

“Hey girl look at you!! You’re so cute!” You take in her makeup and you swear if she didn’t go the corporate route she definitely should have been a makeup artist. Her eyeshadow is amazing and you’ll never ever have the blending talent that she has, nor could you ever get your eyeliner to look that sharp.

“Aw thanks! You look comfy though I’m kinda jealous now maybe I should’ve dressed down.” 

“No I love your outfits! Besides, someone has to look nice in this relationship.”

You link arms and march into the cafe. It’s located near the fancy designer stores on a large hill overlooking the beach. When you step inside the whole atmosphere screams ‘cozy’, fitting its name perfectly. The interior is littered with mismatched sofas and armchairs but it somehow still looks aesthetically pleasing. Soft piano jazz is playing through speakers and when you step inside the delicious scent of freshly ground coffee beans immediately invades your nostrils.

You glance at their pastry display first. Today must be your lucky day because they have tiramisu and you absolutely love tiramisu but it’s usually sold out. No way in hell are you letting this chance slide, fuck breakfast norms you’re definitely getting a bite of that. Unfortunately you’re not a fan of sugary treats on top of sugary drinks so to balance things out you choose to order their house brew.

After you two order, you find a spot in one of the plush armchairs near the window and sit. You really are lucky today since window seats are usually taken. But not this time! You guys get to enjoy the gorgeous scenery displayed before you. The sun is bright, people are laying on the beach tanning, and kids are splashing each other with water. For the first time in awhile, you feel content with life, if only for a bit. 

Before long your orders are called out and you stand up to retrieve them. Once you’re settled, you break into conversation with Karli, eager to catch up on everything that happened since you two last spoke face-to-face. You talk about work, Karli’s boyfriend Sunny, that new pizza place that opened up near your apartment that actually has really shitty pizza.

“Like seriously how do you fuck up pizza that badly?” you exclaim in between generous bites of tiramisu.

“No I get you,” Karli responds, slurping her iced mocha frappuchino, “everybody knows what pizza is supposed to taste like, I mean it’s gotta take talent to actually fuck it up to the level you’re describing girl.”

“Exactly!!” You wave your arms in the air, wanting to physically demonstrate your frustration at the situation and your passion for good pizza.

“Anyways…” Karli gently sets her drink down and takes on a more serious tone. “How are you though, honestly.”

“Hmm, me?” You swallow your last bite of tiramisu, “I’m doing good. Works ok, life’s ok. You know. Everything’s… ok.”

“I get that everything’s ‘ok’ but you know I want you to be more than ok. I want you to be happy”

You see the genuine concern in her eyes. Bless this girl for being so soft-hearted.

She continues, “And when was the last time you dated? Like, what, 2 years ago??”

Of course she has to mention dating. Karli has always been a romantic. You? Not so much. Your brain tended to err on the logical, practical side, which is not always a good idea since it keeps you away from many potential relationships.

“I date!” You scoff, but you’re not convincing anybody, least of all yourself.

“Oh really?” Her eyes widen in mock surprise, “Tinder one night stands don’t count babe. You know what I mean.”

“Well you didn’t specify…” You mumble, trying to come up with any excuse to defend your pride. You know she’s just being a good friend and that she’s asking because she cares about you, so you don’t let her questions irritate you.

“Sweetie I’m not trying to make you feel bad and I’m sorry if it comes across that way. It’s just… you mean a lot to me and you’re my bestie and I just want to see you be happy.” She takes your hand from across the table and looks you in the eyes. “We don’t get to see each other as much as we used to, so when I do I want to check in on how you’re doing.”

Then she averts her eyes, which you find highly suspicious. “Also I may or may not have found someone who I KNOW will be a perfect match for you.”

“AHA I KNEW you were leading up to something!”

“Wait but hear me out. He’s an accountant and at first I was like hmmm is he too boring for Y/N? But then I realized I was judging him by his job and that’s not cool so I talked to him and he’s, like, actually super cute and super sweet and I think you two will get along so well!” She’s speaking very fast at this point, trying to squeeze out as much information as possible before you can interject. Then she finishes with one of her signature Karli smiles, big and wide and all teeth and she knows you can’t say no to that face.

“Dammit. Fine.” You lost this round. “Alright if he wants to meet up I won’t say no. How bout that?”

“Gee that’s so thoughtful of you Y/N.” Her tone is sarcastic but she’s still smiling so you know she means no harm.

After another half hour of conversation, locked in a heated debate about food again (this time she’s defending her stance that pineapple belongs on pizza), Karli’s phone rings. The sound scares the poor girl half to death, and watching her jump a mile from her couch had you snorting into your coffee mid drink.

She looks at the caller ID, muttering under her breath, “It’s Saturday what do they want?” then glances up with a sad little pout, “Sorry Y/N it’s work gimme a sec…”

From what you can hear on her side of the conversation, something has come up and she has to head to the office right away. 

“Ok I’ll be there in fifteen,” she hangs up and gives an exaggerated “Ughhhhh”. She takes one large gulp, finishing the last of her ultra sweet, ultra whipped frappuccino. “It’s like they can’t do anything when I’m not there.” She looks especially apologetic when her eyes land back on you, “I’m so sorry I have to cut this short…”

“Hey it’s ok! Duty calls ya know,” you give her a reassuring grin, hoping it passes for a smile instead of a grimace. You were really hoping to hang out today.

“No it’s not ok. We didn’t even get to walk around today! And I know how much you like to do that.” She stands up, slipping her purse onto her shoulder, “so next time I’ll plan a day where I guarantee I won’t get interrupted. It’s the least I can do.”

“Mk sounds good babe,” you give her a big hug, “Go get ‘em tiger!”

After she exits the cafe you finish the last bit of your coffee and glance out the window, staring at the people on the beach. Wow it’s really crowded down there today. You zone in on two kids attempting to build a sandcastle, but it’s too close to the water so the waves flatten it in two seconds. But it seems they didn’t learn their lesson because they keep rebuilding the castle in the same spot. Just move it further up little dudes.

You find yourself lost in thought again. Just because Karli’s suddenly busy doesn’t mean you don’t still have a whole day to yourself. You can walk around on your own. Also why not treat yourself to another drink? A fun one this time from their specials menu.

Ten minutes later you find yourself wandering around the various shops, hot hazelnut latte in hand, gazing at display after display of designer clothes and bags. Look, you may not be a huge fashion person, or have any expendable cash, but a girl can still appreciate art, especially when it’s laid out so nicely in front of you. 

Speaking of art, there’s an art gallery coming up that you absolutely love. You’ve always been too afraid to go inside because you’re the type of person who feels obligated to buy something if you enter a local store and you DEFinitely can’t afford anything there. So you opt to loiter outside, like some creep, looking a little too long at the featured art through the window. This time it’s an Impressionist style painting of a ship on hazy waters with a sunset in the background. You’re no artist but you can appreciate good quality work when you see it. The piece is mesmerizing and serene, transfixing you to the spot. Before you know it, you’ve been staring for 15 whole minutes.

While admiring the artist’s use of color on the display piece, you overhear a lady raising her voice not too far away, snapping you out of your trance. It sounds like drama, so being the nosy bitch that you are, you’re definitely gonna check it out, if only to satisfy your curiosity.

“What do you mean ‘no’?! You’ll be perfect for each other!! Where’s your owner I bet he’ll listen!” At this point the lady’s voice is sounding downright aggressive.

As you shuffle closer to the scene of the noise, you spot a middle-aged, blonde lady pointing her finger at two hybrid men, almost jabbing one of them in the chest with her sharp, ruby nails. Behind her stands a gorgeous female arctic fox hybrid who clearly belongs to her as she pats her owner’s shoulders, trying to calm her down.

“I’m sorry miss but we just aren’t interested.” The taller of the two hybrids with orange hair speaks up, gently pushing the lady’s hands away. “Please leave us alone.” He’s being surprisingly calm, even after getting yelled at in public.

“Yeah lady get out of our faces,” the other white and grey haired hybrid is definitely more agitated, crossing his arms as he huffs in annoyance. You don’t blame him since the blonde lady is being ridiculously rude.

You can’t really make out the two males’ faces, since they’re turned away from you, but they are obviously hybrids. Both having incredibly bushy, soft-looking tails and tall, pointy ears sticking out of their heads.

Even if you can’t see their expressions, you can tell they’re uncomfortable with the harassment. Since you’re still somewhat unaware of the context, you stay out of the argument but decide to keep an eye on the situation in case the lady steps out of line. You’re just slightly around the corner, able to stay a safe distance away so that no one, especially the lady, can catch you eavesdropping. Pretending to admire the Gucci purses displayed in front of the shop you’re now standing at, and almost choking at the price, you cautiously side-eye blondie as she refuses to back down from the hybrid boys.

“Listen here you rude little pets, I’m not leaving you alone until I see your owner. My Sylvia here,” she gestures to the fox hybrid behind her, “would make a perfect partner for you.” She pokes the orange haired hybrid again, “I’ve been searching so long for her to find a mate and I’m not giving you up! Now where the hell is your owner!”

What the fuck?! How dare this lady talk to them like that? And in public no less! You now know exactly why she’s yelling at them. Working at a private hybrid clinic has opened your eyes to the harsh world of hybrids, and their selfish, rich owners. It’s not uncommon for owners to negotiate with each other and breed their hybrids. If two pretty hybrids mate, their children can be sold for loads of money. It's cruel and disgusting, with many of the children sold off before they can even get to know their parents. You’re all too familiar with this tradition, often catching owners in the waiting room of your clinic discussing in whispers about buying and selling hybrid children as if they’re livestock.

“Hey what the fuck did you call us?!” The white and grey hybrid is now also raising his voice. “Listen you wrinkly bi…!” He is quickly silenced by the orange hybrid, who abruptly clamps his hand over his buddy’s mouth.

Orange hair clears his throat. “What he means is, we don’t appreciate the tone you’re using with us. Please leave us alone ma’am. We’ll be on our way. Goodbye.” They attempt to brush past her.

“Hey hold on a minute! I’m not done with you!!” This lady even has the balls to grab onto orange hair’s arm. “I demand to speak to your owner!” Then some sort of realization dawns upon her because her eyes go wide, then quickly narrow. “And where are your collars? Aren’t owned hybrids supposed to have collars on? You know I just might have to call Hybrid Services.” 

You can see the boys visibly tense at her words as she sports a satisfied smirk. Poor Sylvia is now gently tugging on her shirt. “Please calm down, miss…” she says desperately trying to remedy the situation.

Before you know it, and without any plan of action, you round the corner and march up to the boys, standing defensively in front of them.

“Um…” You gulp, then clear your throat, speaking in what you hope is a more confident tone. “Sorry I took so long guys! You wouldn’t believe the line at the coffee shop!”

Next

[conradoneil]

Among all of the colorways to drop was the original colorway that was released for the first time since 2007.

Probably, by words of several online shops, their Nike shoes are authentic, while in fact, when you receive the shoes, you may be disappointed, for sometimes, those shoes in online shops are fake ones. Among all of the colorways to drop was the original colorway that was released for the first time since 2007. Then at once his spirits rose, and he would begin with childlike openness giving her a full account of his adventures with Josephine; he smiled and laughed, blessed Natasha, and praised her to the skies, and the evening ended happily and merrily.. It is a fire that BURNS TO THE LOWEST HELL!. Boeing revealed their new beautiful 787 10 Dreamliner in February. On the walls were priceless tapestries, ancient and much faded, depicting the glory of the Old Empire of Ghis. By the time I turned up at two o’clock in the afternoon the poor woman’s agonies of suspense had reached an extreme pitch. Ghost was closer than a friend. Console humidifiers are larger and are effective for humidifying multiple rooms or small apartments. They questioned more than 1,500 prostate cancer patients, comparing their hands to those of 3,000 healthy haibike e mtb 2020 men. She was the blood of the dragon, but Ser Barristan had warned her that in that blood there was a taint. Yellow fangs snapped closed on his throat, but he shook off his old grey cousin as he would a rat, then charged after him, knocked him down. She tried and tried, but her last attempt had been no more successful than her first.. If he had hit the middle of the green with a 9 iron on the par 3 12th, there likely would have been one fewer person in Butler Cabin.. I have seen their pale dead faces in my flames. Revelstoke Mountain Resort is proud to partner with Revelstoke Mountain Transfers Tours to offer private transfers between Revelstoke Mountain Resort and the major airport hubs of Calgary, Vancouver, Kelowna and Kamloops. (AP Photo/Wong Maye E). 1 would be not to show up your guests. Jon Tester has announced legislation and a listening tour to help solve systemic problems facing the Department of Veterans Affairs health care system. Secure Empty trash will overwrite the file contents, making it harder for another user to recover the files. First, obviously, are their clock speeds. The passing game has netted 8.1 yards per pass with transfer quarterback Troy Williams, 1.5 yards more than in 2015.. Chuck brings pizza to Sarah's for a make up dinner. Afterwards I somehow ended up at Bank St with the boys, expecting a quiet one, but it turned into a party. Red Roggo had taught her how to use it, but she had not slit a purse since back before they took away her eyes. On reaching there and delivering the letter to a most respectable-looking female servant, who immediately read it, we were kindly welcomed, and entertained, during a part of two days, as sumptuously as though the owner had been present. Larraq had years of work ahead of him before he mastered proper knightly weapons, sword and lance and mace, but he was deadly with his whip and trident. It was said that Alyosha knew his father sometimes drank, and tried to conceal the fact from everyone, especially from Natasha. The Academy largely follows suit when it comes to Oscar eligibility. Many and more of the matters brought before her involved redress. The trees had grown icy teeth, snarling down from the bare brown branches. The snow was still falling as he crossed the yard with Mully. It is England's first victory in five ODIs, following three defeats in a row in South Africa and Tuesday's tie at Trent Bridge.. And, Siddiqui junior delivers every time. And very likely she said that she considered it a dishonour to call herself his wife. I mean selfishly enough I want to be the center of someones world. The basic design concept was refined and iterated through a combination of software modeling and simulation, and physical testing of prototypes. “I would hope biciclete rusesti vechi the truth would please nike air jordan 1 los angeles you, Sire. Manipulating the base clock can also add a bit more juice, however, to the tune of an additional 5 7%.. Well, then too, don’t think about them, but try to think only of pleasant things . A more automatic way would be to gotcha karkötő use some kind of burst membrane. You’re not a good-natured man, Ivan Petrovitch. A warrior princess, he decided, not some willowy creature who sits up in a sandisk mp3 mode d emploi tower, brushing her hair and waiting fekete táska női for some knight to rescue her. Clad in black from head to heel, with a mask of red-and-orange flames tattooed across his face, the priest appeared more sinister than ever. Yesterday a wagon had been overturned and two of her soldiers killed, so today the queen had determined that she would bring the food herself. If you are familiar with Powning's writing, you'll want her to tell the rest of the story. The panel I ended up with here isn specific to the 2,4, but rather something you could end up with in any iPad 2 model. This time Easter is falling in April, which is always on a Sunday. The bittersweet harmonies could remind you of Richard Strauss. Most likely she has other helpless little ones in the corner at home, and this is the eldest of them; and the mother ill herself very likely; and . Several participants told me that federal prisons have always had programs to help prisoners plan for their re entry into society, but that under President Bush the emphasis has shifted to a strong focus on employment. How did I get so lucky?. Air quality in the Bay Area is forecast to be unhealthy. In the mid 1980s when the Melbourne Cup started at 2.40pm my Corowa High School maths teacher used to tune his wireless into it for the last period of the day. What then? Why, if your course prevails, he must be lynched—whipped, stoned, tarred and feathered, dragged from his own house, Mens JORDAN Hoodie or his house burned over his head, and he perish in the ruins. Cirkunov, a rising 205 pound talent who has won all three of his UFC fights, gets a tough test in No. Toregg and the riders followed, dismounting by the gate to lead their horses through. It hurts? GOOD it is supposed to!. He stumbled on the steps as he tried to flee the dragon and oneil mellény was crushed beneath the feet of his own slaves and companions. BBE papuci de casa din pasla started small in 1977, with founders Max Braden and Rick Burry flying prospectors to remote areas. He was enjoying his taunts at me. He wore a brown wool traveler’s cloak, with silvery chain mail glimmering underneath. We are not now speaking of the Southern States merely, but of the New England States; for, startling as it may appear, slavery is not yet wholly abolished in the free states of the North. Jajuka also won Best Constructed, for good measure look at the gold detail and how smooth it is! I wonder how long it took to put all that on. And they said, 'Well we've called up there and we hadn't noticed any difference air max 90 ultra se in the company.' And I told them, 'Of course, we have the same people doing those jobs as before.'.

[boarix]

Wraith in the Ruins: A Fallout 4 Story Part XXII

The Crown of the Monster Queen

Trigger warnings: canon violence, language, gun, drug and alcohol use. Mature/sexual content.

Please enjoy!

…..

…..

It was his turn at watch, but when Wraith checked the bedroll, Danse was nowhere to be found. His power armor was gone as well, “What the heck?” She pushed down a brief surge of fear, “Probably has the internal military clock and is already up… off having a pee…” The two of them were on their way to Breakheart Banks to clear a super mutant camp, and the little nervous voice in her head was suggesting that he had taken it upon himself to scout, or even worse, engage the pack without her. “He doesn’t strike me as the impetuous type… goddammit.” She waited patiently for all of five seconds before suiting up and going to look for him.

The previous evening Danse had frowned at Wraith’s suggestion to camp on the river, “In light of our power armor, it is ill advised to bivouac with water to your back.”

His pushback irritated her, “I thought you said you’d follow my lead on this trip, considering it’s for the Minutemen. Besides, in light of the existence of mirelurks, we would be more likely to retreat inland. Plus,” she folded her arms and smiled at him, “it’s pretty here.”

Your stupid blimp is at the airport. The airport is on a peninsula. With water around it!

He raised a voluminous eyebrow and glanced around, “I suppose the visibility is optimal at this location. And this outcropping of sandstone should provide concealment for a smokeless fire as well as a vantage point,” he gave her a slight smile of his own, “to watch for said mirelurks.”

The small cove had a clear view of the river as well as a relatively easy escape route up and into a small cluster of sheltering trees. Wraith and Danse collected dry driftwood along the shoreline and while he started the fire she disembarked her power armor to start meal prep.

“You should practice doing more tasks while in the armor.”

“Okay, but after I finish setting this tripod up, I’m going to go water those bushes,” She gave him a significant look, “and that’s not a task one does in the suit, correct?”

His eyebrows knit, “That’s too close to camp for a latrine, knight.”  

Proud of herself for choosing such a great campsite, Wraith sported a large grin while she made dinner. She was in a good enough mood that she turned her radio on low and hummed tunelessly along with the music. She noticed Danse watching her, an inscrutable look on his face, “You need something, Paladin Danse? You’re just kinda spacing out o’er there.”

He blinked and shook his head, “Negative,” He lowered his eyes and his voice, “I was simply lost in thought.”

Mama Murphy had told Wraith that she could “save a soul lost in steel” and she had taken that to mean Elder Maxson. To that end she had reconsidered her previous rejection of Danse’s invitation to join the Brotherhood. Now, she figured the best way to gain the elder’s ear and remain in his good graces was to play friendly with his apparent favorite. Initially she had been put off by Danse’s stiff and formal demeanor and had put him in the same category of irritating as Rhys, but after spending more time with him her opinion had begun to soften. Somewhat.

“No problem. You know, if there’s something bothering you, I’m happy to listen.”

He looked surprised, “Oh! That’s not... Thank you. I’m going to do a perimeter check, if time permits…”

“Chow will be ready in about ten.”

Can’t wait to get away from me, huh?

“Acknowledged.”

They hadn’t spoken very much after that and the silence was less than comfortable. Wraith had volunteered first watch and had been relieved to put some distance between them.

Now she was worried for him (underneath the irritation) and she set a brisk pace as she stomped southward along the shore. She hadn’t gotten very far when she heard a shrill whistle from behind her. Whipping around, she lost her balance. The shoreline had angled upward sharply to form a cliff and she had a scary moment where she attempted to pinwheel her arms as she teetered dangerously close to the edge.

Danse came charging to her rescue, “I got you!” He whipped off his helmet, a glare created from worry on his face, and immediately launched into a graphic lecture on the finer points of drowning in power armor, “… and furthermore the joints and cockpit are not water tight. Ha… although this allows for a greater mobility… ha… it will fill quickly,” As he spoke a grin kept pulling on the corner of his mouth as the image of her flailing arms kept playing over in his mind, “and so standard procedure maintains you must keep a level head and wait until the water has completely filled… ha… the quick release… ha ha…” The smile had gotten free and now there was no denying he was laughing.  

