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phoenixyfriend · 2 years

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Auntie Soka and Little Leia (and Rex): Chapter Ten

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And that's a wrap! Last chapter, folks. If you want to start from the beginning, click here.

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Sokari isn’t there for the shouting match between Rex and Fett, but she doesn’t have to be. She can hear it from clear across the ship. Even if she couldn’t, Rex comes to her afterwards. He’s been crying, which isn’t as surprising as it could be. These bodies are still prone to such things, and will be for years. She doesn’t comment.

“Do you want to talk about it?” she asks.

“We need to take out Sidious before he starts anything on Kamino.”

“Agreed,” she says. “It’ll be hard, though.”

“I don’t care.”

She hums idly. “What did Fett say?”

“That if it wasn’t going to be my brothers, it would be someone else’s. Either we stop the cloning from happening at all, or we mitigate damage by being there.”

We, he says. It’s telling.

“I don’t think Sidious is going to tap him for it,” Sokari admits. “Not unless you’re willing to stage that kind of fight publicly enough for Fett to claim the Jedi poisoned you, family, against him. It could work, but it’s a gamble.”

He knows all of this.

“I miss them,” he says, and she cards her fingers though the curls he’s managed to grow in the past weeks. “I just… even at the end, I had Wolffe. I knew Boba was out there; I wouldn’t be surprised if the beskar let him survive a Sarlacc. I had brothers. Not as many as I used to, but there was always someone. I miss them all, so much it hurts.”

“It wouldn’t be them,” she reminds him. She pulls him closer, puts her cheek to his head. “It would be the same process, the same faces, the same training, even, but the boys themselves…”

He clings to her and shudders.

“Rex?”

“I can’t force them to grow up the way I did,” he says, not quite at a whisper. “I want them back. Sidious is going to make the army no matter what. Someone’s going to suffer, and I don’t want it to be my brothers, but they won’t exist otherwise, and…”

“And it’s an impossible choice,” she summarizes. “And it sucks.”

“It’s sucks Gungan balls, Soka.”

She laughs, and feels him smile against her shoulder. Good. He needs to smile more.

“He’s still trying to get me to like him,” Rex says. "He’s still making an effort, and he never did that for anyone except Boba, and it’s weird. I don’t know what to do with any of that.”

“Gain a brother,” Sokari whispers, and she feels him jerk against her. “If that’s what you want.”

“He’s not vod.”

“Same blood as all the rest, and you’re older than him, so he’s not really in a position to be a parent to you like he was to Boba,” she says carefully. “You don’t have to do anything, if you don’t want to, but… I think he’s trying.”

Rex doesn’t seem inclined to respond. That’s fine.

She keeps going. “I think this means a lot to him, and that he isn’t any more sure of what to do than you are. You don’t have to forgive him for what he did in the future, you don’t have to accept when he reaches out. You don’t have to ever talk to him again after we reach Coruscant if you don’t want, but I think… I think it’s worth at least considering what you have to gain. I think there is worth in looking at what he’s trying to give you.”

Rex huffs. “Why couldn’t he just be the shabuir I knew in training?”

“Something happened between now and then?” she offers. “I don’t know. I never met him in the original timeline. I just know the guy that keeps trying to get on my good side so you’ll like him.”

He outright scoffs. “Soka, that’s not the only reason he’s trying to get on your good side.”

“…I’m a former Jedi who talks trash to his face,” she says slowly. “And I cried on him. There is no reason for him to be nice to me, other than you.”

“He thinks you’re cool and a good person and wants you to be his friend.”

“Bantha poodoo.”

Rex grins in a way that goes straight to smirking. “Soka, I’m not joking. Jango Fett wants you to be his friend.”

“Kriffing why?” she asks, more than a little horrified. “I’m a mess, look like I’m ten years younger than him, have gleefully kicked his ass in front of an audience; I even told Vos to throw him at a baby Sith Lord. Putting up with me is one thing, but I’m… I’m only barely not a Jedi. I’m a historical enemy of Mandalore, and part of the community he hates more than anything, and—”

“And his reaction to you kicking his ass was pure Mando,” Rex says. “In that he now thinks you’re a badass, and thus worth being friends with.”

“I can’t believe that. I physically cannot.”

“Soka, just accept it. The Mand’alor wants to be friends with you.” He scratches at his scalp. “I mean, he met you while you were protecting what appeared to be children, and it’s apparently still early enough for him to care about that. Especially family.”

She leans back in her seat, eyes on the wall ahead of her and back against the cool metal of the other side. Rex falls back with her. She wonders if Rex changed the subject so they didn’t have to talk about deciding how many of his brothers get to exist, and whether or not he can swallow the bitterness of his history to have a connection with at least one member of his blood. She doesn’t ask. If he wants to change the subject, that’s his right.

“I don’t… no.” She denies it as well as she can, and then the implications dig a little deeper. “Is this me accidentally signing up to be the Jedi Order’s official liaison to the Mand’alor?”

“I mean, this point in time… they’ve got Kenobi for the Duchess, yeah?” Rex shrugs. “Good relations with the system are probably a positive, and you’ve got a stronger connection than Tholme and Vos.”

“Ugh,” she says. She rubs a hand against her head, and then lurches to her feet. “Fine! Fine. If it’ll get him to move on the Mandalore situation before the Sith decide to bribe him with an army he doesn’t get to keep, I’ll teach him how to fight for the kriffin’ Darksaber.”

“That’s what makes the decision for you?”

“Well something had to!”

They only get one lesson in before Coruscant, but the lesson lasts a full day, and Soka’s got his comm number. Fett’s a quick learner anyway, and Tholme is there to give pointers where Sokari can’t.

He won’t measure up to a Jedi in saber-to-saber combat, but he doesn’t need to. He just needs to learn enough to turn all those skills with a beskad to something that works with a jetii’kad.

(The balance of a saber is wrong to those used to a physical weapon. The inertia doesn’t work the way anyone expects. There’s no need to worry about damaging the blade.)

(Fett is good. Sokari is better. Bless his heart, he knows it.)

(She will mold him into the shape of someone who not only can, but should help rule a system with a history like that, and he damn well knows that too.)

(Continue on AO3)

#phoenix files #Ahsoka Tano #Jango Fett #Captain Rex #Leia Organa #star wars #the clone wars #sw rebels #sw legends #time travel #Tholme #Quinlan Vos #Darth Maul #Obi Wan Kenobi #Luke Skywalker

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staylovehearts · 4 years

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Love on second chance

Han Jisung x Reader

Word Count ~5.1k

Summary: Maybe it was naive to believe that after your confession everything would be like a romance movie, maybe you should have been prepared for rejection

Tags: friends to lovers?, some angst, fluffy ending tho, Felix is in this for some reason

"I'm so sorry, I don't feel the same way."

If this was a movie that would be the record scratch freeze-frame moment. You may be wondering how I got here? Maybe there would be some kind of rewind, a montage, or some time loop of everything that has lead up to the moment where you confess your feelings to Han Jisung. The boy you've been crushing on for maybe half a year now. And it seemed to be going so well. You finally managed to get closer to him, befriend him, spend time with him. Confessing was the next logical step. Or so you thought. Sadly, life isn't a movie, so you'll have to deal with him rejecting you in real-time, no comedic-relief interruption.

"I see", you mumble. What else is there even to say? No one really goes into a confession preparing for what would happen if you're turned down. At least you didn't. You tend to write scripts in your mind, planning out dialogues and dreaming up scenarios. And the script for this scene looked completely different when you were imagining it. It started with you giving Jisung that dramatic speech, detailing all the things you like about him and ending it with a passionate confession of love that would leave him speechless for a moment before he'd just kiss you, one hand on your back the other in your hair, pulling you as close as he physically can. Sunset over the river that you passed on your little walk in the background. You already failed at the sunset. Wrong timing. Also, it's kind of cloudy, might even rain soon. But those were setbacks you were willing to accept. A whole alteration of your perfect script, however, is nothing you came prepared for. Maybe you shouldn't have been so naive.

"I'm really sorry", Jisung repeats. He looks extremely uncomfortable. Apparently, he has no idea how to handle this situation either. Maybe confessing out here was stupid. You'll still have to walk back to the next station at least. You can already feel the uncomfortable silence pressing down on you.

"It's not your fault", you finally manage to say. It really isn't. If anyone here is to blame it's probably you. But that's just how it is when you gamble. The more you bet the more you can lose. And you're not as much of an Ace of Hearts as you thought you were. "You feel what you feel and I feel what I feel and I guess there is nothing to be done about that."

"Maybe you're right, but I still feel bad about it. I hope we can still be friends though." There it is, that dreaded sentence. Part of you wants to say yes right away. The clingy naive part that refuses to give up. If he's asking to remain friends that must mean he still wants you, right? That he still likes you. That he still wants to be close to you. But the new, more cynical part of your mind that is beginning to form knows that he wants you as a friend only. Nothing more than that. Maybe he's even hoping that you can just go back to how things were, pretend this confession never happened. So he won't have to feel bad about turning you down anymore. Maybe he's hoping that this will be one of those in ten years we'll probably laugh about it scenarios. But you don't want it to be.

"I'm sorry I'll just... need some time to get over you. And I don't think I can do that when I still see you all the time. I need some distance. Sorry."

"I get it... I guess. I'm really, really sorry."

If he says sorry just one more time you might actually start feeling bad for him. Which is so twisted actually. Because aren't you the one who's heart just got broken? You shouldn't emphasise with him for breaking it. Sure, he didn't mean to, but with every apology, every moment of him looking sad about it you're starting to feel worse about your confession. Because see, now you made him sad, is that what you wanted? It wasn't obviously. But it's what you get. It's all your fault.

"I think I should go now", you say. You can already feel your bottom lip trembling, the tears welling up in your eyes. You don't want to cry in front of Jisung, not now. Not when things are like this. Because it'll only make him feel worse. And he'll try so hard to comfort you and it will only make the whole thing more uncomfortable. Sure, you lost but maybe you can at least keep a little bit of dignity.

"Sure, maybe I'll see you around?", Jisung mumbles awkwardly. You shrug your shoulders.

"Wouldn't count on it", you answer, voice already cracking. Then you turn on your heel and walk as fast as you can without running.

It's been roughly two weeks since Jisung turned you down. Two weeks that you spent mostly just sitting at home either dramatically crying to sad music or stuffing yourself with ice cream or whatever other snacks you had lying around while watching every cheesy romance drama you could find online. And sure, maybe you're acting a little dumb and cliche or whatever. But it hurts and all of this actually does make it feel better. And yet you also realise that you just can't live as a shut-in, wallowing in self-pity forever. All your friends realise it too. Though most of them are patient with trying to invite you out and cheer you up they are starting to become pushier. It's just a matter of time until someone actually breaks in and forces you out of your room. And it's very likely that Felix will be the one to do it.

At least that is what it seems like judging by how insistent he is to invite you to his little house party this weekend. Or rather the small get together as he has called it in his initial pitch.

"Oh come on, it's really not a big deal, just some friends. We're only going to play some games, maybe watch a movie, no excessive drinking or anything. It'll be fun."

You can pretty much hear Felix's pout even though his voice does sound a little muffled through your phone. You switch it from one hand to another before you press it against your ear again, simultaneously rolling over in your bed a little. You knock over an empty ice cream container in the process, a dirty spoon falling out of it and clattering onto the floor. Yuck, you really should clean up around here again.

"Ugh, fine, but I won't stay long", you grumble. You don't need to be able to see Felix to imagine that winning grin on his face.

"Great, bring some snacks if you can!", he says happily. And normally he would hang up with that, but the sentence is followed by a pregnant silence. So tense that it feels like one of those you could hear a needle drop kind of scenarios. You wait with bated breath until Felix finally continues to speak. "There is one thing though... Jisung will be there as well. Probably. I guess he kinda told me what happened so if you're uncomfortable seeing him I totally get it."

You take a deep breath in, trying to calm yourself. You've expected this. Of course, you have. Felix and Jisung are basically inseparable. In fact, you only ended up getting to know Felix after you befriended Jisung. And while you have gotten quite close to him where he is long past just being your crush's best friend there is no denying that at the very beginning getting closer to Felix was just a sideproduct of getting closer to Jisung.

"Is this what this is actually about? Because if you're planning to invite both of us over so we can talk things out I'm not interested." Okay, maybe that did sound a little too snappy. Maybe it's only natural for Felix wanting to play the mediator, after all, he is basically stuck in between. He probably doesn't want to sacrifice his newer friendship to you just because his best friend just broke your heart. And if you're being honest you don't want to lose Felix as a friend either. Even if that means that maybe you will have to occasionally see Jisung.

"No, no, that's not what this is about at all. I swear. I get that you don't want to see him right now. But I kinda miss hanging out with you and not inviting you would have felt wrong. But if you really don't want to we could just meet up at another time? Like just us, or at least just us and some people that aren't Jisung."

Another deep breath. Inhale. Exhale. Let go of all the negative emotions and try to be the bigger person. "No, I'm sorry. I shouldn't make you feel like you have to pick between your friends. I'll come, but if things get awkward please don't be mad if I leave early."

"I totally get that, but I'm so happy that you're coming. I promise you won't regret it", Felix's bubbly voice is almost enough to convince you that this is actually something that could be good for you. Almost. You can hear some sounds through your phone, probably someone else walking up to Felix. For a moment you can hear hushed voices talking, but you can only really make out Felix's part of the conversation – mostly just small humms and yes or of course not – the other person is completely inaudible. You clear your throat just loud enough to remind Felix that he is still on the phone with you.

"Ah sorry", he mutters. "Gotta go now, see you soon though. I'll text you the details later." Before you can even say goodbye he has already hung up again. You put your phone back down next to your pillow and take a moment to look around the room. You catch your reflection looking back at you from the mirror on your closet door. Maybe your room isn't the only thing in need of some cleaning.

It's a wonder what an hour in the bathroom and wearing some of your favourite clothes can do to boost your confidence. Well, maybe you are a little overdressed for this little get-together, but it's all self-care, right? And maybe there is just a tiny dash of revenge in it as well. Because what better way to prove to the guy who turned you down that you are doing just fine than waltzing around his best friends' party looking stunning and unbothered? Okay, it's probably more of that than anything else. But if you can prove to Jisung that you are completely over him, thank you very much, maybe you can fool yourself into believing it as well.

So you ring the doorbell, hair done, a bit of makeup on, slightly overdressed and smelling of that fruity-scented shower gel that always makes you feel good. It's almost half an hour before the time that Felix told you to be here. Which is deliberate as well. He does look a little surprised when he opens the door for you though.

"Oh, hey, you're here early", he mumbles, taking a confused step to the side to let you in. You, instead, go in for a quick hug first and then hand him the few packages of snacks you picked up from a grocery store on your way here.

"Yeah, sorry about that, but I had nothing else to do and I figured I could maybe help you set up things?", you suggest while making your way inside. Felix's parents must be out for the night, which you already assumed, but now you can clearly tell from the lack of silence. EDM music is coming from the good speakers in the living room, something Felix's parents would never tolerate if they were here.

"Well, now that you're here already...", Felix mumbles.

You two spend the next twenty minutes putting all the snacks and some drinks on the table in the living room. You clear any random items off the couch to make sure there will be as much room as possible while Felix gets a couple extra cushions to put on the floor just in case. After that, he begins setting up his console while you browse through the DVD collection. Sure, you could also just watch something on Netflix, but there is just something fun about DVDs. Probably because you can only have a few of them, so you have to pick and chose and collect only your favourite movies so you can watch them over and over again. A person's DVD collection probably says a lot about them. Well, if they still have one. Judging by some of the movies in this collection most of it probably belongs to Felix's parents. But there are a couple in there that are so definitely his.

Maybe ten minutes after the time Felix told you to be here the first people arrive. Because being exactly on time is lame, apparently. And then, as it often is with such events, people suddenly seem to all come at once. For five minutes or so the doorbell is ringing at least twice a minute until everyone is gathered in the living room. Every time a new person arrived and Felix went to open the door you kind of trailed behind him. First of all, because you are curious to see who else is coming. And second because you kind of don't want to be left alone. Because these people are Felix's friends. And while most of them are probably also Jisung's friends one way or another and you might have seen them on some occasion once you don't really know any of them. And the only other person that you really know well is not someone you want to spend time with right now. Which is why you're going to try your best to cling to Felix for most of the night. Actually, that's the main reason why you decided to show up early. If you had shown up around time or later you would have risked someone else being there first. And that person might have already got Felix roped into a super interesting conversation that you wouldn't be able to invade. So you had to make sure to be the first. Because maybe that would make tailing him for the entire night a little less awkward. And so far that has worked quite well. Maybe because Felix has also sensed that you don't want to be left alone, but even when new people start to arrive he still makes sure you are included in every conversation.

Jisung is the last to show up and just as you have with the other guest you follow Felix to the door, not knowing but already sort of expecting what's to come. Still, when you see Jisung there and your eyes meet you hide behind Felix instinctively. For a second the three of you all just stand there, no one really knowing what to do. There is an awkward tension hanging in the air as the two friends stand there, Felix trying to act completely unaware of the situation and Jisung looking everywhere but at you. And since you are standing right behind Felix, he is also pretty much looking at everything except his best friend.

"Come on, don't just stand there", Felix finally says, his voice overly cheerful. Jisung smiles a smile that is so clearly forced that it hurts just to look at it.

"Yeah sorry for holding up traffic, it's good to see you", he mumbles. For just a moment he looks directly at you and slightly nods his head. A blink and you miss it gesture. But it's enough to make you feel like something just shattered inside you. And there you thought you were starting to get over him. It's weird because you figured that you'd grow to despise Jisung for turning you down like this. That you would become bitter and no longer want to be near him. But despite everything he's still Jisung. He's still the boy you fell in love with. The one who'd always make you smile and who'd pout at you cutely whenever you poked fun at him. The boy who used to share his cake with you and who always looked like an adorable little hamster chewing on his share of the food. Despite everything, he's still Jisung. And you're still in love with him.

Still, things seem to go well for a while. Even though you and Jisung are in a room now and you basically suffer every time you as much as cross eyes with him, you're able to forget that he is there most of the time. It's easy with a group of other people shouting and laughing almost non-stop. And also there is Felix who you cling to as if your life depends on it. Well, at least you manage to do that for most of the time. But of course, you knew that this plan was bound to fail sooner or later. And when Felix winds up in an intense argument with two of his friends whose names you don't even know you're left to yourself. Which means that it's time to hide for a while.

You walk over to the kitchen after announcing to whoever was close enough to hear you speak that you are going to get yourself something to drink. Not that anyone particularly cared. You’re leaned against the pretty marble counter in the middle of the room, back to the door, a glass of cold tap water in one hand when you suddenly hear someone else entering.

"So, are you and Felix dating now?" You recognise the person behind you right away. That voice is just way too familiar. But you still turn around slowly, hoping that somehow it will be someone else standing there. But it's Jisung. Of course, it's Jisung. He's standing in the doorway leading into the kitchen. The only door leading into the kitchen. And thus also the only way out of it. And you are standing next to the fridge, only the kitchen counter between you and the boy who broke your heart. And is now inquiring about your relationship status out of the blue. As if that's any of his concern now. Still, you're basically backed into a corner with Jisung blocking the only exit. Fight or flight and well, the escape route is blocked so...

"Huh, where is this coming from? Why do you even care?" You basically throw the words at Jisung with more rage than you even realised you had. Or maybe it's sadness. Frustration. It's the first time you've actually spoken to him since the confession and he has nothing better to do than making assumptions about you dating someone else. Jisung actually recoils a little, but he's still in the way.

"You know, you're clinging to his side the whole time and all that. I'm not judging, I'd be happy for you if... you know", he raises his hands while talking as if to calm a wild animal. Or a panicked pet that managed to escape from its cage somehow. And the worst thing is that he actually seems to mean it. He doesn't even see how his words might be hurtful to you. He doesn't even think that there might be something wrong with it. Your first notion about how he intends to handle this situation was right apparently. He thinks this meant nothing. And that it will all be forgive forget and we'll laugh about it in a few weeks.

"You broke my damn heart not even three weeks ago and now you think I'm trying to hit it off with your best friend? What the hell, Jisung? Do you really take me for that kind of person? Do you think after everything I said to you I could just move on and find someone else in just a few weeks? Do you think that this is how I treat other people? That this is how I treat my own emotions? Because I'm really serious about what I feel and I don't just tell people that I like them if I don't actually mean it. But if that's what you honestly think of me then I'm starting to wonder why I ever even liked you in the first place!"

You push past a completely stunned Jisung before he can manage to bounce back from the verbal punch you just dealt. Good. You probably wouldn't be able to deal with any more of this. You stumble into Felix on your way through the hallway and he gives you a slightly confused slightly concerned look seeing how you are clearly worked up and probably close to tears.

"Hey, what's going on?", he asks, grabbing you by the wrist gently, but with just enough force to make you stop in your tracks.

"I'm going to leave. I'm sorry", you mumble. You avoid looking directly at him, worrying that the compassion in his eyes would be enough to break you completely. And you don't really want to start crying here. It's not you're party so sadly you can't cry if you want to.

"Did something happen? I swear if he said anything stupid to you I will kick his ass."

"It's fine I just can't deal with this right now. I'm sorry for spoiling your night."

Felix sighs. "You're not spoiling anything. I get it, it's fine. Take care on your way home. Text me if you want to talk."

He pulls you into a quick hug before letting go off you entirely, allowing you to go and grab your shoes before sneaking out the door.

You haven't even made it around the lock when you hear the loud sounds of fast footsteps catching up to you. Your first instinct is to walk faster, just slightly, not running just speedwalking. All possessions clutched tightly, tight grip on your keys. Then you hear the voice calling out to you and maybe running isn't that bad of an idea after all.

"Hey, stop, I just want to talk to you!" Jisung sounds out of breath already. He must have run all the way just to catch up. As if he hasn't already said enough. You stop and turn around to yell back at him.

"If the others told you to go after me and apologise you can save your breath. I don't want to hear about it."

Jisung slows down a bit, trying to catch his breath, but he doesn't stop walking towards you.

"It's not that at all", he shouts. Almost automatically you start glancing around yourself for any random passerby listening in on the conversation before you turn back to Jisung. By then he has come close enough to speak in a normal volume. No more shouting needed. And you still didn't run away. "Please, I just want to talk", he says.

You look around yourself again before you let out a sigh. "Fine, then let's go somewhere and talk. The last thing I want to do right now is causing a scene."

Jisung sets down his tray on the table between you. He's got himself some fries and a strawberry milkshake. Because he insisted that you had to at least get something if you were going to lother around and block a table. He also offered to get you something, even said he'd pay for it. But you've turned him down. You just want to get this over with as quickly as possible.

"So, what did you want to talk about?", you ask impatiently, after Jisung has fumbled around with the lid of his milkshake for a while because he forgot to get himself a straw. He looks up at you with an almost bashful expression.

"It's just... I'm really sorry. About earlier. I shouldn't have said that. That was stupid of me." He seems to mean it. Even though you're not sure whether he has actually realised his mistake or if he just feels bad for offending you. But in either way, his apology is genuine. And yet, you can't really get yourself to forgive him that easily.

"Is that it?", you ask. Seeing Jisung's hurt expression you want to take it back immediately. But you won't get anywhere if you just back down every time someone gets uncomfortable. It's just the way feelings work. Someone will get hurt. And it has never been about trying to avoid that hurt, it's about learning to deal with it. Learning to cope and to talk it out and to make it go away again. Maybe it's time for that now.

"I just, and I know this must sound super silly to you, I got so jealous seeing you with Felix earlier. And it was stupid of me to accuse you like this. But for a moment I was afraid that you actually moved on that fast. Because I didn't want you to. And I know that's selfish, but I wanted you to still be into me."

You let out an annoyed huff to let Jisung know that this is in fact very much selfish and not really helping his case right now, but he doesn't let it discourage him from speaking.

"Because I like you too. And I didn't realise how much until I didn't have you around me anymore. And when I saw you with someone else I just kinda lost it completely. I can't bear to lose you."

Instead of replying you reach out a hand and snatch one of Jisung's fries.

"Hey!", he complains as you dip the fry you just stole from him into his milkshake, making sure to scrape up as much of it as the tiny piece of burnt potato can hold.

"Shush, let me have this", you say, popping the loaded fry into your mouth. You catch Jisung's gaze and suddenly both of you are smiling. And then you're laughing. And it's as if a weight has been lifted off your chest. You haven't felt this free in weeks. But of course, the moment doesn't last and the two of you quickly fall back into an awkward silence. Yet you're also not done talking. And there are some things you need to say now or you will maybe never be able to say them at all.

"You know, I'm still really hurt and as much as I'd like to just say that I still like you as well and pretend like everything is alright now, I just can't."

"I get that. And as I've said before, I'm really sorry. I was stupid back then and I didn't realise how much you meant to me until you weren't around anymore. It's like I took you for granted. And I shouldn't have. I swear, if I could turn back time I would. If I could go back to the day you confessed to me I would tell you that I feel the same about you."

"You can't though. We can't replay that scene, it's over." And the script you wrote for it in your mind is torn to shreds and thrown away.

"How about a new scene then?", Jisung suggests. You raise one eyebrow at him, trying to give him a questioning look but he just grins at you. "Let's start again right here." He stretches his arms out as if to point to the place around him. At this time of night, the fast-food shop isn't really full, but it isn't empty either. It's filled with a weird mixture of businessmen who just want to get a single black coffee-to-go and groups of young people that are between slightly tipsy and straight-up high lining up to order insane amounts of fries and cheap burgers with too much sauce. The place is kinda dirty, there are still crumbs on your table from who knows what time of day, a mustard stain on the chair next to yours. The air smells greasy and some annoying pop song is playing from a speaker that must be rather close to you and still you can't locate it precisely.

"Jisung, I don't think-" But he doesn't let you finish. Instead, he reaches out and grabs your hand.

"Listen, I really like you. Because you're cute and funny and beautiful. And you have such a good way with words, you made me the most beautiful confession I have ever heard and I was so flattered to hear all of that from something as wonderful as yourself. And having you as my friend is one of the best things that has ever happened to me. Because you add so much to my life, I feel like I could never get bored with you. And I like that you're weird, I like that you dip your fries into ice cream and milkshakes and how you sometimes just stare into thin air as if you're somewhere completely different. And sometimes you're really quiet as if you're stuck in your head, but I still like you then. Because you're dreamy and sort of weird and just such an amazing person to be around. And I'm sorry that I took you for granted. Could you find it in your heart to forgive me? I'm not asking you to just date me right away after I hurt you like this. All I'm asking is that we can try again. And if you ever want to make that confession again I promise I'll respond properly."

It's weird. This is nothing like you imagined it. The setting is far from romantic, the mood far from perfect. No one would write a script like that. But that has always been the thing that makes Jisung so attractive to you. He breaks the script. He doesn't need one. He just says whatever he thinks. Whatever he feels. He's so genuine. So easy to make you forget about all your overthinking. Put the script aside and just watch how things will play out.

"I accept your apology", you mumble. With your thumb, you draw a tiny circle onto the back of Jisung's hand and he gently squeezes yours back. "I'm ready to try again."

#stray kids #stray kids fluff #stray kids scenario #stray kids x reader #han jisung #han #jisung #han x reader #jisung x reader #han fluff #han scenarios #scenario #fluff #angst #friends to lovers

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wu-sisyphus-gang · 4 years

Text

Motion Sickness: I Let you Die II

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GaiLong was comfortable after sleeping in Shion. Sure, sleeping in some hundred-year-old ghost town was eerie on it's own, but not as eerie as seeing all the newly stray cats and dogs with collars who managed to survive. They tried to put their lives together the morning after everyone died in the wreckage.

Yes, we did cut the collars off every single one we saw.

We were welcomed back to GaiLong too. I had been worried a little about how we would be received with the news, but it seemed to be nothing but paranoia on my end. The village leader, Lai Beihfing, was more than willing to sit down and work with us, though. He had seemed content to think that our alibi of staying with them for the past few weeks was enough evidence to be assured we weren’t in on some conspiracy.

He sent out riders by horseback to the surrounding villages, but he quickly monopolized my time. I wanted to leave to hunt the bandits, too, but…

“Surely you’ll agree that if all of you leave, we would be just as defenseless as Shion would.”

“If we encounter the enemy or whatever Grimm left that print, I need all hands-on deck,” I disagreed. Maybe I was paranoid, but if Beihfing-Tono didn’t believe us entirely, then having half as many of us here would also decrease our effectiveness if we tried some trojan horse-shit.

“You said you would have fled if the beast returned to Shion.” He returned. “Doesn’t that imply your strategy was to retreat from it anyways?”

“Only if I thought I couldn’t beat it, which I definitely can’t with half my team.” I returned. “If half of us die then we definitely can’t kill it and there are also the bandits.”

“Who could then attack while you are gone. We couldn’t possibly fight them off without your help and without the presence of at least some of you, I am worried that the news may cause a panic.” The nail in the coffin, for me, really. “And we should not assume my riders will return with good news either.”

It was a win-win for him and his village, and it wasn’t a gamble he could afford to take, whether I was telling the truth or not, he needed some of us here, preferably more than one of us. It wasn’t one I could afford to either. “Arc-san please. You must see reason.”

“I-” I sighed and shook my head, “I didn’t disagree with you from the start, sir.”

The Beihjing-Tono, reclined slightly and looked beyond and behind me. “Please, won’t you give us the room?” His own guards nodded and gestured for my friends to file towards the door. “You three are more than welcome to return to the inn.” Ruby hesitated and though she did lift her hand from my shoulder.

It was sort of implied that he would pay for our room and board while we hunted his enemies, especially now that I had my new weapon. Not just to pay us but also… well… if the bandits could kill them all, then so could we. Plus, if we were telling the truth we could just leave, and they would be fucked.

It worked both ways, though, the timing of me getting my weapon, communications going down, and Shion’s destruction was all super suspicious on our end, too.

The fact was we both sort of had each other by the balls and neither of us really wanted to do any more squeezing than was necessary.

I turned and nodded to Ruby, “it won’t take us long. We just need to hammer out the details.”

She nodded, but I knew she wouldn’t let it go. She’d want those details later.

Well, I figured she’d probably want details on other stuff she wasn’t pushing super hard on now either, but it was really time to stop thinking about her as she was walking away from me. Her legs looked really good in those tights and you could see her hourglass figure from behind in that tight corset. But it was really time to stop thinking about Ruby's legs, you fucking idiot.

I pretended like I made myself focus and it wasn’t when she shut the door. I was the boss. The boss, the boss, the boss, the boss.

When I turned around it was to the sight of GaiLong’s principle face pouring two cups of tea. He offered one to me even as he poured it and it struck me how tired he looked.

Panic, bandits, Grimm, and no communication with Vale, Atlas, or Mistral, further, Beihjing-Tono wasn’t exactly having a good day either. The village had no back up military-wise and no capital I could even take with me, let alone valuable enough to me that would really be worth risking their lives.

He probably had friends in Shion, too.

And he was now going to have to rely on the fact I wasn’t a total scum bag or people would die in his streets.

It probably hadn’t been like this in almost a century, since the towers went up. It seemed nearly as far away ago as the construction of the first pyramids, since feudalistic Mistral. Not so long that the system had collapsed entirely.

“You agree you have to leave half yourselves here.”

“Yes.” I took a long drink. “But I do think I need every one of them to kill it. Maybe some of your men, too. I don’t know how to kill it, I haven’t seen it yet, but it looks very big and possibly intelligent.” I hesitated. “It might be old, too.”

“We should prepare, the Grimm will come here first, no?” It was true. It doesn’t matter how tightlipped you think your men are this place is too small. They’ll talk to their wives and children and more. “We must assume we are the first to know and thus, the most likely to experience the greatest change in happiness over the next few days. If it was as close to Shion and as you say, it will feel us. Do you agree master huntsman?”

“We’ll have to wait a few days at least,” I agreed. “My friend’s semblance lets him suppress an area from their senses, its better with fewer people but with such a small village it should help. It’ll help people stay calm, too.”

“What will you do then?”

“That depends entirely on what news your men bring back, doesn’t it?” I asked. “What should we do if your men bring back news that Shion wasn’t the only place destroyed?”

“We shall discuss that if and only if it comes up.” He’d been a little relaxed before but to my eyes he grew more cautious of me. “Arc-San, I am sure the destruction you experienced at Beacon was traumatizing but if a Grimm with such might has been in the area for years and destroyed villages with such ease, I would know it. After the first few days the bandits shall be the greatest threat. Once you eliminate them the danger will pass, and you can return to your journey.”

I bit my tongue. He didn’t want me here any longer than I had to be. Didn’t trust me enough, maybe. He thought I was in with the bandits, it would be a reasonable way to try and consolidate power in the area. I just had to invent some imaginary threat that only I could stop, and I needed all the villages around to give me whatever I wanted to do it.

I hesitated, I wanted him to strongly consider it now. I wanted to have a plan in case the villages around were destroyed too but…

“I strongly encourage you to reconsider.” I pleaded.

“I am not evacuating, I cannot consider it and you cannot pretend to be able to protect us no matter where we go.”

What? Did he think I was an idiot?

“I… I never was considering evacuating…” There was another plan too, an obvious one. “Sir, I have another idea, one I’m not sure anyone else needs to know about.” I watched him set his tea down, slowly. “I’m assuming that you don’t have a prison, even if we do catch the bandits…”

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So, I realize that what I was about to do may as well be murder if I pulled it off. Yeah, I was still calling it outlaw justice with a thousand justifications if anyone called me on it but wasn’t that sort of the plan with Cinder and her shmucks anyways?

It was complicated but calling something ‘outlaw-justice’ when I was contemplating how to kill people seemed really hollow. Maybe it is the right thing to do. I’m even convinced it is, but I am even more convinced that not everyone will see it that way.

The Grimm needed to be drawn away and any of the bandits who had aura could not be allowed to escape and kill again.

I’m no mathematician but I see some ways I could cancel things out.

I glanced across my team’s faces and I reasonably guessed who I could sell what when and how.

“We’re staying for a few days.” I met Ren’s eyes and started nodding. “We’re making everybody feel calm and going on patrols. Spending some time here. I have our board from the mayor and we’re just waiting for the riders to come back.”

“Should we start now?” Nora asked.

I nodded. We’d talked about it along the way. We already planned to do ‘patrols,’ i.e. find dinner, in town and be seen. However, Ren could just calm down everybody he passed through walls and over fences and the combination of the two should help. He couldn’t do everyone, well, not at once, he could do something like ten to fifteen meters depending so there wasn’t anywhere in town that he couldn’t reach and calm down.

He rose with Nora to set about.

Then it was Ruby and I.

Which also led to the problem of how I’d sell Ruby leaving the bandits to die somewhere or cutting them down.

Nora I could trick. Ren I could convince. But I’d need to somehow evade Ruby to get it done. Outlaw justice wasn’t going to fly with her. It just wasn’t. If I tried to launch it, she’d shoot it down and then maybe, she’d shoot me, too.

Bam, bam.

I had to go because who else would kill them, and Ren probably had to stay here, and the implicit understanding so far had been any splitting-up would be done partner-wise. Changing that now would be suspicious.

Well. I could and would have to change that over the next few days or find something else. I really was looking. It wasn’t like I had my heart set on lying to Ruby per se. Or even on killing the bandits or Cind-well, let’s not get crazy.

The bandits, though, I was open to ideas.

I still thought the mayor was wrong about the Grimm, too. How could he sleep at night with such a creature right next door? I suppose the same way he had the night before.

“So how did it really go?” She wondered.

I sighed. Feeling her arms wrap barely above my waist. “Pretty much like that. We have some other plans, but we need to know more.”

“Like what type of Grimm, it is?” Ruby hesitated. “It’s a Nuckelavee.”

I blinked. “Wh-What else can you tell me about it?” I whipped around. “Ruby what the fu-”

“I didn’t know either, alright!” She snapped right back her hand somehow stung through all my armor despite that she was in her PJs.

They were the same as the old ones and they didn’t fit well anymore. She was taller and her legs were longer than they had been. She also just didn’t have the frame she used to. Her chest was bigger and she had wider hips. It made the place below her ribs thin and gave her a supermodel hourglass shape.

I was trying hard not look at her. In the dark it was one thing, but…

“Alright, alright, alright.” I pleaded. “I’m sorry.” I turned and sat on the bed. I was frustrated but that was really no excuse at all. What was I? A barbarian? I spat out a long breath. “Please, where and how?”

“Nora told me; what it was called, I mean. She told me that Ren told her once, but that she doesn’t know any more. Ren does, though. He didn’t tell you, then?”

She threw out her arms and paced about the low-lit room. There was enough room to pace from the small sofa, to the small bathroom. Just enough for her to get all the pacing she needed done. I’d maybe been hypnotized by it once or twice.

They’d given us two rooms again, which was nice of them. They were low, but they were warm, and their walls were built as inexpensive as possible from the dark woods around them. I mean they had other wall stuff done to them, too.

I wasn’t I wall guy and I had better things to think about when she turned around, walked over, and handed me a cardboard box that had the logo, warmth, and weight of restaurant food. “Ren ordered it for you, said you probably wouldn’t mind anything so… We can get something else if you don’t like it. I’m sure it’ll get eaten.”

It was a large sandwitch with fries. I was pretty sure about its ultimate fate as well.

“I’ll uh, thanks.” I stuttered off.

She turned and sat on the bed next to me with a plop as I tucked in. “Sorry, we didn’t wait for you, but we sort of figured.”

I nodded.

“Nora was talking to me about it earlier, she said Ren’s been quiet, not sure how she can really tell.”

“He has.” I agreed. Why didn’t he tell me about the Grimm?

“You can tell too? Is it just me? Ugh.” She flopped backwards. Her exposed stomach was- well-exposed. As in I could see it. I was trying to stop, too, but it really wasn’t working well. She had abdominal outlines around her navel and the way her sides ran down to her pants was just-

“-you know?”

I moved the box across my lap and chewed hard.

“-Jaune?” She sat up. “You looked like you were thinking hard.” Incorrect, Rubes. “You figure something out?”

“Huh?”

“About Ren.”

“Ren?” I wondered. “Oh yeah. Yeah, I’ll talk to him later.”

“You think he’ll talk to you?” She raised an eyebrow. “When he’s not talking to Nora? You have absolutely lost your mind.”

“Maybe.”

I had an angle, I wasn’t really even sure what it was yet but maybe if Ren wasn’t his usual self…

“Hey.”

“Huh.”

“Don’t you want to change?”

I was still in the clothes I’d marched all day in, not to mention armor, by necessity I’d had to leave the sword by the door. It was one of those two meter-and-change sword things. I eyed it now. “I was going to go practice some.”

“Nope.”

“Nope?” I asked. I couldn’t help the smile that ran across my face.

“Nope.”

“Why nope, now?”

“Because you were up late last night doing it, and up early this morning doing it, and you did the same thing the day before. And don’t think we haven’t noticed you not even trying to sleep during Ren’s shift. We have. We’ve noticed a lot.”

“Who is we.”

“Uh, the rest of us.”

“You guys talking about me in here?”

“Well duh, what else would we talk about.”