Wraith was not amused, “You picked a helluva time to develop a sense of humor!”

“You…” He stopped trying to fight it, “your arms!”

Wraith sighed and chuckled, “Yeah, yeah.” She shoved him playfully, “Where were you?! I don’t think it’s standard procedure to disappear like that.”

He pointed back toward camp, “You walked right past me, knight. I hailed you but you must not have heard me over the noise generated by a quick march.”

“Okay, but why were you up already?”

He kept a perfectly straight face, “Morning constitutional.”

Wraith’s laugh came out like a bark, “HA!” She shook her head and smiled, “Okay. Okay.” Turning away from him, she headed back to camp. “Paladin Danse, I think we have been working next to each other but not with each other.”

“Agreed.”

“So we need to communicate better, right? No more one-word answers…”

“Agreed.” He smiled at her when she turned around to give him an incredulous look, “That was a joke, knight.”

“That’s another thing; call me ‘Wraith’, please.” They were back at the campsite and she exited her armor, kicked off her boots and crawled into the bedroll.

“That’s too…”

“You call Haylen and Rhys by their names. You guys are a bonded team, right?” She yawned expansively, “We need to be a team too. So start bonding.”

He chuckled, “I believe that works both ways, knight. I’m going to patrol now; we can bond over super mutant eradication later today.”

“OORAH!”

“AD VICTORIAM!”

That afternoon the pair scouted the super mutant camp before falling back to work on a plan. To her surprise, Danse was all for just the two of them clearing the site and not calling for reinforcements.

Maybe he’s more reckless then I thought…  

On the eastern edge of the former farm was a small lookout tower with a single super mutant in residence. After Wraith quietly dispatched the occupant, they set up a perimeter of mines then both took up position in the tower. Picking their targets, they began their first volley.

The mines were quickly exhausted as the humanoids swarmed the tower. This was all part of the plan and Wraith, whose armor was modded for melee, vaulted over the rail to smash and chop their opponents; keeping them clear of her teammate. The two of them stayed in constant communication: calling encouragement and tips back and forth to one another. It was working out fairly well until the alpha, a huge and imposing primus, got a couple of hits on Danse. The mutant called his two remaining pack mates back to him at the encampment’s main structure, and ducked back into cover before Wraith could return fire.

“Are you alright?!” Wraith retreated back toward the tower, crouched as low as the armor would let her.

“Affirmative. Taking cover.”

She put the tower between her and the primus and removed her helmet, “What’s your status?”

“Shoulder’s a little hot, but no stimpak required. This monster has fought the Brotherhood before.”

“Or, at the very least, opponents in power armor. Can you get a shot on either of his brutes?”

“Both, actually.”

“Okay, pick one.”

“What are you going to do?”

“I’m gonna kill the other one, silly.”

His small grunt indicated his annoyance at her oversimplification, “I understand. What I’m asking is ‘then what’?”

“Well, we’ll see, but I’m hoping the big guy will be motivated to come out of cover once he sees how much fun wrestling with me can be.” She winked at him.

He chuckled, “Put your helmet back on, knight. I’ll take the one on the left.”

“Fantastic. I’ll signal you when I’m in position.”

To get within striking distance, Wraith looped right, part way down the steep, rocky hill that overlooked the river while trying desperately to be stealthy in the power armor. Rather than stare at her intended target, she kept her eyes on a tuft of grass just in front of them.

You don’t feel me. I’m not here. You somehow can’t see this large, metal suit coming to kill you…

Once satisfied with her position, she uncovered the small mirror on her gauntlet and sent a ray of light back toward Danse. After counting to three she launched herself at her intended victim. She could hear her teammate’s plasma rifle hit the brute on the left just as she slammed her gauntlet’s bayonet through her brute’s closest knee. The impact forced their legs together and when Wraith raised her arm to flip them onto their back, the incredibly sharp instrument sliced right through, severing the leg completely. A quick chop at the neck beheaded the humanoid and Wraith was satisfied to see a large puddle of green where Danse’s mutant had been standing.

All according to plan.

“TIME TO DIE, HUMAN!”

The primus, on the second level of the farmhouse, took several shots at Wraith through the floorboards, clipping her helmet while she attempted a somersault which she couldn’t complete, “DammitFUCK!” She was able to roll away to the other side of the structure and get to her feet, but dropped her rifle and was shot two more times in the process, “Fucking ARMOR! Now I know why Deacon fuckin’ hates this shit!”

The primus laughed at her, “HA! BUCKET HEAD IN THE DIRT LIKE A MOLE RAT! HAHAHAHAHAA!”

“OH YEAH? WELL, PUNY GREENSKIN IS AFRAID TO FIGHT ME WITHOUT A GUN!”

The primus howled in rage; swinging his fists as he thundered down the shack steps to prove her wrong. Just as Wraith moved to meet him, an alarm sounded which indicated her fusion core was low.

Gotta wrap this up quick.

The alpha was an excellent fighter and Wraith, having some small difficulty adjusting to the suit’s more limited range of motion, got her bell rung a couple of times. She backed away as they grappled, hoping to bring him into range of Danse’s rifle, but when she cleared the building, she could see the paladin was no longer in the tower.

Gotta wrap this up quicker!

She trusted that her partner would circle around the other side of the building as soon as he lost sight of her, probably even taking the same route she did, so she didn’t panic. She was tired of being bashed around though so she caught up her opponents arms at his wrists and held on for dear life.

“GAAAAAARRR! LET GO, BUCKET HEAD!” Flexing powerfully, the great mutant lifted Wraith a couple of feet off the ground in his attempts to free himself from her grasp. He shook her back and forth but when that didn’t work, he raised his arms even higher before slamming her violently back to earth.

She was able to keep her feet and her grip, “HA! Can’t get rid of me that easily!” She heard a gasp behind her and was able to turn her head just enough to see Danse was watching them, “Don’t just stand there being impressed! Help me!”

Danse flinched guiltily before blasting the primus to green goo, “Are we clear, knight?”

Wraith doffed her helmet and patted her sore head experimentally, “Yeah, he was the last of ‘em.”

Danse removed his own helmet and was beaming at her, “Outstanding! Are you sound?”

“I hear ringing, if that’s what you mean.”

He chuckled, gave her a hefty pat on the back and ducked into the shack staircase, “We should check to see if they had any valuable equipment…” he turned back to her when Wraith didn’t immediately follow, “Are you seriously injured?”

“My core’s spent.”

He frowned, “You should still be able to move…” He smiled at her when she stuck her lip out at him, “I’ll just switch it out for you. I didn’t realize it was so low. I thought you said you went through the checklist I gave you…”

“Danse, I really like working on power armor…”

“As do I.”

“But, fighting in it…”

“Practice makes perfect, knight.” He gave her another pat, this time more gentle and affectionate, “You’re all set. AD VICTORIAM!”

“Oorah.”    

…..

…..

“Emogene…” Hancock narrowed his eyes as he repeated Wraith, “Emogene…” He turned away from her and looked to MacCready, “Emogene? That Cabot dame? Isn’t she…”

“Dead? Yeah. I’m pretty sure.”

Hancock looked down at Infamy who had flopped backward and was lying on the floor, “What the hell’s she mean?”

Panting, they weakly waved him away, “I couldn’t begin to guess.”

Hancock knit his brow and briefly entertained the images of choking the life out of the glowing one as he walked past them on the way to the staircase, “Nicky… I need Valentine...” He took the steps two at a time with MacCready, Deacon and Danse hot on his heels.

“You’re thinking you got something?” MacCready tried but failed to keep the desperation from his voice.

Hancock paused before picking up the Radio Freedom receiver, “What I’m thinkin’ is that we need to find out where Wraith hid the alien artifact that started this shit.”

“Alien artifact?” Deacon’s eyes widened, “Like, UFOs? I leave for a little while and you guys are picking fights with aliens?”

“Why are you looking at me?”

“Well, MacFeisty, I just assume it was you…”

“WHAT THE HECK IS THAT SUPPOSED TO MEAN?!”

“Will you boys be quiet?! I’m on the phone!”

The minutemen operator who answered was less than courteous, “It’s the middle of the night and I’m not your errand boy, Mayor Hancock. Furthermore, this line is strictly for Minutemen personnel, and not for your personal use.”

“May I?” Danse accepted the receiver and lit into the unfortunate solider at full volume, “SPECIALIST REGIS, THIS IS CAPTAIN DANSE. THIS IS AN URGENT MATTER AND YOU WILL PERSONALLY COLLECT NICK VALENTINE AND BRING HIM TO THE RADIO AT ALL SPEED OR I WILL PERSONALLY SEE TO IT YOU ARE ON LATRINE DUTY UNTIL THE DAY YOU EXPIRE! IS THAT UNDERSTOOD?!”

MacCready smirked at him, “Well, I guess you’re useful to have around after all.”  

In a few short minutes, Valentine’s worried voice came through the speakers, “John? What’s going on?”

“Tell me everything about what went down with Emogene Cabot.”

…..

Mama Murphy sighed, “Child, I know I can be of use. The Buffout won’t kill me. It’s my choice regardless.”

Sofie prickled at being called a child, “Ms. Murphy, what you do with your free time is none of my concern. That being said, I will not condone the recreational use of chems. As for your being of use,” her smile was forced; her perfect teeth a stark contrast against her scarred lips, “I’m sure Wraith wouldn’t want you to risk your health to help her.” The tiny ghoulette returned her gaze to the reports on her desk, brooking no further argument.

Murphy sighed again as she rose stiffly to her feet, “Thank you for seeing me, then.” After she left Sofie’s office she had fully intended to go home to her chair, but found herself walking through the door of the clinic instead. “Hello? Noah? Are you in here, son?”

The handsome young man poked his head out of a supply closet, “Hiya, Mama! How can I help you today?”

“I need you to give me some Buffout and then write down everything I say after.”

He blinked rapidly for a moment, “Uh… I’m a medic, not a chem dealer?”

“Semantics.”

He frowned, “I think the subject matter is a little more complicated…”

“Wraith needs my help. Our help. I can feel it…” She half closed her eyes and reached a hand out toward the ceiling as if the vision was tangible and she could pull it from the air, “I can just see…” She let her arm drop, “Please. I’d prefer if someone is with me; my memory ain’t what it was when I was young. But if you won’t help this old lady out, I’ll still find my own way to what The Sight wants me to see.”

Williams bit his lip, his dark eyes troubled, “This goes against what the doc taught us… but I seem to remember her also telling us to explore and discover new science, so… loophole?” He ducked back into the closet, “How many do you need?”

“Just one, child. Get ready to take notes.” She settled into the office loveseat, tossed the pill into her mouth with a casual negligence and closed her eyes, “Ohhhh, that’s the stuff. Feels like I could tear down a building, ha ha.” After a few seconds her eyes opened and when she spoke her voice was different: a cadence closer to chanting, “The one who can’t speak will tell them where. I can see them descending into the deepest dark where there is no air. Power’s lesser, ravaged twin calls to it. Guarded only by an ancient, unseeing eye, they seek and find their sorrow at the very bottom of the world.”

Williams felt compelled to the edge of his seat. After a few moments of silence so absolute, he could hear his heartbeat in his ears, he touched the elderly woman on her arm, “Mama Murphy? Are you okay?”

She sniffled and wiped a tear from her eye, “I… think so. Oh dear. Oh no…” Alarmed, Williams half stood but she waved him back to his seat, “I’m okay, son. Oh, Noah, I didn’t see him come back. Child, I fear he’ll be lost to the darkness.”

…..

…..

“DARN IT, GERTY! MOOOOVE!” MacCready shoved at Bossy’s brahmin, “How can you have two heads, BUT NO BRAINS AT ALL?!”

The caravan from Goodneighbor to Sanctuary had been ambushed by super mutants near Lexington and in her attempt to flee, the terrified bovine had trapped the merc in the doorway of one of the town’s many dilapidated buildings.

“Damn it, MacCready, will ya stop playin’ with Gertrude and give us a hand?! The hell I’m payin’ ya for?!”

Diving between the brahmin’s front legs, the young man had to roll to the side as one of the mutants attempted to stomp him with a large green foot. He unsheathed his bayonet as he went and stabbed viciously, piercing the limb. When the humanoid involuntarily lurched downward, MacCready vaulted to his feet and slashed their throat from ear to ear before spinning away and shooting two more mutants who were closing in on the bawling cow.

Bossy nodded at him, “Now, that’s caps well spent.”

“Hancock’s caps, you mean?”

“Bah…”

Just as MacCready felt they were making a dent in the mutants, a mob of ferals, attracted by the commotion, attacked as well, “What is going ON TODAY?!” He dodged a roundhouse from a super mutant that when it made contact with the feral behind him, all but annihilated the ghoul’s misshapen head, “Thanks!” MacCready smiled at the mutant then shot him in the eye. He was knocked flat a moment later as a tangle of ferals verses mutant crashed into him. He got the breath knocked out of him and panic settled in as he realized they were being overwhelmed by the sheer chaos.

“CHOOOOOO CHOOOOOOOO! HERE COMES THE PAIN TRAIN!”

Wraith, wearing her power armor and wielding a rocket sledge, came crashing into the middle of the brawl; scattering ferals and mutants alike. Danse followed right behind her, strategically reducing the mob’s numbers to green puddles as he came.

There was moment when Danse nearly shot a caravanner, but for MacCready slamming his rifle butt into Danse’s arm, forcing him to miss.

“SHE’S NOT A FERAL YOU DUMBASS!”

Wraith stepped in between the two men as it looked like it might come to blows, “Easy boys. We’re all allies here…”

“Yes, it’s fortuitous that we happened by. Otherwise this group of… wastelanders, would have surely been killed…”

MacCready stepped around Wraith to hiss in Danse’s face, “We were doing just fine…”

“Must’ve been hard to get an accurate assessment from your back…”

Wraith saw the deadly look in MacCready’s eye and quickly intervened, “Whoa, whoa! Knock it off, Danse.” She turned back to MacCready, “I’m sorry about that…” She was interrupted by a message from Radio Freedom and after listening intently to her Pip-Boy for a moment she smiled apologetically at him, donned her helmet and left with Danse as quickly as she had arrived.

It was much later that night when Hancock crossed through the mostly empty bar and poked his head into the V.I.P. section of the Third Rail. There he found an extremely morose MacCready, well into his drink, “What’s the good word, little brother?”

After answering with an impressive burp, the young man patted the couch seat next to him, “Comere ‘nd cheer me up.”

Hancock slung an arm around to squeeze his shoulder as he sat next to him, “I see yer drinkin’ with purpose. Bossy said ya had a bit of a dust-up today…”

He waved the comment away, “’Snot that. I saw Wraith.”

Hancock made a face, “Still stomping around with the full metal jackass?”

MacCready laughed, but it tapered off to growl, “Can’t believe she ditched me for that tin can. What the heck’s she doing helping the Brotherhood of Squeal for anyway?”

“Well, I think she’s mostly touring ol’ rusty bottom ‘round the Commonwealth helpin’ Minutemen settlers. She wants him to see the plight of the people on the ground so when he flies up and reports to that balloon-wielding clown they call ‘Elder’, maybe he’ll have a more down-to-earth sensibility, you feel me?”

MacCready guzzled the last half of his beer and belched again, “I feel they should’ve mindeded their own busses… boise… butts, back to the Captinnal…”

“Or, better still, puncture their zeppelin on Trinity Tower and,” Hancock ran his thumb through the air while blowing a raspberry, “cast themselves out to sea in one long fart.”

MacCready laughed so hard he nearly fell off his seat, “Whew! Isneedsome air!”

Hancock helped him up the stairs, but hesitated when they opened the door to a substantial storm, “Oops, looks like this air’s damper than usual…”

The merc gently pushed off of him, removed his cap and stepped out into the torrent; closing his eyes and lifting his chin to let the rain wash his face, “Feels good…”

Hancock caught his breath as the young man turned and smiled at him just as lightning flashed across the sky; turning his eyes a brilliant aquamarine. He stepped out into the deluge, caught MacCready under his arm and led him past the doors to the bar and into the Old State House proper, “Can’t have you getting’ sick, now…”

Once up the winding stair, the ghoul led him to his bed and eased him down on it, “You can sleep it off here…” he helped him out of his gear and stooped to help with his boots as well.

“You gonna take my pants off too, big man?”

It would be so easy. Hancock could picture it in his mind: pushing MacCready onto his back, his mouth on his, hands exploring the young man’s warm, lean-muscled skin in search of scars… But when he brought his dark eyes level with MacCready’s brilliant blue ones, he hesitated. Yes, there was lust there, but it was the bleary-eyed-non-specific lust of someone lost in drink. He leaned in close, pushed his damp hair from his brow and planted a kiss on the merc’s forehead, “Ask me again when yer sober.”

When the ghoul turned to walk away, MacCready caught at his hand, “Please… just… I don’t want to be alone… Would you read to me? I… wanna to hear your voice.”

Hancock’s sigh was weary, but he smiled kindly down at him, “Whatever you need from me.”

…..

…..

“I need you to stop naggin’, that’s what I need!”

“It might be that Strong is the only thing keeping her at bay, and now you’re running off on a wild goose chase…”

“Nicky, I’m not…”

“When you know you have people who can go for you!”

Hancock stopped his jog, closed his eyes and took a deep breath, “Valentine, you have my permission to shoot me if Radiance turns me feral, alright?!”

“Christ, John!”

“I should be able to restrain you in the event that you are mentally incapacitated.” Danse’s armor squeaked slightly as he pantomimed a hug.

Hancock chuckled at him, “Thanks, brother.”

After much debate, Hancock and Danse had left the Peabody Safehouse, stopped at Diamond City to pick up Valentine and were now making their way to the Cabot’s home.

“Besides, Nicky, she’ll have more of a fight on her hands: I’m stone sober.” He resumed running, “I think the closer you are to being out of your mind the easier she can get in it.”

“I can see that being a possibility; you said most of your people just had headaches, but the ones who were steady users went feral.”

“Were you imbibing on the day in question?” Danse tried to phrase the question as politely as possible.

“Well, no. I was watching my grand baby. But, I wasn’t exactly in the best frame of mind, you feel me?” Hancock picked up the pace, “Wraith missing, and Preston named General as if she had died. Not to mention that my people were going feral all around me and I had no idea why.” He grunted uncomfortably, “This is all getting a little too touchy feely…”

“So, high mental anxiety paired with what? Your being a ghoul? Still feel like we’re missing a piece of this puzzle.”

“According to Mother Isolde, some of the human Children of Atom were suffering from headaches as well. No doubt from when Radiance was in the Glowing Sea gathering feral ghouls.”

Valentine was breathing hard trying to keep up, “When I questioned Infamy, they said most of the horde had been from their efforts and that Radiance had stolen them.”

“The piece we are missing is that alien headband…”

“There’s no way, Hancock.” Valentine talked louder when the ghoul tried to object, “There wasn’t enough left of anything after Deegan shot Emogene!”

“Well, if I see what’s left lying cold and still in the ground instead of floating around terrorizing the neighborhood, then I’ll have nothin’ more to say ‘bout it!”

Valentine took point when they reached the Cabot House and the patrolling sentry bot seemed to recognize him as he was allowed to ring the intercom, “This is Nick Valentine calling, and I was hoping to talk to Jack, if he’s available.”

Edward Deegan’s tone was cool, “What’s this about?”

“We’d like to talk about the unfortunate events that took place on the day that Ms. Cabot passed…”

“You’ve a lot of nerve, Valentine…”

Hancock gently pushed Nick aside, “You been keeping up with this Radiance business?”

“Hancock? Uh, yeah sure. Why?”

“Wraith says she’s Emogene.”

The door practically flew off of its hinges and Deegan, backlit yet clearly enraged, stood huffing in its frame, “HOW FUCKING DARE YOU?!”

“Edward?!” Jack’s voice came drifting down the stairs, “Who on earth are you bellowing at?!”

“It’s Nick Valentine, Hancock and some Minuteman-In-A-Can…”

“Well, let them in!”

The angry ghoul stabbed a finger at Hancock, “Just you watch yourself. You hear?”

As he listened to Valentine briefly outline Wraith’s current plight and the subsequent revelation that Radiance was Emogene, Jack grew increasingly agitated, “I question the validity of any claim made by the former general as she is clearly insane.”