I laughed. “Well it would be pretty arrogant of me to-“

“We’re worried about you.” She glared, her eyes glimmered at me even as she rolled over so I couldn’t see her face. “You butt.”

“Ruby-“

“You haven’t been the same since Beacon. You’re just… it’s like Ren, now, but all the time and every time someone tries to talk to you keep them out.” I watched her pull the covers around her even tighter. “Even me.”

Her red face peaked out and I met her wet eyes. I took the deepest breath I thought I could manage. “Ruby you’re being unfair.”

She lost the battle against her angry tears and the first one fell. It was closely followed by the second. She wiped them away with the sheets of the bed with a fervor that left a red streak across her face.

“I don’t mean with-like-Pyrrha.” I managed. She must have gotten the sense that I really was trying because her angry tears stopped for a moment and she just stared at me. “Come on. I was never going to be the same again. You haven’t been, either, since you saw her die.”

“I told you I hardly even remember what happened at the top of-“

“I know.” I pleaded. “I meant Penny.”

She looked away again, but I reached out and grabbed her hand. “I was never going to be like I was before Pyrrha died. How could I go back?” The headmaster’s machine beneath the school and the scarred girl in the pod were burned into my mind forever. Nothing could be the same again.

“Well… you know you can talk to me about it.” She crawled across the bed and wrapped her arms around my neck. My stomach was too tight for me to eat anything, so I set my food on the nightstand between the two beds. I could smell, well, her. I couldn’t pin the scent down besides ‘rose’ in a lot of unhelpful ways. It was clean, though, and gentle. Maybe a bit like cinnamon and sugar.

“I’m trying.” I continued. “It’s really hard. I didn’t get to sort out what I felt for her, if anything. And her feelings really just...” I shook my head. “God, listen to me complain like I was the one who fucking died.”

“You’re allowed to feel things you know.”

“I really don’t know what I feel, though.”

“What about me?” Her voice came quietly into my ear and I simultaneously relaxed and tensed in her arms. She seemed ready for it. She always seemed to be able to do that with people. Tonight, wasn’t the first time she seemed to know what I was feeling before I did.

I felt like laughing. “I feel guilty just looking at you.”

Is that all? She didn’t say it. She just rubbed her hands across my chest for a long moment. She knew it wasn’t though. Too many late-night talks between shifts and time on the road. Too much before that, too. In a lot of ways. “Jaune things will never be convenient but I...” I turned my head and suddenly we were centimeters away. “I want to help you move on.”

“I never started anything with her. Never got to.” I wondered.

“Jaune you don’t treat me like her.” She insisted. “You’re not replacing her with me.”

My voice was tight. “It feels like it, sometimes.” I rubbed my face hard with one hand. “Ruby I-“ I tried to tell her. I looked into her eyes and saw how emotional she was. I wondered if I could feel even a tenth of it.

“If you feel like you’re replacing me with her you can talk to me about that, too.”

She brought my head forward in the cradle of her arms and kissed me.

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-WG

#motion sickness #lancaster rwby #whiteknight #lancaster #rwby #ff7 #ffvii #cloud strife #ruby rose #jaune arc #war of the roses

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bytheangell · 5 years

Text

Second Chances at First Impressions

(Read on AO3) Square Filled: First Date // Ship: Clace // Rating: General // Tags: Christmas fluff, first dates, holidays, Post-Canon Summary: Not wanting Clary to be left alone for the holiday, Jace invites her to spend it with his family - and Clary feels right at home though she doesn't know why her time with the Lightwoods feels so natural. Created for @shadowhunterbingo

—

It’s a dating auction for charity, but with a twist: several of the art classes at the local college are auctioning off paintings - and whoever wins the painting also wins a coffee ‘date’ with the artist after the auction. Obviously, as no genders or appearances will be known, it’s set up as less of a date-date and more of a chance to meet and talk with someone new.

Jace has no way of knowing whether Clary’s even going to participate, but he’s willing to gamble on yes as he situates himself in the audience looking spectacularly out of place for an art auction in his ripped jeans and leather jacket. Clary’s never turned down the chance to help people, he can’t imagine she’d stop now.

He’s right. The moment the 9th painting is brought out he knows that it’s hers - he’s been going to her exhibits, watching the evolution of her work. He may not know much about art in general but he knows a lot about Clary’s art - her use of colors to give hints at scenes just beyond the canvas, the way the brush strokes grow thicker and the colors more prominent where her emotions take over and she gets a little too into the work, a little too heavy-handed.

He wins the auction after a very strenuous back-and-forth with a middle-aged woman, and has to act surprised when he’s brought over to ‘meet’ the artist.

“You again!” Clary says, smiling. “Jace, right?”

“You remembered, I’m touched,” Jace says, smiling with just the right amount of teasing.

“Yeah, well, it isn’t often someone runs away from me at my own exhibition,” Clary points out, joking just as easily.

“No running away this time, you’re stuck with me for an entire coffee,” Jace promises, motioning for her to lead the way out. “Java Jones?”

“That’s my favorite! How did you know?” Clary asks.

“I didn’t. That just happens to be my favorite,” he covers quickly.

“Huh,” Clary muses, but doesn’t comment on it any further than that. Instead they chat, about the crazy up and down temperatures lately, about Clary’s classes, about Jace’s work. He freezes for only a second before deciding on a whim to say it’s training in, and teaching, various forms of martial arts... which isn’t entirely off base.

Soon they start talking about Clary’s artwork, and once Clary starts she doesn’t stop. Jace listens with his entire focus on her, asking questions and commenting here and there. He starts one too many sentences with “This girl I knew used to-” for everything he has to add, because everything he knows about art he learned from watching her during her time at the Institute, not that he can tell her that.

The hour they’re scheduled for flies by, and the next thing they know it’s been two hours, three drink refills, and they’re still talking when the barrista comes around to warn them they’re about to close.

“Oh my goodness,” Clary says, looking at the clock on the wall. “I can’t believe I kept you here so long, I didn’t realize how late it was!”

Jace smiles and shakes his head. “I wasn’t exactly trying to leave, you know,” he points out.

And it’s true. Even without having the Shadow World to talk about, it’s like falling back into stride with an old friend talking with Clary, where everything is so much easier than he ever expected. It’s a blessing and a curse because as nice as their conversation was he knows this is only for the night, and once he walks out of here she’ll probably never speak to him again.

“I think I’m just starved for company this week. Everyone else went home for break, I think I’m the only one left on campus,” she says, trying to laugh off the statement though he can tell she’s at least a little bothered by it.

He almost asks why she stayed behind when he remembers - she doesn’t have anywhere else to go for the holidays.

His heart breaks, and before he can think twice the words are tumbling out of his mouth.

“Why don’t you spend Christmas with me?”

“What?” Clary asks, clearly surprised by the offer.

“I mean, not just me. My family. It isn’t anything big but you’re more than welcome. What’s that saying? There’s always room for one more?” Jace ignores the voice in the back of his head telling him how terrible of an idea this is, especially when he catches the hint of

“I couldn’t. I barely know you-” Clary starts, but Jace cuts her off before she can completely turn the offer down.

“Really, it wouldn’t be a problem at all. My mom always makes way too much food, and my brother’s husband makes the most amazing cocktails. And I have this feeling you’ll get along really well with all of them. In fact, right now I’m the only one not bringing someone along, so you’d be doing me a favor.” Jace pauses, realizing how that might sound. “Just as friends. And if you hate it you can turn around and leave. What do you have to lose?”

He knows he might be trying a little too hard to get her to agree, but he can’t imagine a scenario where he walks away from her right now to leave her entirely alone for the next two days heating up Christmas dinner in a dorm microwave, or eating alone at a diner.

Clary considers the offer for a very long minute or two before sighing. “I guess it couldn’t hurt. But if it’s awkward you have to cover for me leaving early.” “Deal,” Jace agrees immediately, pulling out his phone. “Give me your number and I’ll text you the address.”

She does, putting her name in as ‘Clary’ with a little paintbrush icon. Jace immediately sends her a text with Maryse’s address.

“I’ll see you then,” he says, resisting the urge to hug her goodbye. He doesn’t want to push his luck, and he wants to make sure she’s comfortable enough to follow through on the offer in two days.

To his surprise, Clary’s the one who takes one step to leave, stops, and turns back to wrap her arms around his middle for just a few seconds.

“Thank you, Jace,” she says as she pulls away, and this time doesn’t look back.

---

They do breakfast and presents with Simon and Luke who both leave before Clary is due to arrive. As far as Jace could figure out from his time with Clary, her memories of the two of them were altered in a way similar to Simon’s mother’s, so it wouldn’t do to have her completely blindsided walking into a room with the two of them. It’s enough of a risk with the rest of the Lightwoods and Lightwood-Banes - something Alec brings up one last time.

“Are you sure this is a good idea?” Alec asks.

“It’ll be fine. We just can’t let the wrong things slip out… we did it once before, you all managed that dinner with Charlie,” Izzy reminds him.

“Does Clary think we’re jewelers too, then?” Alec asks with a slight smirk.

“You can do whatever you want. I’m a martial arts instructor,” Jace reminds him.

“Of course you are, blondie,” Magnus says, walking over with a drink in hand. “But Isabelle’s right. I’m sure we’ll be fine.” He doesn’t bring back up the contingency plan of being able to wipe this day from her mind and send her on her way if it backfires spectacularly, because Jace hates the idea and only bristles and insists they won’t need that.

“Better than leaving the poor girl alone for the holidays,” Maryse agrees.

“She might not even show. I mean, it’s a weird offer from a guy she only spoke to twice,” Jace points out. And when it hits ten, and then twenty minutes past the point Jace told Clary to come over they’re pretty sure she decided just that.

Until the doorbell rings.

Jace goes to answer it, beaming when he sees Clary in the hallway holding up a bottle of wine.

“Happy Holidays,” she says. “I hope this is alright. I didn’t want to bring nothing, but I didn’t know what anyone liked…”

“It’s lovely,” Maryse says, coming up behind Jace. “Come inside, take your coat off, dear. I’m Maryse, by the way. We’re so glad you decided to come.”

“Thank you for having me,” Clary says. “I’m Clary.”

Jace watches Clary’s eyes dart around the room, taking in the number of people she doesn’t know and swallowing back a moment of nervousness. Jace wonders if maybe this is too much for her - perhaps he should’ve arranged to do something with just her rather than expose her to all of the Lightwoods all at once.

But a moment later Izzy is bounding over with a bright smile. “I’m Izzy! So glad you could make it! I’m tired of being outnumbered by all the guys here,” she whispers conspiratorially to Clary who laughs and allows herself to be led off to grab a drink.

It’s roughly half an hour later, with Izzy making her way quickly across the living room to grab something from her bag, when Maryse says, “I don’t know how you manage those heels on this carpeting.”

“There’s nothing she can’t do in heels,” Clary chimes in, and Izzy and Jace share a look. Clary doesn’t even seem to realize she said it, turning right back to whatever she’d been discussing previously.

It isn’t the only time it happens, either. Magnus calls her ‘Biscuit’ and Clary only smiles and says, “It’s been a while since anyone called me that.” Another time she brings up archery to Alec.

“How did you know I shoot?” Alec asks slowly, eyebrow raised.

“What? Oh. Jace must’ve mentioned it over coffee,” Clary says with a shrug. Alec looks over at Jace who only shakes his head slowly.

Jace isn’t sure if it’s good or bad that Clary remembers more about them than just his name, but he’s certain that she has no idea she’s even doing it. Dinner is full of laughter and stories with just as much attention paid to Clary as to anyone else at the table, possibly more so as everyone - even Alec - goes out of their way to make sure she’s comfortable. They sit next to one another at the table, and more than once he catches himself getting lost watching her laugh over something Magnus said or blush over a compliment from Izzy. He also catches her staring at him a few times, too, though she’s always quick to look away once he does.

Refusing to get his hopes up Jace does his best not to read into those little moments. He did invite her here as just friends, after all, and he’s sticking to it - if he can keep Clary in his life, even just as a casual acquaintance, it’s better than the total lack of her he suffered the past year. It’d have to be enough, and he’s determined not to scare her away and ruin even that.

“I hope I didn’t impose too much,” Clary says at the end of the night.

“Not at all, Clary,” Maryse promises.

“In fact, we lost a good friend last year who you remind me a lot of… it was nice to have that energy around again,” Magnus adds, earning himself a warning glare from Alec which he pretends not to see.

“Oh, and it’s started to snow! ” Izzy announces from the window, turning around with a smile before Clary can read too much into Magnus’ comment and before the mood grows too somber. “We haven’t had a white Christmas since we were kids!”

“Let me walk you back,” Jace offers, and Clary looks like she might argue for just a moment before giving him a small nod.

“Alright,” she agrees, grabbing her coat and saying quick round of goodbyes to everyone before the two of them are out the door and on the snowy street below. It takes every bit of restraint Jace has within himself to not reach over to grab her hand as they walk, or move closer as they walk. He misses this.

“I know I said it before, but thank you again for inviting me. Everyone was so welcoming, and honestly? I felt so comfortable around your family, like I’ve known them for months, not hours.” Clary says with a happy sigh.

“Yeah, I know the feeling,” Jace says.

Once they’re back at Clary’s dorm Jace hesitates. There’s so much he wants to say but he’s afraid of scaring her away, of being too much too soon, that he’ll come across as too eager to have her back in his life for someone who should, as far as she knows, barely know her.

Before he can say anything, still trying to figure out how to ask to see her again as casually as possible, Clary speaks first.

“I know you said this was just as friends,” Clary says, carefully avoiding his gaze as she talks. “But… I wouldn’t mind if it was more. Unless I’m totally misreading this and you were just being nice, which is totally fine-”

“Do I get to answer?” Jace cuts her off, unable to keep the smirk from his face. “Because I think this was a perfect first date.”

Clary relaxes at his words, smiling back. “Me too. Well, almost perfect,” she adds, taking a step closer to him.

Jace closes the rest of the distance between them, their lips meeting amidst a flurry of snowflakes. There’s an immediate warmth between them, the spark of a connection that’s still there. He doesn’t have to wonder if Clary can feel it too - he feels her gasp against his lips at the spark between them, so intense it’s palpable, just like that moment in the alley the night of her exhibit.

“What-” she starts, but the words trail off. He knows she can feel it, their past just beneath the surface, but not enough to put words to it. Instead she falls contemplatively silent again instead.

“Setting the bar pretty high for a first date, aren’t we?” Jace observes.

“I don’t think it’ll be a problem,” Clary counters, leaning up for another kiss, this time bringing her arms around his waist to pull him closer. “After all, this wasn’t even supposed to be a date - we weren’t even trying.”

“Speak for yourself,” Jace says with a huff, and finds himself rewarded with a laugh Clary tries, and fails, to hide behind the hand she brings up to her mouth. “But you’re right. With a little planning I think I can arrange for us to go ice skating next time.”

“I used to ice skate all the time when I was little,” Clary says with a soft smile. “I haven’t been in years, though. I’d love that.”

It’s obvious neither of them want to be the one to walk away first but as the snow continues to fall and the temperature drops they finally part ways with the promise to make plans again soon.

Jace’s phone buzzes almost as soon as the door shuts behind Clary.

Clary: Too soon to make those plans?

And with a smile he wastes no time in replying:

Jace: Free tomorrow?

He already knows so much about her he doesn’t like lying to go along with this ‘first date’ label, acting like he doesn’t love her with everything he has and then some, but it isn’t like he can tell her. All he can do is start over and hope the pieces fall into place the way they’re meant to - the way they did once before and hopefully will again. Angels be damned, Jace thought their happy ending was lost forever, but now?

Now that he has his second chance he isn’t going to let another second go by without Clary in his life.

#clace #clary fray #jace herondale #shadowhunters #ShadowhunterBingo #alec lightwood #magnus bane #isabelle lightwood #maryse lightwood #long post

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doof-doofblog · 4 years

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"Make Your Choice!"

Thursday 19th November 2020

Hello again everyone, my apologise for being so late at putting this post up, once again this weekend I have been away from my TV and my laptop/computer that I've not had chance to watch EastEnders up until now. This post will be reviewing from where I left off and will be following Thursday's episode. I'm hoping through-out this week I'll be able to catch up before next week. Let's not waste any time and get stuck in.

The episode begins pretty much where the last episode cut off, Callum has caught up with Kush after he legged it away from police after being confronted about the robbery. Kush is begging for Callum to let him go, even threatening the fact that if he doesn't let him leave, he will drop both Ben and Phil in on it. Callum looks as if he's battling so many demons, he's clearly battling to either follow his role as a police officer or follow his heart and protect his boyfriend. As DI Thompson calls in on Callum's radio, Callum informs him that he has located Kush, Callum is then under strict instructions to not let him leave the building. But Kush eventually realises that Callum knew that Ben and Phil were taking part in this burglary, and that's why Ben got away so quickly, Callum informed him some how. Kush once again tells Callum to move aside, it looks as if Callum hasn't really got a choice as he reluctantly steps to one side to let him pass. As Kush begins to make his final escape, he turns back to Callum and punches him right in the face, and informs him that it has to look convincing. If the police find out that Callum let him go purposely, he will be in big trouble, at least this way it will look like Kush fought his way out.

Returning to the Square, Kim is making herself at home. I have to say it so nice to see her back on the Square, I have been so excited for her return. She's happily informing both Jack and Denise about her tours and how successful she was during her time in Scotland. However as much as they're having to listen to Kim's stories, Jack notices the huge elephant in the room that Denise hasn't yet informed her sister about young Raymond. As Jack makes an excuse to leave so it'll be able to give Denise some time and space to update her sister on recent events, little Raymond makes his way through the living room door. As Denise starts to make a fuss over the young boy, Kim is instantly interested in finding out who the little stranger is, she questions who he is and it's then Denise informs her sister that he is in fact her nephew. Kim's face is in absolute shock!

Meanwhile, back at the Mitchell household, it looks as if Ben and Shirley are waiting nervously for Kat and Phil's return. They suddenly hear commotion coming through the hall when finally they both walk in, but Ben instantly notices that Kush isn't with them. As they continue to argue about Kush, Ben asks the very important question, "Where is Kush?" it's then Phil mentions that he got left behind and has most likely ended up getting arrested. It looks as if Kat is beginning to feel guilty for leaving him there, but as Phil begins to panic about whether Kush will grass them all up to the police, Kat is adamant that Kush wouldn't do that. It's clear to see that everyone is feeling nervous and anxious about what's happened. they're panicking as to what has happened to Kush and also what is going to happen next. Will they have gotten away with this?! Kat informs Phil that if it wasn't for her, he wouldn't have known about the job and not earned a big amount of money, but Phil is quick to insult her and Kush, considering that Shirley drops the information that Kush has a gambling problem. It all comes clear to Phil that Kush wanted to take part in this job for the buzz and the adrenaline of it. As tempers heat, Shirley suggests that Kat waits at home for Kush and for any updates or news on his whereabouts, while they go and show their faces in the Vic. They begin to speculate how the police knew they were there, and possibly who it was who told them, they rule out both Kush and Kat as they all know they wouldn't have gone through with it, just to end up being arrested, but then Shirley named Callum and both Ben and Phil are quick to defend him, informing her that regardless of working for the police, they believe he is completely on their side.

However as they're making this assumption, Callum is heading back to his employees and co-workers. As he stands behind a wall, he overhears them discussing who the potential suspects could be, as DI Thompson is asking for a description of the individuals they saw, they admit that Callum was the officer who had clearer view. Does his DI Thompson know that Callum didn't chase after the car?! Honestly, I'm really interested to see how Callum will worm his way out of this one. Will anyone believe him when he says he didn't see anything?! Something tells me it's going to take a lot of work to convince DI Thompson. Meanwhile, back at the Slater household, Kat has returned home and is eager to get in contact with Kush. She's sat with Stacey as she attempts to call him, but fails to get an answer. Stacey appears to be worrying as she's voices whether Kush has been caught by the police or not, however Kat is quick to defend him and informs her that she still has faith and trust in her boyfriend. But then Stacey feels like she has no choice but to show Kat what she's found, she passes her the laptop and shows her the screen showing all of Kush's gambling information. What is Kat going to do now after he promised her he'd stop?!

At the Vic, Ian is once again going over paperwork for the building, Sharon pops her head from around the corner asking him whether he's okay with paying for the gas and electricity bill. Ian reassures her that he'll sort it. Just then, Ben, Phil and Shirley enter their way into the pub. Ian is visibly surprised to see them, (as of course he was the one who called the police on them, was he expecting them to be arrested?!) - Ian tells Sharon that he will serve them to which Ben sarcastically responds by asking whether it was his attempt of apologising for his actions. However, as he pours his brother a drink, he does admit that earlier in the day they both said things to each other that they didn't mean, but is he really trying to make amends? Or is he simply feeling guilty for grassing up his brother?!

Back at at the Fox's household, Kim is looking livid after finding out about Raymond. It's clear she's feeling devastated that her sister hadn't at least phoned her up to tell her about her recent news. Denise walks in and tries to explain that she was going wait until Raymond had had his therapy and wait for him to feel more settled in before she informed her sister, as she worried it would've been a bit too much for the young boy. Kim is more upset about the fact that Denise had pretty much told everyone except her, which is understandable. As Jack makes his way into the living room, he informs them that Raymond has managed to fall asleep, as he makes his way to leave and give some Kim and Denise some space, Kim voices how frustrated she is about not being able to hold him as a baby after her sister decided to give him up in the first place, but this outburst causes Jack to stop in his tracks and defend Denise. He informs Kim how much Denise has had to sacrifice and how much they have all been through after Raymond came back into her life. Kim seems visibly speechless, Denise thanks Jack for sticking up for her but assures him that everything will be okay if she has time to speak to Kim alone. As Jack leaves the room, Kim apologises for her outburst and admits it was just the shock of it all, eventually she seems a lot more calmer and a lot more cheerful, she reveals she's looking forward to getting to know the young boy, once he feels ready to meet his Auntie. She tries persuade Denise to go after Jack whilst she stays at home and babysits, it's then Denise drops the other bombshell that she and Jack have in fact split up. Do you think Kim might persuade Denise to get back with Jack?!

Back at the Vic, the Mitchells are making themselves cosy and enjoying drinks and a game of darts. Attempting to put on the impression that they've not been up to anything suspicious at all. Only suddenly, DI Thompson enters the Vic as eyes are straight for Ben as he's sat in a booth. Shirley also clocks on to his presence and quickly notifies Phil, subtly. The next few moments had me worried and yet really surprised - DI Thompson then clocks Phil and makes his way to confront him, as he's informing Phil about a supposed car burglary that a known neighbour was caught taking part in, Phil plays dumb and informs the Detective that he knows nothing about the robbery but informs him that he'll keep his ear to the ground if he hears of anything. However, Thompson is quick to mention that he's certain he saw Phil at the scene, even though he has no proof. Phil is quick to question whether he's actually being arrested otherwise he'll have the Detective done for harassment. However, whilst all this confrontation is going on, Sharon is watching discreetly from behind the bar - as Thompson begins to announce Phil's arrest, Sharon is quick to stop him in his tracks, informing Thompson that he's actually wasting his time and breath and quickly makes up a lie that in fact Phil was upstairs in the Vic baby-sitting for her. Now the big question for me is - why would she do that for Phil?! Why would she lie and pretend to be an alibi for him? Is she out to get something in return? Will this be her way of getting something from him through their divorce?! If she becomes his alibi she'll surely want something in return?! As Sharon informs the Detective, he's clearly shocked to hear this information and questions Sharon whether she'd be willing to testify in court if it actually came to that point, which she admitted she would gladly do so. As DI Thompson leaves the Vic, Sharon pulls Phil into the back of the pub for a private word.

Returning to Denise and Kim (I have to be honest, I am loving these scenes with Kim now she's back, and can I also mention how much I love her new hairstyle and colour!) Kim is surprised to hear that is was actually Jack who called their relationship off. But I'm not sure not just Kim, but everyone, can see that Jack is still besotted with Denise and that there is still something there between them. Even the way he stood up to Kim and defended Denise, plus considering the fact he's also paying for Raymond's therapy - and he just wants to keep things between him and Denise as "Friends!" - She explains that Denise needs to make sure she wins Jack back before he gets with somebody else, it's clear that they both have feelings for each other. Kim also makes a very valid point - Raymond - even he can see it. After everything the little boy has been through, he needs stability and a good family unit around him, of course he'll have his Auntie Denise and Patrick, Sheree and Isaac, but maybe Jack and Denise could be exactly what he needs also. She points out the small drawing that young Raymond had done of Denise and Jack and Denise looks at it softly. I do think that Kim is right, I'm hoping Denise will take her sister's advice and try and persuade Jack to rekindle their romance.

Back at the Vic, Ian - of course - is trying to listen in on Phil and Sharon's private conversation. He is stood at the bottom of the stairs whilst Phil and Sharon are on the floor above. Suddenly, Bobby finds his Father behind the Vic and its looking as if the teenager is looking for some parental advice about his charity for his sister. He informs his Dad that he's increasing the age of entries for the award he's giving out, he admits that both Peter and Kathy agree that it's a good idea. I do feel sorry for Bobby at the minute, as for the past couple of weeks, it's as if Ian has showed no interest in his son's charity work for his deceased sister. If he actually was a supportive Dad, he'd do everything in his power to help his son set it up and pull it all off, especially considering he has a lot of business experience. However, instead of listening to his son, Ian seems more interested to what is happening upstairs. He informs Bobby that he'll listen to his ideas another time and heads on upstairs to see what's going on between Phil and Sharon, once again, leaving Bobby extremely disappointed.

(In all honesty, it wouldn't surprise me if it turns out to be Bobby who attacks his Dad at Christmas! #Spoiler)

Back at the Slater's, Kat and Stacey are debating about Kush once again. At first it looks as if Stacey has had enough with Kush and is complaining to her cousin, but as the conversation goes on, it looks as if she's trying to explain to Kat that her boyfriend is in fact an addict. Okay, he may not be addicted to alcohol or drugs, but in hindsight, it's the same thing. He gets a sense of excitement, a buzz, an adrenaline rush whilst gambling, and that is what he's addicted to. Stacey tries her absolute best to explain that everyone has their highs and lows, Kush knows that his addiction has caused so much trouble. Even though Kat is convinced that Kush can give it up whenever he wants, Stacey's not so sure. It's true that Kush may need a little bit of help to overcome his gambling addiction, but he needs to acknowledge that he actually has a problem - Stacey tries to compare it to her bipolar disorder, in the best way to describe to her cousin that everyone's brains are wired differently and there have been so many times when she's been told to just "Snap out of it!" or "Pull yourself together!" - it must be the same for Kush, it's when she mentions this that Kat seems to realise what she's saying. Suddenly they're interrupted by a knock on the front door, Callum's voice can be heard from the hallway and Stacey brings him in. As they enter the kitchen, Kat begins to thank Callum for not dobbing them into the police, unaware that Callum has come with a fellow officer. Suddenly Callum announces that they're looking for Kush as they believe he has something to do with a robbery. Kat and Stacey are quick to defend Kush, informing them that they must have the wrong man, as he wouldn't do something like that. When Callum questions Kat that the robbery took place at a building she works in, she also plays dumb and admits that she's just the cleaner and knows nothing about a burglary. Callum then informs him that if they do hear from Kush, he'll need to get in contact with them urgently.

Returning to the Vic, Ian is STILL trying to ear-wig on Phil and Sharon's conversation. - (How much do you want to bet that he's going to walk in on them kissing or something?!) - As he makes his way into the kitchen, we can see that Sharon and Phil are sat at a table together on opposite ends of the table, needless to say the atmosphere is slightly awkward and yet very silent. Phil announces that his solicitor will be in touch with her and he leaves the room. Ian closes the door behind him and is absolutely dumbfounded with his friend, he questions her actions on giving him a false alibi. Something tells me that they have come up with a mutual agreement, I'm guessing that Sharon has offered Phil an alibi in return for something else - but what?! What have they agreed on? Sharon reveals that the only reason she's given him an alibi was to smooth things over with their divorce. But Ian can't seem to understand why, why would she even care?! He even mentions that she could go prison. But she makes a very interesting point - the only way she would go to prison is if someone let on that it was a lie, now this is where Ian is caught in the middle now really isn't he? - He was the one who called the police, but now it looks as if he didn't expect his childhood friend to give his enemy a false alibi - it seems that if Ian was to tell the police the truth, then he wouldn't just cause Phil to go to prison, but Sharon too. I'm sure he wouldn't do that to his closest friend - would he?!

As Shirley leaves the Vic, she slowly makes her way back to the Atkins household where she's currently staying. As she makes her way up the stairs, she interrupted by a weepy Tina. She tells her to go back home and make things up with her housemates and she'll call her in the morning. However, Tina is teary as she informs her sister that she's been made to move out of the house and she now has no where else to go. Shirley consoles with her younger sister and invites her inside.

On the other side of the Square, Denise has decided to pay Jack a visit. Honestly, this scene also surprised me. I was kind of expecting Denise and Jack and to fall into each other's arms and agree to bring up little Raymond together as a family. However, Denise is quick to tell Jack that they both know that they don't see each other as mates. They mean something far much more to each other right now. Denise then confesses that she actually does love him. Jack seems really happy at her revelation, but just as he's about to embrace her, Denise then drops the bombshell that, for things to be easier for her, himself and little Raymond, maybe it would be best if Jack kept his distance and stays away. Understandably, she's trying to do it for Raymond, as the young boy needs stability. Jack appears absolutely devastated as she passes him the money back that he gave her. He pleads to her for not things to be this way, but even Denise asks him to look her in the eye and say that they're not just mates, because they both know that deep down, they both mean something to one another, they both have feelings for each other - does Jack love Denise in return?! As Denise says her goodbyes she leaves the house almost in floods of tears.

Meanwhile, at the Atkins household, Tina is sound asleep on the sofa. Shirley is sat on the sofa next to hear as Gray makes his way into the living room after hearing Shirley return home. Something tells me that Gray also knows what has been happening as he questions Shirley about the robbery. She reveals to him that not everything went to plan and they only got away with two cars. Gray then notices Tina lying on the sofa, Shirley begs him to let her stay for a while, as she has nowhere else to go after being chucked out of her house, she promises Tina wouldn't be any bother - not so much as an excited Labrador. Gray agrees to let her sleep in the basement, Shirley thanks Gray for the kindness he's showed both her and Tina.

Uh-oh, the next scene gives me a horrible feeling - Ian has decided to pay Suki a visit, she questions him on whether his visit is worth her getting out of bed for. It's then Ian makes a comment, why can't he get what he wants for a change? But seriously, what does he want?! He agrees to help Suki. I might be a bit lost right now, but Suki has it in for the Slater's right? - Who has Ian got it in for?! Ooooh did he know that Kat was in on the robbery?! So, he's going to push Suki's application to get work done on the Slater household in exchange for money?! But what is he going to do with her money?! Something tells me Ian has got it in for Phil more than anyone, but I have no idea what he's going to get out of this arrangement with Suki. The only thing that Ian is going to get, is more enemies, I'm telling you when Christmas comes, there are going to be a long list of suspects as to who attacks Ian, I'm sure of it!

The final scene I found was a bit of a frightening one, I kind of felt scared for Callum. He's sat at the police station writing his own statement about how Kush punched him and fled the scene. Suddenly, DI Thompson makes his way into the room, he is clearly very angry with Callum, he locks the door and turns away every single security camera in the room. Something was telling me that he was going to attack Callum himself. Callum begins to apologise for his mistake but he tries to reassure Thompson that he is doing his best. But Thompson is having none of it, he calls Callum a liar and bangs against the table. He knows full well that he let them all go. Callum once again tries to reassure him that he wouldn't do that and potentially put his job on the line. DI Thompson grabs a chair and gets close to Callum and he gives him a huge ultimatum - he has two weeks to dob Phil into the police, otherwise Ben will go to prison. Now he has definitely been put into a corner, what the heck is poor Callum going to do?! Will he inform his boyfriend and tell him everything that's been happening? Or will he find he'll have no choice but to give Phil to the police?! Who knows?!

I for one am feeling nervous and yet excited for the upcoming episodes. There are so many things happening all at once, it's nuts! Ian is going to become public enemy number one by the way he's going. What is Callum going to do? And where the heck did Kush disappear to?! I apologise once again for this blog being up so late but I hope you'll enjoy reading this as much as I've enjoyed writing it. Thank you for all your support and I'll be back very soon. Love you all xXx

#eastenders #callumhighway #kushkazemi #philmitchell #benmitchell #shirleycarter #katslater #staceyslater #ianbeale #sharonwatts #tinacarter #suki panesar #grayatkins #bobbybeale #dithompson #denisefox #kimfox #jackbranning

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annoyedfanfiction · 5 years

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Security Chief

Pike x fem!reader (1)

“What do you mean he’s been shot?” You didn’t know how your life had come to this. Being Security Chief with a Captain who didn’t know how to stay out of goddamned trouble (you and your sister were the only ones who weren’t at all surprised when Pike appointed the troublemaker he’d enrolled his first officer) had led you through a lot of unexpected and mostly life-threatening situations, but stalking the corridors in your pyjamas wasn’t one you’d done before. “A foreign party hijacked our transporter systems and beamed aboard,” Spock explained, beside you. “The ship has largely been overrun. The force is concentrated on the bridge and the bridge crew has been subdued, including the Captain who was shot due to refusal to submit.” “Refusal to submit,” you scoffed, “That’s just a fancy way of saying ‘doesn’t know when to shut his fucking mouth’.” Spock raised an eyebrow, but did not object to your translation. You peered around the corner of the corridor as you approached the security headquarters, only to find a large barricade, manned by exhausted-looking Gamma shift officers.

“Commander!” one exclaimed, happily, relief flooding her face as you rounded the corner, hands in the air. “Oh thank fuck.” “Leila,” you smiled, ducking under the makeshift barricade where she’d pulled a panel out for you. “Sorry I wasn’t here sooner.” “It’s 2am, (Y/N),” she responded, wryly. “I wouldn’t’ve been here either if I were you.” You laughed, looking around at the faces of the young ensigns and petty officers who served the slump shifts. “We’ve managed to cut them off from the Science labs and medbay, but I haven’t heard much from Engineering.” “Well, if I know one thing about our engineers it’s that they’d take Qo’noS by storm before letting someone else touch their precious ship,” you smiled, easily, tucking a phaser into the waist of your pyjamas. Your knives were safely in their holsters in your boots and on your thighs, where you kept them. “You’ll hold the fort here, right, Ensign?” “Of course, Commander,” Leila answered, instantly. “Where are you going?” “Commander, I would suggest it unwise to attempt to take the bridge singlehandedly,” Spock interjected, calmly. “At least 13 enemy officers beamed aboard.” “Singlehandedly?” you repeated, raising an eyebrow. “Oh no, I’m taking the bridge with her crew, Lieutenant. I’ll be in touch.” You tucked your comm into your waist band and headed towards engineering.

“You want a what?” You thought your Chief Engineer was beyond looking at you like you were insane. “Alright, fine. I’ll make you a smoke bomb if you fetch the Stamets boy down here with his energy mushrooms.” “Aye aye, sir,” you saluted, dodging out of his strike zone with an easy grin. “Don’t mock me, pyjama-girl!” he snapped after you, without heat, as you disappeared into the Jeffries tubes. You had a love-hate relationship with the Jeffries tubes – on one hand, crawling around and spooking people/staying out of sight when assholes took over your ship; on the other, at least three were malfunctioning at any given time and you had to climb out of the wall panels. They did, however, make your trip to the science labs significantly less blood-stained and more efficient, even if you did have to dodge an over-eager phaser shot as you exited the wall.

“Hey!” you complained, glaring at the singed hole in your pyjamas, before turning on your shrinking security officer. “Nice reflexes. Work on it, and next time you might actually take me out and not just burn my pyjamas.” “Sorry ma’am.” He lowered his head, shuffling away. “Take it easy, Grahams,” you soothed, clapping a hand reassuringly down on his shoulder. “Would’ve been a fantastic delay if I was an invader, don’t worry about it.” He gave you a shy, wry smile, and you turned back to the scientists. “I’m going to steal Stamets and his mushrooms now. Apparently Ryan can’t make smoke bombs without him.” “Can’t what?” Stamets questioned, from the back of the room. “I’m going to smoke out the bridge. Grab your mushrooms. Preferably not the ones that release poison when burning.” You paused on your way back to the Jeffries tube. “You’re not claustrophobic are you?” “Spaceships would be complicated if I was.”

“You know, when I pictured a smoke bomb, this wasn’t it,” you mused, holding the caged mushroom suspiciously. “Just push the pin in to activate it,” Stamets explained, pointing at the sharp metal stick directed at the centre of the mushroom. “Once it’s pricked, it’ll start blowing out a smoky gas.” “And it won’t kill me or the bridge crew?” you questioned, still unconvinced. “...it shouldn’t,” he gambled, quietly. You pursed your lips. “You know what? Gamble I’m willing to run,” you shrugged, scrambling back into the Jeffries tubes. “Wish me luck boys.” “Good luck.” Stamets offered a nervous smile. “Don’t fucking die or I’ll haunt you myself,” Ryan glowered. “Aw, you’re so sweet Ryan.” He glared.

“Fucking malfunctioning Jeffries tubes,” you grumbled, under your breath, as you climbed the outside of the pipe towards the bridge. “Of course the one to the bridge had to break.” You opened your comm, legs wrapped around the tube and back leaning against another pipe to hold yourself in place. “(Y/N) to Security,” you called, quietly. “Leila here,” she answered, almost instantly. “Standing by.” “I’ll send someone out to take the Captain to medbay. That’s your cue. Phasers to stun – I want to know who they are and how and why they hijacked our ship.” You reached the top panel, and carefully twisted it, wincing when it squeaked. “Aye Commander.” You caught Number One’s eye across the bridge and your sister scraped the metal toe of her boot over the floor, pretending to sneeze. “Shut up,” one of the guards growled, and you breathed a sigh of relief, pushing the pin into the mushroom and placing it silently to one side of you, under the console you’d popped out near. The room filled with a cloud in moments, and you crawled out from your place, crossing the floor to untie Number One.

“Get the Captain to medbay,” you instructed, quietly. “I’ll get the rest of the crew and take the bridge.” She nodded, picking up the Captain as though he weighed little more than a child, Illyrian strength making him an easy burden as you turned to free the rest of the crew. As the cloud began to clear, you could see Leila and the other security officers entering, phasers at the ready and firing. Just as you reached Detmer and her fellow helmsman, a large boot landed sharply between your shoulder blades, sending you to the floor harshly enough to knock the air from your lungs and hurl your phaser across the floor. You flipped yourself over, kicking upwards as your attacker tried to step over you, and throwing them to the ground with a loud thud. They grappled with you as you reached for Detmer again, scaled arms locking you into a fierce grip, but leaving your arms free. Mistake one. You grabbed two knives from your boot, and took aim with the smaller one. Detmer smiled, raising her hands into the air behind her back to give you a clear shot at the rope between them, and your attacker snarled as the knife successfully clattered to the floor, leaving Detmer free to untangle herself.