There was a heavy, ominous silence as Wraith’s three friends were shocked to speechlessness. This was followed by absolute bedlam, as all five of them started yelling at and to each other. After a few minutes, the noise took on yet another layer of volume as Jack’s mother Wilhelmina walked into their living room banging two pots together. Then silence reigned again as they all stopped to stare at her.

“Gracious! Five grown men yelling like little boys. What on earth is the matter with you all?”

“Please, Mother, it’s nothing I can’t…”

“Hush now, Jack. Don’t presume to tell me it’s ‘nothing’.” She turned to Valentine and gave him a toe to crown look, “Who are you, young man?”

He chuckled at her choice of words, removed his hat and dipped his head respectfully, “Mrs. Cabot, I’m Detective Nick Valentine, P.I.”

“Oh, that’s right. You were with my Emogene…” She fell in on herself for a moment then straitened and gave him a hard look, “What do you want with what’s left of my family?”

Doffing his helmet, Danse dropped to one knee, “Apologies, Miss, but we would like to pay our respects to your late daughter. Such a tragedy was her passing we would lay a laurel on her gravesite, but only with your approval.” As all eyes turned to him, he maintained a look that was a masterful mix of chivalry, humility and sorrow; the perfect personification of a knight.

Wilhelmina was completely entranced and stood gazing at him for a moment, “Yes. Yes of course. She’s entombed in the family crypt at Wildwood Cemetery.”

“Mother! These ruffians fully intend on disturbing her grave and you just told them where to go!”

“Now, don’t be ridiculous, Jack. Why should they want to do that?”

Although he was irritated by the pomp of the Cabot household, Hancock wasn’t without sympathy for a mother who had lost a child. He followed the example set by his companions and removed his hat, “We’ve no intention of desecrating a quiet grave, ma’am.”

Jack glared daggers at him, “I shall be going along to make sure of it.” He turned to Deegan, “Edward?”

The family guardian sighed heavily, “Yeah, Jack, me too.”

The group left almost immediately yet the sun had set by the time they arrived at the cemetery. They paused at the broken gate and crouched low, expecting to see feral ghouls wandering around. However, all was quiet and the only thing moving was a swirling mist that had settled into the graveyard.

The scene sent chill fingers up his spine and Valentine found to be very fitting, “Like the set of a horror flick…”

Jack scoffed at him, turned on his flashlight, stood up abruptly and briskly led the way through to the mausoleums built in to the eastern embankment. His pace slowed as the beam of light reached what was meant to be his sister’s final resting place, “How…”

The concrete building had been blasted apart from within.

“Looks like she’s not in at the moment. Perhaps we should check back later?” Hancock was smug.

“Fascinating!” Jack turned to Deegan, “I was shocked that any part of her head remained. The bullet must have fully struck the artifact! I gave what I thought was the total remains of it to Wraith, per her insistence, but I must have been mistaken. A small portion must have remained. Perhaps the combination of radiation…” He spun away from Deegan and grabbed Valentine by the arms, “I must go and speak with Wraith!”

Valentine blinked a few times before looking over at Danse and Hancock, “Anyone else just get whiplash?”

…..

“I don’t trust you…”

“Naturally.”

“And I don’t like you.”

“Oh! I’m terribly hurt.”

Once again Wraith and Infamy were together in the void of her consciousness. No longer pure white, there was a yellow-green haze overhead that bent down to meet with the horizon. Wraith theorized that because none of it was technically real, the coloration was a way that her mind had come to terms with Radiance’s barrier. It gave her something to push against so she had grudgingly admitted that Atom’s Assassin was apparently helping. The glowing one had danced around her gloating and so she wanted to make sure they understood what their relationship was.

“Once I’m free of her then I’m going to make sure I’m free of you.” Even though it wouldn’t take her away from them, she turned her back and walked away anyway.

Infamy followed behind, skipping, “And here I thought I was beginning to grow on you, hahaha!”

“I’m pretty sure there’s a cream for that...” Wraith trailed off as she felt a change in the void. If air existed there it suddenly became heavy and hot. She turned back to tell Infamy off if it was something they were doing, but the words died on her lips. Radiance was standing right behind them.

Infamy turned as well and took a few steps backward to get outside of striking range, “Looks like your chaperone is here. Curfew already? Hmm. Seems sooner than usual…”  

“Infamy, you should leave,” There was something different about this Radiance: something more solid. More like the version that tormented Wraith with the memories of Marie’s death. More like the one that had burned her, “I don’t think this is a proxy…”

Radiance had locked eyes with her opposing glowing one, “You. I thought I could ignore someone as weak as you.” She glanced at the barrier, “You’re becoming a problem, I see. I’m close enough now though. Close enough…”

“Infamy! Leave! Leave NOW!” Using all her strength, Wraith ejected her ally before Radiance could destroy them. Then, left alone with her tormentor, she lifted her chin defiantly.

Wraith’s display of strength and nerve thrilled the monster queen, “Yessss. Beloved, you are strong!” She took a step closer, her arms out wide, “Imagine how much more powerful you could be if only you would join with me. Give yourself to me, my love. I could give you such pleasure…”

Wraith growled at her, “Never. You don’t love me. You don’t love anyone.”

“You’re wrong! From the moment I met you when came to rescue me from that silly preacher, I have loved you.”

“Prove it. Let me out.”

Radiance seemed to flicker out of focus and just for a moment, an image of Emogene Cabot flashed in her place, “We can’t. You have something we must have. We are incomplete without it.” Now the glowing one turned up the heat and sent tendrils of chartreuse flames crawling across the unseen floor toward Wraith, “You must tell us! Tell us where we can find the rest! Tell us where our crown is!”  

…..

…..  

“Ah, here you are.” Danse had been looking all over the Prydwen for Wraith and it had been Proctor Ingram that suggested he check the forecastle of the airship. “I take it your audience with the elder didn’t go as you had expected?” The wind was intense and he practically had to shout in order for her to hear, “It’s certainly bracing out here!”

Wraith stood at the very tip of the narrow beam. She was in her power armor, but had removed her helmet and was staring at the city, “No. It went pretty much exactly how I expected.”

“What was that? I couldn’t quite hear you, knight.”

She chuckled humorlessly, and turned her head to smile sadly at him, “I’m on the precipice, Paladin Danse. I’m going to have to make decisions soon. Hard choices…” She could see he was confused and concerned. The concern was genuine and she felt a guilty tug at her heart. “I’m having a hard time getting through to him. I thought that I should… find it easier. He doesn’t want to hear me.”

“Take the time to remember why we’re out here; the elder has only the highest concern for the citizenry of the Commonwealth…”

“All her citizens?”

“You mean ghouls?”

“Don’t make that face.” She walked back toward him and had a brief moment of disorientation as she wasn’t used to looking down to talk to him, “Daisy. Remember Daisy?”

“The shopkeep in Goodneighbor? What about i… her?”

“You very much enjoyed speaking with her… don’t shake your head!” Wraith let herself sound angry, “Your elder would have her ejected from any B.O.S. settlement and forced out into the ruins.”

“Simply to protect any human citizen from the day when it… she, inevitably goes feral...”

“No human has ever acted spontaneously out of passion and hurt or even murdered someone? Besides that, there is a distinct lack of evidence that all ghouls would go feral given enough time.” Saddened, Wraith swallowed a few times to prevent herself from crying, “I guess I’ve failed with you too.”

Danse looked slightly panicked, “Failed? How do you mean, knight?”

“I’ve grown to like you, Danse. I feel like we’ve become friends. How do you feel about us?”

He opened and closed his mouth a few times. Unaccustomed to heart-to-heart conversations, he was struggling to articulate how he felt about her, “I’ve told you off-the-record, personal information. Things I’ve never told anyone. You’ve become a confidant; a true friend.”

“I’m glad.” Her smile was sad. She let her eyes drop to the airport and was quiet for a moment. “Do you know where I got this?” She drew Kremvh’s Tooth and held it aloft so that the setting sun glinted off the wicked-looking blade; making it seem as if it was made of fire. “Hancock and I were responding to a Minutemen call at Dunwich Borers. There was a raider clan there. Bedlam. That was the name of their leader.” She sheathed the ornate knife and returned her eyes to the ground below, “After the fight we pushed forward. I guess we felt like tough shit and were looking for trouble. I saw some stuff. Never could explain… anyway,” She looked back at Danse who was listening intently, “There was a well… or something and I decided I was going to show off for Hancock. I dove in and swam to the bottom which is where I found the knife. I can hold my breath for a very, very long time, but I didn’t tell him that. About half way back I saw him. He had jumped in, fully intending to save me. Except now he was half drowned and I ended up towing him to the surface. After he caught his breath, do you know what the first thing he said to me was?”

“I couldn’t begin to guess.”

“He said ‘Whoa! That’s a badass knife!’ and asked if he could hold it.”

“Knight…”

“He risked his life in an attempt to save mine…”

“I don’t see how that’s rel…”

“Of course it’s relevant!” She wasn’t shouting just because of the wind anymore, “He’s a ghoul, yes, but that doesn’t preclude him from being a caring person! A citizen of the Commonwealth! Why should his wellbeing be any less a priority?” She pushed on when he didn’t answer, “I hope that you will spend some time thinking about what I’ve said. For now, we should go our separate ways.”

“I’m afraid I don’t quite understand…”

“I know you don’t, Danse. And that’s upsetting.”

“I’ll… verify if there’s a vertibird available for you…”

“No need.”

“No! Do not jump from here. If you land in the water…” He trailed off as Wraith had already vaulted over the railing. He saw her land safely and was impressed despite his frustration. He stood at the rail for a long while; letting the harsh wind buffet him as the sun went down.

…..

…..

Infamy stood, dazed, “She kicked me out. She kicked me out?! She kicked me out!”

“Stop saying that! What the heck are you even talking about?”

They acted as if they couldn’t hear MacCready and ran up the basement steps, “Ohhhh, Strong! Where are you my great green galoot?”

“STRONG IS NOT YOUR ANYTHING!” The massive humanoid had been sitting in the doorway cleaning Smashy but now lurched to his feet to glare at the glowing one.

“Never mind. Radiance is here! Somewhere…”

“How do you know?” MacCready ran out into the yard with Strong. Peering through his binoculars he rotated in a circle.

“She crashed my session with our problem child.” They scrunched up their face, “Wraith just might have saved my life. Not sure if it was just self-preservation or if she genuinely cares what happens to me. She is the sort who would act automatically altruistically. Yet again, I like to think I have a way with people, you understand…”

“Will you shut up?! Jeez! You’re making it hard to concentrate!”

“Never realized one might need their ears to see. But, then again, you are the professional.”

“GHOUL’S SKIN WOULD MAKE A NICE BELT AND HAT!”

Infamy took the hint.

“I don’t see any glowing lights. I think you should still go out, Strong. Even if we can’t see her we want her to see you.”

He nodding then threw back his head and bellowed mightily, “RADIANCE! STRONG WILL RIP YOU APART AND PRESENT YOUR GUTS TO ALPHA!”

Deacon, haven taken an earlier shift, was napping on the couch when he heard their commotion. He joined MacCready on the lawn with his own pair of binoculars just as the super mutant jogged away, “Infamy, what‘s Radiance’s range?”

“For me it’s a few hundred feet or so. Might be more, might be less with your caged monster.”

“I don’t see Radiance but I do see our intrepid trio… Looks like they brought guests.”

The two groups came together and brought one another up to speed. Danse woke Curie and afterword they moved en masse to the basement. Rather than greet them with her customary threat display, Wraith gazed vacantly off into a shadow-filled corner. Apart from Deacon, who stayed near the staircase, they fanned out around the cage and stood in silent uncertainty.

“You thinkin’ she might be duking it out right now?”

“Could be. It’s hard to tell…”

“I suppose I should try to get back in. As much as I love being here this close with you all, breathing in your various body odors, no sense standing around waiting for something to happen.” Infamy sat cross-legged on the rough-hewn floor and closed their eyes.

To the shock of all, Wraith suddenly lunged across her prison, reached through the bars and grabbed Infamy by their foot. They struggled helplessly as she lifted them completely off the floor before violently slamming them to the ground as if she were cracking a whip.

Hancock and Danse leapt to an attempted rescue; each grabbing ahold of one of her arms. She laughed manically as they struggled. Jack, Deegan and Deacon joined in as well while MacCready ran up the stairs for the syringer.  

“Emogene! It’s your brother. Please stop.” Jack pleaded with his sister, “If that’s you, then talk to me! Tell me how I can help you. What do you want?!”

She let go of the unconscious glowing one and shook herself free. When she spoke it was still Wraith’s voice, but the tone and enunciation were just different enough, it was if someone was doing an impression of her, “What do I want? I want it all, you simpleton!” She spread Wraith’s arms and spun in a circle, “I want power and love and to indulge in their delights for all time.” She came to a stop and leveled a murderous gaze at her brother, “I want the artifact. All of it. You will tell me where the rest of my crown is or I will burn Wraith from her mind and leave you all with her broken husk.”

“It won’t make a difference either way, you hag. You’ll still try and kill us all; even if we give you what you want.” MacCready leveled the rifle at her but didn’t pull the trigger.

“O’er my dead body.”

“That’s the idea, Hancock.” She smiled at him evilly, “Though in your case, I’ll be making an exception. I will see you dance for me, just like you did for Wraith.”  

“I don’t know you, sister. I’m thinkin’ I don’t want to. And I don’t think you thought this through.” He spread his arms and gestured to the group, “Ain’t a one of us who knows where your dime-store crown is.” He leveled a finger at her, “There’s only one person on this entire planet who knows, and you’re squatting in her brain!” He shook his finger back and forth, “I would think that you’d play this a little nicer; you get more with sugar than salt.”

She yawned, “Ugh, what a bore. I forgot how much you like to hear yourself talk.”

“He’s talking a lot of sense, Emogene.” Valentine stepped over Infamy’s prone form and stood just outside of her reach, “Give this up. There is a chance we could still help you. Curie here is an excellent doc. Not to mention your brother…”

“MY BROTHER?!” She gripped the cage bars and leaned forward to shriek at him, “MY BROTHER HAD ME KILLED!”

“I… no… I…”

“NO!” Deegan wouldn’t let that stand, “Your brother sent Valentine and Wraith to try and help you. I… I shot you, Emogene. I thought you had killed everyone. That you’d become a monster. And the only way I could save the memory of a girl that I’ve known since she was a child…” The ghoul closed his eyes and looked away, unable to continue.

“Oh, poor Edward. Poor sweet fool; I am a monster! And just to prove… what?” She took a step back, her eyes confused “How? How did you find me?!” Confusion turned to fear, “NO! GET AWAY FROM ME, YOU BRUTISH, GREEN…”

As suddenly as she had become Radiance, Wraith returned to herself. She shook her head a few times before leaning into the bars, “I could really use an aspirin.”

Deacon stepped over Infamy and reached out a hand to touch her, but caught himself and pulled it back, “How much time do you have?”

“Ah, the eternal question.” She was happy to see a few half smiles on her friends’ faces, “I’m not sure. I don’t even know all of what just happened.” She popped her chin at Atom’s Assassin, “They alright?”

Hancock nudged them with a boot and seemed satisfied that their groaning was indicative of good health, “Yeah, I’m sure they’ll mend.” He pushed his tricorn back to clunk foreheads with her, “You sound better, sunshine.”

“She must’ve dropped the barrier completely. How did you manage that?”

“I sicked Strong on her.” MacCready came to give her a kiss, “I hope he eats her or, whatever.”

Curie passed a bottle in-between them, “Excusez-moi, Madame, but please drink this.” She beamed as Wraith drank it down without question, “You see, Monsieur Deacon; it does not taste like frowns!”

“That’s… not exactly what I said.”

Danse made a mental note that Deacon had once again taken a step back so the others would have room. It irritated him but he wasn’t sure why. He waited until Wraith had finished chugging Curie’s health drink before reaching through the bars to give her a bear-hug that was almost crushing. He didn’t trust himself to speak so held her quietly for a few moments while gently patting her back.

Wraith caught sight of Jack and pointed an accusatory finger at him, “You! You made this mess. You had better damn well help me clean it up!”

“I’m not entirely sure…”

“Tell me how to block the artifacts effects!”

“I’m not sure…”

“How about a goddamn tinfoil hat?!”

“Block nothin’,” Hancock was holding one of Wraith’s hands, “destroy is more my thinkin’, you feel me?”

“Unfortunately, that is quite impossible. The artifact is simply too powerful; it cannot be destroyed by any means…”

“Clearly, it ain’t.”

Valentine nodded and gestured to Wraith, “I was wondering about that too. You mentioned that it was indestructible, but maybe it only makes you think that it is. It’s proven to be vulnerable against an AMR, at any rate.”

“It’s sentient, then?” Danse was making a face.

“Absolutely.”

“Well, then, let’s go get it, strap it to a mini nuke and call it a day.” MacCready turned to Wraith, “So?”

“So what?”

He blinked a few times, her confusion having confused him, “So, uh. Where’s it at?”

She released Hancock’s hand and folded her arms, “Nope!” She started to laugh and shook her head, “Ha ha. You almost had me, Radiance.” She took a few steps back away from her friends and shook her finger at the ceiling, “There’s no way I’m telling you where it is so you can just sit and spin.”

“She thinks she’s… that we’re…”

“Not real.” Hancock was crushingly disappointed.

“But of course we are real. Why should this not be so?”

Once again Wraith’s eyes glazed over and she growled lowly. There was a collective groan and Curie began to softly cry. Danse held her and whispered soft words of encouragement into her ear.

MacCready clenched and unclenched his fists, “She went someplace by herself.” He seemed to be speaking to the ceiling, “No, that’s not right. She took Dogmeat!” He turned to Valentine, “Wraith went off someplace, just her and Dogmeat, right after you got hurt. That must’ve been when she ditched the alien thingy!”

“So the dog knows? Maybe. Does that help us?”

He opened his mouth to speak but was interrupted by someone yelling through the Radio Freedom speakers. The group trouped up the stairs to hear better, leaving Infamy in the tender care of the concrete floor.

“I’m not sure if you heard me; this is Mama Murphy. Noah, dear, I know how these work. Probably better then you, sweetheart, so stop pushing buttons. Hello, kids? Is anyone at home?”

Hancock picked up the receiver, “Murphy? What’s happening?”

“Hancock, I’ve seen the way to help Wraith.”

.....

Thank you so much for reading! Like what you read? Looking for more? Please see my masterlink post tagged under Wraith in the Ruins (also my pinned post). As always, if you have any questions/concerns/comments please drop by and send an ask. Anon too. =^..^=

[lovelyfeh]

now this,, i love this omg it’s so innocent and sweet and is totally something Sylvain would do bajcjsnzn

hopefully i did alright! writers block hit me extremely hard so i’ve been struggling with requests all day and i’m still unhappy with the pacing and overall writing in this one ;-; feel free to ask for a rewrite any time!

┈┈┈┈┈┈┈୨♡୧┈┈┈┈┈┈┈

➼Dimitri rarely ever has ‘chaotic’ days, as said by Annette once or twice. Occasionally he’ll wake up with a particularly bad headache or feel sleep for the entire day, but otherwise everyday is more or less the same. Wake up, go to class, meet up with friends, dreamily sigh as he thinks about you, write an entry in his diary, and then go to bed! Perfectly normal!

➼But something was off about today. When he awoke at his usual time, he immediately knew something was... off. As if something was missing from his room.

➼He quickly got dressed and checked every corner of of his quarters. There were no traps, no missing valuables, nothing! Perhaps it had been his imagination? He dismisses the odd feeling and quickly heads out to meet with his classmates. He won’t let a bad morning ruin the rest of day!

➼He greets everyone he sees on his way the the Blue Lions classroom. Mostly everyone is still off talking with others or getting ready in their room, but he’s surprised to see Sylvain already in his seat. Once again the odd feeling he had felt earlier struck him like a powerful magic attack, causing him to take a deep breath before continuing.

➼“Good morning Sylvain, it’s a surprise to see you up this early.” He watched in confusion as his childhood friend turns to him with an almost sinister face covered up by his obvious amusement.

➼“Good morning to you as well, Prince Charming,” Dimitri quirks a brow at the random title, opening his mouth to ask about his weird choice of words, but gets cut off by Sylvain. “I didn’t know you were romantic type Dimitri! You want to take S/O out for tea and then rule the kingdom with her? Aren’t you thinking a bit too far ahead?”

➼And just like that his good day fall apart.