They began to grapple with your arm, but you twisted yourself in their hold, managing to wrap your legs round them and flip them onto their back, standing over them. “Who are you?” you questioned, pinning their arms down and shivering at the sharp, snarling teeth. “You look like a sentient crocodile.” They snarled, snapping at you and flipping you over as you dodged them. Mistake two. Detmer shot them in the back, and they slumped onto you. “Fuck, why are aliens always so much heavier than humans?” you complained, lifting the body off you. “We have to get thirteen of them to the brig.” “Have fun with that one, (Y/N),” Keyla laughed, shaking her head. “I don’t envy you that job.” “Screw you, Detmer.”

#number one #una #captain pike #christopher pike #pike x reader #chris pike #christopher pike x reader #star trek discovery #star trek #keyla detmer #uss discovery #spock #stamets #paul stamets #fem!reader #star trek aos references #star trek aos #aos

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doublenuzlocke · 5 years

Text

Entry #3: Explosions in the Desert

((aka does this even count as an AU I just moved them to a different Pokemon game ;;;;;

but also I am a sucker for adding Colosseum onto everything can you tell that I really, REALLY want to rewrite the whole game ;;;; ))

“We’ve been stranded here for days and it’s your fault!”

“How is it my fault that you got bored and decided to gamble all our travel funds away and then get banned from the casino?”

Gold rolled his eyes. “Okay, fine. But you’re the one who wanted to visit Pyrite in the first place.”

“We couldn’t go straight from Phenac to Agate, it’s too far!”

Kotone huffed at him and he could see that he wasn’t about to win this argument. He let out an aggravated breath and stepped down. “Fine. I’m gonna go see if we can find some help.”

“Don’t go out by yourself, this place is dangerous!”

Kotone still looked angry, but her concern shone through. Gold pulled the two Poke Balls off his belt and held them up for her to see. For emphasis. “I’m not alone, Kotone.”

She looked torn for a moment, debating whether or not to allow him to leave. In the end, she flipped open her ‘gear and turned away. “Don’t go too far, I’m calling up Norman so he can come get us.”

“Not that asshole.” Gold shuddered at the thought of his dad arriving to scold him for his inconsiderate recklessness. Not to mention how angry his mom was gonna be when she found out. He cringed and left their hotel room. “Ugh, this really sucks.”

Even if he pulled out Chocobo or Mom to complain to, they’d just agree with Kotone that he’d been the one being an ass here. Well, that Casino was the one who’d cheated him, first! He’d noticed their underhanded tactics and lying, telling him he’d lost when he’d clearly won, but they seemed to have the city’s police in the palm of their hands and had him thrown out for his troubles.

Sulking, Gold wandered the dirty city’s battle square, ready for a fight to release some steam. He caught sight of a duo with a Whismur and a Lotad battling a Chaser girl with a Dustox and an Oddish. That didn’t seem entirely fair. Still, the Chaser managed to take out the duo’s Lotad and one of them sent out a Makuhita next.

The moment the Makuhita came into sight, Gold froze. It seemed wrong somehow, surrounded by a dark aura and drained of colour. Without any issues, it beat both the opponent Pokemon, then turned on its partner.

The duo quickly withdrew their Pokemon (the Whismur and the Makuhita), then collected their prize money. And Gold should’ve known better. He should’ve listened to Kotone and returned right back to her. But the warning bells in his head were going off too loudly for his common sense to kick in and he approached the duo, determination in his steps.

“Hey, nice battle.” He grinned and waved, greeting them with his best faux friendliness act. The two warily turned their attention to him and he continued, going directly for the kill. “Must be easy to beat up some unsuspecting chumps with an illegal Pokemon like that.”

The two of them hesitated before the one with the orange Mohawk spoke up. “What’re you talking about, ‘illegal Pokemon’? How could such a thing exist?”

“I dunno.” Gold shrugged, keeping up his act of friendly innocence. “You tell me why your Makuhita there was weirdly dark and powerful enough to take down a Pokemon it should be ineffective against.”

The two shared a look, then brandished their Poke Balls at him. “Those are fighting words if I ever heard any. Don’t you agree, Trudly?”

“I’d say you’re right there, Folly.” The other sneered and they sent out their Pokemon, the Whismur and dark Makuhita. “Let’s demonstrate why you don’t come 'round here asking too many questions.”

Gold smirked, confident that Chocobo and Mom could handle these losers. The Makuhita, though, charged right towards him. He didn’t get a chance to even send his team out. It punched him right in the gut and the shock, along with the impact, knocked him out immediately.

Crys hated sand.

She hated sand, the heat, and the general lawlessness of the land.

But complaining about Orre wasn’t about to help her get a plane ticket outta there, so she had to keep fighting and living in spite of all that she hated.

If she just continued playing along with Snagem, then she could make enough for the gas to get to Agate. As long as they believed she was a loyal scientist, then she could plan out her betrayal without any of them being the wiser.

Maybe in another life she could’ve studied Shadow Pokemon more, researched into why Orre had no wild Pokemon when other regions’ deserts could support their wildlife, done something useful with her life. As it was, she could only bide her time until she could make her escape.

Luckily, she wasn’t the only voice of discontent amongst the ranks. Another grunt, Silver, was also itching to blow the joint (though he was a fantastic actor, keeping his stony expression as he discussed a plan to bomb the place with her) and agreed to work with her to cause a ruckus in exchange for getting out. It’d taken zero convincing on her part, which was fine and dandy since he was a valuable addition to her plan with his knowledge on explosives.

They blew the place up, stole the snag machine, and never looked back. If they hadn’t needed to stop for gas at the old train pit stop, they might’ve gone straight to Unova. Maybe further. Crys was just so glad to finally be out.

While Crys handled filling up the bike, Silver decided to check out the small establishment. The news was all ready reporting on their coup of the blown Snagem base, but Silver ignored it in favour of ordering some waters for him and Crys. Two of the patrons, however, stood and rushed out after the report ended. Might’ve been two lowly grunts, who cared? Silver paid the nice bartender, then left to rejoin Crys.

“That was Trudly and Folly.” She remarked as soon as he was within speaking distance. He grimaced, prompting her to continue and please explain why that should’ve mattered to him at all. “They had a sack in the back of their vehicle. I thought maybe they’d stolen some Pokemon, but it was too big to be just a stash of Poke Balls.”

Again, Silver regarded her with his very unamused stare. “And why would that be our concern?”

“Silver, they might’ve kidnapped someone.” She frowned at him. “We should really try to stop them.”

She had such a lawful mentality. He often wondered how Snagem had managed to keep her for so long. He also wasn’t willing to try to talk her out of this. It was her bike, after all. With a heavy sigh, he hopped into the sidecar. “They’ll be heading to Phenac.”

She relaxed in relief, then climbed onto the bike proper to start it up. “Right. Let’s see if we can stop them before they reach the 'mayor’.”

The bike’s engine roared to life and they took off, out into the open desert. Silver pulled his goggles on as she flicked her visor down over her eyes. He’d heard from a terrified scientist that she’d been the one closest to the explosion when they’d been trying to create the first snagging device prototype, but it never seemed to stop her. Now she wore the fruits of that experiment, the smaller and portable model, on her arm.

Learning about her had been useful at the time, but they’d soon go on their separate ways. Silver needn’t worry over any potential weaknesses her scar might cause her. He didn’t have to worry over her figuring out his own weaknesses, either.

They arrived at Phenac after a couple of hours and found Trudly and Folly, the two inept idiots, attempting to carry the burlap sack that clearly held a human body inside through the main plaza. Silver almost didn’t want to intervene, curious as to how far they’d make it before they were captured by the authorities. However, Crys had all ready leapt up to confront them, so Silver begrudgingly followed suit.

“What the hell do you think you’re doing?” Crys shouted at them.

They jumped, fumbling and dropping their body in a sack as a consequence. A muffled groan of pain came from it and Silver was almost impressed. How two failures like them could’ve managed to actually kidnap a human being was a fortuitous amount of bullshit he couldn’t even begin to imagine. Trudly held up his hands, pleading. “What? Whaddaya want with us? We’re busy, that’s what.”

“Yeah, we’re busy.” Folly added in, crouching to attempt to gather the sack back up. “We’ve got a real catch here and the Mayor asked us to–”

“Shut up!”

Trudly hissed and Folly did, in fact, shut up. Unfortunately for them, that’s when the sack started shouting. “Help! Get me outta here! Murderers!”

Folly shook the sack roughly. “We ain’t murderers, we’re kidnappers! Get it right!”

Trudly smacked the back of Folly’s head. “You idiot!” He glanced up at Crys and Silver, then around the plaza. The noise was drawing a crowd. Trudly growled and yanked Folly to his feet. “We gotta ditch, else Mirror B’s gonna make us sit through another punishment concert. He’ll be hearing about you from us, Crys!”

After hurling a last (and laughably ineffective) threat, Trudly dragged Folly off, out of the city’s entrance. Crys went to give chase, then stopped herself. She let out a tired exhale and approached the sack, motioning for Silver to follow her. “You all right in there?”

“Unless a bruised gut and some probably cracked ribs count as 'fine’, then nope, not at all, thanks.”

Both Crys and Silver were taken aback by the response, having not expected one. Crys tugged at the knot keeping the sack tied shut and, reluctantly, Silver knelt down to help. She spoke with conviction, if a bit distracted by the task at hand. “Once we get you out of there, we’ll take you to the Centre here so you can get more help. That sound good?”

“Sure, yeah, as long as it’s not here, I’m sure it’ll be great.”

They got the knot untied and carefully removed the bag to reveal a guy, probably around their age, with black hair and dried blood around his mouth. Crys winced at the sight. “They got you good. Need some help or are you okay to stand on your own?”

“I think I can do it myself.” The guy tested his legs, gritting his teeth with every movement. They really needed to get this guy to a Centre. He managed to stand, holding an arm to his stomach, and grinned half-heartedly at them. “Thanks, by the way. I’m Gold, nice to meet'cha.”

Crys softened and gently placed a hand on his shoulder. “Crys. And this is Silver. Careful, now.”

She directed Gold towards the PokeCentre, which was thankfully not too far away. It was also nice that she’d introduced Silver for him, as if she’d known he wasn’t about to do it himself. This seemed dangerous, but it wasn’t like they had much of a choice. If they’d simply left, they’d draw even more attention, after all. Silver rolled his eyes, but followed after them. It’d at least be interesting to hear this Gold’s explanation on how this even happened.

#au fanfic contest #submission #characteroulette

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bigskydreaming · 6 years

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Every person to ever get an overdraft fee from their bank and placidly accept that while turning around and shitting on socialism ‘because why should I give my hard-earned money to someone who didn’t do anything to earn it’ is a dumbass who is bad at logic and people should say that. To their faces. Loudly. With repetition. Until they get it, shut up, and go home instead of contributing to the dehumanization of poor and homeless people to the benefit of literally nobody but the 1%.

You have one hundred dollars. You put it in the bank, because that’s what you do with money in our society. You think maybe it’ll net you a tiny bit of interest over time, or maybe it’ll just be safer there, or it’s easier to manage or handle there, or you can only make effective use of it via a bank account, such as when paying bills that don’t have a convenient option for paying in cash in person. Whatever your reason, you put one hundred dollars in the bank. Which has far, far more in it than just your hundred dollars, just to be clear.

You use it little by little over the course of the next week, the amount in your account dropping each time. You have a recurring payment set up for one of your bills on Friday, or a previously scheduled payment, in the amount of seventy dollars. You have sixty eight dollars and some change left in your account. Maybe you haven’t paid as close of attention to your expenditures as you thought. Maybe the amount you saw listed as your total after a quick check of your account didn’t accurately reflect the total as of Friday morning because of the way pending items are posted or configured or shifted around. Maybe you simply had an emergency situation that required you spend ten bucks you hadn’t planned for and didn’t think of the implications of spending in that moment of emergency need, with the recurring payment being the last thing on your mind, especially if it was only set up for the sake of convenience, because you have trouble remembering this particular bill for whatever reason.

Friday hits. Your bill payment goes out, the sixty eight dollars and some change. Just under the full seventy of the bill, so your bank pays the extra dollar and change and puts your account in the negative for that same amount, with the expectation that they will recoup that amount from you the next time you want to use your account.

But for whatever reason, you don’t realize your account is in the negative right away. Maybe that recurring payment has gone out later in the day the last few times you can remember. Maybe you’re still in a state of emergency and not thinking about other things right now. Maybe you simply have no choice but to use your card to pay for gas because otherwise you’re not going to get to work on time. You spend maybe like....five dollars, with your account at - $1.37. You’re slapped with a $35 overdraft fee you need to pay before you can use your account again, along with the $1.37 the bank supplied to round out your bill payment and the five dollars you spent afterwards.

And just like that, your bank just made an extra $35 that cost them nothing. $35 of YOUR money. You don’t want your hard-earned money being spent on some total stranger’s food or health care or housing because what did they do to deserve it, right? They didn’t work for it. They didn’t put in the hours to earn it. They didn’t wake up early, go home late, sacrifice time and energy they’d rather spend on hobbies or with loved ones or friends.

NEITHER DID YOUR BANK.

What exactly did the giant financial institution comprised of total strangers who did not lift a finger in order to earn the $35 you gave them....what did they do to deserve your hard-earned money? What did they sacrifice on your behalf? What service did they provide that you couldn’t provide for yourself, that you needed them for?

Literally the only thing they did was have more money than you. That is it. That is the only part they played in the transaction in which you gave them $35 of your hard-earned money....they had more money available to them in that moment than you did, money that isn’t really even theirs because ALL of their money stems from other people just like you putting all their hard-earned money into accounts with them. Thus they were in a position to spend money that you were not in a position to spend. Not because they’re better workers than you, or harder workers than you, or morally superior or more ‘deserving.’ They simply had money that you didn’t have.

But they still spent it on your behalf when you didn’t have the funds you needed, you might argue. That’s still a service they provided, that accomplished something you weren’t able to accomplish at the moment, that you needed them for. That’s what they did to ‘earn’ that $35 from you, that some homeless stranger didn’t. That’s why they ‘deserve’ that $35 of yours, while some homeless stranger doesn’t.

Except first off, they didn’t do shit, FOR you. They didn’t provide a service, they sought a profit. The fact that they (with society’s assistance) can spin the situation to seem as though their exploitation of your labor looks in this instance like a service they did for you, an assistance, something to your benefit, that doesn’t mean they did something FOR you instead of taking something FROM you. That the latter wasn’t the goal all along while the former was just a means to that end.

But that’s not right, you argue. They assumed your financial burden, even if only temporarily. They assumed a financial risk, should you just end up closing your account or just letting it sit there without ever adding any additional funds to pay either the overdraft fee or put your account back into the positive, which they need to recoup the money they did spend on your behalf. That’s more than the homeless people asking for your money ever did for you.

But here’s the thing. Someone doesn’t get to take credit for taking a financial risk on your behalf if first, they AMPLIFY that risk by their own choice. That five dollars you spent after you put your account in the negative, that you got slapped with the overdraft fee for? THEY DIDN’t HAVE TO GIVE IT TO YOU. It is one hundred percent completely in your bank’s power to simply make it so once your account drops into the negative, no more money goes out through it until more money goes into it first. The same algorithms that are responsible for applying the overdraft fee to your account because they recognize the absence of sufficient funds to cover that additional five dollars could be used to recognize that same absence and instead of applying the overdraft fee, stop further payments BEFORE they’re made, and thus, before they cost the bank any further money.

In fact, the exact same thing applies to the recurring bill payment that put your account into the negative in the first place. Your bank has the ability to tell that you don’t have enough money to pay the full balance of your bill BEFORE they send seventy dollars to the vendor billing you. They completely have the power to enact systems wherein a recurring bill payment simply doesn’t happen if there’s not enough money in your account when it’s meant to go out. The bank in this instance is nothing more than the middle man. They have no obligation to the billing vendor. Your bill is between the vendor and you. Any consequences or late fees that accrue as a result of that bill not being paid in time are wholly on you. The bank HAS no stake in that beyond what they volunteer themselves for.

They only assume that risk because they profit from it. They only pay out that additional five dollars when you’re overdrawn because it gives them an excuse to charge you for $35 more. Yes, there are always instances of accounts that are closed after being overdrawn or left to just sit idle with the bank never making back the money they spent there, but a risk is not inherently a gamble, when you control any and all influential factors and thus are able to limit the risks you take to ACCEPTABLE risks. This is why you can’t simply charge another thousand dollars to your debit card when you’re already overdrawn, figuring fuck it, you’ll just close the account so free money, right?

Your bank’s willing to assume the ‘risk’ of paying out five extra dollars when you’re overdrawn but not an extra thousand, because they’ve calculated that given ALL the accounts and balances available to them, spending five extra dollars on you won’t harm them even IF you don’t pay it back, or the overdraft fee, whereas a thousand extra dollars could. All the accounts that are closed or left idle after overdrawn are not losses to them, do not cost them anything, because they were deemed acceptable risks BEFORE your bank spent the money that equaled a negative balance owed to the bank. Instead of simply refusing to pay out anything more than the money actually in those accounts, whether or not that actually covered the amount an outside vendor was asking for.

THERE IS NO FINANCIAL RISK IN TAKING ACCEPTABLE LOSSES YOU WROTE OFF AS BEING ACCEPTABLE BEFORE YOU ALLOWED THEM TO BE LOSSES.

It’s a numbers game, literally. They’re fine with the accounts that never get put back into the positive, because all the accounts that DO go back into the positive and pay their overdraft fees on top of that end up making them FAR more money than they lost on the accounts that stay overdrawn. And it certainly makes them far more money than they’d make if they simply JUST acted as middle men and never assumed any ‘risk’ at all by paying out anything more than the exact amount you could cover at that very moment. Some obscene percentage like 80% of banks’ annual revenues come from overdraft fees. This is THEIR PRIMARY SOURCE OF PROFIT.

Also consider the fact that it’s something you have no option to opt out of. Very few banks are set up to allow you to say when you open your account, hey, NEVER pay more than my balance. If for whatever reason, some accident on my part, a miscalculation, an oversight, I try and use more money than is in my account, I want to check off the option that ensures you guys will put a cap on my expenditures. Just don’t supply the additional funds. No matter what. Give me my money when and where I ask for it, but if there’s ever a case where I ask for even a cent more than I actually have, don’t give me that extra cent. Works for both of us see? I never owe you guys overdraft fees and you never take on any risk. If I get a late fee for a bill not being paid on time then elsewhere, that’s on me and I’ll figure that out with them.

Except that doesn’t work for the banks, because that doesn’t give them any option for ever making an additional profit off of you aside from the regular maintenance fee they charge for the service of maintaining your money, but that has a ceiling to it meaning it’ll never net them more than that single established amount month after month.

And they want that extra money. That extra money is what makes them not just rich, but MEGA rich. So they simply don’t give you the option of telling them they never have to assume any financial risks on your behalf. Oh, some of them have things like ‘overdraft forgiveness programs’ you can opt into when you open an account, but those are literally the equivalent of them saying ‘when it suits us, to make ourselves look more appealing we’ll forgive you for temporarily costing us the funds that nobody but us makes the decision to spend and won’t charge you the completely surplus fee that doesn’t exist to compensate us for losses we didn’t actually take, but rather is the sole reason we pad your funds with some of our own and thus is completely at our discretion whether we charge you it or not, it never negatively impacts us either way.’

But okay, you’re stubborn. You say they have a right to try and make money the same as everyone else. It’s not like they’re actually lying to anybody or doing anything criminal, its all covered in the terms of your agreement to open an account with them, which you have the option not to do. Let’s ignore for the moment that society finds other ways to penalize people for making the ‘choice’ not to open a banking account SOMEWHERE, whether its in making it harder to turn the funds a person makes from their job into cash they can actually use, or making it harder for a person to rent an apartment or even get a phone, etc.