➼Time seems to stop as Dimitri desperately searches for a reason why Sylvain knew that. How he had found out about his crush on you despite going through extreme measure to keep it a secret. He hadn’t told a soul, not even Dedue! The only thing that came to mind involving his feelings was his diary!

➼Dimitri can’t stop himself from grabbing the smug looking red head by the shirt, eyes going dark. “Where did you learn that information, Sylvain?” His voice is scarily quiet, almost a whisper. Anyone who heard it now wouldn’t think it’s the prince talking in such a menacing way.

➼“Woah woah! Calm down! I was only messing with you,” he raises his hand in mock surrender, an easy going smile still on his face as he speaks. Dimitri sighs, about lower him, until Sylvain holds up a familiar blue and golden journal. “I just found everything in here. You don’t mind that I took a peek into your diary, do you?”

➼“Sylvain! Stop joking! What is it you want from me?!” Obviously he wanted something. He wouldn’t have that information unless he was trying to blackmail him. Perhaps he needed his help to get a girl? Either way, he wouldn’t be getting off so easily after he did whatever he needed to...

➼“Well isn’t it obvious? I could tell from the start you were pretty fond of S/O, and it’s been kinda painful watching you stumble over yourself to simply talk to the poor girl,” Dimitri feels his face suddenly burn at his words, “and really, I just want you to finally man up and tell her how you feel. I’m pretty confident she’ll return your feelings right back!”

➼Dimitri quickly drops his friend and covers his face with his hands in embarrassment. He’d known?! And after he had thought he’d hidden his feelings so well! He slaps a hand against his forehead in complete disappointment before sighing angrily. “And if I don’t say anything?”

➼He hears Sylvian laugh, followed by a pat to his back. “I’ll post this on the dining hall billboard for everyone to see, of course. Cmon man, you’ve had a thing for S/O basically since the beginning of time. You need to say something before she gets taken!” He doesn’t see it, but he knows that his friend is winking, as if he needs anymore reasons to finally spill his love for you.

➼And so commences plan ‘get Dimitri to ask you out so Sylvain doesn’t leak his diary and private feelings about you to the whole school’.

➼Dimitri finds himself being drilled on your favorite tea, flowers, and gifts. Heck, somehow Sylvain even managed to find a multitude of lost items that belonged to you. Why had he even had those in the first place? How long had he been planning this whole scheme?!

➼And that’s not where the torture ends, no. Apparently Sylvain had gone and told the entire Blue Lions class when he wasn’t looking. Walking in to find everyone besides Felix (who was still present unfortunately) engaging in a large brainstorm on the best way to win you over.

➼Dimitri isn’t sure what finally pushes him over the edge; seeing you in such a state of confusion and a bit of hurt as everyone distances themselves from you, or the fact that Sylvain has been standing closer to the billboard everyday. He lays awake that night and lets out a long, tired sigh when he realizes that he has to do something before the both of you end up being embarrassed in front of the whole school.

➼Dimitri completely avoids the Blue Lions classroom that morning and heads to where he knows you’ll be. He peeks into the library and finds you studying tomes, a dejected look on your face. The rest of your classmates had probably already kicked you out of the entire officers academy section so they could think up more absurd confession ideas.

➼He stands outside the library for what seems like forever, pumping himself up to go in there and sweep you off your feet before completely psyching out and going back to square one. He reaches into his pocket and pulls out your favorite flower that was surprisingly still in pristine shape, staring at it with such a desperate look on his face. If this didn’t work then he was sure you wouldn’t even consider any of his ‘planned’ other attempts...

➼Quietly, he enters, slowly walking towards the table where you sat on your lonesome. You’re facing him, but seem to either be absorbed by your studies or too downcast to notice him approaching. Each step he takes makes him feel as if his heart will simply burst and cause his untimely death (and really, that doesn’t sound so bad to him considering what he‘s about to do.)

➼As he stops in front of you he continually repeats to himself in his head that he must do this. If he doesn’t, not only would his pride disappear in a matter of seconds, but you’d be teased to no end. ‘This is for the both of us’, he thinks to himself, ‘so please forgive me.’

➼Dimitri silently takes a seat next to you and stares at your face for a moment. Your eyes have a distant look to them, so he gulps nervously and gently takes your free hand in his.

➼You snap into reality at his touch, turning to the prince with wide eyes and mouth slightly agape. You almost immediately brighten at the sight of him however, and he feels you quickly grab his hand back. “Dimitri! Oh Dimitri it’s so wonderful to finally see you again. You’ve been so distant these past few days, I wondered if I had said something that offended you!... I didn’t say anything that offended you, did I? I’m so sorry!”

➼“T-Trust me, S/O. Nothing you could ever say would make me stop lov-liking! Liking you!” His face is on fire as he averts his eyes from yours. Had you noticed his slip up?

➼“Oh that’s such a relief, I was so worried. I... hey, Dimitri, you look rather red. Do you have a fever? Perhaps we should visit Manuela before breakfast ends...” You rise from your seat, still holding his hand. “Let’s go see if you’re sick. We can’t have our house leader ill! We should catch it before it worsens, don’t you agree?”

➼“N-No, that’s not-” “Hm? What are you waiting for? Cmon, we don’t want to end up being late for class!” “Really, I’m not sick-!” “Nonsense! It’s ok to seek help once in a while, you stubborn prince!”

➼As you continue to try and yank him out of his seat, he allows his irritation to throw every shred of rationality out the window. And so, Dimitri does what any fed up person trying to confess would do.

➼In one swift movement, he’s out of his seat and pulls you against his chest. You squeak, flushing and about to ask what this is all about, but are cut off by a light kiss. Your eyes widen at the feeling of prince Dimitri lips on yours (he was kissing you) but don’t stop yourself from leaning in and kissing back. You don’t know what came over him, but you weren’t complaining whatsoever.

➼He pulls away harshly, probably realizing what he had just done, and covers his mouth with a hand. “I-I-S/O! I am so terribly sorry! That was-How can I-?” You watch in mild amusement as he continues to stumble over his words and desperately apologize, as if he had done something wrong. Besides, you had been longing for that kiss since the first day you met Dimitri.

➼You giggle at his adorable behavior before quickly placing a finger over his lips. “Hush, you silly sweetheart. I don’t see what you’re apologizing for!” You glanced at the clock on the wall nearby and hummed, grabbing your things while Dimitri watched in a daze, still muttering to himself about something. You excused yourself, but not before pecking him on the forehead and leaning in the doorway to tell him a few parting words.

➼“And if it makes you feel better, I love you too Dimitri!” You wink, twirling the flower he had intended to give you in your fingers before skipping off the class.

➼Dimitri watches you leave, letting his fingers brush against his lips and forehead, the places that your lips had touched. He couldn’t help the bashful smile that spread across his face as the words ‘I love you too’ seemed to echo in his head. Perhaps he should thank Sylvain for forcing him into this whole thing when he gets the chance-

➼“Look at you go lover boy! You even went for a kiss and everything! Told ya it’s all work out! Mission accomplished Blue Lions, you can all head to class now. I need to give Dimitri here back something that belongs to him!”

➼Or he could kill him right now, considering he put his confession on display for the entire class to watch, but that could wait until he had a lance...

[hskswife]

heartbeat one

Summary: You placed your hands over his heart and the tears started to roll out.

Genre: Angst, Fluff

Pairing: Hoseok x Reader

Words: 1851

You smiled as Hoseok wrapped his arms around your waist, from behind, kissing your neck his warm skin against yours, "Goodmorning hun." He just groaned as he dug his sleepy face onto your neck.

You laughed as you continued to flip pancakes as he clung to you. "Hun. Can you hand me the plates over there." He nodded as he finally let go of you to grab the plates, "Do you have anything planned today?" You shook your head, "No why?" He smiled as he put a strawberry in his mouth, "Let's go do something."

"Okay, tonight because you have work and I have a deadline coming up. Okay?" He stuck his tongue out at you while you placed the food on the table, "Fine." You smiled as you sat down, "It would've been done by now if someone wasn't so needy last night." He licked his lips as he bent down to kiss you before he sat in his chair digging into the pancakes," Totally worth it right?" You giggled at his sexy remark as you wiped off the syrup on his chin. "Yeah totally worth it."

After breakfast, he got ready for work and you locked yourself into your office as you began writing the second part of your trilogy. You kept rewriting the end but nothing good ever came to you. One part would seem like a good idea at first but after reading it a few times it seemed too cliché. You groaned as you got more and more frustrated. "Ahhhhhh! Why did I choose to be a writer?!"

You sighed as you continued to type away when your phone beeped. You smiled as you saw it was from Hoseok. You then opened the message:

jhobi: Hi baby don't work too hard and don't forget to eat<3. Can't wait for tonight~~ I love you muah (;

  And with that, you instantly felt better especially with the picture he sent of him holding up his drink with a wide smile. Every single frustration in your body just disappeared. "Wow, he must be enjoying himself at work." You smiled like a dork to yourself as you replied back.

You: Thanks hobi i feel so much better <3 i cant wait for tonight either ill make sure to wear the dress you love (;. I love you too (:

You then put your phone down and got to writing. After 2 hours or so you finally had finished writing and your eyes were starting to feel heavy. You looked at the clock and figured you can take a nap before your date with Hoseok. So you got up and went to the bedroom turned on your alarm and fell asleep.

You woke up to the sound of your phone it was Hoseok's ringtone. Fuck were you late? You answered the phone without looking at the time," Hoseok hun I'm sorry I'll be there in a minute I just need to get rea--"

"Is this Ms. Min?" You heard a stranger say over the phone making you double-check making sure the number was Hoseok's. It definitely was. "Y-Yes...who might this be?" The person was silent for a second, "Please come to XYZ hospital right now. Mr. Jung has been in a traffic accident."

Your brain took a while to process what he had just informed you but before you can say anything he had hung up. "N-No this is a prank it has to be. I'm sure I go over there and Hoseok and the boys would be laughing at me..." You grabbed your sweater and keys and ran out of the apartment and into your car. "Hoseok is fine...he has got to be..."

You then called your brother. "Sorry can't pick up the phone right now just call again later." You were shaking your heart was racing. So many thoughts were racing through your head. Yoongi is not answering. That means they were with Hoseok. 'I'm sure this is all a prank.' You thought to yourself but it wasn't convincing enough.

You finally got to the hospital."I'm here for Jung Hoseok. He was in a traffic accident and they cal--" Yoongi then interrupted you, "Y/N right here."

You couldn't get the anxious feeling off your chest. But you followed your brother into the hospital room. You prayed that when you went in there a smiling Hoseok would greet you with a smile with a cast on his leg. You prayed it was nothing big. You prayed he was safe.

When you finally got there Yoongi opened the door. "Y/N before you go in there...just hear what I have to sa--" You barged into the room to find Hoseok laying on the hospital bed with a blanket over his face. "Is he sleeping?"

"Y/N..." Yoongi said as you slowly approached Hoseok's lifeless body. "Wake up baby I'm here come on jokes over." You laughed as tears rolled down your face your worst fears being confirmed as you removed the blanket over his face and placed your hand on his heart that was no longer beating."Come on Hobi...this isn't funny anymore. Wake up." You fell to your knees weak from the shock as you firmly grabbed his hands, "Hoseok wake up! Please! It's not funny anymore!"

Yoongi ripped you away from Hoseok's body as you continued to cry out. It felt almost as if though the whole hospital was filling up with your pleas and screams. "Hoseok please!!" You screamed continuously your voice cracking. You knew you were losing your voice. But you didn't care. You continued to scream hoping and praying that somehow that would bring him back.

After an hour or so when you just became numb a nurse and a doctor came in to take Hoseok's body away. "Ms. Min, can we talk to you?" You silently looked up at the doctor and nodded.

You followed the doctor into his office and took a seat on the chair in front of him. "You are aware that Mr. Jung has lost all contact with his blood relatives. So all we have down as a guardian is you. Mr. Jung was a listed donor but we still need you to sign some documents saying its fine for us to donate some organs for people who are in need of these organs."

You scoffed, "So you're asking me if it's okay to butcher my fiancé." You said the last part coming out as a squeak. The doctor cleared his throat," Not necessaril--" You then stood up, "You said it yourself it was Hoseok's wish to be a donor. At least I pray to the people who receive his organs to live well for him. That's my only condition. Tell them to live well." You left the doctor's room crying once again. You covered your mouth afraid to cry out again. You hiccuped from crying too much. It was hard for you to breathe. It got harder but this was your reality now. To breathe, eat, and live without Hoseok. This was your own damn fucked up reality.

3 weeks have passed since Hoseok's death but you were still numb. It felt as if though yesterday you were just with him. He may have left you behind but the feelings you felt couldn't have been more alive. You moved out of the apartment you and Hoseok lived in together. It was suffocating. Every corner of that apartment had 7 years worth of memories you wanted to forget.

You were working on your new book when Yoongi knocked on your door. You lazily got up and opened the door to your room, "What?" He looked at you pitifully, "The hospital called they said the mother of a boy who received an organ from Hoseok wanted to thank the donor's family...Since he had just woken up." You scoffed, "Do I have to go?" Yoongi held your hands, "Look...I know your hurting still, I don't even know how much it hurts for you right now but at least show your face and see them. Please?" You nodded, "I'll get ready."

Yoongi smiled as you opened your closet and made yourself look presentable. You then got out of your room and you bow to Jin and Taehyung. "Wow, we haven't seen you in forever how are you holding up?" Jin smiled and asked you looked down," Getting by I guess." They all went silent as Yoongi's room opened, "Oh you're ready. Let's go..."

The car ride there was silent. Everyone had been careful around you. Not a word during dinner about Hoseok. Your mother told you to live with Yoongi and the boys for a while rather than living alone. She was scared that I won't take care of yourself or you might do something much worse.

"We're here." You nodded as you got off. When you arrived at the hospital it got even harder for you to breathe. You hated the hospital. The smell and the people. It reminded you of that day. You were scared to step foot in a hospital. You never told anybody of course.

When you got to the hospital room you were greeted by a lady probably in her late 40's. Yoongi told her something before she approached me. "You must be Mrs. Jung. Oh, you're so young yet you lost your husband so ear--" Yoongi cleared his throat, "I'm fine Yoongi, and no ma'am we weren't married yet..." She looked down and bowed deeply, "You don't have to--"

"I am sorry for feeling happy when your mourning his death but, thank you! You saved my son's life he's only 22 and for him to still be alive I'm thankful." You looked at the boy in the bed. "He's only a year older than me. Hoseok was 25..."

"And making the decision of giving his heart to a stranger must've been hard..." You smiled, "I just signed the papers. Hoseok was the one who decided to donate them. He was always giving..." Your eyes teared up as the boy woke up.

"Mom...whose that?" She immediately ran to his side, "She's the fiancé of the man who gave you his heart." You smiled at him and bowed, "Nice to meet you I'm Min Y/N and that's my brother Min Yoongi." He sat up and bowed, "My name is Jeon Jungkook. I'm sorry for your loss..." You approached him as you reached for his chest, "Is it okay if I..." He nodded, "Go ahead."

You placed your hands over his heart and the tears started to roll out. You felt the beating of Hoseok's once lifeless heart. It was hard for you to breathe again. You felt the warmth on your fingertips as if though your sunshine hasn't left your side. You closed your eyes and was startled when Jungkook grabbed your hands. "So-Sorry I just I don't know why but your expression made me want to hold your hand..." He immediately let go of your hand and you removed your hands from his chest. "Live well Jungkook..." You then made your way out and before you grabbed the door to open it Jungkook screamed.

"Can I see you again?" You turned around to look at him and smiled, "Sure..."

[jay-bee-me]

Hey guys!

Here is my special for 100 followers! (in the meantime we reached 114!!! Thank you guys)

Like @emo-bi-mess requested it turned out to be a creepy pasta I wrote on my own. It contains topics like death, hallucinations and mental illness. If you don't want to read it that's absolutely okay and I don't want anyone to read it when you don't want to. I gonna tag it with as much warnings as I can...

But now starts the creepy pasta:

I sank into the mattress of my bed. I was to lazy to switch of the light and grabbed my phone to scroll through my Tumblr dash. Most things I've already seen. Suddenly it told me to upload my dash to see new posts and I did so. The first two or three posts were some I already rebloged from other blogs. Then there was one if these posts saying if you don't reblog this in the next 10 seconds you will be haunted forever. I rolled my eyes. I've seen hundreds of these posts already - 3 alone this day. I usually reblog most of because they're fun and sometimes they say positive things like that you will get creativity from them. I knew they're all made up but nonetheless I liked the idea of being blessed. But this time I was feeling to lazy to hit the reblog button. Alsoi didn't wanted to reblog the forth of these posts today to annoy my followers. So I scrolled past it and saw some comics and fanart. Some so inspiring I rebloged them. When I took a look at the clock in my smartphone it says it was already 1 am. I decides to sleep and put my phone away. I changed my clothes, brushed my teeth and switched the light off. In the dark I found the way to my bed and snuggled in the blankets. It was darker than I thought because clouds were covering the sky. I stared into the shadows and thought I saw something but it was just my mind playing me a trick I told me. I had to grin at my own childish fear. I sank into a deep dream less sleep.

I sat up. Shit. There were noises. I could swear I heard someone running upstairs. The light and fast steps on the wooden stairs. Something was at my floor. I cursed softly. My parents were on vacation. I only was here because they asked me to watch after the pets. Since I've grown up with them I agreed immediately. Shit. Someone must have broken in. But why hadn't Buddy barked? He usually barks as soon as someone steps on the path leading to the house. I wished he or one of the cats were with me. I wasn't sure if I should turn on the lights or not. A thief may would avoid this room or even left the house if I did so. But a murderer would know immediately where to go. I stared into the darkness to the place I assumed the door must be. I heard a loud rumble. What the hell was that? Who was that?! Cold sweat was running down my neck and back. I saw the outlines of the room more clear now. Adrenaline must be running through my veins. Another rumble. And then a painful animalistic scream. Buddy! I gasped. I looked around the room to find anything to defend myself and the pets. I saw no then in the shadows. Nothing but a movement. I froze. That can't be. It must be another trick. Induced by panic and the circumstances. But... But it wasn't. Something was moving in the shadows. Crawling. Feverish I searched for something to defense myself. But there was nothing. Then the Thing came outta the shadows. It was big and suddenly I saw it eyes. Red glooming balls. With pupils as dark as nothingness. It was staring at me. At my eyes. At my soul. It felt like it could see everything I've ever done and not done and am going to do. I was trembling. It came closer. Every step sounds like a door was slammed shut. I wasn't able to move. It groaned. When it opened its mouth it reveals several rows of teeth. Each the length of my forearm. It stopped 50cm in front of me and began to laugh. It was a horrific mocking laugh. The sort that gives one goosebumps and panic attacks. I smelled its odor of rotton flesh and death. Then it whispered four words: I will come back. The next moment it vanished.

I sat on my bed till dawn arose. Scared. Frightened. When the first sunbeams lightened up the room I stand up. When I opened the door I cried out. In front of me laid the corpse of what once must have been my dog. Its spine was ripped out and his throat cut open. His dead eyes were staring at me. I sobbed but I wasn't able to touch him. Trembling I went downstairs and was glad when I saw the two cats were still alive. I didn't knew what to do. My parents won't come back soon. I went to the kitchen sink and filled a glass with water and drank it. I wiped off the tears that were running down my cheeks but it didn't helped. My face stayed wet. I cued up on the sofa. The cats pressed their warm body against me. We stayed that way till dusk came.

I was back in my room. I haven't eaten all day and was surprised I got to went back into my room. Ignoring the corpse in front of it. The cats were with me. The last glimpse of the sun vanished and the sky turned from blue to black. I felt numb. I tried to close my eyes and fall asleep but nothing happened. I didn't had any tears left to cry and so laid silent in the dark. Then I sensed something. I couldn't identify it properly but it felt like something entered the room. Though I was pretty sure the door stood shut. My heard beats faster. I opened my eyes and tried figuring out what was it. I remembered the words the creature said last night:I will come back.

I stared in the shadows. And there was it again. A movement. The cats woke up and began to hiss at whatever the thing was. But to my surprise the thing came closer. The cats got in its way to me and their courage to protect me nearly broke my heart. Then the thing take a further step and- and snapped of their heads. I screamed. Their bodies collapsed. Then the creature turned at me and hissed: I will return once more.

With these words it vanished.

I noticed I was completely alone now in this house. Only now the thought crossed my mind I should have called my parents. But otherwise how should I explain them all of that on the phone? I decided to wait for their return tomorrow.