So, okay. Let’s say you know and understand what you’re getting into with a bank. You know and accept that when you try and use your debit card when you’re already overdrawn, when you don’t have the funds you’re asking to use here, whether or not it actually costs the bank anything in the long run or whether its a risk or not, none of that changes the fact that they are still doing something you can’t do for yourself, giving you money you don’t have, that you need.

Gosh, if only there was some example in our society I could draw a comparison to here, some scenario wherein people who don’t have money they need to pay for food or health care or housing ask people who have more money for them to consider spending any extra money they might have on their behalf.

But that’s different! The bank isn’t doing charity in giving me those temporary funds, that’s what the $35 overdraft fee is, that’s the price I pay for needing their help in a moment of need.

First, I want you to take a second and think about how that sounds. Then I want you to consider if you’d feel differently about giving money to homeless people or poor people asking for donations if you could charge them $35 to be paid at a later date in return for that five dollar value meal you just bought them from McDonalds after you did a little math in your head and decided it wouldn’t break you to spend an extra five dollars right now.

Then, if your answer to that is any form of ‘yes’, I’d LIKE for you to just log off and start punching yourself repeatedly in the face over and fucking over because that’s what I honestly feel you ‘deserve’ and you’re brainwashed beyond help and are part of the problem and any further discussion with you is useless. I know I won’t GET that, but a guy can dream, right? It’s why we buy Lotto tickets.

But if your answer was no, that would make me feel skeevy as hell, congrats, you have a soul. And even if your answer had some hesitation before you made it, keep paying attention.

Because let’s say you do give money to charity occasionally. Or buy a homeless person a meal when you have the time and extra cash. You’re not heartless. Of course you prioritize your needs and the needs of your loved ones first, because that’s entirely reasonable, nobody should be plunging people who depend on them into debt for the sake of people they have no personal, individual responsibility to beyond being members of the same society. You give money to those in need, you say, after first you’ve gone over your own expenses and profits and have determined what an ‘acceptable loss’ is for you, money you can spend on someone else without any guarantee of receiving dividends from it somewhere down the line.

But isn’t part of those calculations determining WHERE to give your money, whom to spend it on specifically? Picking a charity that according to your own personal criteria ‘does the most good’ and thus you see as the one that contributes most to society and thus by improving society overall, you might in some small way still be seeing bang for your buck rather than just totally tossing it away with no guarantee of anything? Or maybe donating money to an individual you know or has been brought to your attention, someone who isn’t a faceless statistic, but a person with a name, a history, a problem that you can see and understand and feel good about knowing how your money is bettering their life, addressing their problem, that you’re ‘investing’ in their future as an individual? Where if you consider the positive internal response or reactions you have to giving to charity to be a form of compensation in and of itself, some small reward for yourself that you wouldn’t otherwise experience if you hadn’t spent that money....aren’t those emotions amplified by knowing your money was well spent, that it had an actual impact, that it changed someone’s life in a way you can see and appreciate and feel good about?

....Almost like the difference between, say, a giant financial institution paying out a little extra funds to someone they’ve determined to be a likely return on their investment given the high probability of them putting their account back into the positive and paying any overdraft fees.....as opposed to say, all the faceless statistics that are literally never anything more than numbers on a screen to them, out of sight and out of mind, some identity-less mass of people who aren’t a good investment according to their algorithms/personal criteria for determining who’s worth helping.

Now, if you’re still reading, consider again, in light of all this, the defense of giving one’s hard-earned money to a giant institution that has no NEED of your money, certainly not more need than you. That not only has done nothing to actually earn or deserve your money, but that set in place the very systems that were designed to create situations wherein you feel obligated to give it to them as payment for an artificially inflated service they had no obligation to provide you and in fact in most cases you’d likely have rather they HADN’T provided you.

And compare this defense to any condemnation you might make of giving one’s hard-earned money to institutions designed to use those funds to help actual living, breathing human beings in need, in actionable ways that improve their lives, even if that never directly impacts yours in the future. But that still has DONE something, rather than sit as a series of 1′s and 0′s in the accounts of millionaires and billionaires who might never even touch it because they already have far more money than they can ever personally use, and no willingness to spend any of that money on anyone other than themselves.

Which is the real drain on society?

Capitalism is not just an economic system. It’s also a social system. One that conditions people to accept as right and proper the systems the upper class set up to prey upon the middle and lower classes, by only assisting them financially in ways that are mostly self-serving. While at the same time viewing the lower class and homeless members of society as being unworthy of being helped with the very same funds that have been taken from the middle and lower classes by the predatory practices of the upper class. Perpetuating a belief that the lower class and homeless members of society are a burden on society for daring to ask of those more stable and advantaged the same things those with the MOST stability and advantages in society simply take.

I might vehemently disagree with the morality and mindsets of the 1%, but I can at least understand their resistance to socialism and a distribution of funds that prioritizes based on need rather than resources already garnered.

What I will never understand is the resistance of people who rant loudly about their labor and sacrifice and hard-earned money all while funneling most of that money UP the social ladder to the people most invested in seeing them remain exactly as hard-working and exhausted as they already are. All while blaming their misfortunes on those below them on the social ladder, as though they’re the ones responsible for the way things are and all the reasons it doesn’t work for literally anyone except those at the top.

Like.

C’mon.

#long post

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benbarnesescape · 7 years

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The Wager - Chapter 2

Part 2

Warnings: M for Mature and Logan being vulnerable (amazing)

A/N: So this is a LONG next part – like grab a bucket of popcorn, go the bathroom, do whatever you have to do. Maybe grab some tissues too. The angst is real but if you can buckle down with me a little longer things will look up.

New to the series? Read Chapter 1 - Parts 1 2 3 4 5 6 Chapter 2 - Part 1

Two Months Later

Logan sat back in the large lounge chair, trying to ignore the consistent ticking of the clock that was hanging in the room, the hands mocking him on the old timepiece. Nothing had changed since he had looked at it, twice, the past few seconds on the couch.

5:10.

He had only been here for 10 minutes and, despite coming to the office twice, still hadn’t gotten over the initial hump of the awkward first 15 minutes. Couldn’t get himself to say the words first.

On the other side, Jessica watched him carefully, tapping her pen on her notepad with patience. He was paying her a pretty penny for the weekly one on one sessions for the past two months but this one hadn’t been planned, a last minute ask that she could fill in. So she did, surprised that Logan was taking the initiative and able to recognize he needed to talk through something.

Except, he hadn’t said a word since he had walked in.

Instead he sat across from her in a zombie like state as he twiddled his thumbs, trying to figure out the best words to express what he had just seen.

“Did you know?” he finally asks and Jessica nearly jumps in her seat, surprised to hear his voice.

“Know what?” she finally asks and he gives a sigh, looking back up at her. His eyes were still dangerous, predatory but in this light held a different weight. Fear. Uncertainty.

“Did you know about them?”

Jessica furrows her eyebrows together as she shakes her head.

“Sorry Logan. I really don’t….”

He watches her carefully for a minute, trying to sniff out if she was lying or not. It’s obvious she isn’t so he nods, falling back in his seat.

“You didn’t know about Chris Rogers and Y/N getting together.”

Silence.

Jessica watches him and he watches her. He can tell that her brain is trying to put together clues, hints to what he is suggesting. Like every woman in New York, everyone had been pining over the 6’2 muscled sweetheart that had won the heart of the city.

But it had been clear that he only had eyes for you.

Logan had been able to piece that much together after the first, sloppy encounter he had with the both of you. Figured it wouldn’t go anywhere. His sober, logical self now able to decipher the difference between attraction and desire. Both lived between you and Chris but it had been obvious that neither of you hadn’t acted on it that first time you had been together.

Until this afternoon. When he had finally worked up the courage to apologize to you for everything.

“Are you sure?” Jessica finally asks, crossing her legs. Her pen is moving faster now, disappointment and excitement laced in her voice. Jessica was attractive, nice, and funny. Of the two closest friends you had, he always preferred Jessica over Leslie. Jessica was sounder, sensible. He also knew that Jessica had known how much he had cared for you from the start but never made a point to do something about it. He respected her for that.

“Y/N hasn’t dated anyone or thought about dating anyone ever since your screw up…not that it’s your business. But she’d have told Les and I….”

Jess stops, thinking through her words and shaking her head.

“Actually, I can see her not telling us.”

“Why?” Logan asks as his brain tries to piece together what he had seen earlier.

“Because she’s private, more private after you and her…..the point is she doesn’t like to share things like that. She’s superstitious. Afraid it’ll curse it. And private. Knows the danger of leaking that kind of intimate information. Knows how much it changes things if she does. So if she is with Chris Rogers, like you are implying, I can see her not telling me.”

“Well she is and I’m freaking the fuck out about it. Pretty sure I had a fucking panic attack in my limo.”

He falls back in his seat, hands covering his face as he thinks back to three hours earlier. Of your face. The way it looked looking up at him. His heart slowly starts drumming out of his chest and he feels the motion overcome his body as his breath shortens. He hears Jessica shift in her seat, the soft pad of her feet as she walks toward him, placing a gently hand on his shoulder.

This wasn’t the first time he’s had one of these panic attacks in front of her. In fact, since he woke up in a Manhattan jail cell, he had done a lot of things uncharacteristic of him which was saying a lot. Like willingly volunteering to go to therapy. And cry in front of another human being that wasn’t his sister. Lots of firsts.

His body was getting thrown off track, trying to keep up with the psyche of his brain. Which is what had triggered the panic attacks in first place. Willing talking about his feelings – about you to another stranger to help him figure out what to do.

It was no wonder he felt like he was having a heart attack most of the time – he was having an emotional one.

Figures.

“Logan,” Jessica says calmly. “Talk me through it. What has you like this?”

His eyes are squeezed close, trying to will himself to relax. To get him to ignore the fact that he still felt like a recovering victim of violence – the violence being his love for you.

“You are comparing your love to Y/N as a victim of violence. That might be the first problem…” Jessica’s voice, a soft murmur snaps his eyes open, irises dropping on her own and she sighs.

He hadn’t meant to voice that particular thought out loud as his eyes betrays. Jessica sits up, returning to her seat across from him.

“We can either focus on dealing with your panic attacks, which seem to be more and more frequent. Or we could talk about the source of this one. You choose.”

He balls his knuckles in a fist as he sits back in a chair. He knew what was causing these fucking panic attacks, causing him to lose his mind. His focus. His ability to function as a normal human. And he knew he couldn’t do anything to remedy it because he was a goddamn moron and his pride had ruined the last hope of sanity he had left in his brain.

He had lost a wager and it had led him to this voice. Even though he willingly returned, it was a bet that was his downfall.

When was he going to learn not to gamble?

Rachel had bet that he would have a psychotic breakdown if he didn’t go and see someone three weeks after the first time he saw you. His drinking was becoming borderline worrisome, even for him and he had called her at one in the morning in a state of panic and sweat. So she wagered he’d either kill himself of alcohol poison or he’d seek help that would either help him get over you or at least deal with the fact you weren’t his.

After panic attack four he had found Jessica’s number online and made an appointment. He was still sure she was dazed that he had been the one to reach out to her, to ask for guidance. She knew Logan – knew he was pigheaded, selfish, stubborn, cocky and self-assured. Still, she had taken him on as a client and had patiently worked him through these panic attacks.

They had both known what the true source had been.

Logan was in love with you and he didn’t know how to operate. Love was foreign to him – even the relationship with his mother and sister was intertwined with distance. He didn’t know how to allow himself to be completely vulnerable to an emotion as raw as love. Had been taught to push it away with cynicism and mistrust.

So a week ago, after his session with Jessica he had decided that he was going to put himself out there and reconnect with you. He was leaving town for the rest of the week, but he planned on being back that Sunday and that was when he realized the error in his ways.

“It started when I went over to Y/N’s place….” Logan is quiet as he goes back to a few hours earlier.

He should have apologized earlier. He knew that now, as he sat in his town car as snow beat down on the black metal machine. It was approaching March, spring would soon be near and the cold weather had overall passed. Instead, the state of New York had been vexed with snowstorms, cold and humid that turned into ice at night and slushy puddles in the day.

Typical New York winters.

After the tussle at his father’s holiday party he had been put in punishment. That was how his father had explained it. He was sent immediately oversees to the office in London where he was in charge of managing a lot of international deals. At the time he had eagerly accepted it. He needed the distraction.

Wanted the distraction from you.

So he cowardly hid behind European models and booze. Had dived into his work. Had tried to erase you from his memory, like he had done months earlier.

It had failed him.

Eventually he was called back home. Called back to the New York office. Back to the memories that carried you and he knew he had to apologize. So he had picked up a bag of your favorite baked goods from LeStat and a bouquet of your favorite flowers and had started toward your Brooklyn home. It was Sunday afternoon and on Sunday’s, on days like this, you usually spent it alone in your loft. Cuddled over a book, reviewing reports for work or watching something on Netflix. Either way he knew you’d be home and he wanted to talk to you – apologize for the way he had been acting. For ignoring you and not apologizing sooner.

For being a drunk asshole and a coward.

Instead, when he pulls up he’s accosted with the both of you. You’re walking down the street, your arms intertwined with his, your face beaming in laughter as you looked up at him. You were donning a large fuzzy hat, so large it’s almost hiding your beautiful face while he was wearing a simple beanie, his hands snug in his pockets as he talks to you. He’s so distracted he doesn’t catch you swiping snow off a table you walk by, fitting enough in your snug glove that you throw it in his face before unraveling yourself from him, running down the street away from him.

You don’t make it far, never had a hope running from the athletic man in your puffy jacket that swallows up your figure, his arms wrapping themselves around your waist as he spins you around in his arms, nuzzling his face in your neck. Your laughter, high and shrill can be heard over the traffic of the city as you turn and shake your head.

And then he kisses you.

Logan has not experienced pain, he realizes, until he’s witnessed the kiss. It hurt more to see you like this than it did when his father had first told him that he was a disappointment. When he was the only boy who never had his family show up at lacrosse games, hadn’t had a graduation celebration because he honestly hadn’t bothered to make enough friends to even bother to host a party. Hurt more than the last time he lost you. This felt like a knife slowly purging into his heart, jagged edges tearing each vessel from his body as he gripped onto life.

He feels the shock of it hit his chest as you comply against Chris easily, turning in his embrace as you wrap your arms around his neck. Chris doesn’t hesitate to deepen the kiss and despite the frigid temperatures and the fact you’re in the middle of a busy street you mold into him easily, your body drawing him closer to you. Can’t breathe when he watches you pull away, looking up at Chris reverently, before placing the leftover snow from your glove in his face and laughing, running off toward your apartment.

He knew that look.

Had seen it when you looked at him for years. Had tried to ignore it for years.

It was the look of love.

You make it your building and start to dig in your pockets for your keys as Chris saddles behind you, his hands digging into your waist. Like the first time before except now he can lay claim on you because you were his. Were his as you fall back into his embrace as he takes the key from you, his face still buried between your neck and that goddamn furry hat and he can only imagine what he’s whispering to you.

Promises to punish you for your playful nature. Promises to have you screaming out his name in reverence by the time he’s done with you.

The thought is lost as you both escape into the building and he’s torn between fleeing again.

Two months. Two months and things had changed – evolved. You had learned to love without him. To live without him.

What had he done?

His head is busy, filled with anguish as his driver says,

“Looks like Ms. Y/N is home, Mr. Walker.”

His head snaps to his driver before he nods, falling back into his seat. He couldn’t do this. So instead, he tells his driver to pull off, calling Jessica for an immediate surprise appointment.

The office is quiet, outside of the radiator kicking in every so often and the incessant ticking of the clock as he looks over at Jessica who’s trying to read him. She normally wrote down notes, her legal pad typically two pages thick with her commentary as she listened to him.

She hadn’t moved her pen since he started in on his tale, her eyes trying to read him. Finally she sighs, falling back in her seat and chuckling.

“What a fucking bitch.”

Logan’s surprised as he looks over at Jessica who is digging in her purse, her hands gripping her phone and opening it.

“Pardon?” he asks, and Jessica laughs looking up at him.

“She’s been playing Leslie and I like a goddamn fiddle. Claims that she….my point is, that actually kind of adds up. She’s been MIA these past few months, dodging us and last minute cancellations. If she’s dating Rogers well….that makes a lot of sense.”

She frowns as she places her pad down.

“Logan. I….think right now you are going to have to deal with the fact that she’s dating someone else. I think that when you can do that, maybe you can confront her. Not let that temper get the best of you. But right now, you are going to have to just live in this icky feeling that’s called disappoint and rejection. If, at some point, you still feel like it’s worth it to pursue her, then we can talk further on what that looks like for you.”

She frowns as she stands.

“Now I need to go and confront the same woman that’s plaguing your mind. We’re supposed to be having a girl’s night in and I’m already late. So if you don’t mind.”

She’s gracious as she points to the door and Logan looks at her incredulously, before laughing.

“Some therapist.”

“Hey! You called me on my day off. I made an exception because, well quite frankly I still don’t believe that you are seeking therapy and I’ve known the feelings you’ve harbored for Y/N for years. But I am biased right now, and conflicted, and any advice I give at this point would be selfish.”

“Because you have a hard on for Chris Rogers.” Logan smirks as he stands, throwing his jacket over his shoulders. Jessica laughs and nods.

“Yes but to be fair, most of the women in New York have a hard on of Chris Rogers. Just like the other half has a hard on for you. So if you could leave so I can just figure all this out – I’ll be happy to help you through this on Thursday. During our scheduled time.”

Logan nods as he digs his hands in his pockets.

“….put in a good word for me?” he asks as he nears the door, his hands on the knob and Jessica gives an empathetic smile.

“I always do.”

You were running behind. You knew it didn’t matter because Jessica had texted you that she was going to be tardy and Leslie was always late. Still didn’t matter though. You legs were still like jelly thanks to the hours of Chris distracting you, promising that he only wanted to help you make dinner for your girl’s night before leaving.

Fucking liar.

Chris was a fiend, had the stamina of a goddamn ox and was obsessed with making you scream out his name until you were unable to move. It had been his favorite passion since he had asked you to be his girlfriend, officially, a week ago. Two months of late night conversations, dates and so much flirting you thought you were going to implode he’d finally made the first move.

And now you had to figure out how to tell your girlfriends.

Chris had made it clear that he wasn’t ashamed about letting the world know about you. He’d been single for a while and was more than happy to have you lay his claim on him. It was you that had been secretive about your dating, only choosing to go to places that were so out of the way no way anyone in the circles you ran in would know.

Wanted the safety of distance because you didn’t want to deal with the off handed glares from house wives, young socialites but most importantly Logan.

For the first time in six years you hadn’t thought about Logan and you didn’t want to process what this meant for your feelings for him knowing that your heart had been captured by Chris.

“You sure you don’t want me to stay? I can help you finish up with the pizza…”

Chris’ arms wrap around you from behind as you pull the now ready pizza crust from the oven, placing it on top of your stove carefully. He bites down on your ear and you giggle, turning in his arms.

“No! I need to tell them, alone, without you distracting me. You don’t know how to keep your hands to yourself.”

He smiles down at you, quick to place a kiss on your lips as he mumbles against the soft tissue,

“Maybe if you stopped being so damn cute I’d be better behaved.”

“Uh huh. Sure. Blame it on me.” You murmur against him, not fighting him as his right hand tightens around your waist, the other creeping down to your ass. You had stolen his T-Shirt the moment you had realized the time, jumping out of his embrace in your bed to throw the pizza crust in the oven and start tidying for your friends. He now took the opportunity to squeeze the exposed flesh, causing you to moan as he pushes you into his growing erection.