I somehow sensed I would be the next to be killed. So I considered to prepare myself. I took several knifes from the kitchen and put them under my pillow. Then I placed some knives at other places so I would have weapons if I had to flee in the house. Only then I thought about what would happen if would have just left the house. But no this wasn't an option. It would have followed me and harmed even more than it had already. I sensed it.

When I was ready I sat down on the sofa. Waiting for the night. Suddenly I asked myself why all of this happens to me. And I wondered it took me so long to ask this. I tried to remember what I did on that evening before the horror began. But I only remembered being on Tumblr. Then I remembered and the shock almost paralyzed me. There was that post. That post I avoided to reblog. That dumb little post that was meant to mean nothing. I heard myself cursing. But all of this couldnt just happen because one silly post? I didn't want this to be the truth. I took a look out of the window. The sun almost vanished. I ran upstairs, jumping over the corpses of the ones I was supposed to take care of. I hadn't slept since the first attack neither did I eat and I only drank a bit.

I was sitting on my bed. Waiting for the shadows to move. I waited and waited. My body went stiff and I waited. Nervously I glanced at my alarm clock. It said it was 5am. I waited more than 8 hours. But I continued staring in the dark. Then finally something moved. I grabbed one of the knives and as soon as the creature was close enough I stabbed it. But it only laughed. I stabbed it again and again. Then I felt it teeth closing around me and I screamed.

News report

On April 16th the Smiths returned from their trip. What they found when they arrived was horrible. Their daughter, that was supposed to watch for their pets, had some kind of hallucinations and stabbed down the pets and a neighbor that wanted to help. She is now in a clinic and gets medical care. The daughter claims that a creature from a Tumblr post were the one doing all her horrific deeds...

Thanks to everyone who read it! Sorry for spelling / grammar mistakes...

[andimackshitposts]

Jyrus, #22 or #1 !! Please!!!!

I chose #22, “I’ve seen the way you look at me when you think I don’t notice.” Also, this somehow this became a vaguely Cinderella inspired fairytale AU, but I hope you enjoy it! (PS: I’m sorry about Amber in this, but no one else really fit the bill for this…) 

The palace was bustling, as servants and members of the court alike prepared for Prince Jonah’s ball, in honor of his birthday. Royals would be traveling from far and wide for the chance to meet the prince, and perhaps win his hand. Cyrus, on the other hand, would be spending both nights of the festival in the kitchen, over steaming pots of soup and roasted lamb that he wasn’t allowed to eat, dodging flak from Mistress Amber, the head of the kitchen staff. Mistress Amber ran a tight ship, and if you disobeyed her even once, you could lose your position–and jobs in the royal palace were not easy to come by. Cyrus knew he was lucky to have the job he did, but a part of him wished he could at least have one night off. Was that too much to ask? 

He sighed as he slipped out of the palace and into the garden, attempting to make the most of his short break. The late summer sun was shining, and Cyrus breathed deeply, trying to take in as much of the fresh air as possible. In the corner of the garden, there was a small bench, surrounded by pale pink roses. That was Cyrus’s favorite place in the garden. He made his way over and sat down on the bench, sniffing the roses as he did so. A moment passed before Cyrus heard a voice from the other side of the garden. 

“Don’t you know servants aren’t allowed in the royal garden?” The voice called out. “Except for gardeners, of course.” 

Cyrus looked up and rolled his eyes. “I have an invitation from the Prince himself.” 

Jonah laughed. “I suppose I can’t argue with that.” If there was one thing that made every bit of vitriol from Mistress Amber, every hour of tiresome work, worth it, it was that somehow he’d managed to befriend the Prince himself. It started with a few happenstance meetings–it’s bound to happen eventually–and at some point Jonah had suggested that they meet on purpose. He’d also suggested the garden as a meeting spot, and given him a key to the gate. Cyrus wasn’t sure why or how, but somehow they became best friends. 

“So,” Cyrus cleared his throat. “Are you excited for the ball?” 

Jonah rolled his eyes. “Not really. My parents expect me to choose a spouse. As if I could fall in love with someone in one night!” 

“Yeah,” Cyrus nodded. “It does seem a bit rushed.” 

Jonah continued his rant: “And, frankly, how do they know I’m not already in love? Maybe I am, and I just haven’t told them yet.” 

Cyrus’s heart stopped. “Are you?” He’d been dreading this day for months now. The day Jonah fell in love. Cyrus always knew he didn’t stand a chance, but at least he hadn’t had to hear about Jonah with someone else. 

Jonah hesitated for a moment, his green eyes wide, before swallowing and responding. “Yes.” 

Cyrus knew he had no right to feel upset, but even so, he could feel the beginnings of tears prickling at his eyes. “Right, well then,” he cleared his throat, “I should get back to work.”

He left the garden as fast as possible, ignoring the sound of Jonah calling after him. 

****

Cyrus spent the next few days focusing on the many, many tasks he had received as part of the preparations for the ball, avoiding the prince, and ignoring the ache in his chest. Soon, the day of the ball arrived, and Cyrus no longer had the time to feel sad, for he was overloaded with tasks. As night fell, and guests began arriving, Cyrus was stuck over a boiling pot of stew. For a moment, he let his mind wander, to imagine what it would be like to be invited to a royal ball. He rested his head in his free hand, thinking of the dancing and music and crystal chandeliers. 

“Cyrus!” Mistress Amber’s sharp voice pulled him back to reality. “Daydream on your own time!” 

“Yes, Ma’am,” Cyrus sighed, lifting his head and stirring vigorously. 

“I’m moving you to dish washing duty,” Mistress Amber sneered. “As soon as that stew is finished.” 

“But washing dishes takes all night and I’ve already been here all day!” 

“One of the other servants is dreadfully ill,” she shrugged. “You’re the best fit for a replacement.” An with that, she stalked off to another part of the kitchen. 

Cyrus looked down at the pot of stew in front of him. It was only about five minutes from being done. And then he would be stuck on dishwashing duty, a seemingly never ending task, as dirty dishes were constantly coming in throughout the night. He frowned. I wish I didn’t have to wash another dish in my life. I wish I was more than just a kitchen boy. I wish I could go to the ball. 

“Well, you can’t go to the ball dressed like that,” came a voice from behind him. 

Cyrus whirled around to see a boy with orange hair and freckles. 

“Who are you? What are you talking about?” 

“I’m Marty,” the boy grinned. “And I’m your Guardian.” 

“My what?” 

“A fairy protector,” Marty explained. “Everyone has one. I sensed you needed my help. And here I am. Now, let’s get you to that ball.” 

“But, I–” Cyrus wasn’t allowed to finish as Marty snapped his fingers and magic began flying around the kitchen (though somehow no one else seemed to notice). 

“Let’s see, we’ll need a projection of you for the dishes, so the others don’t realize you’re gone. You already live at the palace, so no need for a carriage, but you need some better clothes, and magic to disguise your face.” 

The next thing Cyrus knew, he was dressed all in silver and blue, from the thin, elegant crown on his head, to the glittery shoes on his feet, and Marty was pushing him towards the doors of the ballroom. He hesitated for a moment before stepping in, and immediately wished he hadn’t. All eyes were on him, including Prince Jonah. The prince immediately crossed the ballroom to stand in front of him, and then fell into a low bow. 

“May I have this dance?” 

“O-Of course, your highness.” Cyrus stammered, his face flushing. This had to be a dream. 

They danced for an hour, before Jonah was pulled away by Princess Andi, and Cyrus decided it was a good time to get some air. Dancing with Jonah was just what he dreamed it would be, and it killed him that the magic would wear off, and the evening would be over at midnight. He frowned as he looked up at the stars. I wish Jonah always saw me like this. 

“There you are,” Jonah’s voice came from behind Cyrus. “I’ve been looking for you.” 

“I needed some air,” Cyrus explained. “I’m sorry, your highness.” 

“Cyrus, stop it,” Jonah rolled his eyes. “You know you don’t need to call me that.” 

Cyrus froze. “Wh–How? How did you know it was me?” 

Jonah laughed. “I know what you look like.” 

“There’s supposed to be magic to hide my face,” Cyrus bit his lip. 

Jonah softened, then, a shy smile playing on his lips. “Magic like that doesn’t work when someone loves you.” 

Cyrus gaped at the prince. “You love me?”

Jonah nodded, and took his hand. “Of course I do. I want…I want to marry you.” 

“Jonah, I…We can’t.” Cyrus shook his head and dropped Jonah’s hand. 

“Why not?” Jonah pushed. “I’ve seen the way you look at me when you think I don’t notice. I know you feel it, too.” 

Cyrus blushed a deep crimson. “I’m a servant. You’re a prince.” 

“I don’t care!” Jonah insisted. “I love you.” 

“You’re only saying that because I look like this,” He gestured to his fine clothes. At that moment, the clock bell began to chime. It was midnight. Cyrus moved to run, but Jonah stepped in front of him.

“That’s not true.” 

“Please,” Cyrus begged over the sound of the bells. “Just let me go.” 

Jonah didn’t move. “Cyrus…I don’t care that you’re a servant. I’ve loved you as long as I’ve known you. You must believe me.” 

And then, in a flash of light, Cyrus’s beautiful clothes were gone, replaced with his usual servant’s attire. He sighed. “You can’t possibly mean that. Look at me.” 

Jonah took a step forward and placed a hand on Cyrus’s cheek. “I have. You’re beautiful.” 

Cyrus swallowed dryly. “But you have to marry another royal. Your advisors will never allow this.” 

“I don’t care,” Jonah insisted. “To hell with my advisors.” And then he closed the distance between them. 

[gyromitra-esculenta]

A thing I’m definitely not writing that somehow clocks at 4.3k words. Tw*atter thread.

Returning to the small remote town he spent two years of his childhood in to get his father’s estate in order, Gabriel reconnects with his teen crush.

‘Top of the Lake’ inspired. If you’d seen the show, the content warnings would be half-a-page long, but then you know what to expect. Warnings otherwise: substance abuse, referenced domestic violence of several kinds, child neglect, and a lot of past events that are not explicitely said but alluded to.

There’s also a missing transition scene.

*

The only reason he doesn't slam the brakes the moment he hears the question is the fact he hasn't been paying too much attention to both the road - empty as usual - and the kid.

"What?"

"You want to fuck him, don't you?" Angel repeats, his arms crossed in front of his chest, stubborn frown in its place, and glare fixed on the windshield.

"You asked Jack that, and that's why he was out after working his shift?"

The only answer Gabriel gets is a kick to the door.

"Listen, that's... That's the last thing I'd want to do." He glances at Angel, trying to come up with sufficient explanation for the whole thing, somehow. And failing at it. "It's not that. Things happened. I'm amazed he's even talking to me, at all. I fucked up, kid."

"He'd let you. Everybody knows he's a slut."

Gabriel decelerates and pulls up at the side of the road without a word. Only after he's able to let go of the wheel he turns to Angel.

"You shouldn't be spending time with John and the rest of family if that's what you take from it."

"But it's true." Angel still glares somewhere in front of him, defensive posture and all. It couldn't have been easy on the kid, either, growing up in this shithole of a town with all the bigotry and John's long shadow. This thought is the only thing keeping Gabriel calm.

"It isn't. And even if it were, there is nothing wrong with it." He sighs. "And the last person calling him anything at all should be John. Or any of his fucking progeny. Or you, for that matter." Gabriel pauses, waiting for a reaction of any kind as an excuse to drop the subjec. But Angel remains motionless, refusing to even give indication he's listening. "I know you're feeling you're untouchable and all, enjoying almost carefree life, and Jack had it going for him too, once. 'Morrison Princess', that's what everybody called him. Now, it's you."

"So?"

Gabriel had been a rebellious teenager once, and if they weren't parked on the side of the road and touching on things from fifteen years ago, he would maybe smirk knowingly at the obvious attempt to fish for the story while trying to appear disinterested. "Anyone ever tell you he threw Jack out to fend for himself after he refused to give you up? Yeah, didn't think so," he nods at the alarmed expression on Angel's face.

"People love to put the blame on the victims, makes them feel better about themselves."

The kid's just sitting there, nibbling on his lips, something Jack used to do when thinking hard about anything, a habit he apparently lost in his adulthood. Funny, how he managed to notice it, another thing gone in the years he wasn't there. He starts the engine back. If he had only waited three months before bailing out. The regret has a bitter taste to it even if there was no way he could have known. And with John being the religious hypocrite he was, an abortion had been out of the question. But he was not going to tell the kid that. At least, the old bastard turned out to be less of a racist asshole than he could be, but that probably had more to do with Francis, Angel's status, and John's need to be in control of everything in the town. Gabriel is thankful Angel's not in the mood for asking more questions. Especially, the kind of questions that make him revisit the past and think about all the different possibilities that never came to be - that maybe he could've been calling the kid his own even if he wasn't the biological father. But with everything that had been going on then

The rest of the drive takes too long - at the same time passes too fast, and just like that he's letting Angel out by the school.

"You should really apologize to Jack later."

No answer, only the side door slammed shut, but the momentary grimace on the kid's face tells him all. He hadn't intended to do it, so he took the talk to the heart after all, and doesn't feel unjustly called out on the bullshit he pulled. Now, Gabriel lets himself grip the steering wheel until his hands hurt, releasing it only when he stops at the station's parking.

"You're not looking too good." Ana, with a cup of coffee in her hand, does not bother to start the day with the pleasantries.

"Jack and Angel had an argument, bad one, I think."

"And you know that because...?"

"Because, you know, I'd been driving Angel to school for a month now."

"Because I like hearing that. What was it about?" Ana sours immediately when she sees him just shaking his head instead of answering. "Shit. The last time it happened, Jack totaled his car. On a dirt road. Drunk," she adds, sipping the coffee from the cup.

"Yes, thank you, Ana, I'm not going to worry, then." Gabriel throws the jacket on the chair. "So I'm not going to call the hospital and the morgue now."

"We would get to know first, if anyone finds him."

He's reaching for the work phone anyway. She had once mentioned off-hand the problems with alcohol Jack had, and Jack himself had been forthcoming with a lot of details about those fifteen years, but even with no alcohol involved his mind was running the possible scenarios of everything that could have happened. Animals, ravines, hunters, other drivers, the lake itself, anything really, all that without including the ill intent, and knowing Jack and his affinity for the woods, all the remote places it could happen where no-one else would venture into normally.

"Got you to agonize over something else, haven't I?"

"Again, thank you, but not..." Gabriel drops the receiver when his phone rings and he breathes a sigh of relief at the flashing name. Shows it briefly to Ana before picking up the call. "Where are you? Is everything okay?"

"Gabe, right? You're Gabe?" The voice on the other side is definitely not Jack. A woman, sounding slightly confused.

"Where did you get that phone?" On the other side of the room, Ana perks up.

"You must be Gabe, because that's the last call here?"

"Yes, I'm 'Gabe'. Where is Jack? Can you..." Gabriel closes his eyes when she starts speaking again.

"Oh, it's Lena, you know? We think someone should pick him up, and your number was first..."

"Pick him up from where?"

"So Zen found him on the beach, and we brought him here."

Zen. Zenyatta. While she hasn't answered any of his questions, and he's sure now she's high as a kite, Gabriel can put a face to the name, and the location. That's one place Jack's going to be safe at.

"You're at the commune?"

"Yes. Our little piece of paradise."

"I'll be there in a few. Stay there. Not an inch." He ends the call as soon as Lena starts to talk again, before she can add another word, and throws the jacket back on. "It's not going to be problem, is it?"

"No. Looks like a slow day. If not, I'll call the reserve."

"I'll leave the squad..."

"Take it." Ana leans back in the chair and puts her legs on the desk. "The service there's spotty, at least the radio should work. Try not to get too strict on you-know-what, they're making no trouble and spend a lot of money, so no harm."

"Yes. Because I'm going there to bust some pot-smokers, and not to pick one idiot up." Gabriel grabs the keys on the way out.

"Call me when you know what happened."

"Yes, mom." He almost hears the mandatory eye-roll at the nickname.

"Cheeky bastard."

(scene transition, or whatever goes here, waxing poetic about nature or something, internal monologue.)

Jack, still obviously drunk, looks at him, and immediately makes a displeased face. Would be funny if not for the bruise forming on his forehead, and the bandaged hand. Gabriel could dwell on the pang of hurt but since he's got a pretty good idea it has less to do with just him, and more with him being here and now, he sits down next to the mattress on the floor.

"Where's your car?"

"Ana sent you?" Jack articulates with the drunken kind of care.

"Not really." Gabriel looks at the phone in his palm. "Lena called me. She's baked."

"Half the people here are," Jack answers absentmindedly, and then covers his mouth with a sheepish look of someone who said too much.

"I noticed. What's with the hand?"

"Glass from the bottle. I think. It's just a cut."

"Mhm. A cut." Gabriel puts the phone on the blanket and reaches for the bandaged arm. The dressing looks professional and covers the whole forearm. He doesn't like the implication. "And the car?"

"The old pier. Where we went swimming in the summer." Jack chuckles, his eyes closing. "That summer. The only summer."

"Yeah, I remember. C'mon, you can sleep it off at the station." Gabriel nudges him lightly.

"I don't want to. Ana will have words."

"Yeah, she will have 'words'. Want to stay here then?"

"Don't you have work?" Jack picks at the sleeve of his uniform, and something about the assumption present in the question makes Gabriel almost smile.

"Off the hook about today. Do you need anything?"

"Something to drink?" Jack draws his brows together at the look Gabriel gives him. "Warm."

"Okay, I'll see what I can do." He gets back up, dislodging Jack's fingers from the fabric with caution. He had seen an elaborate kettle outside. "Just don't wander off anywhere."

"Won't."

The kettle itself proves more challenging than he had expected it to be, at least until Zenyatta comes to the table and operates it with ease.

"Samovar, courtesy of Zarya, officer Reyes." The monk hands him a cup full of bitter smelling tea. "I take it you are here for Jack?"

Gabriel nods, noting also another Asian man standing behind Zenyatta.

"Thank you for coming down the other day to give the statement about the altercation with the Morrisons."

The other man mutters something in foreign language, obviously non-flattering, and probably offensive.

"One does not choose the earthly bonds they are born into, what one chooses is what to do with them." A roundabout way of saying that there is no resentment towards Jack for whatever the rest of his family tries to do about the land.

"How bad was his hand?"

"I am, I do admit, adverse to physical harm. It is best to ask Hanzo." Zenyatta inclines his head to his companion.

"Shallow lacerations, many of them." Hanzo does not seem willing to continue, eyeing Gabriel suspiciously, and it does nothing to dispel his doubts.

"It would do good to remember Jack is a troubled soul," Zenyatta lightly touches his arm, "but so are you, officer Reyes. Now, if you excuse me, I have some matters to attend to."

He nods again and walks past him with Hanzo in tow. There is something out of place about the brunet, not just about his status, but rather his whole manner he carries himself with - the kind of predatory confidence - and if the circumstances were different, he would've been the first person Gabriel's gun would be aimed at. But that's something left to ponder for another day.

He returns to the re-purposed cargo container to find Jack curled on his side and sleeping. Definitely better for both of them for him to sleep off the alcohol because Gabriel isn't sure how much more he can take now. From the very first day this fucking town has been out to get him. For years, he only had to deal with the occasional nightmare every few months, until the first night he spent at the house, and for the sake of his own sanity he should get out of here. The sooner, the better. And that would mean leaving Jack behind - Jack, who had never been a part of the equation - in the place that tries its damnedest to kill anything good about it.

Gabriel drinks from the cup. The tea is as bitter as it smells, with a sour and earthy aftertaste. Everything has always been about that one summer, the one he was barely fifteen and fell in love for the first time, with the boy who knew all the secret places in the woods. By the looks of it, and all the failed relationships since then, he never fell out of it, either. But this was the thing, his own feelings were nothing but just that, his own. And Jack could do without any more complications in his life. The fact that he had let Gabriel back in as much as he did knowing he wouldn't stay...

"You're a real piece of work sometimes, you know?"

With no answer coming, and not expecting one anyway, he leans against the wall, thinking, or rather trying not to, to idle the time away.

Excited shouting interrupts the quiet, and for a brief moment Gabriel is presented with the image of Lena running topless towards the lake. One of the other women is fast on her heels, stripping on the way, the t-shirt thrown over her shoulder falling to the ground. Now, he cannot fathom how anyone, even high, would think the weather is warm enough to go for a swim, but that had never stopped him as a kid. Gabriel checks the time on his phone at the groan from the side. He must've napped without anyone bothering them for two hours to just pass.