Stamina of a goddamn ox.

“Chris. I need to finish getting ready…” you push away from him slightly and he groans, placing his neck between the crook of your neck, his mouth kissing you intimately on the exposed flesh of your neck.

“Fine. But only because you asked nicely.” He says, giving your neck one last playful bite before he pulls away, a large grin on his face.

“This isn’t over though. I’ve only been able to see you twice since I’ve asked you to be my girlfriend. I’m feeling very neglected.” His voice is teasing as his hands rest on your hips and you playfully roll your eyes as you place your hand on his bare shoulders, trying to ignore the warm skin underneath your fingers.

“You’re the one flying out every night, going to different galas, different cities…”

He lifts you, biting your neck and you squeal as your legs wrap around him with ease. It still took you by surprise at how easily you weighed in his arms, your weight an afterthought. You’ve never been lifted by a guy but you’ve decided after Chris you liked it.

“Okay, okay I get it. It’s all my fault. I’ll make it up to you.”

“Good.”

He pulls away from you, his grin never leaving his face as he takes you in, blue eyes drinking you in as you tightened your hold around him.

“What silly?” You ask and he shakes his head, a smile on his face.

“Nothing at all – just trying to figure out how I got so lucky. You gonna keep this,” he tugs at his shirt. “Or can I steal it from you?”

You scrunch your face, shaking your head.

“How about I keep it just for the night and I’ll wash it and bring it over to your place next time?”

You give an innocent smile and he rolls his eyes, placing you down and nodding.

“Only because I plan on seeing you tomorrow.”

You give a satisfied smile as he walks back to his bedroom and you turn back to your pizza. If this was happiness, what you had been missing for so long, than it had been worth the wait.

You didn’t think this moment could get any better.

That is until there’s a heavy knock on your door. You’re too distracted, piling up the fixings for your pizza as you dance to music on your iPhone to hear it, trying to clean up after yourself and cook. It’s Chris, on his way back to that hears the rampant knocking, and after giving you a quick glance in the kitchen as you mindfully dance and cook, chuckles to open the door.

He’s not surprised to see Leslie and Jessica talking to each other enthusiastically, wine bottles tucked between their arms along with a bag of goodies. It’s Jessica who stops talking, her mouth popping open in surprise as she nudges Leslie who’s still looking down at her phone.

He’d forgotten you hadn’t told your best friends yet. You were private and knew they’d gossip so had planned this special dinner to share with them.

He had just ruined that.

“Hey ladies! Imagine seeing you here.” He smiles as he widens the door and they take the invitation, moving in as their eyes flicker to him and you.

“Hey Steve! What are you doing…..here?” Jessica asks, immediately seeing you grooving, still unaware of your guest as the music blares. She takes in the T-shirt, the love bites on your neck and his, before she nods knowingly.

“Ah.” She says and Chris chuckles, moving toward the kitchen. His hands fall on your waist, drawing your attention from the music and dinner as he moves down to kiss you. Both girls watch with their mouth agape as you comply willing, whimpering slightly when he pulls away, a soft chuckle on his lips.

“I gotta go babe. Plenty I still need to do but your guests are here.”

You screw your eyes together before you turn, taking in your two girlfriends watching you.

“Oh! Hey ladies…” you push past Chris, wiping your hands from the contents and he follows you, a satisfied smile on his face.

“Hey Y/N. There’s a lot we need to catch up on isn’t there?” Leslie is crossing her arms, her eyes narrowed though her face has blossomed into a smile. Jessica has already brushed past you toward the kitchen, grabbing a wine glass.

“Yep. Lots.” You manage out as you walk Chris to the door.

“Have fun.” He teases and you shake your head as you punch him. He grabs your hand easily, drawing you closer to him and giving you one last kiss.

“I’ll talk to you tomorrow ok? Maybe we can do lunch.” He whispers when he pulls away, his eyes looking deep into your own.

“I’ll let you know.” You whisper back and then he steps away and is gone. You give out a long sigh, shutting the door, before planting your head against it. You still couldn’t move past that all that was Chris Rogers was yours – that he wanted you as much as you wanted him.

“Ahem,” Leslie says and you jump, turning around and resting against the wooden frame of the door. “Can we get an update or something? What the fuck is Chris Rogers doing making out with you in your apartment and why are you wearing his shirt?”

She knows the answer but you know she can’t help but ask. Your sassy friendship wouldn’t be a real thing if she didn’t.

“….did I not mention I’m dating Chris Rogers to you?” you ask nonchalantly and Leslie screams, running toward you.

“Hell no! What the fuck!? Tell me everything.” Leslie is enthusiastic as Jessica sits on the counter, watching you while she drinks a wine glass.

“Tell me everything.” She says as you walk toward her and you sighed. You knew Jessica had a crush on Chris, had been pining for him for months. That was another reason why you’d been avoiding it.

Tag list: @just-nikkii, @ladyblablabla, @drinix, @youveseen–thebutcher, @marauderskeeper, @thesandbeneathmytoes

#ben barnes #Logan westworld AU #logan westworld x reader

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forbesjames96 · 4 years

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mistressofmuses · 7 years

Text

Truth or Dare

[Read more contains a brief mention of off-screen partner abuse and minor description of family abuse, specifically someone being kicked out of their home.]

“Go grab the matches from the kitchen, you know where they are; top middle drawer.”

As Kenna cautiously stepped toward Daniel’s kitchen, hands out to feel for obstacles, Daniel busied himself finding the candles that were in a box in the hall closet. He couldn’t see any better than they could, but this was Daniel’s house, and at least he knew about where the box should be. And if they took a little longer to find them, well, a quick moment to talk to Gabe would be welcome.

Speak of the devil: “I’ll get them.”

Daniel ducked down as Gabriel reached around him, his always-warm skin somehow even more obvious in the total darkness. Or maybe it was already growing cold in the house.

The blizzard had started sometime around midday. Kenna had barely gotten there, with their single suitcase containing all their remaining worldly belongings, before the roads would have become completely impossible to navigate. It was lucky they had done so; Daniel hated to think of any of the alternatives. It wasn’t quite the circumstance Daniel had imagined when he’d even let himself entertain the thought of Kenna moving in with them, but… it had been suddenly necessary.

The power had just gone out minutes ago, but was clearly out for the entire area.

“Of course you can see them,” Daniel grumbled, listening to Gabe pulling the box down and then the dull thock sound of the wax tapers bumping each other as he pulled them out.

Daniel felt the air move as Gabriel turned back toward the living room, and the small coffee table where they were going to settle in. Daniel put a hand on Gabe’s arm to stop him.

“Did you do it?” he hissed, so quietly anyone else wouldn’t have heard. “The power outage?”

Daniel could picture the smirk on Gabe’s face, even if he couldn’t see it. “Why would you think that?”

“Because, you’ve been suspiciously well-behaved all evening.”

“I can’t be supportive of a friend in need?” Voice thick with assumed innocence.

“You’re always supportive of those in genuine need. But your kind of support comes with plans of vengeance, so I know you’re planning something.”

When Gabe replied, his tone was simultaneously sincere and colder than the snow outside. “Of course I’m planning. There is a very particular corner saved in Hell for those who cast their children out. But my breed of vengeance comes only when the one who has come to harm wills it. So I will have to discover more about Kenna and what serves their needs best. The power outage was not part of my plan.”

Daniel let go of Gabe’s arm, and followed him back to the living room, where they started to set up the candles. Gabriel, being equipped to see them, did most of the work.

Kenna arrived a few moments later, announcing their presence with a muffled curse when they banged their shin into the leg of the end table.

“Over here,” Daniel said. “On the floor by the coffee table.”

Kenna joined them, managing not to trip or run into anything else.

Daniel handed them a candle to light. As they struck the match, he looked toward Gabriel. The flare of the match turned Gabe’s eyes more reflective than any human’s; like the glint of light across a cat’s eyes in the dark. Kenna did not notice, their attention taken with lighting the first candle, and using it to light the others set along the glass-topped table.

The candles provided a warm glow that reached most of the room. Daniel grabbed an armload of blankets from where they were draped over the back of the couch, and all three of them wrapped up against the chill. The candles didn’t truly provide much warmth, but bundling up near them seemed better anyway.

“Now what?” Daniel asked.

“Let’s play… truth or dare,” Gabe suggested, as if it were a perfectly reasonable suggestion for a grown man to make under the circumstances.

Daniel shot him a sharp look, but Gabriel’s gaze was fixed unwaveringly on Kenna.

“I don’t think I’ve played that since I was a kid,” they said with a nervous sounding laugh.

“You don’t have to,” Daniel was quick to offer.

“No, it’s fine. It’ll be fun,” they said, though the nervousness hadn’t seemed to disappear.

It was decided that Kenna would go first, then Daniel, then Gabriel. They could choose to challenge either other person.

The first few rounds were pretty basic: Truth about their most embarrassing moment, dare to do a shot from the bottle of vodka Gabe oh-so-kindly retrieved from the kitchen, truth about any number of ‘firsts,’ dare to sing the chorus of a trashy pop song.

Then on Kenna’s turn, they chose Gabriel, and Gabriel said, “Truth.”

Kenna licked their lips. “How did you and Daniel meet and get together?”

It was something that had never really come up; of course Kenna knew about their relationship, as Daniel had never been anything other than upfront about it when he first asked Kenna to go out for drinks. And all three of them had spent time together before. And by necessity, Kenna had moved in earlier that day. But the specifics of Gabriel and Daniel’s relationship had just never been discussed.

“May I give the truth?” Gabriel asked, his attention all on Daniel for a moment.

Daniel appreciated that he asked, but he gave a tight nod. He trusted it would be truthful, if simplified.

“I met him when he was going through a difficult time,” Gabe said, turning his gaze back to Kenna. “Not quite like you; his betrayal was not at the hands of a cruel and judgmental parent. His betrayal was at the hands of a false lover, the kind who profess love with their lips while dealing pain with their fists. It was some time before that one was dealt with appropriately, but we made it through.”

Kenna poured another round of shots. “I- I didn’t know. I’m sorry. But thank you for telling me.”

They did their shots, and went a few more rounds without the questions getting too heavy, though Gabriel’s truth questions to Kenna pushed around the edges of their hurt, without ever pushing too hard, and the depth of Kenna’s still-raw emotional wound was becoming more clear.

Finally, Kenna was given the opportunity to ask Gabe another truth question. “Why do you care so much about me and what happened?”

Gabe tossed back another shot. “My… ‘father’ also kicked me out.”

“Oh, God, I’m sorry.” Kenna shook their head.

Gabriel laughed, not a bitter or rueful laugh, but the deep laugh at something genuinely funny. Even Daniel couldn’t keep from letting out a bark of laughter of his own.

Kenna looked baffled, which seemed to make Gabriel laugh even harder.

“I am sorry,” Kenna insisted. “I didn’t mean something offensive.”

“No, no,” Gabriel said, finally getting himself under control. “My father cast me out when I first questioned his authority, believing that only blind obedience was an appropriate expression of love from his children. I should have anticipated it; as other siblings had been cast away for the same reasons. I suppose we all felt we would somehow be immune, that he would surely love us so much he wouldn’t drive us away.”

“That’s awful. Your father kicked out other siblings of yours, too?”

“It was a very large family. It still hurts me that we became so divided. But perhaps it was the number of us that did the most harm; why accept a child who questions you when you have others who will grant you uncritical devotion? It was a long time ago, and it mostly doesn’t hurt me now. Although Gabriel isn’t even my name. It’s the name I chose to go by, but it’s my older brother’s name. One of my brothers who remained in our father’s good graces. One additional rebellion on my part. But for a father with only a single child to harm that child, because that child does not live up to a rigid set of expectations… To throw their only child out into the literal cold, where they truly could have come to harm, that seems even more monstrous don’t you think?”

“It hurts,” Kenna admitted. “I tried for so long to be what he was asking, and I just couldn’t. I thought if I acted the part when I was home, that’d be enough, but of course he found out.”

“There is a very particular place in Hell for those who would cast out their children,” Gabriel said, repeating what he’d told Daniel earlier. “And I think it will be waiting for your father, if you don’t mind me saying so.”

“I can’t truly wish anything bad on him,” Kenna said. “But thank you. I’m sorry you know what it feels like.”

“My turn,” Daniel interrupted. “Gabriel.”

“Truth.”

“What are you, exactly?”

Gabe’s stare was intense, the shadows cast by the candlelight suddenly not softening his features the way it did everything else. “You know what I am,” he said.

“But Kenna doesn’t. And shouldn’t they?”

They both looked to Kenna, then. This was a dangerous gamble.

Kenna swallowed, visibly, before murmuring. “You aren’t fucking with me, are you?”

“No,” Daniel said.

“And you… aren’t human, are you?” they asked Gabe.

“No,” Gabe also replied.

They took a deep breath. “Am I in danger?”

“Never.” Gabriel’s tone was firm, leaving no room for argument. “You will never come to any harm because of me. Never at my hand, never by my decision not to act in prevention. I protect those who have been wronged by the ones they should have been protected by, and I turn my vengeance toward the ones who failed them.”

Kenna nodded slowly. “I’m not ready to wish harm on my father.”

Gabe bowed his head. “Very well.”

Kenna’s voice was very small when they said, “But I feel like I could use the rest of it.”

Daniel gathered them close, tightening his arms around Kenna’s shoulders. Gabriel moved closer as well, his embrace slightly more tentative, but tightening when it wasn’t rebuffed. The three clung together, warmth and connection in the midst of the cold and dark. “You’ll have it,” Gabriel said. “You’ll have it from us both as long as you need it.”

While Gabriel would keep his promise not to truly harm the man, Kenna’s father was soon to be plagued by minor misfortunes…

@yourbookcouldbegayer

Prompt was: “Pick 3 (or more) elements and incorporate them: a children’s game, a box of matches, a blizzard, a spell book, betrayal, a torn letter, a secret someone already knew, trick handcuffs, tinsel, an overfull suitcase, a safe haven that doesn’t feel safe.” (Italics are the ones I used.)

Life conspired to keep me from getting work done on this, and I am sneaking it in BARELY under the wire at 11:55pm my time. I actually really like the central premise of this one, and wish I’d had time to refine it. Maybe later!

#day3ofgay #lgbtq+ fiction #genre: fantasy #rating: pg-13 #bi character #pan character #nonbinary character #my writing #short fiction #original fiction #fallen angel #polyamorous relationship #holigays 2017 #genre: supernatural

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terraclae · 7 years

Text

Caer's remembrance

In which Arodan has his first real interaction with a scout he had yet to speak to.

Lore pinglist: @cityofinoue @yuushanoah-fr

'You. You with the scruffy face.'

Arodan looked up from his desk curiously, seeing Caer standing in the library's doorway. 'Afternoon. Can I help you?'

'No. I am just keeping watch.' She said. She didn't particularly look like someone who didn't have questions. 'I'm just making sure you don't decide to run off again.'

'Miss, I have alcohol-' He held up a bottle of castle brewed mead. 'I think I'll be fine as long as your people provide me a bed and a job. I'm just passing the time.' He shot her a look and realized he must have looked really tired.

'That is what worries me. It makes you impulsive.' Caer finally entered and quietly closed the door behind her. If Arodan thought about her he thought about ghosts, how she was pale like one and cold like the dead. 'Give it to me.'

'No, it was a gift.' He immediately dropped the bottle in a drawer and shut it with haste. 'Listen, this is a place of quiet encapsulated solitude, so either you grab a book and do it honor, or leave.'

'Since when is this your castle?'

'I'm the librarian and said nothing about owning this castle.'

Caer quietly glanced over Arodan, settling on his eyepatch again. 'You willing to share that brew kid?'

'Why?'

He wasn't sure how she managed to move a chair over to his desk without even as much as a scrape. When she sat down, it was with a deep rattling sigh that might have been the first noise he heard her make. 'Shit's tough kiddo.'

'Woah, mind your language.' Arodan said, slamming his journal closed and stuffing it in his bag as if he was in the company of a small child. 'I didn't think you'd swear-'

'What, didn't expect it? I'm cranky, Librarian.' She held out her open hand. 'Pass me the mead.'

'Fine.' Arodan grunted, slowly pulling the bottle out of the drawer again. He looped one finger through a teacup in it, placing it before Caer. 'I don't have any more glasses so you will have to make do with this.' And he gave her a hefty teacup full of mead. 'So, what's rough?'

'The strategists. King Balam. The fact there's going to be an enemy at our doors with massive power in their hands. Whatever Kassa is excited about.' She picked up the teacup, her pinky sticking out as if it was a far fancier brew contained within. 'I would be lying if I said this hasn't happened before. You can see by me sitting here that we are still very much alive. But every battle we have to wage is a gamble of fifty-fifty chance.'

'That sounds gloomy.'

'That's war.'

'... Have you always had this occupation?' Arodan asked, eyeing Caer. Looking at her, she seemed to have several scars on her neck only barely visible over the lining of her winter coat. ‘I mean, you seem pretty battle hardened.'

'Aye.' She took a swig of her drink. 'I used to be a wandering mercenary actually, a sellsword. I took whatever job necessary, because it made money and if you're under someone's employment already then you're virtually safe from being dragged to the fighting pits.' She set down her cup and it barely made a clink. Arodan was at this point fascinated how she did that. She pulled the sleeve of her coat up and showed the remnants of a nasty scar left running across her arm. It looked as if someone had attempted to hack it off but failed spectacularly. 'I'm proud of this one actually. The others are meh, but this one means a lot to me.'

'How can you be proud of a scar?' Arodan asked, rubbing his bad eye as if on impulse. 'What did you do to get it?'

'I protected my future mate from robbers.' She grinned, pearly white teeth almost seeming to glint as bright as a small sun. 'I have another on my lower back too and that's hers. She made that scar.' She rubbed her back tenderly and swore it was almost as if the arrow was there again. 'She's a guardian to this little piece of paradise in the Viridian Labyrinth. I was sent there to steal this dumb artifact thing and I ended up getting my heart stolen instead.'

'What's she like?'

'You know those sort of people you see, and just go, oh they're completely out of my league?' Caer started, and Arodan nodded in response. 'That was her, that's Alchemilla, my Milly. I knew it the moment she pointed her bow at me.' She looked fondly into her mead. 'Weird huh? I fell in love with her on first sight and she didn't even trust me for a long time.'

'I don't know. With how many times I've seen others pine, love and be loved in heartfelt ways one could argue it's almost like fate.' Arodan sipped absentmindedly and who came to mind first had been Her Humble Majesty's ship doctor. In the few quiet words they had shared it was apparent she held a deep but uncertain love for a girl overseas she could only hope felt the same.

It had been strangely hopeful.

'I don't like the word fate, but yeah, something like that.' Caer mumbled. 'You know, I think it was her smile that just had my heart completely melting into a pathetic pile of goo.' She made a downwards gesture with her hand and waved her fingers. 'She first smiled at me when I confessed what I was sent to do, and said that she knew. As if she already knew I couldn't do it anymore because of her and she was just waiting for me to admit that.'

'So….?'

'I mean, she's my mate now, so you know how that story ended.'

'Why are you here then?'

Caer paused, brought her hand up to her chin, and immediately downed all of her mead. 'I was born here, in Paramo. I left when I was young and foolish, I wanted more. I didn't know what the world was like back then.' The mead had left a thin film of foam in her cup that she now focused on. 'Back then I only thought of this city as belonging to the old and deceased. Did you know this city and this castle are said to have been here before dragons even existed?'

'Sounds like a bunch of hot air.' Arodan said.

'Yeah, right?' A laugh with a similar rattling timbre to it escaped her. 'But the gist of it was, I left this city as soon as I was old enough with two rules in my mind: One, do not get yourself caught by fighting pit recruiters, second, march on your own terms. I still abide by those rules but they sure hardened my heart those early days.' She smiled again, a softer and more reclusive smile this time. 'Got mashed right open by Milla.'