Jack slowly pulls himself to a sitting position, bleary-eyed, probably still buzzed a bit, and with an obvious hangover setting in. He cradles his left hand to his stomach with a visible wince.

"I fucked up. Sorry." His eyes are focused in his lap.

"Happens to the best of us. Here, drink at least a bit." Gabriel hands him the cup with the remaining tea. "I'll go and get a hot one."

"No. It's good. I... could you just..." Jack inclines his head, and he's not sure at first what he means by that, or that maybe he's misunderstanding, the gesture itself reminiscent of the summer. Jack starts mumbling at his hesitation. "No. I mean, it's stupid..."

"Scoot over."

Some awkward shuffling later, he has Jack sitting between his legs, back to his chest, the blanket loosely draped around the both of them. The hint of late berries and autumn underbrush is still there even hidden under the detergent and shampoo, not only in his imagination. Jack sips the cold tea, seemingly perfectly comfortable with Gabriel's arm resting across his midriff.

"Could you not say anything to Angel?"

"The kid isn't that stupid. He's almost fifteen." Gabriel shrugs.

"We were plenty stupid at his age."

He snorts at that.

"Because we shared one hormonal brain cell between the two of us for the most of the time. If my kid ever tried half the shit we did, they would be grounded well past the age of eighteen."

"I don't think anyone else would try petting a sleeping black bear."

"In my defense, I thought it was dead."

"City boy." Jack tilts his head back. In his voice, it's an endearment, not an insult. "I don't know who had been more scared, you, or the bear."

"I'm betting on me. And don't change the subject. He will know."

"So what do I tell him?" Jack tenses, and the action is enough to put the distance between them, but Gabriel refuses to let go of him. "That I got piss drunk and probably almost killed myself? Not that he's going to..."

"He's going to care. He cares."

"So what do I tell him?"

"You got drunk. You got hurt. That's all." Gabriel shrugs and puts his chin on Jack's shoulder. "What's important, he hears it from you, not from someone else. You think John wouldn't try to exploit that?"

"You know," Jack starts after a longer pause, "every time you talk about this stuff, I'm... why don't you have kids? Your own. You'd make a great dad."

"That's... The closest I got, she threw the ring at me, I told you." Gabriel chuckles.

"I thought you were joking."

"I'm over it, anyway." Something he might've realized just now. He takes a deep breath. "Listen, I've been thinking, when I get the estate in order..."

"You're going back to your normal life. I know."

"That too. But I've been thinking, and, come with me. You and Angel."

The silence stretches. Jack turns the cup around in his fingers without a word, almost contemplative, and Gabriel knows he had said something wrong.

"Just until you get your feet on the ground, no strings attached. Away from this fucking town."

"No strings attached, huh?"

He finds himself almost scrambling for some kind of explanation or reassurance, and coming up empty. Instead, with a weary sigh, he pulls up the other hand and brushes his fingers against the blond hair.

"I don't... I can't expect anything."

Jack stops fumbling with the cup but still remains silent.

"Just... just think it over. This place is no good for you, and it's not going to be better for him."

"It's my home," Jack finally answers, setting the cup aside.

"Bullshit. You don't believe it yourself."

"Okay. I'll think it over." There's a touch of irritation to his voice, and Gabriel is not going to push more, not right now. It's still uplifting, at the least because of the change from the earlier despondent mood. Angry is better.

"Good. Feeling up for a walk?"

"A walk?" Jack asks back, incredulous, still sharp.

"To bring around your car." If the old pier is the place he goes to drink, than Gabriel is not letting him go there alone even more than he would otherwise.

"Fine. Hope you don't mind getting your pants wet."

"I was thinking of cutting it short through the woods."

"It's been windy for the last week."

True. He had forgotten about the way the wind pushes the waves over the natural barricades, and the water in some places trickles into ditches and gullies carved by the spring's runoff. Or the often almost hidden under the forest detritus waterholes where the water seeps through the soil, or where the rain collects with no proper drainage. It all made for a dangerous combination any time of the year on its own and many local stories about missing kids. Gabriel had himself came home more than once smeared completely with muck stinking of decomposing plants and, sometimes, something much worse. Even now, he could very well believe there were some pits real skeletons dressed in remnants of fabrics lied sunken at the bottom.

"Not looking forward to that but I'll survive."

"Fine." Jack leans forward and disentangles himself from the blanket. Gabriel is loath to loosen his hold on him, and immediately misses the warmth and the smell. "Don't say later I didn't warn you," he adds, still snappy, standing.

"Wouldn't dream of it." Gabriel gets up. "Need anything? Jacket, anything else?"

"I'm good." Jack doesn't wait for him, stepping outside almost immediately - though, outside is a generous term with how the containers are set up and open to the brisk air coming from the lake.

He gestures something supposedly meaning they're going to be back to a lone person sitting by the table with the kettle, and hurries towards the treeline.

Gabriel follows with palms buried deep into the pockets of his jacket, silent, focused on the path before him. The grassland attached to the beach ends suddenly as if someone just cut away the edges and dumped a completely another world with no blending in-between. Two things become painfully obvious to Gabriel, the first being that even looking at Jack right now makes him feel the cold.  The mostly uncovered ankles flashing under the hem of his pant legs look outrageous and fascinating at the same time - which is the other thing - because watching Jack's feet as they find their way through the undergrowth is as magical as he remembers it to be. There's no hesitation, no second-guessing, just another step: shorter, longer, to the side and back, with the ever-changing rhythm, and those slim ankles bending one way or another. Compared to this he feels graceless, dragging now a piece of a stick caught on the shoelace.

"How do they intend to last through the winter?"

Jack slows down for a moment and turns a bit to look back at him.

"They're having some prefab cabins delivered. Tried to get them built but no-one would commit to it."

"Can't be cheap."

"It isn't. Hanzo's paying for everything."

"What's his deal, anyway?" The man is so out of place in his surroundings it's jarring, and Gabriel had learned to trust his instincts when judging the potential danger. It's strange to hear Jack chuckle at his question.

"You wouldn't believe it. He's a real-life yakuza."

Sounds as far-fetched as it can be. Still...

"Money laundering?"

"I don't think so. I don't know the details, but his brother died in a car crash," Jack shrugs and turns around, walking backwards for a few steps, "and he'd been the one behind the wheel."

"So he's throwing money at something that's basically a religious sect, as atonement?"

"One way of looking at it, I guess, but it's a good place." Jack climbs a rotten log, jumping off it lightly immediately after. "The deed's in his name, too."

"So what bit John he's so interested in the land, any particular reason?" Gabriel walks around the log, not trusting himself to not slip on it - and not trusting it to not crumble under him.

"Honestly, I don't know. Francis liked that beach, it's as good reason as any other."

Francis. Another subject only skirted around at best. It's hard to imagine Francis and Jack having relationship that bad, and Gabriel decides to bite the bullet.

"How's he, anyway? Francis, I mean," he continues at the lack of the response.

"Overdose. Almost six years ago."

"Shit, I'm..." He's starting to apologize but Jack stops in place and turns, raising his palm.

"Don't. That's on me. You didn't know. John killed him, but I also did." Gabriel hears the resentment building up in his voice and steps closer.

"If it was..."

"Stop. Just stop."

"Jack."

"No," Jack cuts him off right away. "I told you my case got thrown out because John had money and influence? Well, he also had drugs, and Francis had been clean for half a year then, and he tried to help. He showed up to the hearing completely fucked up."

Whatever this one's going to be, Gabriel understands it can be only ridden out, with how contradictory emotions seem to clash in Jack's voice.

"I don't mean, just fucked up. Almost comatose. He tried to reach out but I was so, so angry. Told him to get shafted every time."

"And he stopped trying, and I didn't care at all. And then..." Gabriel closes the negligible distance between them and puts his arms around Jack's frame - feeling him tensing for a fraction of a second before almost falling into him with his forehead pressed into his shoulder. He doesn't even think there is anything he could say, and even if there is, he probably shouldn't because it wouldn't change the past despite the fact he would very much want it to do so. Another question, was there anyone Jack could ever talk to? Gabriel starts to doubt. He had Teresa and shrinks, and time to make peace with the reality certain things were never going away, but with how there was - is - this raw and untempered emotional quality in Jack surrounding some subjects that the mention of something adjacent opens the floodgates? It makes him afraid as he listens to the still heaving but slowing breaths next to his ear. Afraid because it's only happening as he's here, and when he leaves there won't be a person Jack would trust enough. He's only that - safe, here for a moment, and then gone.

"And the worst..." The mumble at first is barely recognizable and Gabriel tilts his head a bit to hear better. "The worst thing is that's the only way Angel's going to remember him. Not as someone who tried. A fucking junkie. Was a fucking rude wake up call."

Jack moves back with a muttered apology, again unexpectedly guarded, and the ceased physical contact is a new wall, at least for now. He wants to ask about the meaning of the last sentence but the message is clear, it's been more than Jack had intended to say. There's something there, something that's setting his alarms off, and he's too tired to count how many times today already. The day's a fucking rollercoaster, Gabriel decides following Jack. They're not talking anymore for the next stretch of the road. No matter his conscious decision, his thoughts keep wandering back with obsessive insistence, refusing to let go of the hidden message. Running circles around the subject until he can't remain silent.

"What did you mean by rude awakening?"

"It's nothing, don't..."

Gabriel notices Jack had stopped in his tracks only when he walks into his outstretched hand, and pauses looking for the reason, probably some animal - until his eyes follow down below them where in the dip in the forest floor is one of the waterholes, visibly disturbed. She lies there, half-submerged, smeared with the streaks of mud, and with fallen leaves stuck to her clothes. Her blouse, partially torn open, shows a bit of the white bra. Bruises in the shape of clenched hands starkly color her neck.

Not she. A body. It's easier this way.

"Shit." Gabriel reaches for his phone to check the coverage but almost drops it when he hears Jack, the words turning his blood to ice.

"I knew her. She's the fourth one.

[dat-fandom-losertown]

The Drift Between Us

•◊•◊•◊•◊•

Chapter 7: Celebration

•◊•◊•◊•◊•

Hank Anderson x Connor and Gavin Reed x RK900 (Ritch)

Pacific Rim AU

Warnings: Alcohol, Drunkenness (they’re just chillin’ with some drinks)

Word Count: 8,129

•◊•◊•◊•◊•

Previous <> Masterlist <> Next

•◊•◊•◊•◊•

    Connor is just leaving the office area with Ritch right at his heels when someone suddenly pops up from around the corner. Connor jerks into something resembling a fight stance, then just as quickly relaxes with a huge sigh and small smile. It’s just Simon. The blond smiles apologetically, while the rest of the crew starts standing up after leaning up against the wall behind him.

    “Well? What’s the news? Are you staying or going?” North asks impatiently.

    “We’re staying.” Ritch informs in a tone he hasn’t heard in a while. When Connor turns to look at him, his twin has a small smile and a light in his eyes that he thought Amanda successfully destroyed long ago; one of content and relief.

    The four trainees all cheer at once, and Simon hops over to hug Ritch in one arm and Connor in the other. Connor short-circuits for a moment, but Ritch immediately gives a gentle hug back. Before he can copy his twin, though, Simon is letting go and Markus is taking his place, leading them away with one arm over each of their shoulders.

    “This is a cause for celebration!” He calls, making both twins cringe at the volume right by their ears.

    “Yeah! We already have people bringing drinks and snacks to Simon’s and Markus’ bunker!” North cheers.

    That catches Connor’s attention. “Drinks? As in, alcoholic drinks? Aren’t those prohibited?”

    “Maybe for pilots they are, but not for us normal people and trainees, it’s only looked down upon!”

    Josh elaborates a bit further. “Technically we’re not supposed to get drunk, but I’ve been getting close with some of the people who work in the lab downstairs, and they’re all allowed to have drinks every now and then, or they can do this weird petition thing to get a larger supply if there’s some kind of thing they’re celebrating. I just asked a couple of them if they could get one going so we could have a few drinks tonight.”

    “You were that confident we were going to stay?” Ritch asks.

    “Eh,” Markus says unsurely, “We figured you probably wouldn’t be sent off, not with how perfect you guys are for this job, but could’ve been a sending off party if things went downhill. Now stop asking questions and let's get back to our bunker!”

    Markus then unloops his arms from their shoulders and sets off at a faster pace. Connor and Ritch quickly catch up to him. It doesn’t take too long to make it to Simon’s and Markus’ bunker, and when they do, there’s two other people waiting in front of it. One look at Ritch proves that he doesn’t know who these people are either, but they’re holding drinks, so they must be Josh’s scientist contacts.

    “Did you guys bring any snacks?” The tanned woman waiting calls amicably. 

    Simon shakes his head, “No, the cafeteria was completely closed, and no one was willing to donate to our cause.”

    The woman shakes her head with a sarcastic frown, “The greedy fucks.” She smiles, “Lets get all of this inside, then, shall we? I don’t want Hank or someone coming around the corner and seeing this.” She lifts up four bottles of amber-colored alcohol.

    “Why not?” Connor didn’t mean to ask out loud because he has a feeling why she would say that, but there’s no taking it back now.

    “Because this is his favorite stuff.” She walks through the door that’s been opened by Simon, “He used to always try to leech this off of me until what’s-his-face came along and was happy to give up his small ration. And now he’s on complete prohibition by the orders of the Marshal.” She sets them on the desk connected to the wall. “Honestly, it took him long enough.”

    Connor simply nods and makes a note of the brand while looking around the room. It’s an exact copy of his and Ritch’s shared room, except Simon and Markus have photos and drawings hung up with sticky-tack and little trinkets and other small souvenirs on the higher shelves, along with plenty of fictional books among their brand new study material.

    Where Ritch and Connor decided against paying extra to get the study material, they signed up to bring their own (which was almost free because Amanda had most of the books needed). Most people wouldn’t have that kind of luxury, and it makes Connor almost feel guilty for just a moment, then it goes away just as quickly when he spots a family picture on the shelf. Younger versions of North, Josh, Markus, and Simon are all posing around an older caucasion man in a wheelchair outside under a tree. It’s very nice, and it makes Connor wish he somehow had taken pictures of him and Ritch as they were growing up.

    This room makes the twins’ bunker seem empty and lifeless, but Connor doesn’t even know where to start in getting their room to look this lively, besides being cheesy and hanging up Jaeger posters when there’s a loading dock of them in the same building. Maybe he’ll try drawing one of the newer models to hang up if it’s allowed– not that he can draw well, but it’d be a nice challenge on one of his slower, emptier days.

    “Let’s get this started!” North suddenly shouts, making everyone cheer and Connor glad that these rooms are pretty much sound proof with all of the metal and concrete everywhere. 

    Instantly, there’s a bottle and a small cup pushed into his hand. The cup is partially filled with the amber alcohol that that woman, Vanessa apparently, told him was Hank’s supposed favorite. Connor tries a sip of that first and finds it disgusting, plus the burning sensation down his throat is too off-putting for Connor, so he sets it aside. The second bottle is something pink that Simon put in his hand with a wink. A sip of this is like drinking some kind of fruity soda with a certain zip to it. Connor decides he likes it, and grabs the same brand in the four other flavors after reading it barely has 3% alcohol in it versus whatever the hell is in that amber stuff.

    A few hours and many, many drinks later, almost everyone is some degree of drunk and has split off into two groups. Markus turns out to be very tactile when he’s drunk, and is currently cuddling Simon while the blond and North are giggling about anything and everything over where they’re sitting on the floor in the corner of the room. Josh is sitting on the lower bunk, gushing about something he can’t understand to Vanessa and Riley, and Ritch seems to be following along well enough from where he’s sitting calmly on the ground. It makes sense. Ritch was always more into the tech and psychology side of science, and Connor was more interested in biology and first aid. Neither of them really loved science, but those were their preferred types when they had to choose one for schooling.

    Connor gets up from where he’s leaning against the desk with all of the drinks. Over the past few hours, he started a game with himself; how many bottles can he hide somewhere on himself before someone notices. It slowly grew more challenging the more bottles he was stashing away, and he almost got caught twice, but now he has a total 13 bottles of different-colored wine coolers stashed in the fluffy jacket he’s wearing (everyone got hot and lowered the thermostat, so Connor was given Markus’ jacket to keep warm after refusing to drink the beer and whiskey to keep warm) and in various pockets of his cargo pants, and everyone is too drunk and/or preoccupied to notice him taking a 14th one.

    Well, Ritch might be noticing him, but if he has, he’s made no move to stop him. He’d like to think that his brother has secretly joined in on this little game, or made his own in some way. It’s more likely that he just doesn’t care what Connor’s doing, though, and he tries to tell himself that it’s perfectly alright. It actually kind of works, this time.

    The point is, this was all fun earlier when people could still talk, but were stupid and loose enough to do and say ridiculous things. Now, though, he’s the only one sober enough to walk in a straight line (except for Ritch, who only choked down a beer or two after deciding wine coolers are too sweet for him), and everyone else is too shit-faced (North’s words from earlier) to properly hold a conversation. 

    There were four bottles of whisky and two large packs of beer and a thing of wine coolers when this all started, so Connor’s a bit worried that, between six people, there is only half a bottle of whiskey and a six spare beers left (not including the 13 wine coolers poorly hidden on himself). That whiskey is supposedly strong, and he has absolutely no clue how much alcohol an adult body can take before bad things start to happen– he mainly learned about injuries, not drunkenness or illnesses. He doesn’t really trust North around this stuff, since she looks the closest to going into a coma and had been going back for more drinks more frequently than anyone else.

    With that, a sudden idea pops into his head.

    He still needs to thank Mr. Anderson for talking to Marshal Fowler and for everything else he’s done for him, and if what Vanessa said earlier is true, then he won’t be able to get access to any alcohol for a long while, if ever. Connor may not know much about anything outside of injuries, but he does know that completely cutting someone off suddenly when they have a drinking addiction as strong as Mr. Anderson’s is not good. It can lead to worse things, and he doubts he’ll stop drinking just because of the threat of not getting anymore. Maybe he’ll slow, but not stop. He’s pretty sure that’s not how it works.

    Connor glances at the clock, which glows the numbers “1:07” in bright blue. Although, if this whiskey is really Mr. Anderson’s favorite drink, then he shouldn't mind if Connor brings it over this late– or this early– as a quick thank you, especially so if he isn’t supposed to have this kind of thing anymore. Connor knows this isn’t a good idea, but quite frankly, he trusts Mr. Anderson with it more than North at this point. He at least should know how to handle his drinking so he doesn’t immediately die from alcohol poisoning, and Connor wouldn’t be surprised if she already has poisoning to a certain degree.

    Now that he’s finally convinced himself that this is, indeed, what he wants to do, he carefully unloads some of his bottles of wine coolers (he wants to bring some back to his bunker to put in his and Ritch’s mini-fridge because they’re delicious in smaller, occasional doses). That makes just enough room for the several beers he stashes in their place. It takes just over fifteen minutes of shuffling so he isn’t being completely obvious, but no one seems to have noticed yet, not even Ritch, who’d surely be giving him a very strange look by now if he did.

    Now the trick he wants to use for the whisky bottle (shove it in a pillowcase with a pillow and carry it just right, so it looks like it’s just the pillow he’s holding) won’t work because everyone is hoarding the pillows, and the bottle is a bit too square-shaped for that. He can’t even use the balled-up-blanket trick because the only two in the room are occupied as well. Hiding it under his jacket would make the whisky bottle clink against the beer and wine cooler ones, and there’s no way to keep it up in his jacket and look natural at the same time, anyway.

    Unless it didn’t need to look completely natural.

    All it would take to get it out of the room is tucking it under his jacket, and who is going to be walking down the bunker halls this late at night (early in the morning?)? Connor highly doubts that there are guards stationed in a hallway filled with people whose entire job is batting and killing giant aliens that destroy cities for fun. The only other people he could think of that could be out at this time are people working the night shifts, and he doubts anyone focused on their own job will notice or care that he has a bottle in his hand, even less so if the label is covered by something to make it less obvious that it’s alcohol and not some kind of juice or tea.

    Therefore, Connor looks around to make sure that no one is watching– Josh and Ritch are still talking quietly, but Riley is asleep and Vanessa looks about there too, with Markus, Simon, and North following her close behind– then takes three napkins and the bottle and shoves it all under his jacket carefully. He takes two experimental steps towards Ritch both to test how loud the bottles are and to tell his brother that he plans to leave. There’s minimal noise as long as he shuffles “tiredly” rather than taking actual steps. He stops right by Ritch, who looks up questioningly at him.

    “I’m gonna head to bed. It’s getting late for me.”

    Ritch nods, “Alright. I planned on leaving soon as well. I want to get everyone situated and comfortable before I do.”

    Connor nods a single time, then turns and leaves silently. He keeps his arms curled around himself as if he was still cold despite the jacket as he opens the door. Again, if Ritch has noticed anything, which he must have by now, then he doesn’t say anything. Connor keeps his arms like that until he decides the coast is clear, then pulls out the bottle and napkins, loosely wrapping the napkins around it and holding the covered bottle like he would any old water bottle.

    He passes his own bunker on the way to Mr. Anderson’s, but decides against going inside to drop off his wine coolers. Even though less bottles would allow him to move more naturally, the time it would take to dig them out and put them away isn’t worth it, since he’s to get back before Ritch does. He moves on a bit quicker at the reminder of his self-set time restraint. 

    While Connor hopes that Mr. Anderson is still up, he knows the chances of that are rather low. As he approaches his lunch companion’s door, he realizes he needs to come up with some kind of plan of where to keep this stash if the retired pilot won’t wake up or won’t let him inside to unload everything. He doesn’t want Ritch to know about this any more than he probably already does, after all.

    He quickly decides that he’ll put the alcohol under his own blanket. His reasoning is that the mini-fridge is out of the question for anything except for his own colorful alcohol because there’s just no room in the ridiculously tiny thing. Plus, because Connor is on the top bunk, it would be difficult to see unless someone climbs up there, and no one would do that, especially not between now and lunch. No one has even been in their room before, not unless Ritch brought someone in there without his knowledge, but he’s more protective of their space than Connor is, so that’s very unlikely.

    As Connor raises his hand to knock, Connor realizes what it may look like for someone to knock on the known-alcoholic’s door in the middle of the night with a covered bottle in hand. He quickly tucks the whisky bottle under his jacket carefully and hugs his left arm to his chest to pin it in place as he finally knocks.

    He waits a few moments for any sign that Mr. Anderson is up, then knocks again, this time more firmly. When there’s still no response, Connor turns to go back to his room. He doesn’t want to wake him up if he’s still asleep, after al. He pulls out and readjusts the bottle and napkins in his hand so it doesn’t slip from his grip and keeps his stride at a tired shuffle. He makes it five steps before the sound of a door opening stops him in his tracks.

    “Connor? What the fuck are you doing? It is 1:30 in the morning.”

    He spins around as quickly as he’s silently able to with all the bottles tucked into his waistband. It ends up not being very fast.

    “May I talk to you? Inside?” he asks boldly. He notes the other’s disheveled appearance, with the stained shirt and holey sweatpants. 

    “Fuckin’– What?” he shakes his head incredulously. “Could this not wait until a decent time to be awake? Why now in the middle of the night?”

    “I just wanted to give you something as my thanks, and I’d rather do it without people around to poke their noses into it.” he replies genuinely, “But I guess it can wait until after lunch–”

    “Wait a minute.” he interrupts, “What do you mean, ‘give me something as a thanks’? A thanks for what? And why would people not mind their own businesses?”

    “I mean, I’m sure they would, but I’d still rather not talk about this in the middle of the hall.” He swings the whiskey bottle in his hand, hoping the other man will figure it out on his own. If the way Mr. Anderson tracks the movement with his eyes says anything, he definitely did.

    “Fuck’s sake, get in here.” He turns and disappears behind the door, leaving it open behind him. Connor hears him mutter “not like I was actually sleeping anyway…” before he makes a move to enter.

    Connor can’t help but notice that the room is cleaner than it was last time he was in here. The top of his desk is empty. There’s only one bottle Connor can spot out in the open, versus the several before. All of the clothes that were once in one large pile are now in two piles and a folded stack, which Connor elects to assume means “unwearable”, “not clean”, and “clean” based off of Mr. Anderson’s habits and normal wardrobe. He carefully shuts the door behind himself and eyes the older man, who’s leaning against the desk tiredly, now. It looks like he quickly ran his fingers through his hair, but he looks more tired despite that.

    “You cleaned again.”

    He really didn’t mean to say that out loud– hell, he didn’t even mean to say it the last time he was in here–, but Mr. Anderson doesn’t seem as bothered by it as he was before.

    “Yea? You gonna say that every time you come in here and I’ve made progress? What about when it gets messy again, hm? ‘Cause I guarantee it will.” he challenges.

    Connor just shakes his head calmly with a nervous smile. “If you’ll believe me, I didn’t actually mean to say that out loud. And this isn’t my room, it’s yours, so I don’t see why it’d be any of my business what you do with it beyond keeping potentially harmful bottles off the ground.” He pauses to eye the desk Mr. Anderson is leaning on. “Do you mind if I use your desk for a second?”

    It’s a rough topic change, but it’s one that Mr. Anderson takes silently. He simply moves out of the way, overplaying exasperation of having to as he waves to it. Connor nods a silent thanks and walks over, mentally cringing at the feeling of the bottles in his waistband rubbing and clanging together with each step. Apparently his lunch companion couldn’t tell that he was hoarding bottles until now because he’s suddenly extremely interested in what Connor has.

    He puts down the whisky first and uncovers it, discarding the napkins on the ground for now. Mr. Anderson is immediately at his side to investigate, obviously surprised to see the brand.

    “What the fuck? This is full?” he whispers, then continues the same way as if someone will overhear him if he speaks too loud. “Where the hell d’ya get this? And how?”

    “I heard that Marshal Fowler suddenly went from somewhat tolerating your drinking to cutting you off completely,” he answers partially, ever-so-carefully unzipping his jacket so the bottles barely tucked inside the inner pockets don’t slip out and crack or shatter. “And strictly from a medical point of view, it’s not healthy to cut off an addiction like yours like that so suddenly, so I decided to help out as thanks for talking to the marshal about giving me and Ritch a second chance. But don’t expect me to do this again, I was only able to this time because I was at a celebration and everyone was extremely inebriated.”

    Once Connor has his jacket unzipped, he slowly pulls out the two beer bottles in the most danger of falling. The one on the left side makes his wine cooler bottle almost fall, so he has to pin it under his left arm so he has time to put the beer in his right hand down and catch it. He then digs out two more beers and sets them down, realizing there’s no good way about unloading Mr. Anderson’s alcohol without making his own fall out. 

    “Jesus. How many bottles did you take?” He picks up one of the beer bottles, studying the label.

    “I had 16 bottles on me, plus the whisky–”

    Mr. Anderson’s head snaps to him, “Wait, what?–”

    “–and I think the only bottle people will notice missing is the whisky, since there were only four of them and there wasn’t enough room to stash them in the recycling with the beers and wine coolers. Though I doubt they’ll really care or question why there’s only three bottles left in the room.” Connor pulls out the last beer in his jacket pocket, then starts the process of freeing the one in his waistband, which is going to require taking them all out then resizing the belt. “Oh! And the wine coolers are mine, so you can’t have any.”

   “I don’t like fruity drinks anyway.” he answers, staring at Connor as if he has a second head or a third leg. Connor ignores this easily, it’s a look he’s very used to, sadly. 

    He moves to pull out one of the two beer bottles from under his belt and immediately realizes his mistake. The wine-cooler bottles carelessly tucked in the biggest pockets are heavily weighing his pants down, and he doesn’t feel like flashing anyone. With a defeated sigh, he pulls the two bottles from the pockets over his calves (People rarely look down when they have somewhere they need to be, so the chances of someone other than Ritch noticing those two and the two lumps in his nearly-untied boots then commenting on it are lower than people seem to think). He then tries to get the bottle out again, but the three in the back start slipping, but if he tries to keep them from falling, then the bottles in the front will fall.

    Realizing how stupid this delema is since it’s his bottles that are about to go down his pants and not anyone else’s, he simply pulls out Anderson’s bottle and lets the rest drop down his pant legs. He tightens up his belt, then removes the two from in his boots and lets the fallen wine coolers in his pant legs slip to the ground unharmed.

    “Jesus fucking christ, you actually had 16 bottles tucked away.” Connor looks up and sees Hank shaking his head in disbelief. “How in the fuck did you manage that? Actually, why would you try to do this in the first place?”

    “I got bored, and despite what everyone thinks of me, I’m not a rule-following teacher’s pet.” He sits on the ground and starts working on lacing his boots properly. “I just make sure that my ‘crimes’ aren’t serious and are done without anyone noticing.” He finishes tying boots onto his feet, then looks up to smirk up at the ex-pilot. “Like hiding 16 bottles of alcohol in various places and delivering seven of them to someone who’s supposed to not have them.” He starts stuffing the coolers on the ground away in his pockets, not wanting to impose on the other man too much longer.

    “And where did you say you got all of this from? A celebration?”

    Connor nods and stands up. “Some of my and Ritch’s mutual friends had a small gathering with copious amounts of alcohol because tonight we found out we’re staying!” Connor beams. It feels very strange on his face after so long of being in a tense or panic-like state. “And with the way Marshal Fowler was speaking, it sounds like we’ll be able to graduate as soon as we find partners to pilot with. So that’s what all this is,” he gestures to the bottles, “It’s a thanks for that, because he mentioned in passing that you spoke to him, and he trusts your judgement of people.”

    Connor sees Mr. Anderson’s expression of surprise, and doesn’t try to work out if it’s a good or negative type. He just waits patiently, knowing that he’s probably trying to figure out a way to say something. That’s what these lengthy silences meant most of the other times, anyway.

    “You do realize that you’ll get in big trouble for this if you’re caught. After all the paperwork stuff and everything.” It’s not the kind of thing Mr. Anderson has to work himself up to say before, but Connor is the last person to push someone for withholding potentially sensitive information or opinions.

    “Then it’s a good thing I won’t be,” Connor states confidently, “I may get anxious or uncomfortable with a lot of things, but these past couple of weeks of adjusting to how things work around here are not how I usually am. I’m not normally that fragile or easy to upset. Besides,” he leans on the desk casually, “if there’s anything I’m good at, it’s yoga and stealing food and drinks. I’ve had more than enough practice growing up to feel confident in my abilities to get away with tonight’s heist, Mr. Anderson.”

    He stands up straight again before blinking in shock at himself. He just mentioned a detail of his childhood and isn’t affected by it. Hell, now he’s actively thinking about how he and Ritch had to sneak out of the house with stolen money if they ever wanted any kind of junk food and he’s still completely unbothered by the memory. There must be more alcohol in his system than he thought. Just how many wine coolers did he have to drink in order to get loose like this?

    “It’s Hank.”

    Connor snaps his head up, not knowing when it lowered in the first place. He’s extremely glad all of his bottles are tucked safely away because if he was still holding one, he might have just dropped it on the hard floor.

    “I’m sorry?” he asks politely. There’s no way the Mr. Anderson is asking Connor, the annoying kid with the fucked up head, to call him by his first name.

    It’s extremely disrespectful to call someone older than you anything other than Miss, Misses, or Mister, even if they’re only older by five years, Amanda’s voice informs in his head.

    Never judge a person purely based on their age. Some people, like you, are completely mature despite their age still being a comparatively small number. Some people, like Howard over there, still act like children even though they’re older than me. Treat a person with a careful balance of how they act and what social standards require, the same voice scolds louder.

    “Look, if you’re still going to bug me during lunch and dinner, then I’d rather you just call me Hank.” He sighs and looks away. “Having someone like you call me ‘Mr. Anderson’ makes me feel old, and honestly? A little fuckin’ creeped out too. Mister and miss or whatever is reserved for children, and you don’t look like a fuckin’ child to me.”

    For the first time in a long while, Connor chooses to ignore Amanda’s irritated voice in his head. He’ll only call him Hank because the other wants him to, and he has a feeling that they’re something he calls “quiet friends”. Friends without stating it and never mentioning as much for one or both people's sake, but still friends nonetheless. But in the end, it doesn’t matter because either way, Connor feels accomplished. He just made his first friend that didn’t tie in to Ritch at all.

    Connor realizes too late that he hesitated for a tad too long, so he tries to break the growing tension with a very bad joke.

    “Well then, Hank, you can just call me Connor, now. No ‘Mr. Stern’ necessary anymore.”

    It takes Mr. And– Hank a second to understand the joke that he never once called Connor by his last name before, then he’s shaking his head at the ceiling with a huff of amusement.

    “I’m going to regret this, aren’t I?”

    “Most likely. Hopefully it won’t be too painful, though.” Connor smirks.

    Hank looks back down with a scowl, but Connor swears he can see mirth in his eyes.

    “Just get out of here and go to fucking bed before anyone gets any wrong– or right– ideas.” he nods to the door.

    Connor nods and quickly gets to the door. However, he pauses just as he’s about to open it, then turns back to Hank.

    “As I said before, I won’t be doing this again and feeding your issue, Hank. I’m just acknowledging that quitting cold turkey like Marshal Fowler wants you to can be dangerous. You still need to work on slowing down with the goal of stopping.” He pauses to see if the ex-pilot has anything to say, which he doesn’t besides a sigh. “Good night, Hank. If, uh, you ever really need sleep one night, I’d be willing to give you some of the oil that allowed me to sleep for two days during my mood dip.”

    Was that only last week? Or was it the week before?

    “Thank you, Connor. I may take you up on that.” He sounds surprisingly genuine, and the trainee can’t stop the small smile from appearing. “Now get out of here before I decide to hate you again.”

    He nods quickly, not bothering to hide his elation that Hank basically admitted that he likes him, and opens the door. “I hope your night gets better.” he says as he shuts the door.

    Ritch is already in bed by the time he makes it back, but he doesn’t question Connor about his whereabouts. That means he probably knows exactly what he was doing and confirms Connor’s assumptions that he knew about the hidden alcohol bottles. Oh well; Ritch probably isn’t too put off by it since he never said anything despite obviously holding off sleep until he got back. They both sleep soundly that night.

    The next morning, Connor is in the training area doing his morning stretches with Ritch at his side when he sees the Jericho Squad walk in, very obviously hungover. Simon and Josh don’t look as bad, but North is in the worst shape, unsurprisingly. She squints against the lights of the room and stumbles directly behind Markus, who doesn’t appear to be miserable, but also isn’t smiling and chatting along with Josh and Simon like he usually does. North suddenly turns her head and immediately spots Connor.

    “How the fuck are you two not miserable?” she shouts across the room.

    She opens her mouth to probably yell again, but Connor quickly stands up from his spot in the corner and moves over to their group so they won’t call anymore unnecessary attention to themselves. He doesn’t hear echoing footsteps behind him, so Ritch must have stayed behind to properly finish his stretches.

    “I’m not miserable because I kept my drinking under control.” He answers quietly as soon as he’s close enough to. “Besides, once you’re jaeger pilots, excessive drinking isn’t allowed anymore, so you guys should start practicing prohibition.” Connor scolds in a teasing tone.

    “Well,” Simon begins, “lucky for us, we aren’t actually pilots. Only trainees, so we can do what we want for now.”

    “But Ritch and I probably will be as soon as we find suitable partners, so I don’t expect us to–” Connor’s teasing is interrupted by North.

    “Woah, woah woah woah. You mean to tell me that not only are you guys sticking around, but you’re graduating early too? And you didn’t even tell us? How skilled are you exactly? What the hell...” 

    Connor thought someone who is this hungover would be quieter.

    “Did Ritch not tell any of you last night?” Everyone shakes their head. “Oh... Huh. Well, as soon as we retake evaluations and find partners, we’ll probably be graduating and moving on as pilots.” Connor pauses, “I think that’s kind of a problem, though, because as far as I know, there’s only one more jaeger, and by regulation, each pair needs their own in case of an emergency where every available pilot is needed–”

    “Wow, yup. Already boring me.” North bluntly states.

    Connor makes a mental note to not talk about jaegers and regulations while she’s around. It’s odd that she wants to be a jaeger pilot but doesn’t want to hear anything about the jaegers. Maybe that’s part of the reason the passing rate of this training is so low? Some have the skills and drive to fight kaijus, but not enough desire to keep up with the less exciting things (if putting one’s life in danger by fighting ginormous aliens can even be considered “exciting”).

    “North!” Markus chides, ”Just because you hate memorizing all of this stuff doesn’t mean everyone does. Leave him be! Besides, you’re gonna have to know all of it if you actually wanna fight kaijus.”

    “Connor’s right, you know.” Ritch’s voice points out from behind him suddenly. “About everything. I don’t know what Fowler plans to do with two possible new pairs and only one known jaeger, unless he has some prototypes hidden up his sleeve, but those would have to be in testing stages now, not available for pilots to use quite yet.” He crosses his arms and looks to the side, a tell that Ritch is thinking through something carefully. “The only thing I can think of is that he has one that’s almost out of testing that we just haven’t heard of yet for whatever reason. Or he just didn’t want to miss a chance having at least two more pilots around here and compromised with whoever about this, despite only having one available jaeger.”

    Josh nods, shifting his weight onto his other leg, “I think it’s more the second reason than the first. There haven’t been nearly as many people looking to be jaeger pilots since the propaganda stopped standing a chance against the horror stories on the internet and news.”

    Everyone silently nods their agreement.

    “Either way,” Connor begins, “I don’t actually know how often we’ll see each other outside of meals now. With us having to redo our evaluations and partner hunting and stuff.”

    “I doubt they’ll keep us out of the class, Connor.” Ritch doesn’t bother to turn to look at him like he would with someone else, knowing he wouldn’t be put off by it. “I don’t know if we’ll still be top of the class, since we’ll likely be overqualified for what stage everyone here is at, but I don’t see why Luther and Chloe wouldn’t let us stay and help, even if it isn’t your favorite thing to do.”

    Connor shakes his head with a shrug, “It really isn’t. I don’t like leadership roles like you do.”

    Ritch nods. Connor has a feeling they’re both thinking about how Amanda didn’t mind this particular dynamic between them, even though it took a bit of time for her to warm up to it. Before Connor can get too wrapped up in his head, North snaps him out of it.

    “So you gonna show us what you can really do today, since you were supposedly holding last time? Which I still don’t believe, by the way.” she challenges with a certain glint in her eye that he has grown to dislike.

    “No.” he retorts at the same time as Ritch. Everyone goes quiet.

    Connor continues quietly, “We weren’t holding back as much as we have with everything else last time. I don’t want to have to do it again and get hurt worse…”

    “I agree. I don’t like fighting against Connor.”

    “The only things I want to fight are kaijus and assholes.”

    “Snobbish, biggoted assholes.” Ritch specifies.

    Out of the corner of his eye, Connor spots a few other students entering the training area, so instead of correcting Ritch that he would fight any asshole if they did something to warrant it and have his brother inevitably push back against that, Connor just huffs. Ritch will understand that he means it as a show of disagreement; and he does, if his version of an eye roll is anything to go by.

    “Well, I suppose I better go off and try to find some kind of jaeger partner. I’m going to need a lot more time than Ritch because… Well, you all know exactly how I was when we were trying to get to know each other.” Connor smiles genuinely. If there’s one thing he can do right, it’s turn his short-comings into jokes or some form of amusement for himself.

    Although, everyone except Ritch smiles awkwardly, so Connor immediately knows that these people don’t really do self-deprecating jokes. Ritch simply frowns sympathetically probably because he already figured out that they don’t use that type of humor, and he takes that as his cue to actually leave. Before he can turn to leave, however, Chloe shouts Connor’s and Ritch’s names. When they look to her, she waves them over with a smile. They say a quick goodbye to the group as they calmly walk over. Connor is painfully aware of all the silent attention they’re getting.

    “Just as Marshal Fowler said yesterday, you need to start reevaluations today. Would you prefer to do them over in the gym, or in here? I can’t promise we’ll have the gym to ourselves, but it may be less crowded than in here.”

    He looks to Ritch, who gives him a sort of curious look. It’s up to Connor, then. He turns back to Chloe and shrugs with a polite smile.

    “I guess in here is fine. It seems more convenient than going all the way there then back again in a few hours.”

    “Are we going to have to do the combat evaluations again?” Ritch cuts in, “Because I will not fight against Connor again if that’s the case.”

    Chloe blinks, her features turning into a careful balance of blank and attentive. She blinks again when neither Ritch or Connor expand on the request.

    “Did you hold back that much the first time?” she half-jokes lightly, but he sees the slight concern in her eyes.

    The only responses she gets for several moments are Ritch’s shoulders tensing and Connor looking away nervously. Although, it’s obvious she’s waiting for some kind of verbal confirmation.