'I'm happy for you. Being in love sounds nice.' Arodan absentmindedly answered, staring down his own mead.

'You should try it sometimes. Maybe it'll soften you up.'

'No thanks.' He felt a hint of humor in her voice and it was nice, unexpected. It starkly contrasted the first impression he had gotten from her. '... What are the fighting pits? I don't think I have ever heard of it.'

'Ah. Yes.' She held out her teacup for Arodan to refill. 'The technical name is Striker's Dome. It's this big underground complex where rich people throw their best fighters in the ring to duke it out. Thing is, a lot of the fighters aren't folks who signed up to be there, they're poor sods who got abducted and forced to fight.' She took a good moment or two before she continued, sipping her drink as if it would make her talk better when she full well knew it didn't, not for her at the least. 'People who are so far gone thanks to that awful place often come here because the things that were drilled into their heads meant no one else would have them. You know how it is.'

'Yeah.' This time it seemed Arodan's turn to down his drink in one go and suddenly felt very old. 'How come I've never heard of it?'

'Listen, these folks think they're running a good thing here, so they'll do anything to keep it safe. If that means keeping it alive on word of mouth they'll have it. The only place it is well known in is in the city of Glasir.' Caer spat her words with disdain and turned away from Arodan. 'Goddamn Striker. What a freak.'

'Is that the figure who runs this business?'

'Sorta. He's the co-owner, got the Dome named after himself.'

'I see.' He glanced at his journal momentarily. What self respecting person names a place like that after themselves? 'How do you know this much about it if you've never been there?'

‘I've never been in the pit. That doesn't mean I haven't been in the dome as a spectator.’ That seemed the end of their conversation and Arodan didn't feel the particular need to ask Caer more. In silence they drank and soon Arodan realized he actually really desired the company. In times like these everyone seems fearful and it came to him that must have been what Caer had wanted from him.

‘You know-’

He perked up. ‘Yes?’

‘You don't seem bad kid. I don't trust you, but there's something to your eyes.’ Caer remarked, setting an empty cup down on Arodan’s desk. ‘No wonder King Balam gave you a chance.’

‘I haven't been here long enough to call my shot already. I haven't proven myself yet.’ Arodan finished his own glass and set it down, a warm buzz washing over him. ‘I know Balam doesn't trust me yet. And that he wants me to feel at home despite that.’ He leant on his hand, his bad eye buried in his palm. ‘I don't understand why he tries. This could have been so much easier.’

‘The man has a good, chargeless heart aight.’ She reached out to pat Arodan's shoulder who immediately shot up with an incredulous look. ‘Also you have a nice face so that helps you fall in his favor.’

‘Okay, first…’ He lowered his voice to a whisper just in case anyone was listening. ‘King Balam doesn't have a charge? And second, how is having a nice face going to help me?’

‘I thought it was obvious. The man looks like he's always searching for something, gods. Only a chargeless guardian looks that longingly.’ She took a deep breath and wore a grin that hid annoyance. ‘As for your second question, our king gets up to mischief sometimes. Mischief in play, mischief in romantic pursuits. It doesn't interfere with his job but isn't stifled either.’

‘No, it wasn't obvious to me.’ He wasn't sure what he should be focusing on first. It was too late to suppress the blush on his cheeks and managed to cool himself by thinking he had only really spoken twice to the king in long conversations with small conversations interspersed. Nothing to get flustered over. ‘So… Is there no risk in him leaving then to find his charge?’

‘He loves Paramo too much to do so. He once said he might if he passes the mantle to his children but I know he's just hoping it's one of the many antiques he imports or someone who comes walking in.’ She answered. ‘He won't leave. This city means too much to him.’

‘That's reassuring.’

‘It's the little things.’ She moved to hold up her empty cup in a joyful gesture once again. ‘Anyway, I should go. Can't be getting drunk now.’

‘I am. I'm a lightweight it seems.’ He watched as she got up and left the chair where she had dragged it. ‘See you around I guess.’

‘You got it.’ She pat Arodan’s head. ‘Thanks for talking with me kiddo. I needed that. It's nice to talk about my missus like that.’

‘Same sentiment-’

‘Don't tell anyone though.’ Her eyes darted between the empty bottle of mead and Arodan's gaze. ‘If anyone asks, I wasn't here or I was here to yell at you. Okay?’

Arodan said nothing but a finger rose to his lips in the universal sign of people who didn't snitch on their new allies. ‘Goodbye miss Caer. Don't close the door too loudly as you leave.’

Caer shrugged, and left silent as ever. The only thing that'd might reveal her was her funny-looking grin that glinted in the dark of the halls.

Caer genuinely couldn't tell if she was far away enough, and fair enough, he didn't really care. His head gently buzzed and he flipped his journal open. ‘There. Swear words. Happy, Mimir?’

‘I will soon know many more.’ The journal wrote in bright gold on a new blotch of black. It seemed almost vaguely threatening. ‘Mimir though?’

‘Yes, that's your name now. You posses a sentience of your own, so you deserve a name right?’ He started to write in the journal on an empty page, detailing his day. ‘That name came to me.’

‘I like it.’ Appeared on the left page Arodan wasn't writing on. ‘Mimir. Miiiiimir. Mim.’

‘Stop that.’

‘I love it.’ The book scribbled. ‘Thank you.’ Finally the journal ceased writing on its own.

Arodan didn't respond with anything beyond a thin smile, and continued to record his thoughts and progress of that day as if his life depended on it.

#my lore #flight rising #ch: Arodan #ch: Caer #The Paramo Court #ch: Mimir #quick one before I get back to Epoch and Carmen

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mayramoss-blog1 · 6 years

Text

Why Ramsey's a big risk or even reckless for Juventus at 250,000 or 400,000 a week

On Monday, Juventus officially confirmed the signing of Arsenal's Aaron Ramsey as a free agent from July 1, 2019. Ramsey issued his own, understandably emotional, statement via Twitter. (Arsenal were somewhat less effusive.)

Everybody knew it was coming, but what most did not expect was the number reported by the BBC on Monday evening. They put out that Ramsey would be making £400,000 a week in basic wages, which is roughly £20.8 million a season, or $26.8m. If that number was accurate, Ramsey would be paid more than any other player in the Premier League, Bundesliga or Serie A with the exception of Cristiano Ronaldo. It was in stark contrast to the number widely reported in the Italian media and confirmed by Juve sources as recently as Tuesday morning. They spoke of €7.5m a season net (after tax).

Let's take a quick detour here to underscore how cultural differences and norms still exist in a globalized game. In Italy (and Spain) wages are usually expressed in annual net (or "after tax") terms. In England, they are gross ("pre-tax") and they are weekly, a quirk that goes back to the game's working class roots when some players would do a weekly shift down the coal mine during the week and then play in front of 60,000-strong crowds on weekends.

It means that to compare apples with apples, you had to do a bit of arithmetic. Now: €7.5m net is roughly €15m gross -- it's not just income tax as there are other, smaller deductions -- which in turn translates to £13.1m gross. Divide it by 52 and it's around £252,000 a week, give or take. (I rounded it to £250,000 for convenience when I tweeted about it.)

That's a massive discrepancy of some £7.7m a year.

ESPN+ is America's home for a host of professional soccer leagues from around the world, highlighted by Italy's Serie A, Major League Soccer, UEFA Nations League and English FA Cup. | ESPN+ schedule

ESPN FC's experts ranked the best men's players and managers in world football. Check out the list.

Fear, paranoia, difficult behaviour and constant battling with club officials and players led to the inevitable, writes Rob Dawson.

When Boca Juniors and River Plate were set to meet in Argentina's most important match, Buenos Aires lost its mind, writes Wright Thompson.

In these situations, you try to reach out to sources who could shed some light. In this case, the only people who would know first-hand are a smattering of folks at Juve, Ramsey's representatives, the lawyers involved and Ramsey himself. Then there's another circle who might have second- or third-hand information. I hit up as many folks as I could, and while Juve stuck to their original number, another source with knowledge of the negotiation suggested the figure was somewhere in-between Juve's £252,000 a week and the BBC number of £400,000.

At this stage, you might wonder why it matters since either way, Ramsey, already a successful footballer, becomes even wealthier. Well, it's important because clubs have finite resources to allocate. And how they choose to allocate them -- which means, effectively, how much they pay in transfers, to whom, and how much they pay in wages -- determines what they can and cannot do next.

Ramsey's current club is a case in point. Last month, Arsenal manager Unai Emery said they could only make loan signings in January. This was (in part) due to the fact that a year earlier, in the space of a few days, they committed to more than $150 million in wages through 2021 on Pierre-Emerick Aubameyang, Henrikh Mkhitaryan and Mesut Ozil, three veteran players. It was doubtless part of the reason why they were unwilling to match whatever Juventus was offering the 28-year-old Ramsey even if the contract is worth £250,000 a week, let alone £400,000.

Ramsey's a fine player, but a significant pay packet for the 28-year-old could prevent Juve from rebuilding as their squad continues to age.

The same applies at the Juventus end. After several years of profit, they made a loss last season of €19.6m ($22.1m). Not a huge deal, except for the fact that last summer they signed a certain Cristiano Ronaldo for €100m ($113m) and gave him a four-year deal worth around $68m a season. That's a massive investment and, perhaps, part of the reason why Gonzalo Higuain and his enormous salary went out on loan this year. While Juve hope to offset it by growing commercially thanks to Ronaldo and (hopefully) winning the Champions League, as with all investments, there's still some level of risk involved. This is why the £250,000 a week (€7.5m a season) number put out by sources close to Juve seemed more plausible.

It's not a knock on Ramsey, a fine player, but even at £250,000 a week he'd be Juve's second-highest paid player (after Ronaldo). What's more he's 28, which means his resale value will be low should things not work out. At £250,000 a week, very few clubs in the world could both afford him and be willing to pay a fee for him. At £400,000, it's hard to see anyone who would pull the trigger and take on his contract.

What's more, Juve's squad is filled with older players like Ramsey: you've got Ronaldo and Giorgio Chiellini (both 34), Mario Mandzukic (32), Leo Bonucci, Sami Khedira, Blaise Matuidi (all 31), Juan Cuadrado (30) and Miralem Pjanic and Douglas Costa (28). (You can throw in Higuain, who is 31, if things don't work out at Chelsea.) In any organization, you try to have a flatter curve age-wise because you don't want a whole bunch of guys to get old and need replacing all at once. While some of these guys may leave in the summer, Ramsey still seems counterintuitive in this scenario. At £250,000 a week, he feels like a calculated risk (but still a risk). At £400,000, it would feel like a reckless gamble.

And then there's the obvious knock-on effect on the rest of the team. Most players do care what their teammates make, not because they're greedy (although some are) but because it's a way to keep score and have a sense of how much (or how little) you're appreciated. Nobody begrudges Ronaldo's massive salary because he belongs to another universe, but when it comes to Ramsey, you can see guys like Emre Can or Federico Bernardeschi or Joao Cancelo or whomever saying: "Well, if he's the second-highest paid player in the squad and he's making three times as much as I am but isn't three times better than me, shouldn't I get a hefty raise?"

In other words, high earners become a benchmark. At £250,000 a week, Ramsey will either have an inevitable upward drag on Juve's wages or it'll leave some players unhappy. At £400,000 a week, he'd send the wage bill into orbit. That's what makes this situation, and the different noises coming from different camps, so difficult to interpret.

The good news? We'll have a clearer picture when Juve publish their accounts. After all, "hiding" £7.7 million in an audited financial statement issued to shareholders is rather difficult to do.

Source link

http://www.manutdnews.online/why-ramseys-a-big-risk-or-even-reckless-for-juventus-at-250000-or-400000-a-week/

#250000 #400000 #big #juventus #ramseys #reckless #risk #week #mainposts

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curtashiism · 7 years

Text

I give up.

I’m always going to be far beyond alcohol for my mom.

I’m going to be behind meth and sex for my sister.

I’m going to be behind snack food and money for my little brother.

I’m going to be behind gambling for my dad.

Who knows what it’ll be with my older brother? Probably drinking.

And I’m either going to continue to be completely used by them or cut them off.

Everyone in my family is going to ruin their lives and everyone else’s lives. Including mine. Unless I end up becoming just like them and ruining my own before they can.

My mom’s been to detox/rehab twice. She’s not going to go through with it again, and even if she was willing, we can’t afford it. My sister is at a rehab of sorts, but what’s to say she’ll really change? She was abusive to me long before she drank or used meth. She says she’s so excited and wants me back in her life once she’s ready to come back home, but even if she does manage to stay sober, she’s not going to just stop being possessive of my sexuality like she was. She sees it as belonging to her, not me. And yet I don’t know if she even realizes it was wrong... she even thinks she was helping. Let’s say I work up the strength to talk to her about this, and by some miracle she actually admits it was wrong... what’s to stop her from doing something else?

My family just doesn’t care. Maybe they do love me in some way, but not nearly as much as their addictions. I’ve seen the things people will do for their fix and it isn’t pretty. Sooner or later I’m going to get burned by them harder than I have been, even if I do move to the other side of the country.

It’s always up to me to fix my family’s shit. My parents can’t manage their money? I give them over $1000 from my school loans which I will never see back. Their poor financial choices result in my mom not being able to afford dentures? I apply for a line of credit and hope to god they don’t ruin my credit score. My sister has a series of grand mal seizures on the phone? I call 911 after an hour of my mom yelling at me that we need to think of another plan. I’m more my parents’ parent and my siblings’ parent than they are. It’s always on me to fix the shit they fuck up. But guess what, I can’t fix the thing they fucked up the worst and that thing is ME.

You know what? I have put up with this for my whole fucking life (even when my mom wasn’t drinking there was always something) and so I’ve earned the right to say this. They would be fucking nothing without me. I’m their emotional crutch. All of them. I listen, I help them. I do more for them than any of them would do for me. But they take me for granted. Because they know no matter what, I’ll come back. Even when I move away I’m still going to call them every day and love them. Because I don’t have it in me to hate them. I only have it in me to resent them for that. But I’m too fucking tired for anything else.

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lunaraen · 7 years

Note

"Hey, in my defense, I had too much sugar, alright?!" With Axel and Petra, if you please?

The thing about living with agriefer is that everything becomes eye for an eye. Everything. No exceptions.

It isn’t that Petra wasn’t anygood at pranks before the whole Witherstorm disaster; she just never reallybothered with them. She can’t begin to count how many prank wars she’s beendragged into since, though. Every quiet corridor becomes subject to at leastsome suspicion and light glinting weirdly off a part of the floor automaticallymeans a tripwire. Doors left cracked open need to be checked before they’removed, and every bottle of anything remotely important has to be see through.Anything Axel has a hand it cooking is either going to be the best or the worstthing ever made, which makes dinner some nights an interesting gamble thateverybody’d be better off skipping. It’s a strange breed of paranoia, butit reminds Petra more of expecting monsters around every corner than anythingelse.

(Half the time Axel isn’t even atthe temple, but when he isn’t, it’s always quieter in a way that manages tomake the silence empty. She almost has more trouble sleeping then than when shethinks he’s up to something.)

The end result is that most nights everyone sleeps with one eye open, including Axel. Being the one who playsmost of the pranks, he’s also the biggest target. Killing zombies and skeletonsis fun, but revenge? It’s pretty sweet. Petra likes to think she’s gotten thehang of making him pay when she needs to.

It’s not as easy to pay him backfor destroying the living room, though. She’s not keen on wrecking anymore ofthe temple, but it’s not something he’ll get away with either.

The couch is on its side, part ofit stained a dark splotchy brown and one of the armrests torn open, wooldangling from the tear and dripping with something. She’d say it’s beer, exceptthat the entire room reeks of it and she’s not sure she wants to really know whatwas splashed on the couch.

The fireplace is mostlyuntouched, save for the heart print boxers that are smeared with ash and seemto have gotten snagged on one of the iron bars in front of the partially burnedlogs. They didn’t exactly need a fire to keep the room bright, though.

Petra didn’t think she’d see theglowstone again after they finished building the temple, the light much dimmerwhen buried by wool in a way that made for a practically cozy atmosphere whenpaired with the fire, but the frayed and charred ends of the remaining redcarpet that clings to the edges of the room can’t exactly cover the entirefloor. The tops of several of the wood planks have gone from a deep brown to adarker black, gnarled when compared to the smoother and relatively untouchedplanks lying beneath them.

The whole thing manages to remindher that she also lives with a crazy alchemist who can be both the best and theworst influence. Worst more often than best, if the living room is anyindicator.

“Some party, huh?” It wasone of their smallest ones, had here instead of one of the giant buildings deepinside the city they use when it’s supposed to be a public celebration, and asfar as she knows, none of those buildings have come close to getting as wreckedas the room is. They hadn’t even all been here. Olivia’s still in Redstonia,and Petra’s starting to think she’s onto something.

“Hey, in my defense, I hadtoo much sugar, alright?!” Axel’s tone is sharp, and he’s still squintingas he looks from the floor to Petra. The garbage bag in Petra’s hand rustles asshe crosses her arms over her chest.

“What, and a dozenbeers?”

“…it wasn’t thatmuch.” Axel pauses at her flat look, tone softer, rubbing the back of hisneck as he looks back at the empty mugs littering the floor. She’s not sure ifthe wince is because of how bright the glowstone is or if his head’s just ashappy with him as his hangover is. Probably both. “Well…. alright, maybeit was close. But you can’t just blame me for all this.”

Petra uncrosses her arms, steppingcloser to the couch to pick up the crushed cans that look like they’re wedgedunder it. The couch groans as she tips it back up, but the cushions don’t move,almost like they’re glued to the couch.

Yup, they’re getting a new couch.

“That’s why Jesse’s dealingwith Ivor.” Jesse’s also dealing with Ivor because after dragging him byhis robe last night and all but dumping him in his room, Petra doesn’t thinkhe’d be as willing to listen to her.

“What about Lukas?”

“Lukas?” She pauses fora second, hand inside the garbage bag as she raises an eyebrow.“Seriously? The sugar I can get, but he’s a lightweight. And he knowsbetter than to go along with whatever crazy stuff you and Ivor come up with, nomatter how drunk you managed to get him.”

“…I don’t really remember.I don’t think he stuck around for too long after we got the lava out. Think hestole the cookies and booked it.” Axel’s frown lingers for a few momentsbefore he smiles again. “And hey, it wasn’t crazy. It was cool.”

“Axel, you almost set theroom on fire.”

“I said it was cool.”The smile becomes a grin. “I never said anything about it beingsafe.”

“Since it’s so cool, you can put it back together.” Herlips twitch up in a smirk as he groans. “What? We already kept you fromfilling the temple with lava. I know you can build.”

“You mean you guys suckedall the fun out of everything.” Axel grumbles as he sets his own bagaside, turning to walk towards the temporary chest sitting in the corner of theroom. It should have enough supplies inside to fix the room back up, not thatPetra doubts that Lukas will want to redo it as soon as possible. Taking careof the smell will take some work, but it’ll be a quick patch job to just buildstuff over again and pick up the trash.

“I think that’s the hangovertalking.” And she knows it’s no small hangover. It’s because the job’seasy that Axel’s working at all, and Jesse’s just having Ivor make some potionsto see if he’s all there and try and reprimand him.

Judging by the huff, Axel doesn’tagree.

Petra rolls her eyes, chucklingbefore she picks up a greasy wrapper that’s been burned along one side andgrimaces.

They’re probably going to have abit of a break before the next party, big or otherwise.

#My Stuff #fanfiction #mcsm #minecraft story mode #faithful penguin

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