    Ritch sighs and finally answers quietly, “It’s dangerous for us to not hold back when we’re not fighting to kill.”

    Connor only nods solemnly in agreement.

    Chloe takes a deep breath before speaking, “Okay then, you won’t have to do that over again.” She flips through her clipboard of papers and marks something down quickly, “So let’s skip to flexibility, okay? Go ahead and line up against the wall.” She nods her head to the area next to the doorway where some basic equipment is.

    They go through the basic stretches. For the sit and reach, they use the block, adjusting the measurements to their size, and start with both legs on it, then just one at a time with the other bent. Ritch does above average, and Connor does extremely well if Chloe’s expression means anything.

    Next is the v-sit, so Chloe has Ritch put his feet against the wall and lean forward down the middle, then lean to each side. It turns out that he’s a bit more flexible on his right side than left for whatever reason. He’s then told to bend to the middle and touch his toes, which he does relatively easily. When Connor starts, he foregoes the wall, despite the confused look Chloe gives him, and lets Ritch hold his feet in place while he leans forward. He can almost put his forehead on the floor, and when leaning to either side, he lightly rests it on his knees. Chloe starts marking on her clipboard again, and Connor has to ignore the numerous stares he feels from the other side of the room.

    The rest of the stretches go similarly. Next they stand and touch their toes (Ritch manages to do so, but Connor is able to put his palms flat on the floor and bends his arms), then they move on to the butterfly stretch, calf flexibility test (they both pass this one with flying colors), side bending, and trunk rolls (this is the easiest one for both of them). Before they know it, almost an hour and a half has gone by and they’re done with their official stretches.

    “Hey guys,” Chloe calls the twin’s attention quietly. She continues when both of them look at her. “Do you mind if I do just a couple more stretches? We did the same thing for North and Traci. It’s to see if we should start designing a jaeger that has more rotation and flexibility for our more bendy pilots.”

    Connor looks to Ritch, who answers. “Sure, whatever you need.”

    She smiles. “Can you do some lunges?”

    They both nod and get into position and hold it easily. Chloe marks something in her book before she tells them to sit on the ground and spread their legs as far as they can go. Ritch raises an eyebrow at Connor for whatever reason before attempting to do the splits. Connor easily does it, then holds the position as he puts his chest to the ground, then sits back up. When Ritch gets up to shift the direction of his legs, leaning into something close to a lunge, Connor doesn’t get completely up, instead just sitting then shifting his legs over. He leans forward towards his knee then, too, just as he taught himself, then sits up, torso perpendicular to the ground and his legs.

    “Surprising,” Chloe states in a praising tone, jotting something else down on her clipboard.

    Ritch gets up and smirks down at Connor. He can’t stop himself from smiling back a bit as he gets up too. It’s nice to actually be praised for something that he had only gotten huffed at for in the past. Now he’s kind of glad that he missed this evaluation altogether while he was going through his mood dip because he wouldn’t have wanted to hold back. Plus, having to rush off to let the next person go and/or having everyone’s undivided attention on him would make this nerve-racking, even if he would’ve held back.

    A sudden wolf whistle from across the room shoves him out of his thoughts.

    “Yass Connor!” North yells obnoxiously, gathering most people’s attention to them, “Show ‘em who’s queen!”

    “North, why are you like this?” Connor shakes his head, feeling his face heat in embarrassment. That question is better than what he actually wants to ask; are you still somehow drunk?

    “Wouldn’t be me if I wasn’t.” She then winks and blows Connor a kiss and a winks, the entire act overplayed and an obvious show of teasing him. Maybe she’s overplaying being okay so people don’t suspect her actual hungover state too much.

    Connor just sighs and shakes his head again, watching Ritch as he does his equivalent of an eye roll.

    “Alright boys,” Chloe says behind them, “do you want to do stamina and cardio next or strength and weights?”

    Ritch and Connor glance at each other, then nod simultaneously.

    “We’ll do cardio today since we’re already stretched for it, if we can push strength to tomorrow?” Ritch answers, the end sounding like a question rather than a reply.

    Their instructor smiles, “Sure, that works for me! Let’s head over to the gym for the equipment, then.”

    The rest of their time before lunch is spent doing various cardio and stamina tests. Most of their time is spent on the treadmills and exercise bikes for sprinting and and different kinds of endurance. Chloe gives nothing away about how well they did this time, and they return to the training area just as the rest of the class is finishing up punching techniques with Luther. They’re all released at the same time to go shower before lunch. Connor and Ritch are told to head to the testing room instead of here when they finish lunch so they can retake their written evaluations.

    Connor lets Ritch have a shower first and picks up their room a bit. It’s not really messy, just a few stray clothes in a pile on the ground around the hamper instead of in it, but it gives him a reason to do some very-needed organization in their desk drawers. He spots his journal in the third drawer and suddenly remembers several things from last night and this morning he wanted to write down.

    He writes down North’s hatred for regulation and technical talk. He then adds that he thinks Josh will probably transfer over to the science section of this entire operation, and that North may pair up with Traci if that’s the case and she’s not let go for her lack of interest. He notes that Traci used to be a dancer and is ranked at least third in their class, if not first or second, so she may be a good partner candidate. With that, he starts writing down everyone’s personality and the likelihood that they’ll leave or their partner will leave, and the probability of them leaving if their partner does. He immediately crosses out a bit more than half of the names in the class just from this, knowing he would never work well with them, so he moves on to the active pilots.

    He writes that Gavin is much more likely to partner up with Ritch than himself, since they apparently know each other already, and crosses that name off without writing anything about his character down. Pretty much everyone else he knows of has a partner they work well with, and even with insufficient data, he knows that the chances are low to none of them wanting to suddenly switch partners or share.

    He makes a quick note of Hank’s favorite whiskey and how Hank used to have a dog and probably still loves it according to Marshal Fowler. He’s finishing jotting down the fact he’s probably Connor’s “quiet friend” while idly wondering if Hank would ever consider getting another dog when Ritch steps out of the bathroom. 

    “You’re writing in that journal again?” Ritch says almost immediately, crossing his arms.

    “Yes, because I’m going to screw up if I don’t, especially now that I need a partner.” He closes his book with a thump.

    “Connor, despite what you think, you really don’t need that.” Ritch nods to his journal, sounding softer than usual, and it’s somewhat disconcerting.

    “Yeah, I really do. You’re welcome to read through it if you like.” He makes a point of putting it on the desk. “So far it’s just basic temperaments of different people and the probabilities of the other trainees graduating.”

    Connor walks past his brother into the bathroom to wash up, reflecting on everything he wrote down, trying to figure out if he missed anything. He doesn’t think he has.

    This is going to be a lot harder than I thought, Connor thinks to himself, At least I kind of know what I’m looking for now, though. The only problem now is finding this perfect type of person within the next few weeks…

•◊•◊•◊•◊• 

Previous <~> Masterlist <~> Next

•◊•◊•◊•◊• 

A/N: Hey guys! I am so so sorry for the huge delay for this chapter. Life decided to creep up on me and bash me over the head with a bat there for a second, plus I wanted to make some kind of art for my new TDBU masterlist, but now you should be getting updates faster from now on! I’m hoping to get back on a weekly or biweekly update schedule because I have a ton of other things I want to write, but I refuse to until I finish one of my WIPs 😂😅 Also, sorry for the ton of Connor POV recently, I promise that next chapter will be more Reed900 action!! And with that, I hope you all have a good day/night! Until the next update!

P.S. I have actually played the bottle game that Connor did. It started at one of my dad’s promotion parties when I was 15, and I wanted to see how many beers I could stash away (I wasn’t going to drink them, yuck) before an adult noticed. My high score is 12, and the only reason it isn’t 14 is because my aunt noticed me retying my boots to secure the bottles in them.

[chocoluckchipz]

Dance with Me, Chaton - 14

Read it on A03, WattPad, FF.net

Written for @ladynoirjuly2019

< Previous

14. Sick Day.

It didn’t work. All the luck that Ladybug had sent his way must have stuck somewhere in the internet traffic because the next morning Adrien woke up with a pulsating headache, stuffy nose, and a sore throat. He groaned, shifting in his bed and threw his cover off. Too hot. Water. Thirsty. He needed some water stat, or he would die.

Adrien sat up. His head spun; a pained moan escaped lips. The clock showed… nine?

Shit.

Struggling to stand up, Adrien picked up the phone. There was a missed call from his father’s secretary and a few from Plagg. Adrien opened his messages. Ladybug has sent a few, wishing him a good morning and telling him about her plans for the day. Same stuff they’ve been exchanging for weeks now. He smiled. She was an amazing girl. He always looked forward to her messages. Unlike Plagg’s.

Plagg: Congratulations! You’ve won an extended session for the price of one. I’ll see you at my studio at seven in the evening. Next time you won’t pick up, you’re out.

Adrien groaned and flopped back onto the bed. The way he felt now, there was no way he could handle any session of Plagg’s, less an extended one. Maybe he should quit? Or maybe he could tell Plagg that he was sick? Surely even Plagg had a heart. Most likely he did. At least a physical one he certainly had.

Adrien: Can I get a rain check on that? I don't feel too stellar.

Plagg replied immediately.

Plagg: I'm not a convenience store to give out rainchecks. Seven or never.

Adrien groaned.

Adrien: At least make it a regular one.

Plagg: The only thing I can make it is a double-priced one. Would you like that?

Adrien pouted. Not that he couldn't afford Plagg’s fees. He could, but for Plagg’s attitude to him, Adrien refused to support the glutton further other than what they’d agreed upon.

Plagg: What are you a baby? Can’t handle some dancing?

Adrien scoffed. He called it dancing? He hadn’t danced a single step yet, pointlessly repeating exercises and moves Plagg ordered him as a broken record. He even stopped going to the gym. There was no need. Plagg worked him thrice as much as his personal trainer did, all while offering Adrien to quit at any given opportunity. Adrien growled. No way! Not after everything this arrogant glutton had put him through! Adrien couldn’t let him win. He’d go to that session and rock it.

Adrien: I’ll be there at seven.

Plagg: :thumbs-up:

Turning his phone off, Adrien shuffled to the kitchen. If he were to endure one of Plagg’s lessons this evening, he needed to get better. That meant rest, nutrition, and medicine. He lacked two: food because he was too tired to shop for it yesterday, and medicine because Adrien didn’t get sick often, so whatever he had was long expired. Trip to the store it was, and since he already was late for work, he might call in sick and skip it altogether. There is always a first time for everything, right?

Adrien changed and dialled his father. Gabriel wasn’t ecstatic, but he let it go, telling Adrien to get back as soon as he could. Glad that at least his father wasn’t heartless, Adrien went out to pick up food and medicine. He grabbed breakfast at a nearby café and focused on getting better upon returning, which meant hot bath, relaxing on a couch, and chatting with Ladybug. He kept his illness to himself, though. Ladybug had just gone through hell because of him. He had no right to get her sympathy.

Closer to the evening, Adrien ordered Tom and Sabine’s pastries to be delivered. After Marinette introduced him to the wonderful world of her parent’s bakery, Adrien couldn’t help but stop by every day after work. Today, however, he didn’t work, and he had to conserve energy for the torture session, so ordering in it was. Half an hour later someone knocked on a door.

“Marinette?” His eyes widened, followed by a lopsided smile on his lips. What a nice surprise.

“Hi.” She shyly waved at him from the hallway. “I’m sorry, I hope I’m not interrupting. Papa asked me to deliver this to you.”

“Thanks.” Adrien motioned Marinette to come inside. “Did something happen?”

“What do you mean?” she asked, entering.

"It's five. Usually, you'd still be at work at this time."

“Ah, so the boss would scold me for leaving the work an hour early to attend to a sick father?”

Adrien chuckled. “The boss may do that. I’m not him, however. What’s with Tom? He looked healthy yesterday.”

“Nothing serious.” Marinette rolled her eyes. “Dad caught a man cold and is being a baby about it. But of course, he didn’t tell me that when he called my work. I thought he was dying and raced over only to find out he has a slight fever and cough.”

Adrien laughed. “Tell him I said Hello and hope he gets better soon.”

“Thank you. I will.” She smiled. “His colds rarely last more than a few days. You, on the other hand, don’t look so well.”

Adrien rubbing the back of his neck, shrugging. “Cold. A regular one, though. Not the one your father has.”

“I hope you feel better soon,” Marinette said, passing him the box in her hands. “I believe these are yours.”

“With these, I definitely will.” Adrien grinned, opening the box. Once the lid was off, he frowned. “Um. I think someone made a mistake. Was Tom the one assembling it?”

Marinette leaned over to look inside the box. “Did he give you the wrong items in his feverish state? Although, I think it was Maman who packed this. Papa’s dying in his bed.”

Adrien shook his head. “Oh no. I have everything I asked for. Double the amount.”

Marinette frowned, glaring to the side, her lips pressed into a thin line. Her following grin was way too tense for Adrien’s liking. “They must have put it for you as get well wishes. Mama loves to spoil their regular customers.”

“I’m not that regular yet,” Adrien said. “I've only started going there after you told me about them a few weeks ago.”

“Really?” Marinette mumbled, still avoiding looking at him. “The way they talk about it, it seems much longer. In any case, enjoy and I’ll go. I have some scolding to do.”

She turned around to leave when a genius idea hit Adrien.

“Hey, Marinette?”

She paused, her body tensing. “Yes?”

“If you have some free time, do you want to come in for a cup of coffee? I mean only if you’re free because I’ve been kind of locked in here all day by myself and wouldn’t mind some company, even for a little while. And I have double the pastry, so… Please? If you want, of course. I don’t insist. I mean if you have free time… and not afraid to catch my cold.”

What was going on with him? Adrien could practically feel his cheeks burning. Why was it so hard to invite a friend for a cup of coffee? It’s not like he was asking her on a date or anything! Geez, Agreste! Compose yourself.

Marinette failed to suppress a chuckle. “I think I’ve already caught all the cold germs I could from Papa,” she said, the most endearing expression on her face he’d seen. “I have an hour to spare.”

Adrien glanced at the clock. It was five. He had to leave anywhere between six and six-fifteen. Perfect.

“Yes, please.” He grinned and prompted her to follow him into the kitchen. His heart full; he could hardly contain his excitement. How lucky was he to get Marinette all to himself for the whole hour? The perfect treat before he had to face Plagg The Tyrant.

Marinette was nice. She was fantastic. She reminded him more and more of Ladybug the longer they’d talked. She was smart and witty and funny and beautiful and everything in between. They had a lot in common, and even chatting about nothing was an experience Adrien would never forget. She made him feel so great; he’d cherish it forever. Somehow, Adrien didn’t notice where the time rushed to off, but when Marinette thanked him for the meal and stood up to leave, the clock showed thirty minutes to seven.

“Don’t be too grumpy about your butt camp,” she said gathering her things. “One of my best friends told me once that moving is the best way to get over a cold. It gets oxygen into your body and helps your blood to expel the germs out of your system faster, so even though it’ll be hard, it’ll help you.”

“Well, yes, mild exercise does. Whatever that glutton puts me through isn't remotely mild.”

Marinette shrugged with a smirk on her face. “Fake a fainting spell when it gets too much? I’m sure he’d let you go if you faint.”

Adrien laughed. “I’ll be sure to follow your advice when the insatiable desire to strangle my coach will kick in.”

Marinette laughed. “Didn’t peg you for a violent person.”

“I’m not. Or rather I wasn’t. Not until I signed up for that cursed course. Now, I’m just praying all the anger won’t spill over, so having someone like you to talk to and relax really helps. Thank you.”

Marinette blushed and standing on her toes, kissed his cheek. “Thank you for the meal.”

Adrien gasped. Her lips were so soft. Warm. Gentle. “Thank you for the company,” he mumbled back, awkwardly waving.

A moment later, she left. Adrien rushed to the bedroom to change. He had twenty minutes left before his lesson.

***

“You’re late.”

“By five seconds?”

“By two minutes and thirty-five seconds.”

Adrien groaned. “Plagg really? I show up here sick, and you lecture me about being two minutes late?”

“Two minutes and thirty-five seconds.”

Adrien closed his eyes trying to breathe evenly.

“And no Camembert that I can see.”

“That’s it,” Adrien snapped. “If you’re going to lecture me about being late and forgetting your damn, stinky cheese for once, then I have the right to ask you when will you start teaching me to dance?”

“What are you talking about?” Plagg stretched innocently, lounging on his throne. “I’ve been teaching you dancing this whole time. What do you think we have been doing here?”

“Pardon me for not noticing,” Adrien snarled. “Or do you call that pointless, excessive repetition of the exercises and moves you make me do dancing?”

Plagg smirked, looking at Adrien. “You’re finally asking questions. Good.”

“I’m glad you’re amused by my curiosity, but can you answer me while you are at it?”

“Feisty, aren’t we?” In one smooth move, Plagg leapt from his throne and walked towards him.

“What did you expect?” Adrien barked. “I’m sick and tired of your crap, and it’s time I finally told you.”

“I didn’t drag you,” Plagg said. “You ran here yourself.”

“As if you left me any choice.”

“There is always a choice,” Plagg said. “But congratulations. Your shell has finally cracked. All we have to do now is to pull you out.”

“What are you talking about?”

Plagg said nothing, stopping behind Adrien.

Adrien turned to face him. When Plagg remained silent instead of answering, Adrien bitterly puffed. “Spectacular avoidance of answering me. You truly are a Master. Only I’m not sure I want to study your craft anymore.”

“Tell me, Adrien,” Plagg said, looking him straight into his eyes. “What is dancing?”

Adrien frowned. “Movement to the music?”

“Wrong.”

“Relaxing?”

“Try again.”

“Exercise.”

Plagg laughed before leaning closer and whispering, “Dancing, Adrien, is storytelling.”

“Storytelling?”

“Exactly,” Plagg said and strolled back to his throne. “People express themselves in a dance just like they do with verbal stories. Moving to the music, they can tell you how their day went, how much they’ve missed something, how much they hate someone. People can tell you their whole story through dance. Now imagine this: you put on music, and you hear the beat, and your mind decides on a move, but BAM! before you can do it the music moved on and the beat has changed. What do you do?”

“You move on and decide on the next one—”

“Only for the same thing to happen again.” Plagg plopped into his throne and added, “A true master never allows his mind to decide their moves for them. He lets his body and the music to become one, unity in the beat, and tell the story without stammering. But, for your body to do that, the moves have to become reflexes.”

Adrien stared at Plagg in a dumbfounded stupor. “So, all this time you’ve been—”

“Implementing new reflexes into you, so you can sing your song, not stutter it out,” Plagg finished for him. “Kid, it’s like learning a language. You must learn to write letters before you can imprint a poem on a blank sheet of paper. Now, stop questioning my methods and take this.” He pulled a small, plastic packet out of his pocket and threw it to Adrien.

Adrien twisted in his hand. “Is this weed?”

Plagg snorted. “No, seriously? Who do you take me for? It’s cold medicine.”

“Are you sure?” Adrien frowned, inspecting the content of the packet. “It looks suspicious.”

“You’re my main Camembert supplier at the moment. Why would I want to poison you?”

Adrien huffed. “I never know what’s on your mind, so don’t blame me for checking.”

Plagg laughed. “I love the level of trust we share, kid. But, seriously. This is some ancient Chinese crap. My doctor makes it himself. It does miracles, though, so you’re lucky I’m sharing because you can’t buy this shit in stores. Make some tea with it and drink before bed. You’ll be brand new in the morning.”

“I guess, thank you?” Adrien said hesitantly.

“Don’t mention it.” Plagg shrugged. “Now get out of my sight before you contaminate this whole place.”

Adrien frowned in disbelief. “What about—”

“You didn’t bring me my cheese. Why should I teach you for free?” Plagg huffed. “Get out and come back tomorrow evening. Oh, wait.” He pursed his lips. “I’ll be busy tomorrow. I’ll call you for time and date later. Now, go. Don’t spread your germs here.”

Adrien stood in his place frozen. A tiny smile sneaked onto his face as he nodded. “Thank you, Plagg. I didn’t expect you to be so—”

“Ugh, geez, kid,” Plagg groaned. “Get out of here before I smack you for being sappy. Just go! Au revoir! See you later. Do svidaniya. Sayōnara. Adiós. What other language do I need to repeat it in?”

“Got it.” Adrien chuckled and headed for the exit. “Thanks for the medicine. I’ll see you later.”

He closed the doors to loud music starting behind him, the smile on his lips not vanishing until he reached home. Who would’ve guessed? Plagg actually cared.

_______________________________________________________________________

Next >